Alamort | Troy Otto

1.6

[1.6]

"Got some company," said Troy as he got out of the truck.

The militia men turned silent and watched as Nick and Thena got out of the car. While Nick was gripping his gun in his hand, Troy's gun that was still in Thena's possession was back in her thigh holster and in her hands, she was playing with a butterfly knife Alicia found and gave her. Her dagger was visibly handing by her belt, but she didn't touch it.

The men looked at the two as they approached the group. Thena's eyes were trailed on one of the dogs. One of the animals took a few steps forward and sniffed her feet before it sat down, waving his tail excitedly.

"He likes you," said Mike, still holding the leash. Troy and Nick turned around to look at them.

"He does," muttered the young woman, patting the dog's head gently.

Troy rolled his eyes and coughed, "Come on! We don't have all night."

The group started walking, the ones with the dogs in the front while Troy and Thena stayed behind. Nick was walking aimlessly at the front of the group, trying to see what caused the dogs to bark.

It wasn't Thena Grimes' first hunting party. Her father was never a fan of them, but his friend he adored them. When Thena expressed for the first time her desire to learn how to shoot, she didn't tell anything to her dad, but instead went to Shane. Even though the man introduced her to the weapons, to guns, rifles, and hunting, it was still Rick that taught her how to shoot. How to perfect her aim, how to control her breathing. It was all Rick Grimes.

Shane taught her how to pull the trigger. Rick taught her how to hit the target.

When she realized she was walking faster than Troy and they were alone in the fields, an idea popped in her mind. It was stupid, reckless, and driven by an emotion Thena couldn't name. It was an impulse that her brain gave her, and she couldn't resist. When Troy wasn't looking, she hid behind one of the bushes and took her gun out in one hand while the other was gripping her butterfly knife.

And then, when Troy walked past her hiding place, she leaped on him, pushing him to the ground. They rolled a few times before Thena found her footing and she pressed one of her knees on his chest, her gun pointed to his forehead while her knife was gazing his throat.

"The ground's soft," said Troy, breathing heavily as Thena looked in his blue and bruised eyes, "you could dig a grave really easy. I mean people would suspect you but... we'll they really wouldn't know for sure." His eyes fell on the gun's grip, made of a beautifully carved wood. At the base of it were two initials, T and O, and he couldn't help himself but laugh. "Are you really going to kill me with my own gun?"

"I wonder how long it'll take you to turn," muttered Thena with no emotion in her voice. She started at him dreamily, like when she used to take her medicine, but her mind was clearer than it ever was.

"Eighty-seven minutes," was Troy's response, "Eighty-seven minutes, given by my weight, BMI, age... You know, if you do do it, you should time it. Journal's in my pocket."

Thena looked at him, took in all the details of his face. She lowered her gun, so it was pressed against his chest, right where his heart was.

"How long would it take me to turn?"