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Troy heaved a sigh of relief as he settled under the first really shady tree he’d come across in a few miles. He’d normally drive when traveling, but he’s been following a lead. Rumor had it Madison and her group had settled out this way. Or at least people matching their description had anyway. So he was scouting the area on foot for signs of a settlement.
He’d seen the grave as he approached the tree. Fresh dirt mounded with a bright blue flower resting on top. Not an unusual sight at this point at the end of the world. But still a bit unusual this far from signs of a settlement or houses in general. Usually, if there’s a fresh grave there are walkers around.
And the grave was undoubtedly fresh. The dirt still looked loose and the bluebell resting on top of it hadn’t had a chance to wilt yet.
Always curious, Troy turned where his back rested against the trunk of the tree and he started running his fingers along the bark. Feeling for any kind of marker that might be left behind for the poor bastard that was laid to rest beside where he sat.
Troy's fingers found freshly scraped bark after a moment of lazy searching, close to shoulder level. It was a long carving, clearly more than just a name. That of course sparked further curiosity, and Troy turned enough that he could read the writing without having to put too much strain on his bad eye.
“Here lies Nick Clark - Beloved friend, brother, and son” was carved into the bark. Some of the letters still wept fresh sap where they went deep into the wood beneath the bark.
Troy’s breath left him in a rush, nearly causing him to choke. If he hadn’t already been sitting down he would have dropped to his knees at the feeling of the world falling out from under him.
His body moved of its own accord. Finding the entrenching tool he keeps strapped to his pack and moving to his knees. He straddles the width of the grave and starts to dig. “It’s not him. It’s… It’s a damn coincidence is what it is…” he says frantically as if saying it will make it an absolute.
It’s not Nick. It CAN’T be Nick. The grave is fresh. He can’t have gotten THIS CLOSE only to find Nick dead! “Not him! Not my Nick!” Troy shouts just before the shovel strokes what is clearly a jacket draped over a chest.
Troy stops just short of tearing through the blood-stained fabric and tosses the shovel aside. From there he continues to claw away at the dirt with his hands until he he can grip the jacket on the body and pull up, dragging the head and shoulders from under the loose earth.
Clumps of dirt fall away from a familiar nose and soft, bloodied features. A sob tears itself from Troy’s throat when reality sinks in. His fits tighten painfully where they clutch Nick’s jacket. Tears that had been held at bay by hope before cloud his vision. He pulls Nick’s stiff body into his arms and cradles him against his chest as a hurricane is unleashed from inside Troy.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to find him alive. They were supposed to be like they were before everything went wrong. Like back at the bazaar. Nick helped Troy feel fear that one night but he also helped him feel freedom and love and safety and everything he never felt on his own for even a day since.
He would give anything to have that back. All his tomorrows for just one more yesterday with Nick.
The sobs slow after a while, Troy’s broken voice muttering Nick’s name over and over again as he rocks with the cold lifeless body in his arms.
After what feels like an eternity, Troy pulls back and looks at Nick properly. The bloody mess of his hoodie and coat makes it clear he was shot through the heart. Blood around his mouth showed where he’d undoubtedly choked on it. And lastly, a trail of sticky bloody muck leading down one side of his neck showed where he’d been preemptively stopped him from turning.
A rage filled Troy at the realization Nick suffered in the end. This wasn’t a clean kill. It wasn’t clean and Nick didn’t go peacefully. Where was Madison? Why hadn’t she protected her precious son? Everything was always about Nick with her. So how the hell could she let this happen to him?
“God damned white witch of the apocalypse got you too…” Troy muttered, voice hoarse from the sobs that hat wracked his body just moments before. “She took everything from me after all…”
He kept telling himself for the last year and a half that as long as Nick was alive somewhere she hadn’t really taken everything from him after all. This had to be her fault. Nick was impulsive but he was smart and cunning and far more capable than she had ever given him credit. He had to have died because of her. And Troy would make her pay for that.
“I’ll rain hell down upon her for this, Nicky… I promise…” he swore to Nick’s lifeless body as he slowly lowered it back to its final resting place beneath that old tree. “I’ll teach her a lesson in the worst kind of way…”