Chapter 102- The Well: The Gates

-Rhys-

We were standing at the gates to something great.

Morgan had marked the letterboxes the whole way, flicking up their flags and drawing little arrows to mark our way back.

Daniel, the guy that had shaken my hand when we met, helped Morgan make a wagon out of a rusted wheelbarrow and some moth-eaten blankets — we used it to carry a passed-out Carol. Daniel had used his horse to pull it. He and I walked the whole way alongside the wagon.

"It'll be dark soon..." Morgan had told Colton, the other rider. Colton had nodded to him, saying that we were almost there.

There.

I had asked where that was. Daniel had just grinned and told me I wouldn't believe the story.

He wasn't wrong, for when the gates surrounded by busses and metal sheets groaned opened, a whole new paradise greeted us.

I wasn't a stranger to paradise, of course. It had found me at the Prison, then again in Alexandria. When I saw the garden plots of thriving crops and smiling faces tending to their growth inside these gates, I thought the same I had then.

How long?

When our guns were taken, I'd found it normal. When Carol was rushed away to an infirmary, I wasn't suspicious.

There was a tall woman with body armour and bow, blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her name was Dianne. We met her on the road here when walkers attacked our caravan and she saved us. Her eyes were kind like Daniel's.

She was taking Morgan and me to a theatre inside the community, a grand building with exquisite white pillars holding up a terrace that looked out over everything. She told us we were to meet their leader inside.

I found none of this strange.

Until I asked the name of this place...

"The Kingdom," she tells me, fiddling with the end of the bow on her back.

I raise an eyebrow. "The Kingdom?"

"You'll get it when you meet the King," Dianne says, smiling with tight lips.

"The king?" Morgan asks, his voice going comically high.

"Just head on in," she says, holding up her hand.

Suddenly my senses had found me, and I remembered the places in between paradise. The Cavalcade. The Claimers. Terminus.

Once we go inside, Dianne closes the doors behind us. It's not dark, though. Lights hum above us on the ceiling overhead, and one illuminates writing on the wall in a warm orange glow.

'Hope is the North Star. Let it Guide You.

- K.E.'

"Okay..." I whisper to myself as we slowly walk further into the lion's den.

Morgan clearly hears me because he whispers back.

"Let's just feel the guy out before we jump to any conclu—"

Morgan shuts ups, his mouth hanging to the floor. Mine does, too. In front of us, on a stage lit by the rich glow of lanterns and candles, sits a grand throne made of adorned wood and tempered metals. A man with a well-groomed beard and greying dreadlocks roosts upon the throne, his foot up and his arm draped over his knee, a golden cane across his lap, wearing a heavy brown jacket with a fur collar and a pale blue shirt beneath, embellished in golden stars. To his right stands a giant of a man, fitted in a padded red jacket, a double-headed axe in his hands that he leans on as he watches us. But to the other side of this man that I assume to be the King... stands a tiger.

I take a step back.

The tiger roars deep and bares its fangs.

I freeze like a fucking deer in headlights.

"Shiva, enough!" the man perched on the wooden throne beside the beast calls out, resting his hand upon its head like it's not a five-hundred-pound killing machine. Wound loosely in his other hand, he grips a silver chain that drapes across the stage to where it is fastened around the tiger's neck. It clinks and rattles as he moves his arms with his lips. "These weary travellers come here seeking refuge and attention of the medical sort... not to be berated by your all-pervading vociferation."

The tiger growls at us still.

A fucking dear in bright fucking headlights.

"They are our guests," the King smiles at us.

"Chill it up, S..." the other man hisses in a less branded tone. "Chill it up!"

"Jerry," the King addresses his associate, "you are a faithful steward, but your words leave me pitch-kettled."

The King turns his head back to us, a red feather in his hair that twists around as he moves.

"You understand Shiva's concern... she hasn't met you. Nor have I."

"That's... a tiger," Morgan mumbles, looking at me.

I look at him, my eyes squinted and concerned as I nod. "Yeah... he's got— yeah. A tiger."

The King howls a laugh that his steward echos. Morgan and I jump.

"Tis' a lot to bear!" the King leans forward, the chain spilling from his knees and onto the floor. "But I assure you there is no illusion of the eye nor trickery here. My name is King Ezekiel... welcome to the Kingdom. Might I ask your names?"

"Right," Morgan and I say in unison.

The King waits expectantly. His tiger snorts, white as snow whiskers vibrating beneath her breath.

"Rhys," Morgan says, pointing a thumb at me without looking away from the cat.

"Uh-huh?" I hum, watching the animal, too. Then I realise he was introducing me. "Oh... yeah, um, that's Morgan." I point.

"Rhys and Morgan!" The King claps his hands and lifts them to the sky. "You are both here by friends of the realm... until proven otherwise."

"You can help our friend?" Morgan asks, gaping at Shiva as she lies down and grooms her paws with powerful licks, seemingly deeming us no threat.

"We've got a killer good Doc," the steward — Jerry — says, grinning with every tooth in his mouth. "Dana will get your bud aces again in no time."

The King nods. "Our physician is the finest in the land."

"Okay..." I say slowly, slightly whiplashed by the centuries between their words.

"Most do not receive an audience with the King on first arrival." Ezekiel pouts at us. "Do I detect scepticism?"

I nod absentmindedly. Jerry frowns at me.

"I mean, no!" I blurt out, checking that the tiger isn't going to eat me for the mistake. "I just— we just..." I trail off.

"It's a lot to take in," Morgan says.

"Perhaps you think me mad?" The King asks. "Perhaps you see this place as nothing more than a mirage? So, tell me... what do you think of the Kingdom?"

"It's certainly impressive," Morgan answers, smiling humbly. "We saw that garden on the way in."

"Yes, is it not the grandest place you've seen in this nightmare that the world has dreamt up?" Ezekiel smiles. "Some call it the heart of the Kingdom, and civilization at that."

"It's impressive," Morgan repeats.

"And what of you, Master Rhys?" the King looks at me.

I'm still staring at the giant cat and all its stripes. "What was the question?"

"Is this place dope or what?" Jerry grins.

"Dope," I say, nodding. "Definitely dope."

"Do you come from another realm?" the King asks.

At this moment I guess he played a lot of D&D back in the old world.

"We just travel," Morgan says.

The King's smile grows, and he holds up a hand gauntleted in hard-knuckled gloves that match the armour of his soldiers. Jerry picks up a bowl and brings it to us. It's deep with fresh and colourful fruits.

"Well," the King gestures to the bowl, "I encourage those who find respite here to enjoy the fruits of our grandeur for as long as they like... so long as they contribute. Drink from the well, replenish the well..."

"The well," I say, nodding.

"Well said," Jerry says with an immature grin.

The King groans and rolls his eyes. "Jerry..."

Jerry holds the bowl up to us.

"—Magnificent apples, nectarines, pomegranates... all grown right here inside the kingdom," the King says proudly as he gestures for us to try.

Jerry offers the bowl to me. "It's fruit time."

I take a particularly juicy strawberry.

Morgan accepts an apple.

"There is something for all here," King Ezekiel tells us. "Do you enjoy music?"

"Rhys plays the guitar," Morgan tells him. "Sings a bit, too."

I glare at Morgan.

"Ah!" The King's eyes glint. "We have a guitarist whose talent brings tears to the eye, and we have a small choir. Perhaps you'll partake?"

"Thanks..." I smile as much as I can. "But I think we're only staying until Carol is better... Your majesty."

The King nods, gesturing next to the door. "I hope to at least see you join until then. Be well, Rhys and Morgan."

When we get outside, Morgan is looking up at the sky like he's making sure he's still on the same planet.

"Well, you should be good now," I tell him.

"What do you mean," he asks, bringing his head down to look at me.

"Carol can get help here... you're welcome here. I can go."

"Rhys..."

"I'm not staying."

"Why?"

I stare at him, throwing my eyes between him and the door we just exited.

"Dude's got a tiger and thinks he's a king."

"That makes you want to leave?"

"Fucking yes!" I laugh at him. "Tigers eat you asshole first, Morgan... I'll take my chances with the walkers."

"How do you even know that?"

"I'm not staying," I tell him. "I'm still out here to find Tara and Heath."

"It's almost dark," Morgan tells me. "One night. Just stay one night."

I groan at him. "Fine."

"Thank you," he bows his head.

"Man," I snort, "Carol's gonna hate this place."

-Three days later-

I stayed the night as Morgan asked, but as time went on, I came to find that I like the land of make-believe. We didn't tell them about Alexandria — keeping it secret to keep our family safe. I told them about everything else. Los Angeles, Sean, Morgan's town. Everything up to Prison... as if I'd found these gates instead.

It's been three days now. Carol woke up yesterday, and Morgan took her to meet the King. Honestly, I was tempted to go just to see what I looked like when I saw the mighty Shiva for the first time, but something about the way Carol looked at me after waking up sucked all the fun out of the idea.

Right now I'm sitting in the smallish room I was given, inside an apartment I share with two others. The apartment lives on the top floor of a building people around here call the palace. It's just the top floor of the theatre, but since King Ezekiel lives here too, the name seems to have attached itself to the building. Morgan's been staying in a room in the infirmary building on the far side of the community, keeping an eye on Carol while she recovers. He wanted me there too, but since I've actually made a friend in the land of fantasy, I took up a different offer...

I'm reading a book on air-conditioning repair that I found tucked under my mattress when my door is suddenly and swiftly booted open, making me jump and yip in surprise. Before I can react, I'm in a headlock, receiving a noogie that could only be beaten by Tara.

"Quit it!" I yell, trying to defend myself. But Benjamin has my arms pinned behind my back. "Dude!"

"You want to explain why you didn't show at choir?" Benjamin grunts, still assaulting my scalp with his knuckle. He easily holds me down, being taller and stronger than me by a mile. "Huh, asshole?"

"I slept in!" I yell. "I'm sorry!"

He finally releases me, laughing as I spin on the bed and push him off. He lands on the floor with a grunt.

"Jesus," I sigh, trying futilely to flatten my floofed hair. "Can't you just knock?"

"You said you didn't want to stay with Morgan," Benjamin sighs, getting up and dusting off his jeans. "I offered for you to stay with us... under what condition?" He presses his thumb to his chin and pretends to ponder.

I frown at him, sulking the best I can.

"Oh yeah," he says, flapping his arms at me. "On the condition you would go back to the choir group. You said you enjoyed it!"

"I did," I admit, putting the manual on the dinky side table in my tiny room.

"Then why didn't you go back! Kevin won't shut the hell up about your voice. And Jess... oh my god, she's in love with you!"

My cheeks explode.

"Go back," Benjamin insists.

"It's just... we've got that run today," I say, standing up on my bed and raising onto my tiptoes, twisting my head to peer out the rectangular window in the top corner of my room that overlooks the courtyard and road below. "People are already getting the trucks ready down there."

Benjamin gives up, holding his hands up before pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. "You better go tomorrow."

"I will."

Benjamin's fun to hang around with, one of the only people I enjoy hanging around with, too, besides maybe Jerry. To be perfectly honest, the most annoying thing about hanging around with him is how much attention all the girls seem to give him; his curled blonde hair and his dimples that seem to come alive when he smiles. It's like walking around with a damn celebrity. Only he has no idea about any of it, oblivious to most things that aren't books. I guess maybe that's why we get along.

I follow him into the rest of the apartment, which makes my shoe closet of a bedroom look fairly okay in size. It's all open plan, the kitchen and the living room adjoined, reminding me of a modest Alexandrian house. Benjamin's bedroom door is ajar down the hall and looks as messy as ever on the inside, a pile of clothes on the floor stopping it from swinging shut. His brother's bedroom door is closed, but I know he's not in there because I can hear the bathroom sink running.

Benjamin hands me a plate of toast, two slices, one of which he takes for himself. I say thanks.

The bathroom door opens, and Benjamin's little brother, Henry, strolls out, a bright green backpack with Mike Wazowski's face printed on it slung over his shoulder as he heads to leave the apartment. He looks just like his brother, only with shorter hair and half the size. A small cat with patchy black fur follows him out of the bathroom.

"Hey!" Benjamin calls after his brother, grabbing another plate of toast off the kitchen table. "Eat."

"I've got school," Henry whines, his voice high and prone to breaking.

"Yeah, and you've got food. Fit them both in, please."

"I'll eat at the cafeteria!"

"I'll eat it," I say, shrugging at Henry, already done with mine. "Your knobhead of a brother only gave me one slice."

Henry runs and snatches up the toast before I can, stuffing both slices in his face at once and laughing.

"Slow down," Benjamin warns, rolling his eyes. But the toast is gone.

Henry goes to leave again, but Benjamin stops him.

"Forgetting something?"

Henry looks at me awkwardly before hugging his brother.

"Thank you," Benjamin says, kissing the top of his head before letting him go.

"Bye, Rhys!" Henry calls before he leaves. "Bye, knobhead!"

"Hey!" Benjamin yells. But the door slams, and I laugh as I hear the kid's footsteps fleeing down the hall.

"He likes you," Benjamin sighs, shaking his head dismissively, running a hand through his curls.

I laugh at him. "Only 'cause I teach him words like that."

"Nah, you're cool."

"Pfft." I shake my head.

"Come on, Rhys. You lived out there before this place. Everyone thinks you're cool."

"Do you think I'm cool?" I tease.

"Me? No," Benjamin bites his toast. "I think you're a dick."

The scruffy cat that came out of the bathroom is sitting by my foot now, staring up at me with feral and hungry eyes.

I stare back, unamused. "What?"

"Leave Pumpkin alone," Benjamin says, smirking at the stand-off.

"I'm not doing anything," I tell him. "He's just stari— OW!"

The cat digs both front paws into my leg, spreading its claws. I kick my leg out, sending the feral beast flying onto the couch across the room, rubbing my leg and scowling at Pumpkin as he swipes his paw at me from across the apartment.

Benjamin's laughing.

"Why's he even called Pumpkin?" I ask grumpily. "He's not even orange."

"Because he's sweet... like a pumpkin pie."

"You're funny," I tell him, packing as much irony into the words as I can.

There's a knock at the door.

I hear a deep growl on the other side.

"Wonder who that could be?" I joke.

Benjamin pulls himself up from the seat at the kitchen table that he only just managed to fall into, opening the front door.

"Young Benjamin!" King Ezekiel booms from the other side, tiger by his side.

Shiva purrs, pushing her face against Benjamin's dangling hand.

Benjamin invites them in after Shiva has already pushed past and pulled the King in by her chain.

The giant cat's lips peel back, showing her fangs a little in my direction.

I grimace at her. "Yeah, nice to see you, too."

"And how do you fare, young Rhys?" the King asks. "Have you found living in the palace to be to your liking?"

I smirk at the question. "Yeah, it's pretty nice."

"Why do you jest?" the King raises an eyebrow, letting Shiva off her chain, who immediately hops onto the sofa half her size and splays herself across the moth-eaten cushions. Pumpkin hisses at her but settles for lying on top of the much bigger cat.

"No, nothing," I say. "It's just my friend Abraham always calls me that."

"Where is he now?"

"Oh..." I remember we're not telling them about home. "He was... from before the fall."

"Of course," the King looks sombre. "Those that fall we honour by standing tall in their stead. Our feet planted firm on a foundation made sturdy by their memory."

I smile and nod.

The King turns his head between us. "Are you both ready to venture beyond these gates?"

"Sure are, Ezekiel," Benjamin nods. "Just need to get my armour."

"I'm ready, Your Majesty," I say, walking by the King to grab my hammer from the coat rack I've taken to hanging it on. "Where are we actually going?"

He smiles at me.

"Somewhere else."