Chapter 105 The Well: Hunting.

-Rhys-

There was a time — after Tyreese died, after the slaughterhouse — I would wake up screaming, only I wouldn't scream. I would catch myself, choke on my sadness and swallow it, drown out the cries in my throat before they reached my lips. I would ensnare that fear of being alone. That horror of what I would wake up to.

Benjamin and I follow Ezekiel down from the apartment. Everyone is gathered around two trucks parked outside the palace, both vehicles with large empty flatbeds ready for the outing.

Jerry offers me an enthusiastic fist bump as Benjamin, Ezekiel, and I stroll up to the rest of them. Dianne's standing beside Jerry, her bow out, a full quiver of handmade arrows on her back, and a gun on her hip. Richard's here too — from what I've figured over the last few days, he's more or less Ezekiel's righthand man. I always see him yelling at the people on guard duty when their eyes wander from the outside, or training recruits with guns and spears.

Morgan's waiting for us, too, his stick in hand.

"You got your gun, kid?" Richard asks, looking me up and down, his usual unimpressed gaze observing me through his droopy, tired eyes.

"Always," I say, spinning on the spot to show him the holster secured on my lower back. "And it's Rhys."

"Hey, Rhys," Dianne says to me, nodding my way as she finishes restringing her bow. I like her. She always manages to have this calmness about her that seems to put everyone at ease.

"Sorry," Richard says, his weathered jaw twitching until his mouth makes what could almost be a smile. "You might need it is all."

We drive away from the Kingdom for a few miles, teetering on the edge of DC as the trucks weave through vacant streets. The city is a colossus looming over us. Elevated windows in towers that scrape against the sky seem to keep sight of us from every street we change to. I hate it. It reminds me of my dad — I haven't thought about him in months, but being this close to where he was supposed to be gives me this strange prickle on the back of my neck, like I'm waiting for something.

"Where are we going?" Morgan asks, peering up at the skyscrapers like he's worried they might fall on us.

"Hunting," Richard tells him from behind the wheel of our truck.

"In a city?" I ask.

Ezekiel grins at me. "What was held captive in the farm now runs free in the city."

Richard pulls us over in a quiet parking lot connected to a warehouse with no windows. I climb out after Benjamin — Ezekiel, Morgan, and Richard, following us out. The second truck parks behind, Jerry and Dianne climbing out and scanning the surroundings.

Ezekiel draws a hidden blade from his golden cane with its stag head handle and points it skyward.

"Let this hunt be prosperous, and the meats be ripe with fat!"

Jerry whoops.

Richard nods. "Let's hope they've eaten."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm sprinting down an alley alone. Screaming and yipping as I chase three round pigs, shamefully enjoying it as they squeal back at me in terror. The moment I chase them out the end of the alley, Morgan takes over, lying in wait and cracking his staff against the road as he hurtles after the pigs, sending them in the direction we were told to.

I stop to take a breath as I hand them off to Morgan, leaning against a dumpster that smells foul and watching him disappear around the next block.

"Dude!" Jerry gasps, jogging out of the same alley I just came from, slapping my back, finally catching up with me. "You're like the flash."

"Thanks," I pant, excepting the canteen of water he shoves into my arms.

I hear squeals from back down the alley.

"Heads up," Jerry points, taking a drink after me and quickly clipping the canteen back to his belt. "Round two coming in hot!"

We stand behind the same corner that Morgan had been waiting by, and when Dianne and Ezekiel flush five pigs out the alley, we take over.

"Yip! Yip! Yip!"

"Whooo! Whooo!" Come on! Whoo!"

I keep pace with Jerry this time, and when we reach the next hand-off point in the middle of a shopping mall, Morgan is waiting patiently for us. We're both exhausted, collapsing against each other on the floor by a broken escalator as we high-five and watch Morgan sprinting off with the next batch of pigs.

The city is beautiful in its long expired way, deadly quiet and stunningly green. There's broken glass by our feet where the mall's grand glass roof must have shattered. Vines and flowers grow downward from the roof, weaving between floors and around railing and store doors. We admire a small birch tree growing in the middle of the shopping mall, the light pouring from the broken skylight letting its leaves glow a gentle gold.

"How do you know it's birch?" I ask Jerry after he tells me.

He points. "Triangle leaves and yellow bark."

"Okay... but how do you know that?"

"Nabila. She works in the gardens. Said we might plant one near the palace."

Maybe ten minutes later, Ezekiel and Dianne reach us, thankfully with no more pigs. The Four of us walk back to the last checkpoint where Richard and Benjamin are stationed to turn the pigs into the warehouse by the trucks and into a room where a walker has its hands tied above its head, growling helplessly as the wild pigs feast on its dangling legs.

"Well done, Richard!" Ezekiel calls out as we enter the warehouse where all the pigs are penned in.

"It's just what we needed," Richard tells him, counting the pigs before slamming the door shut on the room they're held in. He's holding one of those sticks with a leash that dog catchers use.

I'm not sure I understand why we desperately needed eight pigs, but I don't complain. I step outside and into the empty parking lot, lying back on the tarmac and enjoying the sun. Benjamin comes out a moment later and sits beside me.

"Why the walker?" I hear Morgan asking from inside. "If we're herding them in, why do you need bait?"

Richard's the one that answers him. "Because I want their bellies full of rot."

I hear a growl coming from nearby. It sounds far away, so I keep my eyes shut and try to enjoy the moment, pressing my bandaged ear into the hot asphalt because it feels strangely soothing.

I hear Benjamin jump up, scrambling for his machete. "Rhys, walker!"

"I hear it," I say softly, nodding.

"Do you want me to?"

"It's fine," I sigh, opening my eyes a little to confirm it is as far as I thought, and I'm proved right, watching it stumble in our direction from about twenty feet away. Although, I was wrong about how many, seeing that there are actually two bumbling closer — one a little further behind the other.

I get up at the same time that everyone else comes outside.

I bury my hammer through the first walkers face when it reaches us. Jerry cleaves the second in half with his giant battle axe.

"You have fortitude with the hammer when it comes to vanquishing the fallen," Ezekiel tells me.

Jerry grins at me, slapping my shoulder. "Nice split, little dude!"

Richard moves one of the trucks around, and Benjamin and I help load the pigs into it before we're ready to leave.

A thicket of wild shrubs on the street opposite the parking lot starts to rustle, and walkers appear in the dozens moments later. None of them seem to notice us yet.

"You shoot a machine gun in the woods, and nothing," Richard says, watching the dead with disbelief. "You cough in the city and..." he gestures.

More and more show up, Dianne readies an arrow in her bowstring, but Ezekiel shakes his head at her.

"Dianne, retrieve the truck instead. We'll take our leave."

She returns her arrow to its quiver and does as the King commands.

Closer than the others, a walker stumbles around the warehouse's corner, catching wind of us and snarling with this angry look on its face that amuses me.

"Ben, you're up," Richard says, pointing at the angry walker. "Use the machete."

Benjamin wasn't even looking. He spins around, holding his machete up to the lone walker. Beads of sweat are dotted around his creased forehead.

"Just as you and Richard have practised," the King encourages him.

"Yeah," Benjamin stutters, taking a few shaky steps forward. "Like we practised." He brings his blade down hard but misses by a mile, catching the walker in the shoulder and only seeming to piss it off more.

Richard nods, and Jerry tears the walker off Ben with one hand, tossing it to the floor and kneeling on its chest to keep it pinned. Ezekiel draws his hidden blade and sticks the walker with it.

"Do not be troubled, Benjamin," the King says, retrieving Ben's machete for him. "Next time."

Dianne pulls up the truck we still had parked on the far side of the building.

"No one back home needs to know about this," Richard tells me and Morgan.

"You mean the pigs?" Morgan asks. "That they're eating the dead?"

"Can't you get sick from that?" I ask.

Richard grimaces at us both. "Any of it," he says.

When it's just me and Morgan standing here, the others making their way to the trucks, I whisper to Morgan.

"They're hiding something."

Morgan nods.

"I don't like it," I add.

"But?" Morgan raises an eyebrow at me.

I frown. Then I sigh. Then I say, "But... I trust them."

Morgan smiles before heading to the trucks.

Benjamin's trailing behind the others, his eyes to the floor as he kicks at a rock on the floor, disheartened. As he passes it, a walker springs from the same building corner as the last one, latching onto Ben. Morgan cracks his stick across the walker's forehead and sends it to the dirt.

"Christ!" Benjamin gasps, staring at the corpse. "Thanks."

Before we get in the truck without pigs, Ezekiel holds his cane high to the approaching dead attracted by the racket.

"May we one day cease you all from this curse!" He roars. "Till then, know that we live on in your place... full, festive, faithful, and free."

"Only halfway free," Richards mutters under his breath.

Then, besides Richard, we all pile into Dianne's truck and drive away from the quickly populating area. Richard takes the truck filled with the screaming pigs, following behind us until we reach a crossroad that he peels off on and drives in the opposite direction until he's out of sight.

I realise the pigs aren't going to the Kingdom.

"Where are they going?" Morgan asks, noticing too.

The King, who's sat beside me, watches the truck disappear, his knowing eyes troubled.

"Somewhere else," he tells us.

We get back, and I hop out of the truck, more than ready to go back to my room and read. But Benjamin stops me.

"Where are you going?" he punches my shoulder — what feels like literally as hard as he can.

I yelp at him.

"Fuck you... that's where," I hiss, rubbing my shoulder and glaring at him.

"I've got to muck out the stables with Teo," he tells me. "Help."

"Help... please?" I say, still hoping for an apology for the punch.

"No," he says, grinning. "Just help."

"Wait." I frown. "Who's Teo?"

"One of the stablehands. Don't try and change the subject... you're helping."

I groan at him, giving in on the idea of an evening spent in a book and nodding. Benjamin slings an arm over my shoulders and leads us in the opposite direction of home, towards the Kingdom's stable. He tells me this quote on the way.

"The pessimist looks down and hits his head. The optimist looks up and loses his footing. The realist looks forward and adjusts his path accordingly."

"That sounds like one of Ezekiel's."

"It is," Benjamin tells me.

"Which one are you?"

Benjamin smiles at a woman we pass by as she's laying out a blanket for a picnic — her two kids running circles around a swing set, a sister chasing her little brother.

"I think you can't say which one you are," Ben says strategically.

"Okay... which am I then?"

"Well, I've seen you fall over a lot since you got here... so—"

I shove his arm off me, laughing, pointing to my bandaged head.

"Missing an ear, assface. It affects my balance."

"Are you insulted that I'm calling you an optimist?"

I tut at him.

"Young Benjamin... and Rhys!" We hear Ezekiel call out. Turning around, we watch him take long strides to catch us. "You fought with strength out there today."

He's looking at me.

I feel my cheeks go rosy and my stomach become a washing machine.

"And you, Benjamin, you fought hard."

Ben looks away. "I couldn't kill that walker."

"But you tried!" Ezekiel grips Ben's shoulder fast. "True strength grows from your ability to try... not to do. The former allows for the latter."

Benjamin doesn't look convinced.

"I've found you a path to test," Ezekiel carries on. "Morgan has offered to train you with the staff."

Benjamin runs a hand through his curly blonde hair, shaking his head at the King. "Oh, I'm okay—"

"Benjamin," the King gets serious suddenly.

"Fine."

Benjamin notices me inching in the direction of our apartment.

"Not happening, Rhys!" he catches my arm. "Go to the stables."

"I'm good, you know? You're not going, so..."

"Young Rhys!" Ezekiel grins. "If you do not wish to take Benjamin's place at the stable, you could always assist Jerry in feeding Shiva her supper."

"You know what... stables actually sound really good."

It's my first time at the stables since I got here. I've always met Benjamin at the library or the movies after he finishes his work, and to be honest, horses freak me out. Something about those giant eyes that seem to be able to reach into yours and pluck out your soul without permission. Or maybe it's the slightly terrifying fact they only have to kick you once to stop your heart.

A boy is working in one of the paddocks, leading a tall black stallion round in circles by a pinkish-red lead. He's taller than me — stronger-looking, too. But he looks about my age. He has long dark hair pulled back tight into a bun that's kept in check with a green scrunchy.

I lean against the paddock gate and wait for him to see me. He waves when he finally does.

"Hello."

"Hi," I say, trying not to grimace as he leads the beast towards me. When the two reach me, he stands there, looking at me with thin, raised eyebrows.

"Would you get the gate?" he finally asks.

"Right!" I jump off the gate and cautiously swing it open, hiding behind it as the boy and horse pass me. I watch as he calmly leads the horse to an opened stall, whispering into its ear and scratching under its mane before shutting it in and offering out a sugar cube that the animal inhales.

"Are you Teo?" I ask him.

"Yes, I am." he nods. His words come with a strong Spanish accent. "Or you may call me Mateo. Some say Matt."

"Right," I nod. "I'm Rhys."

"I know who you are, Rhys," he chuckles, his voice soft but his words to the point.

"You do?"

He hangs up the horse's lead, nodding, still finding it amusing. "When a stranger turns up at the gates with a dying woman and a man that fights with just a stick, people find out."

"That checks out, actually."

We both stand and look at each other. He's still smiling, but I realise quickly that Mateo just has a not-so-subtle resting smirk.

"Who's he?" I ask, looking at the horse Mateo just stabled. The beast is looking me up and down hungrily.

"That's Downy-Beardy," he says, scratching the horse's nose.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Mateo nods. "His first name was Julius... then Benjamin read a book..."

I roll my eyes. "Shocker."

Teo snickers.

"—Anyway," he continues. "Benjamin tells me one day that Julius means Downy-Bearded... and I decided that name was preferable."

I keep my eyes on the horse.

"Why do you look at him this way?"

"Because he looks like he wants to eat me," I exclaim.

"No," Teo shakes his head. "Beardy here only cares for sugar cubes and hay."

"You're sure?" I inch a little closer, only to jump back when the horse grunts.

"I am sure," Mateo nods. "Pet him." It sounds more like an order than anything else.

"I'm okay—"

"Pet him."

"Really, I'm—"

Before I can argue, Mateo steps forward and drags me by the shoulders until I'm facing the horse, hot breath tickling my face as it studies me.

"He won't bite, right?" I ask. With the taller boy's hands holding me by the shoulders, I realise I don't have much in the way of a choice.

"Not unless you look him in the eyes," Teo says.

I try to pull back.

"That was a joke," he adds.

I take a moment before very slowly extending a hand. Downy-Beardy's ears twitch outward. I stop, taking a deep breath. The horse clearly gets bored because he bends his head forward, bowing into my palm, closing his eyes and flaring his dark, wrinkled nostrils. His hair is soft as silk and dark as night. His mane long with a broad white streak weaving through more darkness. His heavy hooves shuffle on the spot, longer patchy hair around his ankles.

"Not bad, Sugar Cube," Teo smirks, releasing my tensed shoulders and letting me step back from the stall.

"Sugar Cube?" I ask, using my sleeve to wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead.

"Yes, it seems he likes you as much as them."

"Wouldn't bet on it," I chuckle.

I help shovel horse shit for the rest of the day, enough to fill several wheelbarrows that Mateo tells me to wheel over to the nearest gardens for fresh manure. When I ask him why he's not helping, Teo tells me he has to tire out another horse — Pebbles. I complain, and Teo asks if I'd prefer to help him. I think fuck it and say yes.

"So I just... foot up?" I'm already missing the horse shit.

"Yes," Mateo laughs. "Swing your weight over."

Then I'm up. Pebbles is off. Mateo is giving a supportive thumbs up. I cling around Pebbles' grey neck, leaning into the horse as she gallops in circles around the sand school, Mateo standing in the middle with a lead that Pebbles stays attached to. After at least ten circuits, it stops being scary. I feel the wind catch my hair and cool my cuts and bruises. I sit up, arms spread out like an aeroplane. And I feel like one. I'm flying.

When we're done, it's dark, and Pebbles is tired. She licks my face when I put her back in the stable, and Mateo congratulates me. I nod, pretending I'm not still terrified.

"You must taste like a sugar cube, too," Teo laughs when Pebbles licks my face again.

I grimace. "Horses really have no manners."

"So it's movie night tonight," Teo tells me. "Interested?"

"As much as that sounds like fun," I say, smiling. "I've got something I need to do."

I'm a little perplexed at how disappointed Teo looks at my answer, but I shrug it off and say farewell.

I wasn't lying to Teo. I do have somewhere to be. It's dark, and I say goodnight to friendly faces as I cross the Kingdom's cobbled paths lit by suspended fairy lights and flaming torches stuck into the earth. But there's one person in the Kingdom that I still avoid. And when I reach her door in the infirmary, I stop. Hand hovering above the handle.

I know I could go in.

I could face it.

Face her.

Face those screams I've caught in my throat.

Everything I've been avoiding.

But then I think I could still make the movie if I run.

So that's what I do.

I run.