9.
The castle was on the north-eastern edge of Sible. Their brief detour took them around the eastern side of the village and directly on to the cottage-lined lane that led to the castle.
As the survivors approached the turn on to the castle grounds – swerving past a trio of snappers that skulked out from a pub on their left, attracted by the noise of their engines – Kingsley was tense.
They couldn’t see the castle from where they were as trees surrounded it. He hoped the man on the radio could be trusted. He hoped there would be doctors there that could help Eric. He hoped it would all work out for once.
A flash of white caught Kingsley’s eye. Something between the trees on the right side of the road just ahead – the sign for Sible castle, he realised as they got closer. Except there was a white sheet draped over it with words spray-painted on it.
Brian steered into the entry and Kingsley read the message: SURVIVORS HERE. ALL WELCOME.
The two vehicles trundled up a gravel road with more trees on either side of them, the survivors itching to catch a glimpse of the castle. There was a slight curve in the road and when they turned along it, they could see a cluster of buildings in front of them.
Then suddenly there was a break in the trees on their left and there it was – a hulking stone keep in the middle of a large clearing, with a turret jutting up from the nearest corner of its roof. A crumbling wall surrounded it.
Brian slowed to a stop as a man and a woman walked out of the main L-shaped building in front of them and stood watching their approach. Various other people behind them had also stopped and were staring. Brian turned the engine off.
Kingsley opened his door and got out, then the others followed suit. Only Eric and the children remained in the cars.
The man from the L-shaped building stepped forward a few paces and flashed a broad, toothy smile at the survivors. He had short silver hair, a salt and pepper beard and sharp blue eyes.
“Hello there,” he said. “How can I help you people?”
“We heard your message on the radio,” Kingsley answered. “There are doctors here, right?”
The man nodded. “There are, yes.”
“My friend needs help from a doctor. He’s got an infection.”
The man’s expression became more serious, and Kingsley jumped to allay the concern he knew he’d created by using the word infection.
“It’s not a bite. Some other survivors attacked him and he suffered a stab wound which then got infected. I’d be extremely grateful if you could help him. We want to join your community. We’ll help out in whatever way you need.”
The wide smile returned. “We’re always happy to take new people in. How many of you are there?” Kingsley suddenly recognised the man’s voice as the one who had been speaking on the radio.
“Eight. Two kids and a dog.”
“Great! There are quite a few kids here. Yours is the first dog we’ve had though. I’m sure you’ll all settle in well. I’m Scott, by the way.” He held out his hand. Kingsley shook it, then introduced himself and his friends.
He couldn’t believe how good it was going.
*
Scott’s wife, Nicole – the woman who’d been standing next to him – was a nurse and she led them into the L-shaped building to a room where Eric could rest and be seen to by one of the two doctors in the community. Meanwhile, Scott took the rest of the newcomers on a tour of the place.
As they crossed the bridge over what would have once been a moat but was now just a ditch, Scott waved to a man atop the castle wall overlooking the bridge; there was no gate and the wall had crumbled to the ground in some areas, but they had erected barricades out of furniture and reclaimed wood in those places and always had people on lookout duty.
They could see now that there was a second corner turret on the roof of the keep opposite the one they had spotted driving in. In the safety of the wall, several tents had been pitched on the grass outside the keep. Survivors were everywhere – fixing the barricades, tending to seedling crops in grow beds, chatting, laughing, chasing children around the castle.
Kingsley glanced at each of his friends’ faces and he knew they were all as stunned as he was at how promising this community looked. It was amazing.
Scott led them up the steps and into the keep; they entered on the first floor which, like the two floors above it, comprised one large square room. Colourful banners adorned the smooth stone walls alongside replicas of swords, shields, armour chest plates and helmets. Rustic wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
Some people clearly slept in here as there were mattresses and foldable camping beds laid out on one side of the room, tables and chairs on the other. Though it seemed most people opted for the privacy of a tent outside.
The second floor was twice the height of the first – a great hall with a high gallery that ran the perimeter of the room. Just as Scott was about to take the survivors up to the gallery, a young black man emerged from the spiral stairwell and hurried toward them.
“Scott,” he called out. “Something’s happening with the biters in the dungeon and I think you better see it.”
“Can it wait, Asher? I’m showing the new people around.”
“You really need to see it,” Asher said, shaking his head.
Scott frowned and turned back to Kingsley. “Okay – hey, why don’t you guys come with me? I can show you the storeroom and the dungeon while we’re at it.”
“Sure,” said Kingsley, surprised at how open Scott was with people he had only just met.
Kingsley’s surprise must have registered in his voice because Scott then said, “We don’t hide things from anyone
