Winter Castle (Winter Plague Book 2)

by Isla Jones

  I must admit, I was a little proud that Castle was impressed when I showed him. It was as if I had one up on him and for the first time I knew something he didn’t.

  We hiked through the woods covered in a thick layer of dried, cool mud. It only works if the mud—or blood—is cold. The rotters can’t feel any body heat from you, they can’t smell any life on you, otherwise the jig is up and you become lunch.

  There weren’t many rotters lurking in the woods. Well, there were less than I’d expected. We hiked, slow and quiet. Castle led the way, using the position of the sun and stars to guide us. But it wasn’t until the second day that we came across the cabin.

  The stone cabin hugged me with relief. It was two stories high and right on the edge of a lake the deep shape of Leo’s dark eyes. I beat down the thought of Leo, and followed Castle inside.

  The interior spoke of a wealthy family who had once lived there. I wondered if they had made it to safety during the outbreak, or if they’d died on their way to the cabin. It was a good place to hide from the rotters.

  After we checked the rooms inside, making sure there weren’t any infectees, I let myself relax. Even though the cabin was clear, I stayed near Castle, just in case. We set up camp in the living room. The television didn’t work, but I hadn’t expected it to. Castle filled the fireplace with wood; we would let it burn for a few hours until night came.

  While he built the fire, I wandered into the kitchen that looked out over the living area. All of the crockery was still in the drawers and cupboards. There wasn’t a pantry, so I checked all of the cupboards until I found what I was searching for—food.

  When I checked the long cupboard by the fridge I daren’t open, I froze.

  “Castle!” I said. “Castle, get in here—you have to see this!”

  Castle was quick. He stood behind me within seconds, and looked over my shoulder at the cupboard’s contents.

  It was beautiful. Every shelf was crammed with tins of beans, soups, fruits and custards; there were stacks of two-minute noodles, packets of pasta, cans of fizzy juice, and even cartons of long-life milk. I hadn’t had milk since before the outbreak.

  “What’s that?” asked Castle, though he reached up to the top shelf and pulled out the metal box anyway. I followed him to the island bench and watched as he unclasped the lock and flipped the lid open.

  “Score,” I said. Castle shot me a funny look, but I ignored it—the packets of painkillers and wrapped bandages had my full attention. I plucked an orange bottle from the box and scanned the label. “Diazepam,” I read aloud. “Prescribed to Michael Roberts.” I put the bottle back into the tin. “Think he’s still alive?”

  Castle gave me a steady look. “Do you?”

  I sighed and went back to the pantry. I grabbed a bag of cheese-flavoured corn chips, then limped to the living room.

  Castle came in after me, holding a few packets of macaroni and cheese, long-life milk, a saucepan, and two bowls. My stomach growled at the sight.

  I didn’t help make dinner. I just watched and ate my corn chips.

  By the time we’d eaten dinner, the sun had set. Castle snuffed the fire, and the cold was quick to take the cabin. We couldn’t relight it. The smoke could give our position away to the rotters. We shut the heavy curtains, barricaded the doors with furniture, and lit a few candles.

  “We’ll check the property tomorrow,” said Castle.

  He lounged on the bed I’d made on the floor; the cushions from the sofas and mattress from the nearest bedroom. I sat on the edge, picking at the last of the corn chips.

  “What for?” I asked, licking the crumbs from my fingers.

  “There’s a shed out back,” he said. “There might be a car in it.”

  I turned and lay on my side across the mattress. Castle’s eyes followed me. His sock-covered feet rested near my knees, and his hands were clasped behind his head. I propped my head up on my hand and met his watchful stare.

  “We already found a jackpot in the kitchen,” I said. “No one is lucky enough to find food, a safe place to sleep, and a car. It just doesn’t work like that.”

  His eyelashes lowered, and I thought for a moment that he was blinking, but then I saw the steady gleam beneath the dark lashes. He was tired, I realised. But it didn’t surprise me; we’d been hiking through the woods for days and he’d supported my weight much of the time.

  In more ways than one, I suppose.

  “No one has been here,” he said. “Whoever owned this place was prepared for an emergency visit. Why else would the kitchen be stocked with that much food?” He paused to yawn. “We’ll check the shed in the morning.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” I mumbled.

  I hoped he was right, I truly did. But I’d learned in this world to never get my hopes up.

  Sleep took us not long after. I slept across the mattress.

  When I woke up in the morning, I was on the mattress alone with a fluffy blanket draped over me. Embers glowed in the fireplace, and the faint scent of coffee reached my senses.

  Tugging the blanket over my shoulders, I sat up and looked around. From the make-shift bed, I could see the island bench in the open plan kitchen, but Castle wasn’t there. The fridge that we’d pushed against the back door last night had been moved.

  I got up and wandered to the door. Through the dusty glass, I could see the morning glisten of the lake; Castle wasn’t there, either.

  I froze.

  There was a strange sound from outside. I didn’t know if it was a growl, deep and low, or a choke. I heard it again; I strained my ears to listen closely.

  I realised what it was. It was a sound I’d heard many times before; one that riddled me with frustration and despair. It was the sound of a car trying to start, but a car that would rather sleep through the pain of this world.

  Castle was in the shed.

  With a huff, I pushed through the door and limped across the lot. The earth was flattened beneath my feet, only little tufts of weeds poking out of the dirt. There were tyre marks streaked across the ground and many of them led across the lot to the blue-painted shed.

  The shed was turned away from me, its roller door facing the path that led up to the cabin. But I heard Castle’s cursing from the open doorway before I even reached the shed.

  I stopped at the edge and looked inside.

  Castle was hunched over the open bonnet of a sleek black car. My heart fluttered—it was Jeep. But then my hope vanished just as quickly as it’d come; Castle swore and threw a rag at the bonnet.

  “I’m not sure throwing things at it will help.”

  He turned his stony face to meet my gaze, and the chill of his electric-blue eyes lashed over at me. Despite the fierceness in his eyes, his tone wasn’t as sharp when he asked, “How is your ankle?”

  “About as good as your mood,” I told him.

  Castle curled his upper lip at me before turning back to the car. His hands rested on the edge, and he stared down at the engine.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I asked, moving closer.

  “I’m trying to figure that out.”

  I stopped beside him and ran my gaze over the guts of the Jeep. “Mind if I try?”

  Castle didn’t try to hide the snort he made at my expense. He looked down at me, a quirk to his lips, and his brow raised. “Go ahead.”

  I shot him a false smile, then unwrapped the blanket from my shoulders. After I shoved it into his hands, I grabbed the rag from the radiator cap. “What are its symptoms?”

  Castle arched his eyebrows; it seemed he couldn’t keep the patronising look off his face. “Are you a doctor?”

  My hand reached out, with the cloth, and pulled the dip-stick. The oil level was low, but not too low. “Just tell me,” I said.

  “It started,” he said, “the first time I tried. Then, it sputtered and cut out. Haven’t been able to start it again.”

  “What sounds was it making?”

  “Meows and purrs.”

&n
bsp; I glowered over my shoulder at him.

  Castle wore a lopsided grin, and leaned against the utility shelf. He held his hands up; “All right,” he said, dropping his hands to his sides. “It sputtered, like I said, and made a strained chugging sound. It also smelled a bit like paint,” he added. “If that’s any help to your sudden acquaintance with cars.”

  “Paint?” I said, straightening up.

  Castle nodded. “That’s what I said.”

  “Well you should’ve said that to begin with.” My tone was curt. I don’t like to be mocked, especially when I know what I’m talking about. “Check the shelves for a gas-pump. It should look like a bicycle pump, but with—”

  “I know what a gas-pump is,” he said. The amused glint in his eyes had dimmed. “You think the gas has gone off?”

  “Obviously,” I said. “How long has this car been sitting in here? And it’s hotter in this shed than outside. The gas has separated in the tank, I think.”

  Castle looked at me. And the way he did was as if he’d never seen me before. I lingered beside the bonnet, frowning back at him. Then, he pushed himself forward and set to looking for the pump.

  I couldn’t resist it. I had to say it. “I told you so.”

  “You could still be wrong,” he said, riffling through a cupboard. “We won’t know until we check the gas.”

  I smirked. “And then I’ll get to say it again.”

  I GUESS WE BECAME FRIENDS

  ENTRY FOUR

  I did get to say it again.

  An hour later, we’d syphoned some of the fuel out with the pump and—wallah!

  The gas had separated.

  Castle had wanted to just pump out all the fuel, but I’d told him that he was wrong. We had to remove the whole tank and empty it ourselves. The gas had been left too long; so long that it had likely congealed at the bottom of the tank. The clumps of jelly-fuel would clog the hose.

  How I rejoiced in saying those four words to him; I told you so.

  He shrugged it off, but I know it got under his skin.

  Castle did most of the work. He said with my ankle healing, I shouldn’t push myself.

  It wasn’t kindness. It was his impatience with my slow pace, and a desperate bid to gather back whatever scraps of masculinity he had left in him. At times, I wonder if he tries to be a cliché, or if that’s how he really is.

  “Stop watching me.”

  Castle’s voice shattered my thoughts.

  “I wasn’t.”

  I shifted around on the passenger seat and looked out the windshield. Castle was crouched down at the car door, the gas tank at his feet. The shed reeked of varnish and petrol, and I was beginning to get a little lightheaded.

  I watched a dragonfly zoom around outside. It soared up, down, to the left, then right. As I watched it, I wondered if it knew what the world was now.

  “I can help you know,” I said, just as the dragonfly fluttered out of view. I said a silent good-bye and good-luck to it. “I’ve done it before,” I added, turning to face Castle again.

  Castle glanced up at me. “I know you can help,” he said. “But I’d rather your ankle—”

  I cut him off with a loud huff. Ankle this, and ankle that. Don’t take my word as gold, but I might’ve preferred another bullet wound to an ankle sprain. It was harder to get around than I’d ever imagined. And with it being just Castle and I, it went from a disability to a liability.

  How long, I wondered, until he leaves me behind?

  Castle dropped his head for a moment.

  My eyes washed over him; he was feeling the fumes, too, I realised. It was all I needed to slide off the seat and join him on the oil-stained floor.

  “Right,” I said. “You get that end, I’ll take this end.”

  “I said no.”

  “And I said yes. You’re not in charge anymore, Castle. Not until we get back to the others. Until then,” I said, grinning, “we’re a team. So pull your weight.”

  My fingers coiled around the ribbed edge, muscles ready to lift. Castle hesitated. He was torn between shouting at me or agreeing—I’m still unsure which.

  “Fine.” His voice was curt, and he grabbed the other side. Together, we lifted the tank and tilted it, pouring out the fuel from the tube. It slapped into the metal drum we’d prepared; it sploshed and splashed. Some of the fuel came out in globs, like I’d suspected. When that happened, I shot a smarmy look at Castle. He pretended not to notice.

  After we’d emptied and cleaned the tank, Castle and I left the shed. There was still work to be done, but then I’d made a teeny mistake.

  I threw up on his shoes.

  The fumes were too much. He insisted we go back to the shed the next day and fix the tank back onto the car.

  I didn’t like the cabin as much as I should have. It was quiet, too quiet. Whenever the wood groaned, I heard it as a shout. When a bird tweeted, I jolted in my chair. I wanted to leave.

  “Are you just going to mope around all day?” asked Castle. He leaned against the archway to the living room, where I was curled up on the armchair, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

  “What else is there to do?”

  Castle pulled away from the arch. I always hated archways indoors, you know. I think I hate them more, now.

  “Is that a serious question?” he asked, and dropped onto the edge of the mattress. He sat up, bringing his knees to his chest, and gazed up at me with those damned blue eyes. Sometimes I wonder if they are little, tiny crystal balls that pierce through your skins and bones only to rummage around in your soul—that’s how he reads people.

  “Ok, fine,” he said with a sigh. “You were right about the car.”

  I made a face at him.

  “Well isn’t that why you’re sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself?”

  Not for myself, I thought. For Leo, for Cleo, for Vicki—and that’s about it, really. I didn’t like too many others in the group.

  Does that make me an awful person?

  “Get up.” Castle stood and snatched my hand. Before I could pull away, he’d yanked me from the chair. “Our clothes need changing.”

  My eyes widened and I gaped at him.

  Castle raised a brow. “Not like that—look at yourself.”

  I did. I looked down at my tattered top and ripped jeans. They hadn’t been ripped when I’d stolen them from a shop. Even one of my boots had scuffed so badly that a hole was forming at the inner-edge.

  Castle, holding onto my wrist, led the way out of the living to the door blocked by a shelf. He let go of me, moved around it, then pushed it out of the way.

  Down the corridor we’d blocked off was where the bedrooms were. We hadn’t looked around too much when we’d first arrived at the cabin. I think, looking back, we were just too exhausted to care about anything other than the food, and barricading ourselves away from threats. But as I followed Castle down that corridor, a light bounce crept into my steps.

  I could wash in the lake. I could wear clean, non-torn clothes. New socks…

  The thought almost had me smiling.

  First, we checked the bathroom.

  The water didn’t work, but we’d known that already. Still; there’s something about trying a sink-tap or flushing a toilet—because you just never know when it might work.

  Castle found a purple shower-caddy under the sink. He seemed to like it; he filled it with shaving creams and razors, and just as he was about to put body wash in it, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  I threw my head back, and I laughed—I laughed at Castle.

  He didn’t stop filling it up with toiletries. My laughter soon hurt my stomach as he stacked coconut shampoo in the caddy.

  “Personal hygiene isn’t a joke,” he said.

  I barely heard him over my snorts and sniggers. “I hope that’s for me,” I choked out.

  Castle threw a scathing look my way. “It’s for the both of us.” He threw open the mirror-cupboard. “What colour toothbrush d
o you want?”

  My laughter faded, or rather it was sucked out of me in an instant.

  A toothbrush!

  “Any,” I said and limped over to him. there were two of them, one pink, one blue. And just like that, I found myself thinking of the owner of the cabin. Michael Roberts. Was the other toothbrush a spare; was it for his wife or boyfriend; or—was it for his mistress?

  “I want the blue,” I said. “I changed my mind.”

  He dropped the toothbrushes and pastes into the caddy.

  “Let’s check out the other rooms,” I said.

  I suddenly lost interest in the bathroom. As I turned and hobbled back to the corridor, Castle trailed right behind me.

  “Where will we get fuel?” I asked. “We need to replace what was lost in the gas tank.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” Castle pushed open a door and looked inside. It was a study, unfinished—wallpaper was rolled up on the floor, and carpets weren’t laid yet. Castle released the door and walked further down the corridor. “There’s a generator in the shed. I’ll check the gas in that, though it’s likely gone off, too.”

  “Worth a try,” I said as he opened another door. This one led to a guest bedroom, where I’d already stolen pillows and blankets from on the first night. We kept moving down the rooms. “There might be some in the basement or attic. It’ll be a cooler place to store it than the shed, so the gas might not be bad yet.”

  “I’ll have a look after dinner.”

  Just as I was about to ask when dinner was—and what we were eating for it—he opened a creaky door to the master suite. I poked my head inside; the mattress was gone, we’d moved it to the living room the night we’d got there, but I didn’t remember the room looking so…occupied.

  Someone had lived here. Or, at least they were planning on it.

  Wedding pictures were nailed to the wall, mixed in a collage with vacation photos. I didn’t want to look at the pictures; they made me too sad. I had enough to mourn, my own grief to suffer.

  Castle slid open a door inside the suite. I walked over to him, my hand on the wall for support. It was a wardrobe, built into the wall.