INK: Blue (INK Trilogy Book 3)

by Line, Al K.

  "He's just pushed what came to him after he Awoke. It's not like he's just pure evil, but there isn't really much of a moral compass there. He's able to see things in The Noise, learn stuff. Like this weird Ink, he told us about it, and it looks more impressive up close. I can sort of see the energy running through it, you know?"

  "Yeah, I know. And it hurts if I get too excited, like it pulses."

  "Well, that's stuff he learned, and stole too. He's captured men that give The Ink, learned what he could, then changed it. And he adds, well, not sure what, but something so it makes it raised. He didn't go into detail, just talked a lot, bits and pieces of loads of stuff."

  "But why? Why any of it?"

  "It's simple isn't it? He's bored out of his brain and he doesn't care. He wants you to chase him, wants the thrill. He heard about how you escaped The Eventuals, followed you, wanted to see what you would do when they found you again, and then he's just been caught up in his own madness for years. I think he's left quite a trail of bodies behind him to be honest. He does a lot of weird stuff as far as I can tell."

  "Well, if he wants a chase then he's got one, right?"

  "Oh yeah. We have to get Aiden back, and stop him."

  "Well, all right then."

  The van began to jerk, stutter, and then the engine died. Edsel looked at the fuel gauge in dismay as it showed the reason for the sudden engine failure.

  Looks like the chase just slowed down somewhat.

  "You are not telling me we are out of fuel?" said Lash, unleashing the full force of her disappointed face on Edsel.

  She's still scary.

  "Sorry. I just got the first vehicle that had the keys in it. Did Michael have a full tank when you left?"

  "What do you think?"

  Guess he did.

  KELOIDS

  "Are they keloids?"

  "Eh? Oh, this you mean?" said Edsel, rubbing a hand over his chest. "I don't think so, no. Michael said it was more like when you make a cut and put ash under the surface of the skin — you're left with a scar, a hypertrophic scar he called it. It stays exactly where the cut was made. Except he didn't make cuts as such, it was done with whatever tattoo machine he used. Something was in it that did the same job as cutting — put The Ink in and raised the skin at the same time. It got bigger over a few days but I think this is it now."

  "Does it hurt a lot?" Lash kept staring at his head, at his bare torso. It was almost as if she liked it.

  She does, she likes it. That's something at least.

  "What do you think? Look at me. I'm past caring anyway; it's too much to take in any more. It's happened too bloody often."

  "I know baby, I know. Once we get Aiden then I promise we'll go back to the island and never, ever leave again. Just us. I love Aiden dearly, and I don't want to be mean, but look what's happened. It's not his fault, but next time he wants to go somewhere he's going to have to take the risk on his own. I can't bear it."

  "Me either. It's too much. I don't think I'd be brave enough to leave again anyway. Let's just hope that we have the option in any case," mused Edsel. "We aren't safe yet, far from it."

  They walked while they talked, a couple bonded in pain and love. They felt it, and they would do everything they could to get Aiden back, to put an end to the madness.

  Plan, we should have a plan. But what is there apart from saving Aiden? We just have to find him is all.

  Edsel couldn't believe that Lash was back with him. He'd genuinely thought that the next time he saw her she would be dead. He held her hand tightly, ignoring the weird feeling through the raised scars dancing around his palms, sacrificing pain for the closeness; the love.

  "We'll get him, don't you worry."

  Lash turned to him and smiled.

  God, she's beautiful.

  Edsel sniffed the air.

  A bit stinky though. Me too probably.

  ~~~

  The air grew cool as the sun set and the road became less a road, more a wide open green runway, the trees bending like they were settling down for the night. Leaves rustled in the emerging forests as the creatures of the night woke to hunt. Badgers, foxes and deer crossed the empty road, ignoring the humans that many had never encountered in their lives before. Owls hooted in the trees, and the barking of dogs could be heard far in the distance.

  Edsel's feet were beyond sore, numbing to a degree that made him think of explorers trudging up snow-covered mountains while their hands and feet froze, blackened and then simply snapped off. At times it felt like it would be a blessing to simply be done with it all, let himself break into a million tiny pieces and just turn to dust, be blown away by the wind, carefree and unknowing.

  Lash wasn't in a great state either. She limped slightly, her ribs were hurting and the bruise had spread to cover the entire side of her body. Edsel wondered if shock wasn't setting in too — it had been a lot for her to deal with. The terror must have been total.

  We need to get somewhere safe, I don't like this, and I'm freezing without anything but these jeans on.

  Edsel wondered just why it was that he always seemed to end up shirtless when his life was disturbed, coming to the conclusion that if he was the hero then it was only appropriate he show off his flesh. The trials of the reluctant hero, pitted against a world gone rogue. Definitely out to get him and those he loved — the madness of the world spilling in his direction once more.

  Just a shame there's no muscle under all The Ink.

  His body was truly ruined now, layer upon awful layer of Ink, each more obscene than the last. There couldn't be any more, surely? No new advance in the terrible permanent pigment that could make things even worse. If there was then he certainly didn't want to be the one to find out just how far it could go.

  This world is so strange now.

  So little made sense. The world had changed beyond what anyone could have ever foreseen, yet most of it was understandable. But the absence of people, traffic and noise was something he didn't think he would ever get used to, however long he managed to live in the still alien environment.

  Walking down the middle of a once busy road, with a total absence of moving vehicles, was something Edsel didn't think he would ever find anything but surreal. It was too wrong, too far removed from what his reality had once been. He still, after all these years, half expected the street lights to flash back on, cars go whizzing past, a section to be marked off with traffic cones while workmen busied themselves repairing the damage of years of neglect, apologizing for the problems, promising that normal business would be resumed soon and life could go back to the way it was when he was still a fresh-faced teenager.

  This doesn't even feel like the same planet any more.

  But it was.

  Dusk was settling and the air grew colder. The cloudless sky began to light up with distant stars, countless millions of them, shining a weak light on the disappearing road, soon to be nothing but a grass covered scar cutting through the landscape that would eventually disappear under the forests infringing from all sides, man's work obliterated.

  The night brought a new kind of emptiness. It was as if he and Lash were the only two people left alive — lone travelers in a world finally empty of humanity.

  Lash hardly spoke, she just ambled along beside Edsel, their hands never letting go of each other, their minds resolute yet exhausted as bodies screamed against the shock to their systems, both knowing this was just the beginning and the chances were that they had a long search ahead of them.

  How were they going to find Aiden and Michael now? They could be anywhere. Aiden could be dead, but Edsel refused to believe it. He couldn't be, not Aiden. He'd survive. Edsel would find him, no matter how long it took.

  "It can't be far now, we must come to a town or something soon," said Lash, looking half dead on her feet.

  "Good. I really need some shoes and a shirt or sweater. And food, food and water."

  "I just want to sleep. I want to find Aiden, have a burger and a mi
lkshake, say goodnight and cuddle up in bed, back home, just us."

  "That sounds perfect," said Edsel sleepily, putting one foot in front of the other, just walking, pushing on, nothing else to do but walk and hope.

  Maybe even pray.

  GLOW

  They made it to a small town as night fell. Edsel was too tired to even look at the few signposts hidden in the trees on the outskirts, all he knew was that he was running on empty, hungry, scared for Aiden and if he thought about it then for Lash and himself too.

  He was amazed that Lash had kept going as long as she had — she looked worse than he felt, and that was saying something. The last few miles had been mostly silent, all energy focused on one foot in front of the other, the way becoming more treacherous as they approached the town and the light began to fade.

  The country felt rotten to him now; wrong, like he didn't belong. They'd been happy away from it all, away from the signs of degradation, things just falling apart. It wasn't his home any longer. The state of disrepair of the country he'd once loved as a young man was simply too depressing, a reminder of everything that was lost, how precarious society had actually been, nothing but a series of weak links, all too easy to break.

  Is that true? Do I really hate it, or is it because of what's happened? A few days ago I'd realized that I actually missed it, missed the adventure too. Guess my wish came true.

  The admission that he'd actually been enjoying their time back amongst the remains of civilization had returned to mock him — he'd been wrong, this was too much for any man to take.

  Edsel would never have thought that civilization would unravel so quickly, that everything that had been done could be destroyed so totally. Unmaintained towns and cities as delicate as flowers, breaking apart in just a few years to become little more than reminders of what once was and how wrong so much of it had been if you'd only taken a moment to stop and look, really look at where and how you lived.

  But I loved it. It was fun.

  Lash gripped his hand tightly, just as she'd done for hour after hour now. She was exhausted and really scared, sick with worry for Aiden — he knew that she was holding on tight just to keep herself upright, as much as for the comfort and closeness.

  They'd talked a lot as they walked, until they grew too tired, just to break the silence that closed in and left them feeling as empty as the world they traveled in. Neither of them could understand what it was that Michael hoped to gain from his actions, and why he'd taken Lash and Aiden at all. It just made no sense.

  The only conclusion that Edsel could come to was the simple fact that the man was broken, his mind gone, replaced with an insanity that thrived on a need for something to do. That was it, Michael simply wanted to be noticed in a world that no longer cared. He wanted to be recognized, he wanted to stand up and be counted, not just fade into the background like those with The Lethargy.

  So he'd learned new skills, experimented with the knowledge he gained, and wormed his way into other people's lives just so he could be a part of something, be a player in a story that had already played out, resurrecting Edsel's past life so he could insert himself into it and lead the tale, rather than just watch from the sidelines.

  And I'm going to give him exactly what he wants. He's going to be a part of the story all right, just not in the way he wants. Or maybe he does. Maybe all of this is just his sick and twisted way of putting an end to it all — going out with a bang.

  The pain had ebbed to a background noise of irritation, replaced with numbness, the only blessing the night bestowed, as feet as cold as ice told Edsel that they were closing in on the remains of civilization. Styrofoam cups, plastic bags and other garbage that had been blowing around the streets for so long, scratched at his bloodied toes and welcomed him into the town that offered rest for the night, but no guarantee of safety.

  ~~~

  The streets were deserted apart from the usual wildlife. The few people that remained would be locked up as safely as they could be for the night. Nighttime was not for people any longer — when it was dark it was truly dark now, unless there was a strong moon.

  No streetlights guided their way; it was almost impossible to see a thing. There was no moon, just the clear sky and the countless stars, cold and indifferent. Creatures hid in the shadows, disturbed by the footsteps of human beings, a rarity that sent them scurrying for the shadows, eyes peering out at them from behind cars and the rapidly increasing plant life that would eventually cover everything man-made, reclaim what was lost.

  What a difference. The animals are still wary here, different than just a few miles back. Who can blame them? I'm scared of people too.

  Edsel longed for the sight of drinkers spilling out of pubs, the loud chatter of a cab driver, the sight of lights on in office windows, but there was nothing, all that was left was darkness and fear.

  Yet there was light, Edsel just hadn't really thought about it as he was so tired. No moon, just the faintest glow from the stars, yet their way was gently illuminated by a blue patch of luminescence.

  "You're glowing. Look at your skin," said Lash, pointing at his chest.

  Edsel looked down and it was true — the raised welts that covered his body were shining gently with a warm blue light, effervescent like a piece of modern art made from neon.

  "Why doesn't this surprise me in the least?" said a resigned Edsel, simply not caring any more, too tired to be angry or even curious.

  "You know what? That is kinda cool. Look at it!"

  "Yeah, brilliant. I'm a walking torch now on top of everything else."

  Lash kept silent and they walked on, hunting for what? Somewhere to sleep, for Michael and Aiden, for food and water. They no longer knew, just kept walking, waiting for whatever would happen to happen. What else could they do?

  As the street narrowed, and the way was blocked by what was left of a building that had collapsed years ago after a fire, Edsel knew that Michael would have turned back and found another way through the town, but he would surely connect back up with the road further on so they scrambled over the rubble, Edsel's feet now raw from so much walking without anything on his feet.

  "We need to stop, find shelter. I need clothes and I need to take a look at my feet."

  "Okay, where?"

  "Does it matter? Let's just pick a house and go inside."

  They made it over the bricks and burned timbers, the interior of the house still standing, a strange glimpse into the once private world of those that had lived there. Edsel felt like a voyeur, looking where he shouldn't, people's secrets open to him.

  At the end of the street, each house painted a different pastel color — a lost pride in what was probably a close-knit community — they headed around the back of the terraced houses, checking for any sign of life before Edsel felt the row was deserted and they wouldn't be making their presence known if he smashed a window to get into what was hopefully an empty house.

  It was spooky in the alley, claustrophobic and warm, huge mounds of trash blown into the dead-end decomposing, raising the temperature. Strange noises made Edsel's skin prickle, but it was probably just rats, or cats. The main fear was dogs, and that was why you never went out at night if you could help it in built up areas.

  They wandered further down the alley, the sight of a huge rat scurrying past enough to convince Edsel they'd moved far enough out of sight if there was anybody tracking their progress.

  "Let's try this one," said Edsel, opening the gate and checking the back garden. There could have been anything or anyone there, the waist-high grass and confusion of large shrubs made it perfect for hiding in, not that he could see anyway. Lash held on to his hand again as they pushed through the grass, Edsel's feet so cold they were numb.

  I just hope that they're not too badly damaged.

  Lash was shivering uncontrollably now, her vest little more use than if she wore nothing like Edsel, and her teeth chattered so loudly she sounded like a woodpecker searching for grubs in a tree.<
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  The red-brick house loomed high above them, a dark menace silhouetted against the sky, the row as a whole reminding Edsel of shattered teeth in a mouth bathed in blood. He almost couldn't face going inside, knowing that he was in no state to do much if anything but emptiness greeted them inside the tomb-like interior.

  Let it be empty, the cupboards stocked with food, the TV working and for there to be shoes in my size.

  Edsel shook his head at his own ridiculous daydreams — what was wrong with him?

  Ah, yeah. Ink, always Ink.

  Edsel tried the back door, the chrome lever illuminated by his own skin. It was unlocked — quite common in properties where the owners had succumbed to The Lethargy. He pushed the door open cautiously, peeking his head inside, half expecting a blow to send him crashing to the black and white linoleum.

  Nothing. He signaled for Lash to wait at the door while he stepped inside. The strange blue glow from his Ink lit the way like a flashlight when the batteries were running low, but it was enough to see by if he moved slowly and focused.

  I'd never know if someone was here, not enough light.

  The back door opened onto a cramped kitchen, clean but old-fashioned, the owners definitely not keeping up with the Jones'. Cupboard doors were partially open, and even without checking Edsel knew that they would offer up little — he had a sixth sense for such things, he'd rummaged through so many kitchens over the years he knew as soon as he walked into a room whether or not he was wasting his time. Part was intuition, part was the smell, although he never really connected it — if a kitchen didn't reek of rot then the chances were that it was empty of all goods, either stolen or the owners had simply run out of provisions before leaving, or passing into oblivion.

  There was no smell in the hallway, the same as the kitchen, just a rather pleasant background odor, so he at least knew he wasn't going to come across any bodies — that was something he never got used to. You can watch all the movies you like, read as many books as you can afford, but nothing prepares you for the visceral, total sense assault that greets you when you discover a body in one stage of decomposition or another. It was both fascinating and utterly repellent what happened to a corpse over the days, weeks, months and years. This house definitely didn't contain any people.