INK: Red (INK Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

MAD

They parked up a little over a half mile from the small church where Edsel had been given The Ink, and each of them hefted a rather substantial backpack onto his shoulders. The roads were blocked from there on in apart from a single route watched by a few bored sentries. It was on foot from now on.

They walked through a narrow alley after leaving the car by the side of the road — just another car, nothing out of the ordinary for anyone spotting it.

Things went wrong immediately.

Edsel directed them down a narrow alley, almost impassable with years of detritus: ripped black plastic bags, mattresses, old make-shift hovels made from cardboard where those lost to The Lethargy died and still remained. Having to deal with shopping trolleys and way too many rats made the going treacherous.

"Where are we going?" asked Aiden.

"To get revenge," said Edsel, face set in determination, senses hyper-alert to any Eventuals.

"Bob, keep a look-out behind, okay?" Bob was at the rear, Edsel at the front, the formation they'd agreed upon.

"Bob?" Edsel turned when there was no answer. "Oh shit. Aiden, change of plan, move to the wall. Now."

Aiden did as he was told, confused but obeying.

I don't believe this, the stupid old bugger. Unbelievable, totally bloody unbelievable.

Bob was stood in the middle of the alley, still close enough to the street that he would be seen if anyone happened to be walking, driving or cycling past — which was a very real concern given their proximity to the church. He was just standing there, not moving, arms hanging by his sides, eyes spun back in his head, mouth drooping on one side like a stroke victim, drool already dropping from his chin.

Stay calm, stay calm. Shit, shit, shit! You stupid old man. This can't be happening, not here, not now.

Edsel looked back up the alley to make sure it was clear, then put a finger to his lips to make sure Aiden stayed quiet. The boy looked totally freaked out, and knew as well as Edsel did what Bob's actions meant. He had The Lethargy, and the daft old bugger had put them all in extreme danger if he knew he had it and this wasn't the first time it had happened. Edsel had the sneaking suspicion it was far from the first time, and it was why Bob was so keen to help them out. It was understandable, he didn't just want to waste the life he had left; he wanted to do something. His actions had put them all in grave danger.

Edsel waved a hand in front of Bob's face, but there was no reaction. His eyes were up in their sockets, staring at nothing. Vacant. He grabbed hold of the strong shoulders of the older man and steered him deeper into the alley. Bob walked like a zombie, one foot in front of the other, no knowledge of what he was doing, acting purely on instinct.

As they reached Aiden, who was freaking out a little, Edsel whispered for him to follow them deeper into the gloom of the rat-infested alley. Eventually they came to a junction where another narrow alley bisected theirs, and Edsel took a right. Innocuous doors lined one wall, some for stores, others for the grouping of pubs that lined the street they were at the rear of.

With one hand on Bob's shoulder, pushing him gently as he repeatedly stopped moving if he didn't, Edsel tried the doors that had handles on their exterior. Finally one opened. He gestured for Aiden to follow and once the boy was inside he maneuvered around Bob, went in himself, then grabbed Bob's hands and pulled him in before shutting the door.

It was dark, very dark.

Just great. Perfect.

"Right, talk quietly, just in case somebody's here. You okay buddy?" Edsel couldn't see a thing.

A voice came out of the dark, "S'pose. He's got it, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, and the daft old bugger never said. He could have got us killed."

"He just wanted to do something. I should have seen it, I never looked. I can see in The Noise he's got The Lethargy. He hasn't had it long though, a couple of months at most."

"We'll talk in a minute. First we need to get him hidden. I'm going to crack the door a little, just so I can see, okay?"

"Okay."

Edsel opened the door a fraction, then peered up and down the alley. He turned back into the space and noted that there was a short flight of stairs leading upward.

Great, just great. Bob isn't exactly going to be light.

"Okay, wait here, I'll be quick. I just need to check it's safe to go up. You good?"

Aiden nodded.

Poor kid, this will be bringing back all kinds of memories.

Edsel tried not to think about his own losses to The Lethargy — now wasn't the time or the place. He went up the stairs as fast as he could, putting his hands out to the walls on either side of the narrow space to help speed him up. At the top of the flight of stairs was another door; it opened when he turned the handle. Down another corridor and the smell of the stale air brought memories of times long gone flooding back. He was in a pub. The smell of the toilets; the smell of the booze — what he wouldn't give to hand over a note and down a cool pint of lager right now. His dad had taken him to countless pubs, and although he'd always been ignored by him Edsel always enjoyed the smells, the atmosphere, the sneaking of a sip of someone's drink if he could get away with it.

He scouted out the pub quickly; all seemed quiet. Obviously the booze was long gone.

Damn.

Back down the stairs and he told Aiden what to do. Edsel grabbed Bob under his arms and began dragging him up the stairs while Aiden helped by pushing his feet. It was exhausting and The Ink screamed at him as his back split open again and the sweat began to burn his body with an all too familiar pain. Once up the stairs the load lightened, so they took an arm each and dragged him into the open space that contained a long bar with a few small tables that were toppled, as well as fixed booths around the edges. They dragged him over to the bar and propped him up so he was sat leaning against the dark wood.

Lighting was diffused inside the pub, the security shutters were still down — slatted metal that gave a low light but hid the interior from outside.

"Just going to close the door," whispered Edsel, before descending the stairs once more.

He was back in a few seconds.

"Any change?"

"No, he's still the same. Why didn't he tell us?"

"Because he's a silly old bugger and probably thought he was doing something useful. Ugh, what a nightmare."

"What are we going to do?"

Edsel stared at Aiden. "What can we do? We can't just leave him, as if he comes out of it soon then he'll probably try to find us and we could all get killed. We'll have to wait for him to wake up then shout at him for being an idiot."

Or just wring his bloody neck for being so stupid.

Aiden smiled, neither of them really finding the situation funny though. "I liked Bob."

"Me too buddy, me too. We'll do what we can, look after him after this is all over. Okay?"

"Sure."

"Right, how about you take a look around and see if there is anything left for us dudes. Dragging Bob is thirsty work."

Aiden scampered off, clearly pleased to be given something to do.

Bob, what were you thinking mate? You put us in a very bad situation here my man.

SORRY

Edsel wanted to tear Bob limb from limb. How could he have put them in such a dangerous situation? He knew what he had, knew that it could come on at any time, take him away from reality and leave him half floating in The Void. What was wrong with him?

Bob obviously had the early stages of The Lethargy, the mystery epidemic, infection, virus, scourge of God, or whatever the hell it was as nobody had even the slightest idea. Whatever it was, Bob would have been all too aware of what was going on. Victims in the early stages would phase in and out of consciousness, knowing what had happened when they were fully aware again, until gradually they became more and more listless in their waking hours and lost the ability to interact with anything around them. As their interest in anything and everything waned so did their time staying aware, until finally they simply never returned to a conscious state and then either died from lack of food or water, or clung to life if they had others to tend to their every need.

They were the lucky ones.

The unlucky ones had a form known as Creeping Lethargy, where they were slower to lose their desire for living, came in and out of awareness on a less frequent basis, but could carry on in that way for year after miserable year. It all resulted in the same end though: an inglorious death that you were never even aware of.

Now Bob had put everyone in a terrible position by coming along knowing that at any moment he could be lost to them and be nothing but a shell of a man, unaware of anything around him, nothing but a lump of meat that could be cajoled into moving if you were lucky.

So much for his kick-ass plan. Man, I need a drink.

Edsel crunched over broken bottles and the shards of broken pint glasses, making his way behind the bar. There was nothing, not even a nasty liqueur, definitely no whiskey. The large mirror behind the bar was still intact, and the shelves either side of it too, but they had been totally emptied, not a drop left. Edsel had an idea, hoping beyond hope that it would pay off. He dragged a bar stool over and took it back behind the bar, then stood on it and reached up high onto the very top shelf; it appeared empty from on the ground.

He fumbled about until he felt a glass bottle.

Please, please, please.

"Yes!"

He pulled the bottle out and was only slightly saddened to find that it was Stolichnya vodka and not whiskey, but it had been so long since he'd had a drink that right now he really didn't care. He'd seen a barman get a bottle from a similar place once before, and understood it was quite a common thing — stashing a bottle for after hours somewhere where nobody else would get their hands on the good stuff.

"I didn't find anythi—"

"Aah, shit, shit shit."

Edsel turned at the sound, not realizing it was Aiden for a split second, and wobbled on the stool. He began to fall.

You idiot, it's Aiden.

It was too late. Edsel waved his arms about wildly, trying to regain balance, but it was no use.

"Aaargh, aargh, get it, get the bottle. Quick!" Edsel was on fire, a searing, impossibly hot fire that would strip his flesh from his bones and leave him praying for the flames of hell just to cool down.

The bottle had broken when it caught on a shelf as he fell, the expensive vodka pouring over his body. It soaked through his shirt and his upper body erupted into a pain he thought impossible. He believed he had experienced as much hurt as the human body could experience, but he'd been wrong.

As the forty percent proof alcohol made contact with the open pores of his tattooed skin and the scabs, scar tissue, gashes and myriad points of infection, his skin erupted into a sickening pain that stung like a million bees and he honestly thought that the alcohol had caught fire. He batted at his shirt as Aiden ran around the counter and grabbed the bottle, but it was too late, the bottle was empty.

"Am I on fire? Am I on fire? Ugh, ugh, argh," shouted Edsel in a frenzy, turning this way and that, batting at the green shirt, trying to douse the flames that didn't exist.

"No, no, you're not on fire, it's just the stinging from the vodka."

"Stinging? Stinging? STINGING!? Oh my god I think I'm going to explode. Bathroom, where's the bathroom?"

"That way," said Aiden, pointing to the sign for the Ladies and Gents.

I am the stupidest man in the history of the world. I can't believe this, I really can't.

Edsel ran off quickly, adrenaline surging through his body, every nerve alive with pain, his plans forgotten, the whimpering turning into shouts, the day going downhill at every possible turn.

What am I thinking? Damn, there isn't any running water, hasn't been for years. Get it together. Stupid.

He ran back out into the main space. "Have we got any water?"

"Yes, here. I wondered why you wanted the bathroom so suddenly."

"Not thinking straight; too much pain. Here, pull it off, quick."

Aiden grabbed a sleeve and pulled the already ripped open shirt off Edsel while Edsel unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured the water over his skin. If he thought it had been red before then now it was glowing. The alcohol had wreaked havoc with his healing, or trying to heal skin, and it had erupted into pure agony, the redness more extreme than it had ever been. Edsel poured more water over his back, down his chest, lifting an arm one at a time to douse the invisible flames.

"Phew, sorry about that Aiden. I kind of freaked out a little then. Man, this is killing me. So stupid, ugh."

"Sorry for making you jump, and sorry you spilt the vodka. Bet you need that drink even more now, right?"

"Oh god, don't even joke about it. I'd suck the glass if I thought it would work." Edsel looked at the skin he could see. Was there no end to this? The redness was receding already as the water cleared off the alcohol, but it was still burning terribly and he just felt like sitting down and crying. When would it all be over? "Okay, back on track. Deep breaths, phew, phew, phew. Right, did you find anything?"

"No, nothing at all. But I did think of something..."

"Okay," said Edsel warily, knowing it wasn't going to be good.

"Um, how far away did you usually get before they found you again? I mean, was there a pattern? I can only pick up the presence of other people if I'm really close and really focused in The Noise, but I don't know what it's like for others. Properly Awoken. You know, like some of The Eventuals are."

Edsel went cold. What the hell was the matter with him?

"Usually just over half a mile. Much closer than that and they usually seemed to be able to pick me up, and then the chase would be on again."