by Line, Al K.
What a pair. What a bunch of misfits we are.
"Okay, but please don't get yourselves killed. I don't think I could bear the burden of more deaths because of me."
"Nobody's getting killed. Not us anyway. The three musketeers."
"What's a musketeer?"
"They were... Um, actually I'm not sure."
They continued talking as they wandered around the garden, with Bob showing them the colorful plants as well as the vegetable plots and the small orchard. He obviously spent a lot of time working his land. There were a few pigs, chickens and even a goat too; he was pretty much self-sufficient.
Edsel was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Not like he had been, but his body had tightened up throughout the morning and the pain was growing rapidly. The day was getting hot, set to be a real scorcher, and as the sweat flowed so the burning increased — the scabs began to tighten until every movement meant he could feel another one tear, and tiny stains of blood, pus and who knew what else popped up on his clothes.
The cuts on his arms hadn't healed well either, and his back was getting lumpier from the gravel stuck under the surface. His forearms had come up in some kind of thick shiny skin, and it was clear that this was a reaction where scar tissue formed in abundance — he would be not only tattooed for life but also severely scarred there and probably other places too. He didn't have the heart to look any longer, it was just so damn depressing. The wound from when Aiden grabbed him still felt like somebody was helping themselves to slices of his succulent flesh.
"What? Sorry, I was miles away."
"I said do you want a shower?"
"Oh yeah."
Warm water? Clean water too. The lake was probably a bad idea.
Bob had hooked up portable propane bottles to heat the water through his existing boiler, and used a header tank in the loft to keep the pressure high — the private well that served the house and land had never run dry yet. As Edsel showered carefully then patted himself dry, dark stains appearing on the fluffy white towel, he could almost believe that life was normal and he'd step out to see Kathy in the bedroom. They'd often showered together and what he wouldn't give for that again.
But things weren't normal. He was in a strange house, he had a young boy to be responsible for, and he hurt like hell.
Edsel rubbed at the steamed-up mirror to clear it, then thought better of it.
Why put yourself through it? And let's face it, a shave isn't going to make you look much better at the moment, is it?
~~~
"Ah, that's better," said Edsel, walking into the kitchen, trying to hide the mess he'd made of the towel but also not wanting to just leave it in the bathroom either. "Sorry."
"That's okay," said Bob, surprisingly kindly. "I've got lots, and what's a towel between friends? Take a seat, I was just about to tell Aiden here all about Marcus and The Commorancy. You know about him, it, right?"
"Yeah, pretty much. It was all over the news until it went dark. Stories about him controlling Lethargic to try to save that village that got flattened by a satellite or something, right? There was loads of stuff, but then he kind of went quiet, stopped feeding what was left of the press. Whoosh, gone like Keyser Söze."
"Who?" asked Aiden.
"Oh, just a character from a movie, don't worry about it."
"So, as I was saying," said Bob, giving Edsel a foul glance for getting off topic. "Nobody knows where The Commorancy is, or even what it is, or if it's even actually real."
"It's real," interrupted Edsel. He got another foul look for his trouble.
"Or if it's real..." Edsel kept silent as Bob gave him the daggers. "The story goes that Marcus Awoke naturally, like you have a little Aiden, but he was incredibly powerful. He could control people with his thoughts, Whole and Lethargic, enter the minds of animals, talk to the trees, all that kind of stuff." Bob waved it all away with his hand. "But there was much more to it. He was, or is, a real man of mystery. He gave out information now and then, printed stuff himself. He even keeps the small Internet we still have going from The Commorancy you know? And he has seven Rooms there that people are lucky to get if they try hard enough and find out even how to apply.
"Nobody knows anyone that has come out yet, as the story goes that what happens inside is so special, so wondrous, that nobody would ever talk. And they learn the secrets of truly being Awoken. How to live forever, change their bodies, who knows what else."
"Do you believe all that?" asked Edsel.
"Sure, why not? After The Lethargy it's kind of easy to believe anything isn't it?"
"You have a point there," agreed Edsel.
"Right, but there's more. Did you hear about how lots of famous buildings and landmarks have just disappeared? How all those super-secret storage facilities where they store seed and eggs and sperm of animals were raided and everything taken? Well, he's collecting everything that is important, and keeping it in one place, to protect the future of humanity, in case everyone dies."
"Wow! I knew a little bit of it, but not all that. We never really used the computer much, then the power went, so I never learned how to use the Internet or anything like that," said Aiden mournfully.
"Not missing much," mumbled Edsel, remembering what it used to be like when the Web was a worldwide ever-present obsession for much of the populace. He often thought that it was tied up with The Lethargy, but his musings never went beyond that.
"Stop interrupting," scalded Bob.
"Sorry."
Bob continued. "Of course, it's all a mystery really, nobody knows for sure, and if any of it is true then he must still be constructing such an epic undertaking, but he is taking guests, if you can find a way to get an invitation. It's too late for me, but for you two... Well, you could try. It might be fun. It might mean you could save the world."
"Do you really think so? I always thought it was just a myth, a fairytale," said Aiden, perched on the edge of his seat.
"I don't see why not," said Bob.
"I tried. To find out how to get in," said Edsel.
Aiden turned to him and asked, "What happened?"
"I stopped, once I met Kathy. Everything I read said you had to go alone, no company, just you and your Room."
"Oh."
"Anyway, enough of this, it's time we got ready."
The three of them stood, lost in their own thoughts for a moment of a safe place, a refuge, away from the degradation, the horrors, the emptiness that filled the streets, the houses, their souls.
RETURN
By noon the vehicle was loaded, and they were heading back to Manchester. Bob had an old Suzuki Vitara that was battered but had never let him down, and it was much better than the little hatchback they'd used to get this far.
This is not a good idea.
There was no time to think, Bob was a man of action and he was extremely efficient. Edsel had agreed that the sooner they made their move the better. The Eventuals would catch up with him soon enough, so better that they were the ones making the decisions, rather than just running away. It meant that in under an hour the car was loaded, the plan that had been discussed earlier was gone over again, and then they were on their way.
I must be mad. They must be even madder.
"Guys, are you sure about this? It seems kind of wacky you know? Aiden, please reconsider. Why don't you stay with Bob at his house, wait for me to do what I have to do?"
Silence.
Edsel stared in the rear-view mirror. He'd argued until Bob agreed to let him drive, explaining that he knew the streets that were clear better than Bob, although you never knew when another one would be blocked off. The old man and young boy sat staring straight ahead, a look of determination locked on each of their faces. Resolute.
"Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but this is my fight and I can't be responsible for any more deaths. I think it would crush me if you two got killed because of me. You going to say anything or what?"
"We've made up our min
ds," said Bob.
"Yup," said a tight-lipped Aiden.
"But why? This isn't going to change anything you know? Not really. This is just a small faction of The Eventuals, the religion is still spreading like wild-fire, this won't make a dent in it. It's personal."
"We know," said Aiden. "But we've had enough, we want to fight back."
The three of us against the world; not very good odds.
Edsel glanced in the mirror again quickly while trying to focus on the car-strewn street. Also trying to not grip the steering wheel too tightly and hoping his feet weren't getting too damaged from using the pedals. At least the clutch was nice and loose so didn't take much pressure when he changed gears. "What do you mean?"
"What my young friend here is trying to say," lectured Bob, leaning forward from the back so he was almost peeking through to the front, "is that we are fed up with being scared of things. We're fed up worrying about if we will get The Lethargy. We are fed up worrying about people coming to rob or kill us. We are definitely fed up with not just being able to go for a walk and not be scared, and we are certainly fed up with The Eventuals trying to kill anyone they see, or pouncing on the depressed and unfortunate, sucking the life out of them until they are brainwashed into helping their cause." Bob leaned back in his seat, lecture over.
"Oh. Well, okay. So you aren't doing this just for me then?"
"No."
"I am," said Aiden. "Plus what he said."
They couldn't help it, they laughed, and kept on laughing until Edsel nearly killed them as he wasn't keeping an eye on the road and he nearly hit a man walking down the side of the street to avoid the debris from a burned out building that had finally collapsed.
Edsel kept on going, watching the road carefully.
"What a world we live in," said Bob, "where you are too scared to stop and offer assistance to somebody just in case they would rob you blind or worse."
"I know. I know. Not everyone is bad though. I've met a few nice people, plus some that weren't so nice."
"But what happened to everyone? Why would they change so quickly?" said Aiden.
Bob turned to Aiden. "It's just human nature. People look out for themselves and their loved ones first. As soon as things went wrong and money became meaningless then it was every man for himself. Everybody got used to having what they wanted when they wanted it, then in a flash it was all gone. So people just did what they had to in order to survive."
"He's right Aiden, most didn't have much choice. But it's skewed in the city. Worse. Lots of people left for the country; things are different there I've heard. Calmer, not so mean, not so dangerous. The city brings out the worst in people. They cling to old ways, wanting to go to stores, get what they want. Stupid really, I should have left too — with Kathy."
"It's always been the same," said Bob. "City life is different to country life. I've been lucky, I had the best of both worlds living so close to Manchester. But people are different in cities, less friendly, used to hustle and bustle and not looking you in the eye — the fear was always there, just under the surface, ready to bubble up and explode."
"And now it has," said Aiden.
"Oh yeah, with bells on," said Edsel.
"There just aren't the resources any longer to make such places work, not unless basically everyone leaves. Everything was looted, the food's gone, people don't know what to do."
"So why don't they leave?" asked Aiden, turning to Bob, who seemed like a fountain of knowledge to the young boy.
"Because they are scared. Why didn't you leave? Why didn't Edsel here? It's fear of the unknown."
"Okay, enough chit-chat. You sure we are doing this? It's time to get busy you know?"
"Ready."
"Ready."
God forgive me.
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.
<
br /> 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."