by Line, Al K.
"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."
"And when we got out the alley, then came in here, were we getting closer or further away? I know it wasn't very far, but... Um, are we safe?"
Oh boy.
"Honestly? I don't know. I got caught up with Bob here and didn't think about it. But you're right, I should have thought of it. And we came closer to them, not further away. Not much, but a bit."
"So we need to go?"
"Yes, we do."
"And Bob?"
"Well, Bob better wake up real fast, as otherwise he'll have to stay here. If they find us then he's dead anyway, and we can't carry him around."
Edsel looked at Aiden but the boy seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "Right, let's take a look at this silly old bugger then."
Edsel walked carefully over to Bob, now naked from the waist up once again, his skin red and a mess of raised welts, cracks, random eruptions where it had reacted in strange ways — cuts across his belly and arms. The contrast between the tattooed areas and the pale skin from his neck upwards made him look like a painted mannequin, or a man wearing a Halloween costume — one that really would scare the kids.
"Can you do anything? You know, through The Noise?"
"I don't think so, not really. Maybe make him walk a few steps, not much more."
"Okay, no point in doing that. Especially as I assume it will make you hungry?"
Aiden nodded.
They waited, and they waited some more. Edsel got more and more jittery; Aiden kept looking at his watch. Both glanced continually out of the window, or walked around nervously, but it was no use — they would have to go.
"Okay, that's enough," said Edsel. "We're going to have to leave him. I know it's hard but I can't see a way out unless we just wait for him to wake up. Come on."
Aiden put his backpack on, and Edsel did the same even though it sent his back into spasms and the synthetic material rubbed the flesh raw in an instant. Once again it was the shoulders that were the worst.
I can't seem to keep a shirt on to save my life. If this was a movie I'd at least have huge muscles and be all buff.
"I guess we will have to— Ssh, quiet? Did you hear that?" Edsel's voice dropped to a whisper.
Aiden nodded, and made a walking motion with his fingers, nodding in the direction of the stairs.
Wish Bob had actually had cartridges for his shotgun instead of bluffing. Daft bugger.
Edsel pulled the poker out from his backpack, and Aiden pulled out a long knife that Bob had given him. It glinted evilly in the low light, but Aiden was less of a fighter than Edsel. Twelve was not an age that you became an experienced knife fighter, Edsel had said, when Bob gave him the knife. Bob had said that he knew that, but better to stand a chance, rather than no chance at all, if it came down to needing it.
They crouched down low so they were hidden by the counter, and Edsel whispered instructions to Aiden.
As quietly as possible, they crept over to the door that led to the corridor and stood either side of it, Edsel on the side where anyone would come through. He pulled the knife he had stashed from the lake out of a pocket in the backpack and swapped so the poker was in his left hand.
They got ready.
Muffled sounds came from the other side of the door; Aiden signaled 'one' with his finger. Edsel nodded and got ready.
Well, this is going to be either one less of them or two less of us. Three if they bother with Bob.
The door banged open, smacking into Aiden, and Edsel struck out fast and hard. The knife went in deep with a sickening squelch and he pulled it out quickly. A man in his forties, wearing a still relatively uncommon acolyte's blood-red robe, grabbed at his belly, and as he bent over Edsel swapped his weapons around and swung hard one-handed with the poker at the man's head. The strike was off, but it caught the man on the temple and scraped past his eyes, sending him reeling back into the corridor, screaming and clutching first at his face then at his belly.
Edsel ran forward fast, leaping onto the man whose knife had been dropped the second he was stabbed, jabbing down hard with his wrong hand at the man's throat. The knife went in awkwardly but the man stopped screaming instantly, and as blood spouted from the severed carotid Aiden came up behind; they both watched transfixed as the life ebbed out of the man.
He was dead.
That's it? Just like that? A person wiped out, gone forever.
It seemed too quick. Not easy, but surely such a heinous crime should be more visceral?
"Okay, let's go. Get to the end of the corridor, see if you sense anyone, if not go down and do the same again. Okay?"
Aiden nodded, skirting around the man, trying not to step in the huge pool of blood that was already soaking into the beer-stained carpet. Edsel stepped back to the doorway, grabbed the knife and put it into the backpack, then caught up with Aiden. "Anything?"
"No, nothing. All clear."
"Okay, let's go down together."
They descended the steps in the dark; the door was closed at the entrance to the alley.
SUN
The alley was clear. Edsel couldn't see anyone, and Aiden said that he couldn't sense a soul, so they made their way back out the way they had come, moving fast as there was no doubt the man that had found them would be missed soon enough. The alley was an assault on the nostrils — the day was warming up and with it the stench was rising.
I can't believe I stayed living here for so long. How could I ignore the stink?
Edsel grew nervous as they got out of the shade of the alley: he knew what was coming.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." He gritted his teeth, but the pain flared up into impossible new heights. The sun on his skin was pure agony; it felt like every single needle that had injected The Ink into his body, in the countless thousands of places, was erupting in the sunlight, spouting out its foul liquid right through his skin and bursting into flame, burning as hot as the bright orange orb in the sky.
"You okay?" said Aiden with concern. "You look terrible. Your skin's getting redder. I didn't think that would be possible," he added helpfully.
"I know, I know. It's the sun, it's burning me like crazy. Over there, quick." Edsel pointed to a shaded area across from the alley, a place where a few cars were parked neatly, as if the owners had turned up for work that morning.
"Aah, that's better." Once in the shade his skin immediately began to stop screaming at him quite as loudly. "Right, we are still on track for the plan, we just need... damn, we forgot Bob's backpack. Should have brought it with us."
"Shall we go back?" asked a worried looking Aiden.
"No, it's not worth the risk. The Eventuals could be here any minute. We need to keep moving, keep them from getting our location pinpointed. Are you sure you want to do this? I can take you back to Bob's place, you can lay low until I come get you."
"If you come get me," said Aiden grimly. "But no, I'm staying with you."
"Okay buddy, let's get to it then. You know this is going to be nasty, right?" Aiden nodded. "Okay. Just try not to look if you possibly can, but these guys have to be stopped. You understand that? The things they do, it can't be left, they have to pay. Let's go."
Who am I kidding? This is personal and nothing more. It's for me, so maybe I can sleep at night somewhere down the line. Sleep alone.
They made their way across the back streets, heading right towards the small church where the Manchester Ward of The Eventuals were based — their numbers growing daily as more people gave up what little hope they had been clinging to.
Although Edsel would have preferred it for Aiden to stay away, the truth was that he was invaluable as an ally. He could sense others if he focused, meaning that as they made their way slowly but surely into the lion's den Edsel at least knew when it was safe to proceed. But conversely, any Awoken Eventuals would feel them approaching too, and these were men who may have a lot more experience of their Awoken states — Aiden was a boy of twelve and very scared, although he was doing amazingly well, there was no denying it.
They made their way closer.
This is like the absolute opposite of what any sane person would do. Am I thinking straight? This is suicide. Is that what I want?
The small church was on a relatively quiet back street, surrounded by other streets just like it. They intersected at junctions, curved around to meet with once busy thoroughfares, with a few cul-de-sacs mixed in too. An urban sprawl with little in the way of rhyme or reason as far as Edsel could see, when he'd studied the map of this part of the city. But at least it gave them opportunities and alternate routes as they made their way closer to the church.
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Moving fast, and trying to stay in the shade as much as possible, they got closer street by street. Now they were well within the half-mile radius that seemed to be the tipping point for many Awoken to sense others, so adrenaline was pumping hard and Edsel could see Aiden's nerves were fraying the closer they got. The boy was locked in a frown of concentration, trying to direct them in the best way to keep them from being seen. The chance of there being any Awoken near was remote, as they would be spread all over the city looking for new recruits, seeking out those with nothing to lose — shining brightly in The Noise like beacons of vulnerability and despair. Easy pickings.
They crossed a quiet street and went down the side of a semi-detached house, through the garden and out into a small piece of scrub land, full of the junk of years. Pile after pile of refuse, discarded furniture and countless other abandoned household items.
Aiden put a hand to Edsel's shoulder delicately and whispered that there was a man to their right, somewhere on the street they were heading for. With a nod, Edsel signaled he understood and whispered for Aiden to stay put and wait for him to return. Aiden looked worried, but agreed with a reluctant hint of a smile. The weather was really hotting up, the air was heavy and silent, as if holding its breath to see what would happen, burning Edsel into action, making it impossible for him to stay out in the open.
Insects buzzed around the few tufts of grass and weeds trying to survive amid the junk, teasing Edsel, landing on his skin, daring him to try to swat at them. His seeping sores were a magnet for the creatures; he had to go.
Edsel went to hunt a man for the first time in his life.
~~~
He crept through the detritus of modern society, careful to avoid the trash, the bicycles, old mattresses and wardrobes; a small patch of the city that had become a dumping ground when there was no other option. The heat pricked him as the sun came out from behind a wisp of cloud — relief that had lasted mere seconds — and the sweat fizzled to the surface again. The insects got busy, becoming more and more animated at the welcome intrusion. His skin was slick yet dry at the same time, itching as the scabs tightened in the heat, the red shining like the stop sign on the traffic lights that once controlled the flow of vehicles around the busy metropolis.