by Line, Al K.
Aiden clearly wasn't contemplating any of that, he was mostly just doing a lot of staring and not very much speaking — he'd lost the power of speech in the presence of beauty it seemed.
Shobhita was full figured, clearly well fed, had rosy cheeks and was slightly snub-nosed — what Edsel would have called a farm girl in his younger days. She was clearly at home in her environment, and judging by the freckles on her lightly tanned face she spent a lot of time out of doors and had gotten used to the sun even though she was naturally pale.
Her hair was a wonderful auburn, and it practically danced with vitality. Short sleeves of a simple blouse showed that she was slender in terms of build, but manual work had given her a density and strength that would make her a match for any man. Yet above all she was somehow stunningly beautiful, especially to a young man like Aiden.
With Aiden's lack of experience or opportunity to meet with the opposite sex though, Edsel suspected the lad would be smitten by any girl he met.
As soon as they got close Aiden pronounced that there were two people ahead, and as they closed in on the simple, yet well maintained house, it was clear that whoever lived there was truly settled in their environment. There were fruit trees everywhere, herbs, vegetables and flowers, ornamental shrubs, a small pond, ducks, geese and chickens scattering as their car trundled up the compacted incline — behind the house Edsel could see the fields that had been freshly planted and were what had led them to the place.
The meeting did not go well.
As they drove up the track, they caught sight of the back of the girl, red hair flying about wildly, running toward the house where a man appeared. As they pulled up he ushered the girl inside, although her curious nature meant she could be seen peeking out from behind him as he stood solemnly in the doorway.
"Wait here," said Edsel, as he got out of the car.
He walked toward the man, showing that his hands were empty, realizing immediately that the sight of his Ink would be enough to scare the hell out of anyone. "Sorry, we didn't mean to intrude. We saw the fields from up there," Edsel pointed to the hills in the distance, "and we just wanted to come and say hello really. Is that all right?"
"Hi, I'm Aiden."
"I'm Lash."
Edsel turned to them and hissed, "I thought I told you to stay in the car." All he got was daring looks in return.
Fair enough I suppose. Guess they don't want to miss out.
"We don't want trouble," said the man. "Shobhita, get inside." The girl didn't move, and the man just sighed.
"We aren't here to do you harm, we were just traveling, wanted to meet people. Nice people. I've had my share of bad encounters, and I don't want any more."
"That explain your Ink does it?"
"Yeah, it does," said Edsel defensively. "They did it against my will, the red anyway."
"Well, that's as may be, but we're happy enough here on our own, thank you very much."
This isn't going to go anywhere, and you can't really blame him for wanting to protect his daughter. God, I'd be blowing the heads off anyone I saw if I had a young girl to protect.
"Sorry to have disturbed you then, we were just being friendly. Trying to be anyway. You don't get a lot of opportunity to meet new folk these days. C'mon."
Edsel made to leave, turning Lash and Aiden, or trying to at least.
"Um, hi. I... I'm Aiden."
Full marks for giving it a go.
"I'm Shobhita," said the girl shyly, stepping out from behind her father.
"That's... that's a lovely name. What does it mean?"
"Enough of this, I asked you to go," said the father.
"All right, we were just going," said Edsel.
Full credit to Aiden, at least he's trying. He's better with girls than I would have been at his age, although I never got the chance to try after I was eighteen.
"Wait," said the father, "you sure you aren't going to hurt us. Hurt her?"
Lash stepped forward. "Of course not. We just wanted to see what was here, just for our own peace of mind. You know, to know that we aren't alone in the world, that there are others like us. Normal people."
Yeah, right. Normal!
"Okay then, take a seat." The man indicated a picnic bench, ancient and with numerous repairs to the frame, so with smiles and thank-yous they went and sat down. The man came over and they chatted a little — it was all very formal, with the man always keeping one eye on Edsel and Aiden.
Shobhita arrived with a tray carrying five glasses of milk; they accepted the offering graciously.
Mmm. Fresh cow's milk, that's the stuff.
"This is delightful, what is it?" asked Aiden, comical white mustache frothing on his top lip.
The girl giggled in delight and said, "It's milk, don't you know what that is?" She looked at Aiden like he must be from another planet, but Edsel could see the fascination she had for meeting what was probably her first boy.
"Oh yeah, right. I know what milk is, but I've never drunk cow's milk before. Just cat milk."
"Cat milk!" said Shobhita in horror, eyes wide at the thought. "That's horrid."
Aiden grinned broadly. "Gotcha."
"Oh, that's naughty. Hehe."
Man, he's got some moves.
After a little more conversation Edsel asked if he could have a word with the man in private — he never did introduce himself. Rather reluctantly, they left the others and Edsel was shown just a little of what they had built to sustain themselves at their home. The man was understandably wary.
Of most interest to Edsel was the kind of privacy they had, and how hard it was to really build something of value for himself and his daughter's future. The man shared a little information.
The mother had died not long after childbirth due to complications and lack of medical help, and rather than think of moving, he'd done his best to maintain the family home. Nobody had ever found them before, and the girl had been kept mostly isolated, only ever going on a few trips with her father.
He wanted to protect her, and as things got worse and worse when he traveled to nearby villages and towns, he was pleased he had made the decision he had. It was all too familiar, akin to what Edsel had thought best for Aiden. But hearing it from somebody else made him realize what a possible waste of a life it might be, but also that it was the best way of ensuring the younger ones' safety. It was no easy decision, and neither were in a position to judge the other.
"What of the future?" Edsel had asked, and the man had no real answer. Of course, he wanted his daughter to have a life of her own, find a man she could call husband, but there was no way he would allow that for many years yet — the girl needed to be slowly shown the world she was born into, and taught how it worked. So far she had seen little of it, met only a couple of people, certainly no young men. And he intended to keep it like that until he felt her old enough, and he could be sure she knew how to look after herself and understand the way the fragments of society functioned.
Edsel and his family left soon after. He was depressed, Lash was pleased to have met such nice people, and Aiden was bubbling over with happiness at meeting such a sweet girl. Edsel couldn't blame him in the slightest.
What are we doing to our young folk? If we carry on like this then nobody is going to meet anybody else and it will all be over without us even having giving it a chance.
"You okay?" asked Lash, at some point on the journey home.
"Sure. Just wondering what the future holds, nothing to worry about."
"Okay." Lash bent close to his ear and whispered, "She was a nice girl though, wasn't she?"
"She was," said Edsel, wondering how many other children were locked away from the world, unlikely to ever understand the reality of how life really was for them, and what would happen if everyone treated them as Edsel and her father had. Knowing that it would end in The Eventuals winning: the extinction of the human race.
HOME
A few days later they arrived back at the block of ap
artments, finding Michael on the roof as always, even though the day was overcast and gloomy — just like Edsel's thoughts.
"Greetings travelers. How was it?"
"Great," said Aiden. "We nearly got eaten by panthers; we played bowls with some old folk; I met a girl and Edsel is very bad at directions."
"Hey, no need to be cheeky," protested Edsel. "It was fine Michael, if a little hairy at times. Anything new here? What you been doing? Working on your tan by the look of things, but you won't be getting one today." Edsel noted the ever present container with Michael's precious coconut oil.
"Well, I see the trip has certainly been interesting. And here? Nothing much, just taking care of a few things, and don't let the clouds fool you Edsel, it will be lovely in half an hour or so, I guarantee it."
"If you say so." Edsel was tired and in rather a bad mood. He was worried for Aiden, worried that the boy was lost to him for good, and that he was way too keen to put himself in harm's way.
Maybe that's for the best though? Maybe that's better than hiding him away from the world like the girl he will never get the chance to know better.
Edsel came out of his reverie.
"Eh?"
"I said where's Lash?"
"Oh, she's downstairs putting the kettle on, if that's okay?"
"Of course it is. This is your home for as long as you want it to be," said Michael. "Why don't you go join her and me and Aiden can have ourselves a little chat?"
"Yeah, sure." Edsel made his way to the door.
"Silly me, I forgot to say. I found some amazing coffee in a house down by the marina, it's on the counter. Tell Lash to use it if she wants, it's really rather nice." Michael winked at Aiden.
"Sure, thanks Michael. You want one?"
"No, I'll pass. But thank you for offering."
That was weird. I think.
Edsel shook his head. He was exhausted from the traveling — he wasn't used to it, but the coffee sounded just about perfect.
AWAKE
Edsel woke up to a splitting headache and an all too familiar sound — the buzz of the tattoo machine. He shook his head, obviously just feeling the after-effects of sleep. He hadn't had such flashbacks for years now — he'd finally been able to put the nightmares behind him.
Probably just the traveling, the people. Stirring up old memories.
It was hard to think straight. His head felt like he'd drunk too much booze; a hangover that clouded his thoughts, leaving him disorientated, brain cells destroyed in their millions.
Where am I? What were we doing before we fell asleep? When did I fall asleep?
Nothing would fit into place, so he just lay there with his eyes closed until his head stopped pounding and the buzzing faded. But it didn't stop, and he could feel something pushing against his skin yet there was no pain. Was he even in bed?
I don't want to look, I don't want to look. I can't, I won't. I'll never open my eyes again.
Edsel tried to think back to what could have happened; he didn't remember going to bed at all. The trip really must have left him more exhausted than he'd realized. It was all that driving, all that nervous tension, waiting for something bad to happen.
What happened? What happened?
Everything was confused, nothing slotted together.
We came home, went into the apartment block, met Michael on the roof as usual... Coffee! He drugged me. Lash? Aiden? No, he wouldn't, he's a great guy.
Silly thoughts played themselves out, ridiculous accusations that made no sense. But something clearly wasn't right.
Edsel's head cleared like he'd snorted menthol and he opened his eyes. There was Michael, sat beside him, tanned face, gray hair, ever present smell of coconut oil, smiling at him like a mother watching her baby wake up from a peaceful sleep.
"Hold still, we don't want your new Ink to get ruined."
No, no, no. Not again. I'm dreaming, I'm going to wake up and Lash will give me a cuddle and everything will be all right.
It wasn't a dream.
Edsel kicked and bucked, shaking violently, panic washing over him like a vicious tidal wave, wrecking anything in its path. He lost control of his mind and his body, spasming and foaming like an epilepsy sufferer. His jaw locked open like a vice and he vomited. Nothing could prepare him for more Ink — nothing. It wasn't possible, it couldn't happen again. He could not go through the pain, the degradation and the after-effects of more Ink — neither his body or his mind could cope with it.
Edsel screamed and kicked as the contents of his stomach stained his face dark, a foul bile gushing from the depths like an erupting volcano.
Michael just sat there, humming quietly, smiling and wiping away the vomit with a handful of paper towels, as calm as if he was just waiting for the kettle to boil. Edsel couldn't stop. Even after he slowed his kicking and his stomach settled enough to let him breathe properly he kept spasming, his body reacting on its own to the threat of more Ink.
Slowly that too subsided, and Edsel stared at the strange markings that were beginning to burn as if a blow torch was being put to his skin, the raised welts just as blue as the flame would be. Swirls were covering his bicep, intricate and beautiful in their own way, mingling with the lines of his veins, their route under his skin traced in detail, branching off like the roots of a tree.
Strapped down again; more ruin on my body. We should never have come. But this is Michael, old fashioned Gent, obsessed with his suntan, supplier of coffee and tall tales. How could he have changed so much? Turned into such a monster?
Edsel bucked hard, trying to break his bonds — a series of leather belts strapped across his body, sticking him to the narrow dining table like glue.
Lash and Aiden, where are they? What has Michael done to them? I can't lose them, not after we've finally come to understand each other so well.
"Where... where are my family?" The taste in Edsel's mouth was as foul as his vomit, a metallic tang that caught in his throat, making it hard to speak. All that emerged was a croaky whisper.
"Never you mind about that for now, all in good time my dear boy. First we have some more work to get done. Now hold still, you wouldn't want me to make a mistake would you? No? Good."
The buzzing began again and as the strange new Ink hit his skin he lost consciousness once more, unable to fight whatever was combined with the blue Ink that acted like a general anesthetic.
It didn't stop the nightmare though.
~~~
Edsel zoned in and out of consciousness sporadically, fighting to stay unconscious, never wanting to surface again, preferring not to know what desecration was being performed on his skin.
It was impossible to know just how long it took, but each time he awoke it was to find new horrors writhing across his skin — bright blue Ink meandering around his body, twirling and swirling in impossibly complex patterns that somehow seemed to mean something, yet at the same time meant nothing at all.
He was sure he was drugged while The Ink was administered. Each time he came to consciousness against his will, his mind trying its best to block out the horror, he saw Michael fiddle with his contraption then soon enough he would be back to blissful ignorance. Only the buzzing of the machine penetrating his dreamless sleep — a constant once more that was all there was, stronger than the drugs, overriding all else, even the numbness and the emptiness, filling the void of sanity with a constant background noise that would never leave him. His only companion now.
He awoke, he slept, on and on, The Ink spreading like a river branching off into countless tributaries, meandering this way and that, skirting the contours of his body, flowing under his skin, carrying insanity with it.
The day was bright then dark, then bright then dark again.
Sometimes when he awoke there was no Michael, no tanned face smiling down on him benevolently, waiting for him to say thank you for the gift bestowed on him. Yet still the tattoo machine buzzed in his head, like it would always be there; his forever.
&
nbsp; Light and dark, Ink and insanity. Loss and grief, tears and screams.
That's all I have left now. There is nothing else.
Finally it was done.
BLUE
I'm the blue man. The red, black and blue man.
Edsel stared in horror at his naked body in the mirror — all the old insecurities and downright anger re-surfaced with a vengeance.
Michael was standing next to him, smiling, proud of his work. Edsel could do nothing but stare. When he'd woken up he was confronted with an impossible vision of his own hairless body staring back at him through dark sunken eyes, unable to look away despite the crazy vision reflected back at him. He was an alien creature, out of place in the spacious pristine bathroom with it's shiny tiles, the crisp lines of the shower stall and the huge mirror. A creature that didn't belong anywhere but in nightmares.
He was strapped with the belts, there wasn't a chance of him being able to do anything but trace the new lines on his body, memories of previous Ink confronting him as permanent reminders of the ordeals he had managed to get through with his sanity somehow intact.
I can't do this again. I'm not strong enough. There's a limit and I've passed it.
Edsel knew his mind was becoming fractured. Torture after torture over years, always claiming him again when he had come to terms with his body, dragging him down ever deeper, never quite able to find his way back to become the man he had once been. This was it, this was as far as he could go. He'd never be himself again, how could he? And his family? If Michael could do this to him then what would he have done to Lash and Aiden?
He didn't know where the will to fight came from, but he strained at the straps, willing his body to break his bonds, let him free to wreak foul and bloody revenge on Michael. He'd take his time, peel the flesh off him slowly, make him watch, suffer, then suffer some more.