by Line, Al K.
He went from room to room anyway, walking around the entire house, listening for sounds, only hearing his own breathing, sometimes not even that as he found himself holding his breath to listen for the slightest sign of occupancy. The blue glow illuminated his way, casting bizarre and unsettling shadows across the patterned wallpaper and the ancient multi-colored carpet that swirled with patterns nowhere near as complex as those on his own skin.
In the master bedroom he opened an expensive looking mahogany wardrobe and fumbled about, clattering metal coat-hangers that set his nerves on edge, his stealthy search now a waste of precious time, coming up with a shirt that was two sizes too big but at least it was something. Only problem was that although he was shivering he couldn't put it on and button it up or he wouldn't be able to see anything.
Not unless I walk around pointing the top of my head at the carpet.
He settled for putting it on but leaving it open, rolling up the sleeves so his forearms were exposed.
Socks were found in a dresser and he gratefully pulled them over his wrecked feet. From what he could see they were going to hurt like hell in the morning, or as soon as they began to thaw, whichever came first. They felt like they were frozen down to the bone and beyond, black and bloodied, but the blue Ink still shone through, giving a pathetic weak blue light, even radiating through the black cotton, luxurious and soft after the harshness he'd become used to from walking for hour after countless hour.
Where are you Aiden? What's Michael doing to you?
It was always there; a constant nagging at the back of his mind. No amount of tiredness could eradicate the concern he had for his family — nothing could, nothing ever would.
Edsel made his way slowly back down the stairs, already feeling his body begin to relax, sleep threatening to take him now he was warming up and the promise of a little comfort dragged at his limbs, willing him to find a chair and sleep, never wake up, not until the nightmare was over. He padded quietly out to the back door and helped Lash to move into the living room. Edsel had flashbacks to his mother and sister, how he'd guided them around the house as they became lost to themselves. Lash was so exhausted she acted like she too had succumbed to The Lethargy. Edsel shivered just thinking about it — she was his world.
They slumped down onto the sofa, ignored the stale air carrying a hint of wax that still lingered after so many years without the furniture being polished. They were asleep before they had the chance to worry about what would greet them the following morning.
~~~
Edsel woke with a start, discombobulated, out of time and space, to be greeted with light pouring through the gap where the curtains weren't pulled tightly shut — a sure sign that whoever had lived in the house had succumbed to The Lethargy. If you had your wits about you then you never left it so people could look inside your home; it just wasn't worth the risk.
Lash was still asleep, so he left her on the sofa and went into the kitchen to see what he could find. The answer was not a lot, just as he'd expected. But the room was clean and tidy so whatever had happened to the owners must have been quick. They certainly hadn't taken years to die at home that was for sure, the place was way too clean for that.
It was a home once occupied by a couple, the clothes upstairs had made that obvious, but what had become of them was a mystery. The house was in order, had never been looted; just abandoned. Edsel had seen weirder things though, he only had to look at his own skin if he wanted properly weird, so paid it little thought.
The cupboards didn't offer up much, but he found some bottles of water stashed under the sink and drank thirstily, feeling guilty as he wet a cloth and cleaned up his feet as best he could without using more than a trickle. They weren't too bad, they'd been worse in the past, and once clean they were surprisingly cut free, more just abraded than anything else.
Edsel was itching to go, but knew Lash was utterly exhausted. He let her sleep, exploring the house quietly, trying to think about the best way to search for Michael and Aiden, knowing it was going to simply be a matter of getting a vehicle and hoping they caught up with them.
This isn't going to be easy.
HUNT
The Ink settled deep into his skin. It sank through the red and black — layers of corruption inflicted on him by men warped by their own sense of right and wrong to become something finally despicable, unaware that their twisted minds were anything but just.
Edsel felt the strange blue Ink penetrate ever deeper. Now he was fully awake and free of any drugs, he could actually try to understand properly what had been done to him. His final conclusion was that it simply didn't matter, not really. He was a plaything for those that wished to experiment, nothing more.
This Ink was definitely different though, it felt like it went beyond a mere marking of the skin. It was a part of him; he was a part of it. How the link was made was unclear, but it was undoubtedly making a connection in his own body, and he had the strong suspicion that it made him act like some kind of beacon for Michael — so he knew where he was.
That would certainly explain why whatever he and Lash did, Michael was always one step ahead of them, always managing to leave before they had the chance to catch up with him.
As the days passed so the pain subsided, until it became nothing more than a vague sensation, the raised skin ever-present beneath his clothes, somehow always coming as a surprise when he rubbed a hand over his face or head, tracing the convoluted lines with fingers just as strangely marked. Finally it settled down, the hard lines receding somewhat, as if they had sunk as low as they were ever going to, still raised, just not as prominent.
It was the least of his concerns — what was more worrying was how they were ever going to catch up with Michael and Aiden. Lash grew ever more frantic, her beautiful face becoming more gaunt by the day as she wouldn't agree that they needed to spend precious time trying to find food when they could be searching for Aiden instead. Her cheeks were no longer high and striking, they were angular; sharp. Her complexion lost its healthy pallor, replaced with a sick gray. Her eyes were dark and listless, her hair often dirty, just like the rest of her. Just like Edsel.
They hardly stopped, chasing from one town or village to the next, arguing over what to do, where to go next, bickering about choice of vehicle, Edsel trying to convince her they needed to get food when he himself remembered. Lash would have kept going until she died from exhaustion, so it was down to Edsel to be the voice of reason — a role reversal he would have found funny if he had any humor left in his terribly thin body.
They grew increasingly tired and lackluster in their approach, unorganized and unthinking. They seldom made a proper plan, rather just chased around frantically trying in vain to gain an advantage, collapsing in strange buildings, sleeping in cars or by the roadside, waking then moving again, never finding peace, worry and dread taking its toll day after terrible day.
To hunt for your own family, knowing that they could be killed at any moment, was the worst thing Edsel had experienced in his entire life. It was worse than putting an end to his mother and sister's miserable lives, worse than having The Ink, worse than losing Kathy, worse than anything. It was the not knowing, it ate them up inside, taking their lives and reducing them to haunted dreams and worse waking hours.
It was all-consuming and terrible. They were constantly on edge, waiting to find a body by the side of the road, Michael finally finished with his bizarre game. Each corner they took, each new town, each time they found a hint of their passing, hours or maybe days before, they expected to find the body of Aiden, their search finally over.
Gradually they became more organized, realizing they would be good for nothing if they continued in such a haphazard manner for much longer. An understanding came that they had been committing the worst sin of all: taking out their worry on not only their own neglected bodies but on each other as well.
They'd grown distant, hardly communicating as they used to, no more meaningful conversations,
just endless discussions about what to do next, where to look, and jibes at each other for no real purpose.
But they changed, woke up to their actions and grew closer than they ever had before, returning to each other's arms, realizing just how lucky they were to have the chance of such closeness. Nights were spent wrapped tight, neither wanting to let the other go, whispering to each other in the pale blue light that was a constant now, promising everything would be all right, declaring their love and meaning it more than they ever had.
And slowly the search began to bear fruit.
They were a team again, instinctively knowing what the other thought and what they wanted to do. A unit that began to function as one, a bond of love and family that would never be broken — even if their desperate search for the young man they felt of as a son had almost torn apart the relationship they had.
They were stronger than that. They clung to each other tighter than ever, and swore they would never be apart, would not let anything break their love. So they hunted with renewed vigor, but also took the time to care for themselves and each other properly, so that they could keep on going until they found Aiden. They would never give up, they had to know and they had to be certain Michael would never have the chance to inflict his sick games on any more of the precious survivors trying to make their way in a world where such things were even possible.
When Edsel had a moment to stop and think, usually late at night in a strange house, sometimes even in a strange bed, the beautiful body of Lash wrapped around him as tight as if they inhabited the same skin, Edsel found it strange that such a terrible series of events could really, truly make him realize just how deep love could go. He often found himself thanking Michael in a perverse way for the gift he had given him — not that he ever gave up on wanting to kill him slowly. He prayed every time he managed to stay awake long enough that Aiden was safe, and one day they would find him so they could be a family again. He loved Lash more than he could ever have imagined, and he loved Aiden with the intensity of a father that was truly devoted to his family.
So day after day they kept on searching, never giving up hope, knowing in their hearts that Aiden was out there somewhere, waiting for them to come and find him.
All they had to do was persevere until one day Michael would slip up and they would have their reckoning.
It took a month.
FOUND
"There they are, there they are," shouted Lash, bouncing up and down in her seat. "Hurry up, go faster. Faster Edsel, faster."
"All right, stop shouting. I can see them you know? No need to keep hollering in my ear."
"Faster!" Lash was practically out of her seat, eyes glued to the vehicle up ahead, willing it to stop with the power of her mind alone.
"I'm going faster. Now, will you calm down? We need to get them, but we can't just go all crazy and end up getting shot or getting Aiden hurt too. We'll follow them and just wait for them to stop; they'll have to at some point. Okay?"
"Okay. But don't you dare lose them," warned Lash.
"Me!? You've got a nerve, it was you that lost them last. I told you they'd gone left and you turned right. Look how long it's taken us to catch up with them again. A week, a whole extra week."
"All right, no need to remind me thank you very much." Lash sat back in a sulk. She'd been beside herself when she took the wrong turn in a panic, and it had been the closest they had got to them in over three weeks. They were in their sights then, gone over the brow of a hill and Edsel said to turn but she went the wrong way and they'd been on their trail again ever since. A cat and mouse game that had gone on for far too long already.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. We'll get him, I know we will." Edsel glanced quickly at Lash, not wanting to take his eyes off the road for an instant. "You okay? I know this is tough honey, it's the hardest thing I've done in my entire life."
"I'm okay, we just can't lose him Edsel, we can't. I don't think I could take it again." Lash wiped at her eyes, then focused on the car Edsel knew they both prayed held Aiden. Alive.
This is it. Finally we'll get Aiden back, deal with Michael.
Edsel put his foot down and the engine roared. The powerful Toyota pickup was perfect for their hunt. Edsel didn't want to make the same mistakes they'd made before and run out of fuel again, so he'd hunted and found an open bed pickup, then spent a day siphoning gallon after gallon of fuel into huge tanks he took from a builder's yard — that way he was confident that they would never be the ones to run out of fuel first. So far it had been invaluable, allowing them to slowly but surely decrease the distance between Michael and them, never having to make detours looking for fuel, able to scour the next town to try to catch Michael while he rested or searched for fuel himself.
The hunt had been infuriating, and Edsel and Lash both found themselves getting increasingly frustrated as the days turned into weeks, even though they felt they were finally getting closer. They began to bicker again, although not as seriously as they had at the beginning of their search, their tiredness and worry getting the better of them as the pace became more and more frantic as they felt their search actually begin to pay off.
They had a good long talk one night, both accepting responsibility for drifting back to their short tempers because of the stress, promising to leave the snide comments and rudeness behind for good this time. And as the days passed they got more efficient than ever in their pursuit, beginning to understand the way Michael worked, the routes he was most likely to take, the kind of places he liked to stay, vehicles he liked to drive.
They became a unit bonded on what Edsel could only think of as the battlefield. Like two novice soldiers gradually learning how to become effective at their jobs.
They got closer and closer by the day, finding signs of them, clues they began to pick up on. At first they thought they would never find them, a lost cause, but they got a break, found a car with the rain sizzling on still-warm metal as they drove past — if the day had been sunny they would have never known. Edsel had got out, felt the heat caused by the engine, and knew that Michael must have swapped vehicles — not long ago at all.
They caught glimpses of moving vehicles, only to lose them when they tried to make their way over to the road they were on. There were tracks through completely overgrown towns and there were times where there was simply only one possible way to go, all other routes blocked, but day by day their ability to stay close increased. They even found where they had been staying a few times, footprints through wet ground leading to usually very nice homes where there were clear signs of habitation, a hint of coconut oil lingering in the air.
It gave them hope, at least they knew there was a chance. Finally they were going to catch up with them and Michael would pay for what he had done to them all. It was also maddeningly frustrating. Edsel thought he had known what suffering was, but this was unbearable. To hunt for somebody you loved, only to get close and for them to be snatched away from you time after time, it was enough to make you want to rip your heart out — the hurt was too unbearable.
"Stop daydreaming. Focus!" Lash was shouting at him again. "Look, they're turning off, don't lose them."
"I won't," said Edsel, face set in grim determination, blue Ink still feeling weird after all this time as it moved when he squinted because the sun poked out from behind a cloud.
Michael was slowing, taking a turn off, maybe to get fuel, maybe trying to get away somehow. He was sneaky, there was no doubt about it, and seemed to know the roads exceptionally well.
Not this time Michael, this time I'm going to catch you.
"We'll be a family again soon, okay?"
"Okay." Lash nodded, settling back in her seat a little, nervous energy still making her eyes dance like she was going to be happy to watch Michael die a slow and very painful death.
"I love you Lash."
"I love you too Edsel. I love you so very much."
Edsel squeezed her hand tightly, then put his blue Inked hand ba
ck on the steering wheel, focusing with an intensity that consumed him completely.
~~~
It went on for hours, Michael turning this way and that, navigating onto small lanes only to disappear for a second until they caught up.
Next they were racing through small villages, then slamming on the brakes as Michael took an unexpected turn. Edsel was determined though, there was no way he was going to lose them, and Lash stopped shouting at him so he could concentrate better.
Finally they entered a small town and Edsel glanced nervously at two Eventuals that were marching down the middle of the street, acting like they owned the place, which might well have been true. They'd seen a few in the month they had been on the road, and even encountered a number of groups of people, plus a few that were alone. They hadn't spoken to anyone, not wanting to risk the possibility of getting information against the risk of harm coming to them — then Aiden would never be free.
The more they entered open country, the more signs of life there were: smoke from chimneys, a glimpse of animals in fields, well tended, sometimes even plowed land — a sure sign there were people making their way quite well in the world.
They left the town and were out in the countryside again, lanes almost impassable.
He's heading somewhere, this isn't just a mindless drive.
Edsel leaned forward in his seat, willing Michael to stop, feeling the tension build the longer the chase went on.
Where's he going? What's he up to? I'm coming Aiden, I'm coming for you buddy.
"Where are they? Where did they go?"
"I don't know." Edsel stopped the car at the junction; there was no sign of them. They could have gone straight ahead, left or right. He had a decision to make.