INK: Blue: INK, #3

By Al K. Line

They had peace. Isolation and safety.

 

For the family of three, the years of blissful isolation were taking their toll on young Aiden — he was bored and craved new experiences. A trip was planned; strict limits set concerning time and place.

 

A strange man.

 

Not everybody was bad though, some people were kind, considerate and caring. Weren't they?

 

Then it happened again.

 

Edsel's worst nightmare came back to drag him down once more.

 

The Ink.

 

How much could one man endure?

 

This time it was blue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al K. Line
• Release date: Jul 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781502272409

Al K. Line

Al K. Line is a British author who lives in rural England with his wife, son and dogs. When asked to describe himself for this bio all we got was the following: "Who am I? Degrees, jobs, living in other countries, fighting squirrels, cuddling monkeys, amused by penguins, all the usual stuff." Best newsletter in digital make-believe land: http://www.alkline.co.uk (discounts and cool stuff) Facebook thing: https://www.facebook.com/authoralkline

Book preview

SAFE

Edsel couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so safe — maybe he never had. He'd become so accustomed to only being able to stop worrying about the possibility of attack for a few blissful minutes if he was lucky. Or he'd worry that he'd somehow turn up on The Eventuals radar and find himself mixed up in some complicated situation that spiraled out of control.

Now things were different, some kind of balance had finally been achieved — he felt genuinely free from danger, wonderfully carefree.

It had been months since he actually felt any deep-seated worry about the security of himself and his family, and that in itself was unnerving.

Worried about not being worried. That just about sums me up.

Given Edsel's current location it was amazing he felt anything even resembling safe — few would if they were in his situation.

Edsel dangled his legs over the rough bare rock, the heat of the day radiating out, warming the backs of his bright red, now rather well muscled calves — calves that he left visible, finally convinced by Lash and Aiden that they really couldn't care less if he exposed his tattooed flesh or not.

The wind was gentle and warm, the sky was clear, the views magnificent, the birds happy, drifting on the thermals, uninterested in the man watching them as if his life was nothing but a dream. Edsel felt the dry currents tickle his skin — skin that for once didn't hurt, wasn't screaming at him, didn't itch or burn or make him wanted to rip it off and hide in a dark cave letting the world pass him by — it just felt like normal skin.

It was weird. For so many years it was a constant reminder of what had been done to him, and each time it began to feel better he ended up worse than before. Now, after five years living his remote life with Lash and Aiden, the poisons, the nightmares and the humiliation had faded into nothing but bitter memories he found the courage to ignore, letting them fade as The Ink unfortunately refused to do.

It never would.

The lower half of his body was red; his torso was a patchwork of red and black — a strange kind of camouflage made up of random blotches of one color or the other, no rhyme or reason to it as far as he could uncover. There were large vivid patches of one color that gently bled into the other, or countless small areas where the edges were still crisp and sharp, as if a child had cut out shapes from a book made of only two colors before sticking them haphazardly to a man that objected vehemently to such sacrilege.

But at least it didn't cause him constant pain, didn't suddenly flare up into weird pustules or scabs as if from nowhere. For almost three years since he had been given The Ink for a second time it had revolted in ways he found unimaginable.

Each day was a nightmare of hurt and bitterness, a constant reminder of his disfigurement, leaving him him unable to eat or sleep properly, every movement bringing with it an explosion of pain. It was like having constant pins and needles all over his torso, but multiplied ten-fold. Then out of nowhere a blister would appear, or a scab, or his skin would suddenly fight The Ink and the result would be random lines or shapes of scar tissue where his skin over-compensated for the foreign bodies. The result? He was left with a raised livid pink scar that turned back to the color of his initial Ink once it settled, but the thick raised welts remained.

Nightmare after nightmare.

It went on like that for years, making him curse his futile attempt to cover up The Ink and the terrible result of what had happened because of it. Not just to him but to others: innocents. People he, Lash and Aiden had committed atrocious crimes against for no other reason than that they lost their way and could think of other human beings as nothing but evil, out to do them harm — forgetting that there was still good in the world and not everybody wanted to hurt them, or worse.

The events at the amusement park nearly ruined the family. The days after the terrible ordeal were so dark all three of them had come close to going their own separate ways. They were lost to each other, to themselves and to the joy of life. But they managed to cling to the tatters of their humanity and claw back to themselves day by day, piece by piece.

They stayed a family, helping each other through to the other side, out of the madness, the shame, and the guilt of what they had done when their minds were crazed with fear — assuming five men had come to harm them when all they had in mind was to help.

The men had wives, the extended family living together, trying to rebuild a community that they hoped would flourish, then Edsel, Lash and Aiden took it all way from them in the most terrible of ways. They had tried to explain to the women, tried to help make amends, but it was impossible. How could you forgive such actions? They didn't, and Edsel didn't expect them to, but they had to try, if only so they could continue with their own lives. In the end they'd left, there was nothing for them in the quiet town, nothing but a reminder of the crimes they'd committed and the sadness they'd caused because of their loss of humanity. Bitterness and resentment that they deserved for ruining the lives of five women, taking their future and twisting it into one of pain, loss and loneliness.

Five women were left without husbands, without the chance to become mothers, with nothing but their memories and their hatred — Edsel didn't blame them one little bit. So he left with his own family. Three people that were brought together by chance and found that they loved each other, were a team, a unity, a family. A murder squad — that was what Edsel thought of his family in the darkest days after they'd realized what they had done.

Life was grim at first, none of them able to really comprehend how they had made such a terrible mistake. But they fought through it, tried to heal themselves and each other, until finally things settled into an equilibrium where bouts of intense depression fought with acceptance, and finally they put it behind them. Just as Edsel's physical pain receded so did the mental anguish brought on by the atrocities committed.

So here he was, skin feeling normal, the colors accepted, the past put behind him, the wind in his now long hair, the beauty of the day and the place he found himself almost overpowering in the way it reminded him of just how insignificant he was, how everything was nothing but the product of a tiny disturbance in The Void, life given for a moment before a return to nothingness — the all enduring Void, the only constant. Everything else but the blink of a cosmic eye.

How beautiful it is though, however brief or long it may be.

Edsel stood up on the ledge, his legs warm from the rock, his back the same. The ledge was only a few steps deep yet it didn't worry him in the slightest. Edsel had learned over the years to unlock something inside of himself that made him at one with the rock, with his body, with everything: The Flow. That connection between body and nature that meant there was no falling, there was no wrong hand or foot placement that would mean his certain death.

All there was when he climbed, with nothing on but a pair of shorts and a bag of chalk he'd crushed himself, was the next perfect movement, the rock and the air he breathed, everything functioning as it should. No fear, no risk of death, no concern over the dizzying heights, just The Flow. A perfect freedom that opened up his mind to The Noise, allowing him to focus deeply yet think of nothing, just move and gradually make it to the top of whatever large rock-face he had decided to climb that day.

It was safety, a grounding of himself with nature that put everything into perspective and allowed him to sleep at night without nightmares.

Edsel stretched out his limbs and smiled, thinking of the first time he'd had a strange urge to connect with a towering rock-face that dominated the place they now called home. He'd gone back to the house euphoric, telling Lash and Aiden of his accomplishment, explaining the feeling, the connection. Lash went ballistic.

Man, she's still a wild one. Good job she loves me.

~~~

You did what!? What do you mean you climbed it? The bloody thing is vertical. Lash looked like she was about to smack Edsel over the head with the frying pan she'd just cracked eggs into — forgetting to turn the heat down in her fury the eggs were now spitting as she muttered, You're off your head; a total nut-job.

Calm down, calm down, smiled Edsel, the euphoria still making him feel like he really, truly had Awoken.

Calm down! Are you out of your mind? What if you'd fallen? After everything we've been through and you risk your life to... oh, I don't know. You're an idiot. Lash looked completely exasperated. Like he'd been told off for repeatedly not looking when crossing the road — not that there really were any roads where they lived now, just a long meandering track through the valley to their stone cottage.

You've got it all wrong Lash, it was beautiful. I wouldn't have fallen, I can't.

Of course you can fall, you don't know how to rock climb for a start. Your not a bloody mountain goat or Spiderman. No, unless I'm very much mistaken, you, my dear Edsel, are nothing but a complete idiot! When people did stuff like that they had ropes, those carabiner things, special shoes and someone with them to call for a helicopter if they were so stupid as to get stuck. You did it in your shorts. Your shorts!

I know, crazy eh? Edsel couldn't stop smiling, it was the best experience of his life. The eggs, hinted Edsel.

Forget the damn eggs. You could have died and left me and Aiden alone. What would happen to us then?

We'd be all right, said Aiden, smiling at Lash's histrionics.

Lash turned to him and scowled. Don't you encourage him, it's a really stupid thing to do.

Aiden held up his hands. Hey, I'm not going to, but I am almost twenty now. I'm not a little boy any more.

Yes, well, said Lash, getting back control of the eggs, you will always be that little boy to me, that I love more than anything. Anything. She turned to Edsel, he wasn't off the hook yet. Especially more than stupid grown men that go climbing rocks and risking their life. For what? Is this some kind of macho thing? Trying to prove a point are we?

No, it's not like that Lash. Honest. I just... I'm not sure really, just had to do it. I felt The Flow, the connection to the rock. I couldn't fall.

I've heard of that, said Aiden. I read about it. It's like when you are totally in the zone right? You feel things different.

Exactly. Thank you Aiden. See? He understands.

~~~

It had gone on like that for some time, but Lash still wasn't happy about his climbing. Edsel found it hard to truly explain it to her, but he had promised never to take Aiden, and had been true to his word.

Edsel smiled again, his limbs stretched out, feeling loose and full of vitality.

It's great to be alive. No pain, no itching, no Fire. Just empty space, me and the rock.

Edsel retied his long hair streaked with gray, reveling in the feeling of it whipping about his face until he got it under control once more. He stared up at the rock above him, his mind unconsciously mapping out his route, his body already practicing the moves he would make without conscious thought.

Edsel put his foot into a small crevice, felt the power in his thigh as he vaulted up, fingertips catching the smallest of handholds.

He climbed higher and higher. At peace.

Happy.

NEW

Life since Edsel's experiences with The Ink had been forged with tears. The consequences of their manhunt in an amusement park had been far-reaching and devastating: they had killed innocent men and paid the price for their lack of faith in humanity.

All three of them had traveled away from the scene of their crimes in a fog of utter helplessness — walking dead without minds of their own, so sunk in the horror they hardly spoke, ate or slept for the first week. They just traveled. Away. On and on, just walking, sleeping when they could no longer push their bodies to take another step, huddling together in bushes, houses if they found them, the signs of human presence and their influence on the landscape lessening as