Blacker
Chapter Four: The Southern Marker

“I need to take a piss. Can you stay here with him for a moment? Charlie?”

“Sure. Be my guest. And you can relax. I’m not going to peek or anything, you know?”

MacGregor opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but there was a gentle hand pressing down on his chest. He was lying on something soft. A bed or a mattress of some kind. He couldn’t tell. There was a strong smell of sweet and sickly manure. It was cold.

“Easy buddy. Just chill there for a minute, okay? You’ve been in an accident, but everybody’s okay. Well, most everybody.”

The voice had a somewhat dubious American accent and belonged to the man that the woman had referred to as Charlie. MacGregor kept trying to sit up and choked when he felt the water being poured into his mouth.

“Jesus Christ what are you doing?” he coughed.

“Giving you a drink, man. What do you think? You blind, or something?”

MacGregor reached out for the container forced against his lips. “I’m blind. But I am thirsty. Let me have that. So, what’s happened?”

“I should have known you were the blind guy,” Charlie said. “Sorry, bud. I’m still a bit freaked out by this shit. Sorry, man. You must think I was trying to water board you or something. Here, take a drink. It’s nice and cold. Fridge lost power, but the water’s still pretty cold.”

MacGregor sat up, Charlie’s hand supporting him.

“Where’s Fraser? Braverman and Sharpe? The helicopter crashed. Are they alright?”

“The pilot didn’t make it, he caught a branch right through the throat. Just really bad luck, poor guy. Don’t know how the hell he managed to auto rotate the bird in without any power and in complete darkness. Unbelievable skill. Really unbelievable. But he’s dead. Sorry.”

Charlie stopped talking. MacGregor could hear voices in the distance. Other than that there was absolute silence. Until he heard the horse whinny, startlingly close by.

“My name’s Charlie Simard. Here’s my hand. I’m giving you it to shake.”

MacGregor felt soft, warm fingers lightly probing his hand. He found the big hand and shook it as firmly as he could. His weakness surprised him.

“MacGregor.” He nodded. “How are you doing?”

“I’m pretty confused.” Simard laughed. “Pretty lost and bewildered. So, you’re the blind guy? That’s cool. Could have used you a few hours ago. Couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. and had to use the guidelines to move around the camp. I thought some of the army dudes were going to lose it. Guess they’re not used to this weird kind of crap.”

There were footsteps. MacGregor knew the woman who had excused herself was about to return. He was right.

“It’s nice to see you’re awake. A pleasure to meet you, Mr.—”

“MacGregor,” Simard said, “John MacGregor. He’s the blind guy.”

“Subtle, Mr. Simard. Very subtle. John, my name is Eilidh Hunter. How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I guess. What happened to Fraser? Where is he?”

“Still unconscious. Agent Braverman and Mr. Sharpe were the only ones conscious when you were brought here. Mr. Millar may have a minor concussion. I’m afraid that the pilot was killed instantly.”

“I heard,” MacGregor said. “I’m sorry about that. What time is this?”

“Hard to tell exactly,” Hunter answered. “Sun’s just come up. Any idea what time sunrise is this time of year?”

“No clue. Can you take me to Fraser?”

“He’s in the next tent,” Hunter said. “He’s doing fine. A small bump on the head smaller than yours. I think he’s mostly sleeping off the alcohol now.”

“Where’s Braverman?”

“They’ve taken horses to the SOD,” Charlie replied, beating Hunter to it. “That yoked out guy Sharpe went with him.”

“Horses? They’ve taken horses, where?”

Simard didn’t answer at first. When he did, he sounded sheepish and unsure of himself.

“What do you know about all this?” he said, eventually.

“Enough, Simard.” Hunter’s tone was severe. “He knows enough to be here, just like you and I. Braverman and Sharpe have taken two of the horses to the anomaly that has been designated the Sphere of Darkness. It’s about twenty miles north of our camp.”

“We’re camping?” MacGregor said. “We’re camping in tents? What’s this Sphere of Darkness? What are the horses for?”

“Alright, John. I’m not sure how much you’ve been briefed. Mr. Simard and I arrived six hours before your helicopter crashed, so we’re a little bit better informed. There’s an object twenty miles north of us. It’s a black sphere with a diameter of six meters. Nobody knows how it is possible, but it seems that this object is radiating a zero energy field.”

“No, no, no. That’s not even right. Simard interrupted. “You’re referring to a zero-point energy field, but that’s not what we’re dealing with here. It’s weirder than that. A zero-point energy field would be way different. Whatever this is, it’s intelligent.”

“Alright, Mr. Simard. But to simplify things, let’s just agree that all energy within a certain range of this object has been neutralized.”

“That’s still not correct,” Simard laughed nervously. “I don’t want you to beat up on me or anything, but it isn’t all energy. Some kinds of energy are being suppressed and others aren’t. And there’s definitely an intelligence at work somewhere here, though I can’t figure it out. It’s just not… consistent. It’s just not…”

“Charlie.” Hunter’s voice was soft and feminine for the first time. “Charlie, thanks. It doesn’t need to be that complicated. Now, would you check on Mr. Millar for me? Would you let me have a few minutes with Mr. MacGregor – alone?”

“Sure lady.” Simard sounded deflated. “I’ll go and check on the tall dude. But for the sake of full disclosure, I gotta tell ya that this is really complicated.”

There was a rustling of heavy fabric. Simard left the tent. MacGregor felt cold air drifting against his cheek. He heard a zipper unfastened and an unfamiliar male voice speaking to Simard. He couldn’t make out what was being said. The voice he did not recognize had a Scottish accent and had a distinct, abrupt military quality.

“Fraser’s okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Hunter spoke. “Though, not entirely sober, I think.”

“Neither of us were. We had too many drinks. I didn’t realize they’d be coming for us so quickly. I didn’t realize anyone was coming for us at all. Fraser didn’t say anything.”

“It would be better if you got changed. There are fresh clothes on the bed at your feet. Do you think you can get changed by yourself?”

MacGregor reached across the bed. He found the clothes.

“Jeans?”

“Something like jeans,” Hunter replied. “Braverman called them something like multi purpose utility pants.”

“Is there a shower?” MacGregor asked. “I’d like to get cleaned up before I change clothes.”

“No shower. No running water. There’s a bunch of these things.” Hunter rustled something, then MacGregor felt something like a soft cloth pressing against the back of his hand, “They’ve got a special name too, but I can’t remember it. A couple of those is about as good as it gets.”

MacGregor grimaced. He took the offered cloth and rubbed it against his face. Surprisingly, it felt moist and warm. The more he squeezed the fabric, the damper it felt.

“They’re pretty good,” Hunter commented.

“Aye. It will do. What about coffee? Is there any coffee on the go?”

“No coffee.” Hunter sounded a little confused. “There’s no power. No hot water. I can make you a cold coffee if you’d like that.”

“Christ no,” MacGregor said. “Can you turn your back for a moment while I sort myself out?”

“Of course.”

“And I would die for a cigarette,” MacGregor said. “Tell me you have a pack of cigarettes somewhere?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did,” Hunter said. “Get your trousers on and I’ll hand you a matchbox. See if you’ll have more luck than anyone else around here.”

MacGregor hesitated. He was more concerned about cleaning the private parts of his body than he was about what Hunter had just said. He drew in a deep breath and just got on with it. After about thirty seconds he tossed the soiled wipe to his feet and searched for his new trousers. The tops of his thighs were still damp. He didn’t comment about the fresh boxer’s shorts he’d found on the bed. They absorbed some of the left over moisture from what Fraser would have referred to as a whore’s bath. The new trousers slid on easily enough. MacGregor now realized the material felt a little more like rubber than actual denim. But they were comfortable. He was putting his right arm into the shirt when Hunter’s comment about the cigarette came to the front of his mind.

“You haven’t got any matches, or you can’t light a match?”

“That’s a good look for you,” Hunter commented. “The shirt is dark blue. The trousers are the same color. Practically black, in case you care about that kind of thing.”

“I don’t care about that kind of thing,” MacGregor replied. “But what did you say about the matches?”

“They won’t strike,” Hunter explained. “Listen.”

MacGregor heard the tell-tale sound of a match scratching against a matchbox striker. After about a dozen attempts, Hunter stopped.

“See? No sparks. Do you have a lighter?”

“No. But I get the point. Matches won’t strike?” he shook his head in disbelief. “I heard Braverman mention something like that but I didn’t take it in. It’s just impossible. Well, at least it should be impossible. What do you think it all means?”

“I don’t know. Our resident scientist, Charlie, will tell you all the details. He’s very excited about it. I have to admit, it’s quite intriguing. Charlie thinks that there has to be an extra-terrestrial intelligence involved here somewhere. He’s absolutely certain that’s what’s going on here.”

MacGregor started to button up the shirt.

Outside, horses were moving around. There was a creak of heavy wood. MacGregor felt the cold air on his exposed skin as he finished buttoning up the shirt.

“That’s interesting. Extra-terrestrial means aliens, right?”

“It is.” Hunter agreed. “None of us knew what was going to happen. The SOD’s influence began to spread much further than they thought. They were keeping ahead of it, moving camp every while. Suddenly, the power went out everywhere and stayed out. That’s what we’re calling it. The SOD.”

“The Sphere of Darkness? What is it?”

“Nobody knows for sure. A black sphere. Half buried in the ground. It looks solid enough, but it isn’t.”

MacGregor suddenly knew what he was here for. He felt cold. For a moment, he thought that he was going to vomit.

“Has anyone been inside it?”

“Not yet. Not even Simard, surprisingly enough. He’s convinced that there’s something inside there that we can talk to and reason with. Braverman won’t let him go inside without the whole team.”

“And that’s who, exactly?”

“We’re all part of a team that’s going to investigate it. You’re going to be our guide, Mr. MacGregor. Along with two other visually impaired ex-servicemen who are on their way. I don’t know who else is coming.”

“So nobody’s been inside it yet at all?” MacGregor repeated. “What about a robot? A remote controlled vehicle?”

“No power,” Hunter said flatly. “By the time they discovered the SOD there was already a ten-mile negative energy field around it.”

“I’m confused by this negative energy thing. What about battery powered torches? What about a diesel generator attached to a…”

“Nothing works.” Simard’s voice returned, along with his strained laughter. “Nothing works. Batteries, torches, engines, candles, matches, zippo, zilch, nadir. Absolutely nothing will work. Man, Hunter are you telling off the whole story without me actually being here to enjoy the science bit? Did you tell him about the matches? The matches that just won’t strike at all.”

“Fucking matches? Well, that’s complete and total bollocks for a start!”

“Fraser!” MacGregor could not hide his relief. “Are you okay?”

“Think I cracked my head against the window when we hit the ground. Feel a bit dizzy, but I’ll live. What about you?”

“I’m cool. Hayley… Er… Miss…”

“Eilidh. My name is Eilidh Hunter.”

“Eilidh tells me that we’re going inside this thing? Did you know about that?”

Fraser hesitated long enough that MacGregor decided for himself that his old friend must have known something. He couldn’t suppress his feelings any longer and erupted with a rapid bark of profanity.

“Fuck’s sake, Fraser!”

“In the beginning, I didn’t even think you were going inside it. And remember I didn’t even know what the fuck this was all either. I thought they just wanted you for some kind of consultation.”

“Okay, Fraser, you need to stop talking now because the more words that come out of your mouth the more I want to start punching your face.”

“I honestly didn’t realize they wanted you to go into it. I’ll admit that it started to occur to me. By the way, there are some amazing trousers, aye?”

MacGregor turned his head towards the sound of Fraser’s voice. He craned his neck, staring in Fraser’s direction with his useless eyes.

“At least they don’t want me to go into the damned thing by myself? Or is that what’s going to happen? Am I some kind of canary in a coal mine?”

“Of course not.” The voice belonged to Hunter. “You’re part of a team. There are Mr. Simard, myself, Agent Braverman and his security detail. Two or more scientists are on the way, along with a team of special forces operatives and two more blind helpers.”

“Helpers?” MacGregor whispered. “I’m a blind helper?”

“You are one of our blind helpers. Mr. Simard is an astrophysicist and I’m a psychologist. I’m a special needs psychologist, to be exact, but that doesn’t have any relevance to the situation at hand, or at least it doesn’t seem to. I believe I’m someone who ticked a box on Mr. Braverman’s checklist of requirements.”

“And I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” Simard explained cheerfully.

“What about you?” MacGregor said, still staring sightlessly at his friend. “You’re coming in with us, aren’t you?”

Again, Fraser’s hesitation and the long silence answered the question before Fraser could speak whatever excuse he was going to come up with.

“Jesus Christ! So you get your replaceer’s fee and then you just piss off back to your beautiful life while I’m fumbling around in the dark without any clue what I’m doing with who the fuck knows what’s inside this sodding SOD?”

“That sounds kind of cold when you say it like that.”

“It sounds pretty unrealistic,” MacGregor said. “No offense, Ms. Hunter and Mr. Simard, but I am not going near any weird giant black balls in any capacity.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” It was Simard, his voice trembling. “I know it’s anal, but I really have to say that we can’t say for sure if the object is black or not. Technically, it’s…”

“Charlie.” Hunter’s voice was calm and deliberate. “For the sake of simplicity, let’s just say for now that the Sphere is black.”

There was a very short pause.

“Even if it’s not.”

“Yes, even if it isn’t black.” Hunter exhaled slowly.

There was a long silence. Outside, the horses were making more sounds. They had suddenly grown restless. Then there were more voices. Two men talking. For a moment he thought it might be Sharpe and Braverman, but then he recognized the voice of the man that Simard had spoken to.

“Who’s outside?”

“Lieutenant Mark Lawson. Corporals Dean Robertson, and Kevin MacCraigor. Royal Highland Fusiliers.” Hunter stopped a moment, then continued, “They’re just as confused as everyone else around here. Between you and me, John, they aren’t handling this very well.”

“You seem to be handling the situation well.” MacGregor observed. “Not quite as well as Mr. Simard here. No offense, Charlie, but it sounds like you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

Simard had moved from where MacGregor had directed his words. It took him a few seconds to realize that he’d been referred to. MacGregor heard the deep voice laugh softly.

“It’s just a little bit amazing, is all. There’s never been anything like this. There’s never been anything like this, ever. So, yeah, I’m a little bit excited.”

MacGregor turned back to Hunter.

“You, not so much.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I was excited about this. I’m worried.”

“Worried about what?” Charlie Simard said very loudly. “About what we’re going to replace inside?”

“Yes, I’m concerned about what we’ll replace inside. But I’m worried about what will happen if the zero energy field keeps expanding.”

“Alright, that definitely is a concern.” Simard’s tone was suddenly down to earth. “That is very definitely something we need to worry about.”

“Yes. Populated areas are going to descend into chaos very quickly,” Hunter stated. “Without light, people will panic.”

There was a rumbling sound. MacGregor searched his memory for something to match the sound to. It grew louder and he felt the vibrations through the bedframe.

“More horses,” he said.

“You’re right,” Hunter said, “listen.”

The drumming of hooves grew louder.

“Hunter!” It was Braverman’s voice. “Simard, Hunter! Get out here!”

“Be careful!” Hunter shouted. “We’re in the second tent.”

“Get out here now. We need to leave. What about Millar and MacGregor?”

“They’re awake.”

“Good. We need to get moving. There isn’t much time.”

MacGregor felt someone tugging his elbow.

“Shit, not this again. What is it now?”

“Sorry Bud,” Fraser said. “Just trying to help out.”

“It’s okay. Sorry, I thought for a minute it was Sharpe again.”

“Speak of the Devil!” Sharpe entered the tent. “Nice to see you two again. Are you ready for our little adventure?”

“Gentlemen, we have to leave immediately,” Braverman said. “Something is happening at the SOD. We need to get there immediately.”

“What about the rest of the team? Did the others make it?” Hunter asked.

“Nobody else made it.” Braverman stated coldly. “We’re all there is. Now, trust me, there isn’t time for pleasantries. Millar, are you fit for this? What about Mr. MacGregor?”

“I’m still feeling a little…”

“He’ll be fine.” Fraser interrupted. “And I’m fine too.”

“Alright. Then let’s get going. We’ve a lack of personnel, unfortunately. Millar, we’re short on staff. You’ll need to join us when we enter the SOD.”

“Like fuck.”

“You fucking bastard!” MacGregor snapped. “You’re coming if I’m fucking going.”

“Children, my goodness!” Sharpe chuckled.

“There isn’t the time for this, Goddamn it!” Braverman almost screamed. “Get on the horses.”

“Horses?” Fraser said. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“You can ride with me,” Simard said. “MacGregor, you can ride with Hunter, ok?”

MacGregor nodded slowly. He was afraid. He had to focus to stop his voice from shaking.

“How… how am I going to get onto an effing horse?”

“You’ll be alright.” Hunter told him. “Come on. Get your jacket on.”

It was just as difficult as he’d imagined. But he managed to make it onto the horse with Fraser and Braverman’s swift, ungraceful assistance. The extra weight he’d put on made it difficult to shuffle onto the saddle behind Hunter. He sat there, awkwardly silent, as the others prepared their horses.

“Put your arms round me,” Hunter said. “And squeeze in close, or you’ll fall off the back.”

“You ride horses?”

“Yes. Just trust me.”

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“No. The sun is coming up. There’s a lot more light. I can see the trail quite clearly.”

“Giddy up, folks,” Braverman shouted. “Let’s get moving!”

“Hold onto me,” Hunter said, almost irritable. “Hold me tight. Or you will fall off. I’ve done this with disabled riders, but normally they’re strapped to me. And they’re a lot younger than you. You have to hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” MacGregor said. “I’m holding on. What trail is it?”

“Looks like a rope with cloth tied to it. This is how Braverman and Sharpe found their way to the SOD before dawn.”

“That and the moonlight,” Braverman said. “But it was still exceptionally difficult. Come on, follow my lead. We have to go now, before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” Fraser said. “Hey, Braverman. What do you mean? Shit!”

“What’s happening?” MacGregor felt his breathing beginning to get out of control. “I’m.. I’m s…”

“It’s alright,” Hunter said firmly. “John, you’re fine. Just hold onto me tightly. Don’t be shy.”

She was speaking quietly, so only he could hear her. Despite his fear, he appreciated her candor. It was hard not to think of how far down the ground was, or what he might fall onto if he slipped from the oversized saddle.

“You ride horses?” he said. “Sorry, I just asked you that.”

“It’s alright. Yes, I ride a little. I haven’t had the chance for a few weeks, but it feels quite natural. Even with you holding on to me.”

MacGregor heard the other horses moving. Braverman was shouting, but his voice was far away.

“He isn’t wasting any time. Did you hear what he said?”

“No.” Hunter spoke loudly. “Hold on tight, okay?”

“I am.”

He actually wasn’t holding on as tightly as he could have been, but the sudden surge of forward movement catalyzed his arms to lock tightly around her waist.

“That’s better,” she grunted, “we’ve got to catch up.”

Fraser was shouting something, but again MacGregor couldn’t hear. He felt his hair moving in the cool wind.

“Where are we? What time is it? Is there light? Are there lights? Can you see?”

He knew that he was panicking and he knew that she could hear it in his voice. She spoke back to him with slow and deliberate sedateness.

“We’re not far from the SOD. A few miles, I think. It’s getting light. I don’t know what time it is exactly. Try to stay calm.”

“I’m really trying,” MacGregor replied, breathless with fear.

He held onto Hunter’s waist tightly. His right arm brushed against something on her hip. He realized that she was carrying a sidearm. He moved his forearm slightly, probing the curious attachment.

“You’re armed?”

“We don’t know what we’re going to replace inside this thing.” She said frankly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve handled a pistol, but I think I remember the basics.”

He felt her thighs move in front of him, squeezing the horse. Moments later, she gently lifted her arms. This time, the horse took the cue and began to move forward.

“There we go. Good girl.”

He felt a spot of rain on his forehead, then another on his cheek. Far away, perhaps in the direction of the SOD itself, there was a heavy rumble of thunder.

“Skies are getting dark,” Hunter said, “but no lightning yet.”

“There must be lightning,” MacGregor said. “You just can’t see it.”

“Can’t see much.” Hunter explained. “I’m glad they put the guide line down. I can’t even see Braverman and the others now.”

He felt her arms move again, encouraging the horse to move faster. She leaned forwards in the saddle and he went with her. The horse was cantering on grass. Hunter was rocking back and forward and the horse took her lead. Soon it was galloping. Hunter was leaning from side to side and the horse was following her movements. MacGregor heard the hooves thudding against harder ground. He remained rigid and glued to Hunter’s slender, athletic form. His spine jarred with each motion of the horse. After a few seconds it began to get painful.

“Try to relax,” she said, sensing his discomfort. “Move your body with mine if you can. I’ve got to catch up. I’m sorry. It looks like there’s something going on up ahead. Shit.”

“What?”

“That’s… oh fuck!”

She moved the reigns violently. He knew something was wrong. Her movement in the saddle was more irregular. He could feel her body stiffening.

“What is it?”

“There are bodies,” she said. “Soldiers, I think. I can see the SOD. It’s…. it’s pretty huge. Bigger than a house.”

The horse moved over grass again. Softer ground this time. Muddy, MacGregor guessed. He could feel the beast slowing down.

“Hurry up!” Braverman shouted, his voice close by. “Breathe deeply. Hyperventilate.”

MacGregor was confused. He suddenly felt lightheaded. What the Hell was Braverman talking about?

“I… I feel it.” Hunter’s voice was low and dull. “Hang on, John…”

MacGregor was already hanging on for dear life, but it didn’t prepare him for the horse collapsing underneath him. He held onto Hunter, more from fear than anything else. The horse collapsed onto his left leg, trapping him painfully against something wet and hard. He was replaceing it difficult to breathe. Every motion of his chest seemed like an enormous feat of energy.

“I can’t move!” he shouted, the words coming out in a strangled gasp. “I can’t… can’t breathe…”

The horse was struggling and kicking, thrashing around on its side. He could hear its breathing, rasping and ragged and not too different to his own. Hunter was gasping nearby, making sounds that weren’t quite words.

“Damn it! Just come with me now!” Braverman’s voice boiled with urgency. “Everyone’s dead!”

MacGregor felt everything spinning. His eyes were closed. He was pinned by the struggling horse, but there wasn’t any pain. Now all he wanted to do was sleep. All of his energy had drained out of him. The horse gave another tremendous kick. MacGregor felt the pressure on his leg disappear, replaced a moment later by what felt like the entire weight of the horse landing on his hip and stomach. MacGregor moaned a loud note of weak, confused pain. He felt the horse move again, the sudden pressure easing. But everything was spinning and collapsing inside his mind. Hunter was screaming, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying above the incredible sound of thunder that overwhelmed him moments before he lost consciousness.