Blacker
Chapter Six: Murder in the Dark

Sharpe was the first one to wake up. Or, at least, he was the first one to make noises. He was quiet for a long time, even when he should have been strong enough to speak. MacGregor had noted the change in his breathing for at least five minutes. When Sharpe eventually grunted, he was already almost strong enough to sit up.

MacGregor was able to get to his feet before Fraser started to wake up. He had started to snore loudly just about the same time that MacGregor guessed Sharpe had actually regained consciousness. Hunter had already whispered that they should let Millar sleep. MacGregor agreed that it was a good idea. MacGregor stretched his legs and reached around in the dark. He was careful not to take any steps.

“I can’t feel anything,” he observed. “Walls or ceiling. Sounds weird in here, too. Like there’s no echo, almost. I need to shout to try it out but I don’t want to wake Frase up.”

“Oh bollocks to that!” Sharpe grunted. “Hey! Aliens! Where are you!”

“Fuck’s sake,” MacGregor complained, “you’re all heart Sharpe.”

“Oh bollocks to you,” Sharpe snarled. “What did ya think then. Was there an echo?”

“I don’t think there was,” Hunter replied. “But I don’t know if that means anything.”

“Means there’s no fucking walls, darling.”

MacGregor heard a clicking sound. Then again. Sharpe swore and dropped something to the ground. It was a torch, MacGregor realized. MacGregor reached into his pocket for the cheap piezoelectric lighter he carried. He stepped towards Sharpe.

“Try this,” he said. “It’s my lighter.”

Sharpe took it without a word. MacGregor heard the piezo spark generator clicking. Then a second time. A third. A fourth.

“No spark.” Fraser’s weak voice croaked. “That’s a shame. I could use a smoke, if I could move my hands at all.”

“You’ve had it,” MacGregor said. “Lighter won’t spark.”

“Get my zippo.” Fraser’s voice whistled as he spoke. “My pocket. Oh man, I feel totally fucked-up.”

MacGregor continued to explore the new environment. He didn’t move from where he was standing. Instead, he stretched his arms out and probed with his fingertips. Finding nothing, he reached above his head and tentatively searched for a ceiling. Again, there was only empty space.

“Just relax.” Hunter interjected. “It happened to all of us. Something to do with the SOD’s effect. It wears off. But you don’t want to tire yourself.”

“Give me your lighter,” Sharpe snarled. “Which pocket you keep it in, eh?”

MacGregor heard Fraser moaning. Sharpe was being intentionally rough. He stooped towards his friend, but then he heard the cowling of the zippo flip open.

“Good old fashioned flint and steel,” Sharpe laughed. “Here we go then.”

MacGregor knew it wouldn’t work. He remembered what Simard had said. Sharpe started to swear as the flint wheel turned and nothing happened.

“Fuck it, I can feel the sparks! I can feel the bits of flint, but I can’t see them.”

“Maybe we’ve all gone blind,” Fraser suggested. “Did it light? Is there a flame?”

“No it didn’t bollocksing light, idiot.”

“It won’t work,” MacGregor said. “The scientist. Simard. The American told us that nothing works.”

“He was Canadian,” Hunter said.

“Alright, Canadian. But he mentioned that this would happen. Or was happening. Nothing will work.”

Sharpe kept thumbing the zippo. MacGregor heard the big man’s breathing increasing. There was a hint of a shiver, or a tremble, when Sharpe spoke again.

“That’s just fucking shit, that,” Sharpe grunted. “How can you stop a flint from sparking? How is that done, eh?”

“I don’t know how it’s done,” MacGregor replied, “But it’s part of the problem, isn’t it.”

Sharpe kept trying the zippo. MacGregor heard the flint wheel move repeatedly. The click-clicking of various torches joined the chorus.

“Nothing works!” Sharpe exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “My fucking keyring torch doesn’t work! So we’re all fucking blind now, just like you. I bet you’re happy about that, aren’t ya?”

MacGregor’s mouth was open with surprise. He didn’t know what to say to Sharpe, right away. He drew a breath and was about to say something, but Hunter was there first.

“I’m sure Mr. MacGregor is absolutely overjoyed that none of your little toys work, obviously. Mr. Sharpe, I really hope that you are not as completely idiotic as you sound.”

“Cheeky bitch.”

There was a scuffle. It was Sharpe, MacGregor realized, trying to get to his feet and failing. He collapsed in a breathless heap. There were no sounds for a moments besides heavy breathing. Not just Sharpe’s. Hunter was breathing heavily, too.

“What are you doing?” MacGregor asked.

“I was going to teach milady here a few manners,” Sharpe gasped. “You’ve got some mouth on you, Miss.”

“It’s Ms., thank you. Can I just ask you, Mr. Sharpe, if you have completely lost your fucking mind? What were you trying to do, attack me?”

“Someone needs to teach you some manners, is all,” Sharpe said. “Let me get my breath back and I’ll show you what I mean. Next time you give me some of your cheeky talk.”

“You’ve gone mental, Sharpe,” MacGregor hissed menacingly. “Just calm down. We’re all in the dark together.”

“It’s fucking alright for you,” Sharpe snapped. “Not much of a difference for you, is there? You’re as much in the dark as you’ve always been. It takes some getting used to for the rest of us.”

“Don’t speak for everyone, Sharpe.” Fraser’s voice trembled with anger. “You’re the only one going off his fucking nut in the middle of all this. Just chill, for fuck’s sake.”

“Alright, everyone, this isn’t going to help us.” Hunter’s voice was steady and calm, “We need to stay calm and objective here. We’ve all had a stressful experience and we’re all slightly confused and bewildered by it. But fighting amongst ourselves isn’t going to help any of us. Now, Mr. Sharpe, are you able to get to your feet yet?”

Sharpe made some grunting sounds. His breathing was fast and ragged. He sounded like he was panicking.

“No, can’t stand up. Feel like I’ve been fucking drugged or something.”

“Okay, relax. It happened to all of us,” Hunter continued. “The best thing we can do right now is wait until we’ve all got our strength back. It will return. I promise you that, Mr. Sharpe. Just give it a few minutes. While we’re waiting, we should do an inventory of our equipment and supplies.”

“And weapons,” Fraser added, “I’ve got the nine milly pistol Braverman gave me. Anyone else packing?”

“HK assault is somewhere on my right,” Sharpe muttered, “but I only have the one mag. I’ve got a nine millimeter, too. Twelve shots in the magazine but no spares.”

“It’s better than nothing,” MacGregor offered.

“Okay, I think we’re going off track a little bit here,” Hunter said, “I’m more concerned with food and water supplies. Weapons aren’t our first priority.”

“Hey,” Fraser interrupted excitedly, “I’ll fire a shot off. We’ll be able to get a glimpse of where we are in the muzzle flash. It’ll be like a photographer’s flash, but we’ll at least see where we are.”

“It won’t work,” MacGregor replied. “If a zippo flint doesn’t strike and an electric lighter doesn’t spark… Well, I can’t see a bullet cap firing.”

“John’s right,” Hunter sighed. “Whatever force is suppressing the flint mechanism and the electric lighter’s spark will also suppress the primer’s mechanical energy.”

“Say that again, love. In English this time, eh?” Sharpe said.

“The bullet won’t fire because the mechanical energy won’t convert to chemical energy. Whatever’s causing the blackout will inhibit the process needed to start the bullet’s ignition process.”

Sharpe laughed scornfully, obviously unimpressed by Hunter’s attempt at a non-technical explanation.

“Won’t hurt to try,” Fraser said. “I’ll waste maybe one bullet.”

“Okay, if we’re going to do this, hand the gun up to me,” MacGregor said. “Personally, I think this is a waste of fucking time but I’m the only one on his feet right now so I’ll take the shot.”

Sharpe laughed again. This time, there was less anxiety in the sound.

“I fucking love this! We’re giving the blind guy a gun.”

“Just hand me the gun.”

MacGregor got to his haunches. His legs were much stronger now. He reached towards Fraser and found the rubberized grip of the weapon. He took it into his hand and examined it carefully. Although it wasn’t a design he was familiar with, he was able to replace the safety catch.

“Here we go then. Prepare your eyes and your ears.” He pulled back the pistol’s slide, chambering the first round. After releasing the safety catch, he added, “Here goes nothing. Firing in three, two, one…”

Click.

He didn’t try a second time. There was a massive impulse to do so, but he wanted to prove that he didn’t need to. After making the gun safe again, he leaned back towards Fraser.

“Here it is, Frase,” he said. “Looks like Hunter was right. So you’re officially the new brains of this outfit now, Ms. Hunter.”

Click. Click. Click.

Fraser almost dropped the handgun in alarm. On his right, Sharpe was squeezing the trigger of his own weapon.

“Fucker!” Sharpe grunted.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Shitting fuckers!” Sharpe’s voice was high pitched again. “How can they do that?”

His last statement wasn’t a question. It was a quiet, almost whispered gasp of fear. MacGregor wondered if Sharpe could hold himself together. He was suddenly thankful that the firearms weren’t working.

“Back to the original plan, guys,” Hunter said. “Inventory time. Now, what are we all carrying with us equipment-wise. Mr. Sharpe? Is it Mr.? You’re a soldier. Should I be calling you by your rank?”

“Mr. Sharpe is fine, love.”

“Alright, Mr. Sharpe. What have you got. Any rations? Water?”

“I got nowt,” Sharpe grunted. “Had my HK slung and the pistol in my hand. That’s all I got.”

“Handgun here too,” Fraser offered, “and about eight cigarettes. Zippo lighter that doesn’t work. Mini torch that doesn’t work.”

“No bags? No… rucksacks of gear?”

“Nothing,” Fraser replied. “I had some chewing gum in my other trousers, but I’m wearing the new ones they gave us. Apart from the gun and the smokes I don’t have anything else.”

There was a few seconds of silence. MacGregor noted, again, that it was absolute silence. Besides the sounds made by the team breathing, there was no sound at all.

“This is fucking creepy,” MacGregor said eventually.

“Yes, I think so too,” Hunter replied. “Now, what about you, John. What did you bring through with you?”

“Nothing,” MacGregor said quickly. “Nothing at all.”

“Okay.” Hunter’s tone lifted slightly. “So at least we have an inventory.”

“Wait, so we’ve no fucking water?”

“I’ve got a bottle of water, Mr. Sharpe.”

“One fucking bottle of water? Between the four of us?”

“That’s right. But I’m sure that we’ll replace our way out of here before that becomes an issue.”

“Yeah, because you’re the fucking brains in this outfit now. So how much food do you have then? A Mars bar even? We can split it into four pieces.”

“I didn’t bring any food.” Hunter’s spoke with deliberate calmness. “I assumed we would have packs with food and things like that.”

Sharpe grunted something inaudible. MacGregor was reaching into the darkness again, but this time he was bent down and examining the ground. To his surprise, he found something hard and long. It felt like a light metallic pipe.

“Got something here,” he said, “lying on the ground. Feels like a metal pole.”

He continued to explore the object. It was about two feet long and at one end something like a magnifying glass had been duct taped on. Unlike the strange material of the floor, this colder object was much more familiar.

“Maybe this came from the outside. Feels like a periscope or something. Or part of one. It was lying on the ground at my feet. Maybe they were trying to look inside. So if this fell in through from the outside I think the door can’t be far away.”

“What fucking door? There wasn’t no door, pal. We just stepped into that big black ball and now this is where we’re at.”

“Sharpe’s right,” Hunter said, “there’s no door. We’ll replace the way out the same way we came in. It’s going to be a lot harder without being able to see anything. Once everyone’s able to walk we’ll take a few steps in one direction at a time and we’ll replace ourselves back outside.”

“That’s a good plan,” Fraser said, “but what about everyone collapsing around the SOD? What if that’s still going on when we get back out?”

There was silence. The same uncomfortable silence as before. It lasted a long time.

“Well in that case we’re fucked,” Sharpe said. “But we have to do something so let’s do it.”

“Can you stand, Sharpe?” Hunter said, “What about you Fraser?”

Sharpe didn’t make a sound, but MacGregor heard him struggle to his feet. Fraser gave a loud grunt. MacGregor moved to help his old friend stand up. He caught Fraser’s right forearm with his left hand.

“You okay?”

“Aye, I think so.”

Sharpe, without assistance, got to his feet slowly and with very heavy, labored breathing.

“Where’d you replace that thing then?” he gasped.

MacGregor felt Sharpe move towards him. The big man was unsteady on his feet. Sharpe gripped the makeshift periscope and started to yank it away from MacGregor.

“Let’s have it then.”

“What does it matter?” MacGregor released the aluminum pipe. “It’s no good to us, is it?”

“Well, I can use it to brain some fucking E.T.s if need be.” Sharpe countered.

“Well, there’s no arguing with that logic,” Hunter said. Her voice didn’t have a trace of emotion. MacGregor couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

They were all standing together now.

“If we’re going to move, the best way would be forward where I’m facing,” MacGregor decided. “That’s where I found your metal bat, Sharpe.”

“Alright, then it’s likely that we’ll exit from the SOD by going in that direction,” Hunter offered, “It would be a good idea, I think, if one of us goes ahead. If the person in the lead leaves the SOD then they’ll be the only one affected by whatever it was that stopped Braverman and the others getting through.”

“There’s a point,” MacGregor considered. “Why hasn’t Braverman or anyone else turned up then?”

“Because they’re probably lying dead out there. Gassed or irradiated or… or something,” Sharpe growled. “Maybe we’s best staying the fuck in here then?”

“I don’t know if we can, without supplies,” Hunter stated flatly, “but John’s got a point. We should wait a while to see if anyone else actually does turn up. That’ll minimize the risk of one of us going outside and being… compromised by whatever is out there.”

“Shit, do we really have to wait?” Fraser complained. “Whatever it was out there didn’t kill us. We step outside and if we feel weird we just step back inside the SOD again. Isn’t it as easy as that?”

“We don’t know what happened outside, for a start,” Hunter countered. “For all we know…”

“Oh fuck this,” Sharpe interrupted, “I’m for just getting the fuck out of here. Blindy here thinks he knows where the exit is. Let’s just get the fuck out, eh? This darkness is giving me the fucking creeps. I don’t know how you stand it.”

“We should wait.”

“You aren’t in charge, lady.” Sharpe’s tone warned. “There’s four of us and three of us want to try it. So you’re out-voted.”

“It’ll be alright.” Fraser tried to lighten the mood. “I’ll go first. If I get out I’ll come right back in and tell you if I feel… weird or not.”

“Fair enough.” Sharpe was quick to say. “Good on you for volunteering.”

“Alright then,” Hunter said, “if we’re going to move then we should all move together. Are we following Mr. Millar or Mr. MacGregor?”

MacGregor had been guiding Fraser round to the front of him, his hands touching the taller man’s hips lightly and moving him in to position.

“Fraser will be a bit in front of me. Now, it should only be a few steps if that. So be ready.”

“Okay,” Fraser said.

Fraser took a step ahead of MacGregor. MacGregor kept a light touch on his friend’s jacket. He felt Hunter behind him with Sharpe close behind.

“That’s two steps forward,” Fraser reported. “No sign of a… whatever the fuck we’re looking for.”

“Keep your hands in front of yourself in case you walk into a wall or something,” MacGregor suggested.

“I knew you’d be useful,” Fraser quipped nervously, “shit, this is nerve-wracking. Right, that’s four steps now. Are you sure that pipe thing was lying around here?”

“Further back,” MacGregor said.

“Fucking shut it and keep moving.” Sharpe sounded panicked again. “The exit’s this way. Let’s just keep fucking moving. I want to get out of this.”

“Mr. Sharpe, you have to stay calm.” Hunter sounded irritated. “Panicking isn’t going to help anything.”

Hunter let out a sharp cry of pain. It was not totally unexpected. MacGregor could hear Sharpe’s breathing. It had turned wild. Hunter was quiet. There was a scuffle. Then it was Fraser who was moving. MacGregor was frozen to the spot in sudden terror as Fraser surged past him.

“You dirty fucking lunatic!” Fraser snarled.

“No, please don’t!” Hunter shouted.

Fraser didn’t heed Hunter’s plea. MacGregor heard Sharpe grunt loudly. He knew that Fraser was on the bigger man. He heard a punch landing. Someone had been struck in the stomach. MacGregor couldn’t tell who. Sharpe was gasping so loudly now and Fraser wasn’t making any sounds at all. MacGregor started towards the two men, beginning to replace a path through his own fear. As he reached towards the scuffle, he heard another punch landing with a painful crack of knuckles. Fraser gave a stifled grunt of pain followed by some cursing aimed at Sharpe. Finally, MacGregor’s hands found the two men locked together. His fingers felt the softness of someone’s face, the wetness of an eye or a mouth. There was a dull thud as the metal pipe fell from Sharpe’s hands to the ground below.

“Sneaky bastards,” Sharpe grunted. “You sneaky fucking bastards.”

“Sharpe you’ve fucking lost your marbles.” MacGregor struggled to decide who was who in the mess of limbs that he now grabbed hold of. “We’ll get out of here just calm the fuck down!”

“I’ll get out of here just fine with or without you,” Sharpe snapped.

“John look out! He’s got a knife!” Fraser’s voice had become high pitched. “Sharpe, for fuck’s sake don’t do it!”

There was a series of sickening sounds that MacGregor recognized as a knife punching into flesh. They were accompanied by grunts and snarls which MacGregor knew must have come from Sharpe’s mouth.

“Stop it!” Fraser shrieked, “Stop! Wait! Just…”

MacGregor found Sharpe’s left shoulder. He felt Fraser sliding out of Sharpe’s grip to the ground. There was a sudden moment of clear and absolute clarity in MacGregor’s mind when he knew that Sharpe was going to attack him next with the knife. He moved without hesitating, throwing his right arm around Sharpe’s neck and pulling his forearm tight against the man’s Adam’s Apple.

Sharpe made a strangled akkk-akk sound. MacGregor felt Sharpe’s right elbow snapping backwards towards his stomach. He twisted to avoid the crushing blow, tightening his grip on the heavy-set soldier. There was a thud and then something small and metallic fell to the ground with a muffled clatter. MacGregor realized that Hunter had struck the knife out of Sharpe’s hand. Sharpe was jerking his elbow back a second time and a third. One of the blows took MacGregor’s breath away, but he held on tight.

Oh shit. I’m going to have to kill him. I can’t let go or he’ll just murder me. I’ve got to choke him out first!

Sharpe was strong, but he hadn’t had a breath in a few seconds now. MacGregor wondered frantically how long it would take to stifle the life out of him. Then, unexpectedly, Sharpe dropped to his knees. MacGregor dropped with him, not letting go. Sharpe’s neck was thick, dense with muscles, like the rest of his body. MacGregor cried out in fear and anger all at once, tightening his grip and hoping that he’d cut off the blood supply to the big man’s brain. But he couldn’t squeeze tight enough.

A hammer blow from Sharpe’s right hand thudded against the side of MacGregor’s head. An inch to the left and Sharpe would have hit his eye. The blow made MacGregor’s ears ring, but he held tight. He became conscious of Hunter screaming, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He kept his arm locked as Sharpe hammered him repeatedly with the knuckled of his right hand. A surprise elbow blow took MacGregor’s breath away and now he was gasping, unable to get oxygen. Sharpe rolled to the left and MacGregor went with him. The movement caused MacGregor to fall out of position behind the fearsome man and MacGregor realized, horrified, that he was now fully within Sharpe’s grasp. But to his surprise the elbowing continued weakly for a few more seconds before Sharpe suddenly went limp.

“John!” Hunter’s hands were on MacGregor now. “John, you’re killing him.”

“Fucking kill him!” Fraser yelled. “That’s the idea, for fuck’s sake!”

MacGregor didn’t say anything. He had no breath and no strength left to do anything besides hang onto Sharpe’s neck for dear life. He was terrified that the big man was feigning. And even if he wasn’t, releasing his grip might give Sharpe a chance he didn’t want to give him.

“John, I’m going to have to hit you with this thing if you don’t let him go,” Hunter said, “You’re going to kill him.”

Then there was struggling, but only briefly. MacGregor remained attached to Sharpe. He braced himself for the blow that Hunter had promised, but it didn’t come. Sharpe wasn’t moving at all. His body was a dead weight. MacGregor didn’t relax his grip. He found that he was able to breathe again and inhaled cautiously, keeping his arm locked against Sharpe’s Adams apple. He stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity. Then he was aware of Fraser’s voice, right next to his ear.

“You got him, man,” Fraser said. “You did it. That’s it. You can let him go now.”

“Are you sure?” MacGregor didn’t ease his grip any. “He’ll fucking kill us all if I haven’t…”

“He’s dead,” Hunter said. “He has no pulse, John. You can let him go now.”

Reluctantly, MacGregor relaxed his grip.