Blacker

Hunter offered MacGregor the bottle of water. It was a little over half full.

“So this is it,” MacGregor said. “You and me, and a half bottle of water.”

Hunter just breathed next to him. She didn’t answer. He waited a few moments and then decided to break the silence himself.

“I killed Sharpe. Fraser’s dead, but all I can think about is that I killed a guy. I don’t know what that says about me.”

Again, Hunter didn’t have anything to say. MacGregor licked his lips.

“I’m a murderer. You know, it’s so strange? That’s really all I can think about. I mean, what’s fucking wrong with me? Fraser’s dead. The last person on Earth that even knows I exist is lying beside me, and I’m worried about the fucking lunatic that killed him.

“He told me the name of his son. Oh fuck, he had kids. I can’t even remember what he told me, or how old the kid is. I can’t even remember his wife’s name. And now he’s dead.” MacGregor turned sharply in the direction of Sharpe’s body, “You fucking idiot!”

He heard Hunter making some sounds. It was like she was crying. He heard her sniffing, catching her breath. Even that morsel of audio was enough to send a wash of relief over him.

“I had to kill the fucker,” MacGregor said. “If I hadn’t, he’d have done you and I next. Simple as that. It’s fucking me up, but I did the right thing. He murdered my friend. He… killed Fraser.”

Hunter’s breathing was uneven. He was almost certain now that she was crying. It was a strange relief, somehow. He stayed quiet for a long minute, letting her work through it and hoping, selfishly, that she’d work through it quickly. He got some comfort listening to the sound of her breathing. After two or three minutes he noticed that his hands had stopped shaking. He went to take another sip from the water bottle, but thought better of it.

“Do you need a drink?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

He clenched his teeth together and closed his lips tightly. He had to fight the impulse to grin insanely, such was the relief at hearing her speak. He didn’t do anything and stayed quiet for a good ten or twenty seconds, hoping that she’d say something else. Eventually, she did.

“I’m sorry your friend is dead. There isn’t anything you could have done. You were right to kill Mr. Sharpe. There was something wrong with Mr. Sharpe. He shouldn’t have been here. He obviously wasn’t suited to this… environment. He had a panic attack and it led to a psychotic break. He shouldn’t have been here.”

“Thank you for that,” MacGregor said. “How are you? You were quiet for such a long time. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter sighed. “This is difficult for me too. I’m not very good in the dark. Confined spaces are difficult for me.”

“I’m used to it,” MacGregor said.

He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them. He remembered saying something similarly self-deprecating to Jackie. He wondered if he was subconsciously seeking sympathy. Worse, did his words come across as an explicit request for sympathy? He didn’t want either to be true.

“I’m sorry I said that. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

“Sorry?”

“The joke about my being used to the dark,” MacGregor said. “I’m sorry I said it. I shouldn’t draw attention to my blindness that way. I don’t know why I do it.”

“I didn’t notice,” she replied, “and you shouldn’t think too deeply about it. It didn’t occur to me that you were drawing attention to your blindness until you said so. Not that it matters now. We’re as blind as each other, remember?”

“I suppose so, but when we get out you’ll be able to see again.”

She hesitated a while before speaking again. He sensed a change of subject coming. His senses did not let him down.

“Do you think we’re going to get out?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“It just seems so pointless otherwise. We were obviously meant to get inside the SOD. So we are allowed inside and then just trapped here forever? I can’t imagine that’s what’s going to happen. I’m surprised nobody’s turned up already to… I don’t know what.”

“Who’s going to show up?”

“What?”

“Who do you think is going to show up?”

MacGregor knew already what he was going to say. He just didn’t want to say it. Long seconds slipped by. He decided enough was enough.

“Aliens. Beings from another world, whatever you might call them.”

“You’re certain that’s what this is, then?” Hunter said. “The SOD is of alien origin?”

“I can’t imagine what else it would be, could be. Don’t you think that’s what this is?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “I can’t think what it might be.”

“What force do we know of that can stop electricity from working and a flint from sparking? I could vaguely believe if, somehow, the eggheads in the military had discovered a way to prevent electricity from flowing. There’s that whole EMP thing, for a start.”

“Electromagnetic pulse, yes,” Hunter replied.

“Yes, I can imagine an EMP weapon that would prevent electricity from working. But what can prevent a match from striking? A flint from sparking? How can that be explained by the technology we have today.”

She inhaled slowly and exhaled sharply.

“You’re talking about the technology we know about,” Hunter said. “Perhaps it’s some kind of new anti-terrorist technology that’s gone wrong. Perhaps it’s an invention designed to prevent bombs from detonating. Some kind of gas, or something. Some kind of universal energy inhibitor. And this is a test that’s gotten out of hand and gone wrong. Perhaps that’s why Braverman and the others didn’t make it in.”

“It didn’t feel like a gas,” MacGregor commented, “it felt like my energy was being drained away. Felt like I was dying. I really don’t believe we have the know-how to do something like this, gas or no gas.”

“So you think aliens?”

“It has to be. I just don’t know why they haven’t shown up.”

Hunter didn’t answer. She went silent again. MacGregor moved tentatively closer. He knew for sure now that she was crying. They were quiet, private sobs. He thought about reaching to comfort her, but something stopped him from doing so.

“Maybe they’re outside now,” MacGregor offered, “maybe once we get out it’ll all be over and done with. They’ll have introduced themselves, shut off the SOD or whatever this is. Maybe everything will be alright again.”

“Except Sharpe and Millar are dead.”

MacGregor frowned. He didn’t know what to say to that. He squeezed the water bottle. It made a crinkling sound. He repeated the action a few times, just to keep the silence from swallowing him up.

“So this is a military experiment?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter replied.

“Isn’t that what you think?”

“I don’t think anything,” Hunter said. “I just want to get out of here.”

“So, shall we give it a try then? Getting out?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, first see if you can find one of the torches. We have to make sure that they’re still not working. I’m going to see if I can find that telescope pole. I can use it to reach up and feel if there is something above us.”

“I like that idea,” Hunter said. “I have Sharpe’s torch here. It doesn’t work.”

To emphasis the point, Hunter click-click-clicked the torch button.

“Okay, so torches and stuff still not working,” MacGregor said. “Fair enough.”

The floor was covered in cold, sticky blood. There was so much of it that he could almost taste the sweet, metallic smell that threatened to make him retch. He searched for the metal pole. First, he located Sharpe’s submachine gun. It was still attached to its strap and slung over Sharpe’s shoulder. He kept feeling around for the telescope. Eventually, he located it.

“Got it,” he reported.

He got to his feet and reached upwards with the metal pole. He was not surprised to find that the hollow metal pipe found no solid roof to touch against.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Let me try,” Hunter said, “I’ve got an extra inch of height on you, I think.”

“Really?” MacGregor said. “Um, okay sure.”

He handed Hunter the pipe. There were a few grunts and groans. He heard her jumping.

“Don’t slip.”

“I won’t. There’s nothing up there. The door or exit is on the wall somewhere, or we fell into a pit. But if the pit’s at least six feet deep we’d have some kind of injuries. One of us would have been injured. But nobody was. So we didn’t drop down into this place. We came through the wall.”

“The wall’s solid,” MacGregor countered, “I checked all the way round.”

“Let’s try it again,” Hunter suggested, “perhaps there’s something you missed.”

MacGregor agreed quickly. It was highly likely that, if there was a gap or space in the enclosure, he might have missed it. His search of the SOD’s boundary had been frantic and random. They held hands and MacGregor guided Hunter towards the edge. He reached it with the tip of the periscope and tapped the surface with the metal end of the pole. Hunter let go of his hand. He heard her slapping the palms of her hands against the unyielding rubber-like material.

“Feels the same as the floor, doesn’t it?” she said.

“Yes, and there’s no join at the bottom. The floor just blends into the wall without a seam.”

“That’s interesting.”

MacGregor kept tapping the wall. There was something about the sound that seemed off. He did it so many times that Hunter eventually had to speak. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what it is,” he said, “but there’s something weird happening.”

“Well, that is an understatement if ever there was one. What do you mean? Why are you tapping the wall?”

“I don’t know…”

He hesitated, then struck the surface harder with the pipe.

“What is it?” Hunter repeated.

“Something’s not right. Wait a minute.”

He bent down and hammered the pipe into the ground, then repeated the action.

“The sound’s different,” Hunter said, “you’re hitting the floor now.”

“Yep,” MacGregor said, “the floor’s definitely… denser.”

“That means?”

“That means the wall’s thinner. I’m going to try breaking through it.”

“Wait. Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know. Watch yourself a second.”

He felt the wall with his fingertips.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to give it a good kick,” he said.

He took a step back. Before Hunter could say anything else, he lifted his right leg and gave the wall a light kick, getting the distance right. His second kick was much harder. The third had all of his strength.

“This isn’t going to work,” Hunter said.

MacGregor wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling that the wall wasn’t all that strong. He kicked again. Then three more times.

“John.”

He ignored Hunter. Another kick. He grunted with the exertion. But he felt that the wall yielded slightly. Was it his imagination?

“We can break through this,” he said. “Wait a minute.”

“John, we can’t.”

He stepped back another two paces. He angled his body so that his heavy right shoulder would hit the wall first. Then he braced himself and lunged forward and crashed into the wall.

There was a loud crack.

“Jesus Christ!” MacGregor laughed. “I broke it! Here, can you feel this?”

He groped around for Hunter’s hand and, finding it, guided it to the fissure that had presented itself in the wall.

“Yes! Oh my, that’s… that’s fucking amazing!” Hunter exclaimed.

“Okay stand back now.”

MacGregor stepped back again. He kicked the wall right in the middle of the break in the wall. He kicked again and, satisfyingly, a piece broke away.

“Fuck yeah!” MacGregor yelled.

“Wait!” Hunter shouted. “Stop for now. Let me feel it now.”

MacGregor had prepared for another kick. He kept is leg raised for a moment, then placed it back down by his side. He could feel Hunter moving in front of him. He followed her, reaching out with his hands also. He found the wall and the hole that he’d kicked through it. It was about a half foot by a foot long. The material was about three or four millimeters thick. The hole MacGregor had kicked hadn’t produced any sharp edges or splinters in the material. MacGregor noted that the area around the hole hadn’t bent or deformed in any way. He picked at the edge with his thumb and index finger, snapping off an inch of the strange material.

“Can you see outside?”

“I can’t see anything.”

“The wall’s thin,” MacGregor said, “Like plastic, but it isn’t plastic. I can break right through it with a few more kicks.”

“Alright. Go on, then.”

She moved behind him. He could feel her hands on his shoulders, just to the right and left of his neck. Her touch was light. He could feel the warmth of her fingertips through the shirt. He drew a breath and kicked the wall again. His aim was sound and the heavy rubberized heel of the lightweight combat boot hammered against the bottom of the hole he’d created. More of the wall fell away. He kicked again and again, increasing the size of the hole.

“Another couple and we can get through,” MacGregor said, “I’ll make it big enough that we can go through together.”

“Okay.” Hunter’s voice was excited. “Thanks, John.”

He kicked and kicked at the wall. It was easier each time. The material seemed to come apart in foot sized chunks. It felt like breaking open a massive chocolate egg. Finally, there was enough of a hole that they could both fit through.

“That’s it, I think,” he said. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Wait,” she said, “stay here. I’ll get the weapons.”

“What?”

“Sharpe’s machine gun and the pistol your friend had,” Hunter said, “even the knife will be useful.”

MacGregor shrugged internally.

“Okay,” he said.

He stayed at the opening and listened to Hunter searching for the weapons. She found Sharpe’s submachine gun first. Thirty seconds later, she’d located the fallen automatic pistol. The knife took a little longer, but eventually he got that, too.

“There wasn’t any spare ammunition,” she said, “so this is it.”

“For what it’s worth,” MacGregor commented, “nothing works, remember.”

“The knife will,” she said. “Do you want it, or will I hold onto it?”

“I’ll hold on to it if you like,” he said, “I don’t know what use the guns will be, but it’s wise to hang on to them. What about the bodies?”

“Once we find our way out, people will go in to get them,” Hunter said. “We need to focus on getting out of here first.”

There was anxiety in her voice. She was doing well to control herself, MacGregor realized. He remembered what she’d said about being in confined spaces. The urgency in her tone was almost imperceptible, but it was there. She had been holding herself together well, but now that a way out seemed possible she was desperate to take it.

“You’re right,” he said, “let’s get out of here now.”

“We’ll do it together,” she said, moving next to him, “hold my hand.”

“Okay,” MacGregor waited as she switched the automatic pistol to her left hand. He moved the knife to his right hand and gripped her tight with his left. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said, “let’s go.”

There was more than enough room to squeeze through the now massive hole in the wall. They moved together, slowly. MacGregor heard Hunter gasp. Her fingers opened and closed. She gripped his hand even tighter, almost hurting him.

“What!” he said. “What is it?”

“There’s a light…” she said. “A white light.”

“Where? Can you go to it?”

“It’s right ahead of us. Not far. Come on.” She moved faster. “We’re almost there.”

He could hear something. It was a low rumble, like distant thunder.

“Wait,” he said, “can you hear that?”

Hunter was dragging him.

“We can get out of here,” she said, her voice frantic now.

There was more than just the droning moan of quiet thunder. There was a scream. It was a high pitched sound, like a jet’s turbine.

“Wait,” he said, “listen. Can you hear that?”

Hunter wasn’t listening. She kept pulling him forwards. The wall was behind them now. Three, maybe four meters. He felt something on his face that felt like cobwebs. His hair was beginning to move. There was a sensation of coldness. Her hand was pulling him. He wanted to stop, or to pull in the other direction. The thunder was much louder. Surely Hunter could hear it?

“We’ve got to stop for a second!” he shouted.

But then, just like that, they were out. The screaming whine and the deafening thunder were all around him now. Hunter’s hand was gone. He couldn’t remember her letting him go. He couldn’t take a breath, somehow. It was like all hell had broken loose.

He was on his hands and knees and then, stumbling, he was flat on his stomach on the wet, cold ground. Suddenly everything was very cold and very wet, as if it had always been this way. He tasted watery mud and coarse grit. It filled his mouth as he scrambled in the dirt, trying to call out to Hunter. There was grass pressed against the side of his face, some of it coming into the side of his mouth as he gasped for breath. There was noise all around. A cacophony of screams, howls and rumbles surrounded him. The noise was phenomenal. He felt hard rain hammering into the back of his neck as the wild wind made a mess of his hair. The wind was so strong. It was almost impossible to breathe. Above him, thunder cracked and rolled close by. It felt and sounded like the entire world was coming to an end.

He got on to his hands and knees again, slipping in the mud. His hand touched something hard and flat. It was a broken piece of the SOD’s hard shell. He tossed it to the side.

“Hey!” someone shouted, “Heyyyy!!! I can see you!”

He didn’t recognize the voice. It was far away and almost completely obliterated by the storm. He started to crawl towards it. Then a surprise crack of thunder made him almost lose control of his bowels. He felt his hair standing up. He wondered if lightning was striking all around him. He wondered if he was about to be exploded by lighting. It sounded so close.

The wind screamed and howled. The voice was still calling out a shrill and urgent Heyyyyy!, but the voice sounded further away. MacGregor didn’t shout back. He was too busy trying to cough out the mud and debris that he’d swallowed. By the time he was able to shout back, he felt hands on his shoulders. He knew immediately that they belonged to Hunter.

“John, we’re outside.” Her voice was ecstatic. “It’s a thunderstorm. It’s fucking fantastic!”

“I can’t breathe!”

She was laughing. He couldn’t believe it. Again, the thunder boomed. But it wasn’t so loud this time. Or maybe it had always been this loud and having her hands on his back made it seem like something that didn’t matter all that much. It was still raining. He was still getting soaking wet. The wind was cold and punishing. But he somehow found himself smiling.

“We’re outside? What’s happening?”

“Thunder and lightning. But the place here is a shambles. Like they left in a real hurry! Here, get inside this.”

She was dragging him by the shirt collar. He moved with her, on his hands and knees. He was still smiling. Somewhere far away, someone was still incessantly yelling Heyyyyyyy!!

“Over here!” MacGregor shouted. “We’re here!”

“Get inside this tent,” Hunter said, “it’s night-time, but there’s enough moonlight for me to see by. Barely, that is. But it’s freezing and we need to get some shelter.”

“What about the person shouting?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said. “Hey,” she screamed, “we’re over here!”

MacGregor felt something being pulled over him. It was a heavy fabric that smelled musty and old.

“This is a tent?”

“Looks like the remains of one,” Hunter said. “There was a base camp here, but it’s been abandoned. Or destroyed in the storm. I don’t know. The tents are collapsed. But this will be more waterproof than being out in the rain.

Thunder boomed, punctuating her words. She drew a breath quickly. He knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“The lightning lit everything up,” she said. “There are bodies everywhere. People and horses.”

“Oh fucking fuck. You’re kidding.”

“Help me lift this up,” Hunter said. “Here, raise your arms. Okay, palms up.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, that’s it. There’s a support pole here.”

He heard the sound of a zipper fastening up. The rain battered against the tent canvas as the wind tried to tear it apart. He held the fabric above his head, water trickling down his wrists and into his armpits. A few seconds later, he felt Hunter slide the tent pole into place.

“You can let go now,” she said. “Here, how about this.”

He couldn’t believe it when he felt the welcoming feeling of a soft towel pressed into his hand. He patted his arms first, then his neck and face. The towel smelled moldy and old, just like the tent. He didn’t care all that much.

“Oh thanks,” he said. “So the tent’s erect?”

“Half of it is,” she said. “Just stay where you are. Sit in the middle. The edges are limp and still dribbling water. We’re missing a pole or two. I don’t really know how this is supposed to hold together.”

There was another crack of lightning. Thunder rumbled loudly. A gust of wind pushed the tent canvas against MacGregor’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. “let me push it back.”

“You said its dark outside?” MacGregor commented. “How can that be? We haven’t been in the SOD long enough for it to be dark. Have we?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Here, keep your hand on this.”

“What is it?”

“Sharpe’s gun. I’m using it to prop up the side of the tent. It’ll stop it from blowing in on us.”

“Wait a minute, Eilidh. How long were we inside that thing?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Long enough for it to be night time, I guess.”

“Heyy!”

MacGregor almost jumped out of his skin. He swore reflexively. The voice was right outside. MacGregor almost dropped Sharpe’s Heckler and Koch submachinegun. He opened his mouth to shout back, but Hunter was too quick.

“In here!” Hunter shouted back. “We’re in here! Look, here we are!”

“What’s happening?” MacGregor asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think they can hear us.”

MacGregor heard something click. It made him jump. He relaxed as he recognized the sound.

“The torches are working?”

“Yes,” Hunter said, “so whatever the SOD was doing, its stopped. Hey!” she shouted again, “We’re in the tent over here!”

The voice called out in response. But it had moved further away. There was a slight lull in the rain and wind. MacGregor was able to hear the clearly only for a moment. He was certain now that there was something wrong with the voice.

“What’s going on?” MacGregor said nervously. “What can you see outside?”

“I’m inside now,” she said. “The zipper’s closed. These tents are really old. Can’t believe how much they stink.”

“What about the guy doing all the shouting?”

“Guy? I thought it was a woman,” Hunter said. “Whoever it was, they’ve run off somewhere.”

“This is pretty mental.”

“Yes, it is mental John. Can I have the towel for a minute?”

“Sure.”

She gently took the towel from him. He had one hand free now and explored the floor of the tent. He discovered something hard and a little bit slimy. He squeezed it cautiously and decided that it was a backpack or rucksack of some kind. Mold seemed to be growing on it.

“Got a bag here. Feels like it’s been lying here for some time. Maybe we’re not in the right tent. Maybe this is some old camping tent that’s been lying here a while.”

“Let me look.”

He heard her fumble around. He presumed she was shining the torch onto the strange bag.

“Heyyyyy!!!”

The voice was much further away now.

“It’s like they’re on drugs or something,” MacGregor commented.

“Yes, there’s something wrong out there,” Hunter said, “but at least we’ve got some gear. Looks like ration packs. Another torch. Some flares. It all seems like it’s been lying here for a long time. Everything’s covered in a green mold. It’s all quite disgusting. Hold on a minute, this is weird. These are ration packs. Oh my God…”

Her voice was soaked with disgust. He heard her throwing something to the corner of the tent. Thunder boomed overhead, but it was much further away this time. He still imagined that he could hear the stranger shouting Hey! but it might have been his imagination. Hunter made a sound that sounded like a cough but was actually a moan of disgust.

“What is it?” he asked. “What have you got there?”

“Biscuits or something,” she said, “but they like they’ve been here a long time. They’re stale or rotten.”

“Maybe this is another camp site,” MacGregor suggested.

“Wait a minute. There’s another pole,” Hunter said.

He felt the tent being pushed from below as Hunter moved the pole into position. A dribble of water landed on his right arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping it away.

“I wonder who the fuck the Hey guy is.”

“Maybe one of the soldiers messing around.” MacGregor hoped he was right.

“It’s not possible,” Hunter replied, “there are bodies outside. Dead bodies, I’m sure. I saw a horse, or what’s left of one. Just a glimpse in the lightning. It’s a pretty grim scene outside.”

MacGregor shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Aye,” he said, “but I’m mostly just scared to death. How about you?”

“Both, we should cuddle together to stay warm.”

He felt that, in another place and time, he would have been embarrassed by her suggestion. But he was cold and growing colder by the moment.

“Sure,” he replied, “that would be great.”

“And this might help, too.”

He felt something heavy and warm coming over his shoulders. It was a jacket, he realized, but the material was cold and stiff. It stank too, like everything else in the tent.

“It smells bad,” she said, “but it’ll keep you warmer than the shirt that you’ve got on your back.”

“Okay,” he said, “that’s fine. What about you?”

“I’ve got one, too. Mine is in a little bit better shape. Sorry!”

“That’s fine.”

He felt her hands reaching out to him and he allowed himself to be drawn toward her. He shuffles across on his buttocks. There was another drop of water. It landed on the tip of his nose. She must have seen it, because she laughed.

“You’ve got some light?” he asked, “Is it dawn?”

“I don’t know what time it is.” She hooked her arms around his waist and pulled his chest close to her own. “There’s no light outside at all. Except when the lightning strikes. But it’s moving further away. You can come closer than that. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” He realized that he’d tensed up on feeling her chest against his own. It had been such a long time since he’d felt such a delicious and inviting warmth. He didn’t know how to react and his body tightened from the stress of it.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, “we need to keep warm. Here, come closer. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not,” he lied, “I’m just… awkward.”

“I know. But this is how we keep warm. I don’t see anything else in here that can help us.”

He tried to control his breathing, but then he began to choke a little. He tried to keep his face away from Hunter’s, but then his neck began to hurt.

“John.” Her voice was firm. “Come over here.”

He felt her face against his, her hands at the back of his neck. She pulled him closer. He shivered one last time, almost violently. Then he felt his body relaxing. In the distance, amongst the diminishing thunder, he heard the strange voice shouting the same word again.

“Heyyyy!!!”

“Jesus, who is that?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. But the rain’s dying down a little. The wind’s dying down enough that I think the tent’s going to stay up on its own. We’ll just stay like this a while, get warm.”

“Why does everything stink so much?”

“Well, it’s been a long day John. I didn’t have time to shower this morning.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean…”

“I’m joking,” she said lightly, “you need to relax now. Just relax and get warm. When it’s light, we’ll see what’s going on.”

He closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. He felt her fingers stroking the back of his neck. It felt so wonderful. Their combined body heat seemed to build a shield of warmth around them both. His breathing became slow and even. The tension began to leave his shoulders.

“That’s good,” she said, “this is only natural. We’ll make it through the night like this. The rain’s almost stopped. We’ll warm up together. When it’s light, we’ll see what there is to see outside.”

“You said there’s bodies?”

“It looks like it, yes. At least one horse, too. But they’ve been here for a long time. Perhaps the SOD was moved while we were inside it. We’ll find out, come morning.”

MacGregor listened for the Hey guy, but there was no sign of the voice now. Just the wind making the loose tent canvas flap and the rain hammering into it. But he was feeling warmer and better. His breathing was coming easier now. He was slowly getting used to Hunter’s contact.

“So, you’re from Glasgow, too? Which part?”

“South side,” MacGregor said. “Down Pollockshaws Road. Near Queens Park.”

“Oh,” she said, “you have a place there?”

“A flat, yes.”

“Who’s waiting for you there? Are you married?”

“I’m not married,” he answered, “I don’t really know if anyone’s waiting for me there.”

“You don’t have anybody?”

He thought of Jackie. His friend of so many weeks. Was she waiting for him? She’d been keen enough to come with him, even without knowing what she was going to be getting herself in to.

“Someone, maybe,” he conceded, “a friend at the bedsit.”

“A girlfriend?”

“No, just someone. She lives there. We all have our own rooms. We share the kitchen and bathroom.”

“I lived in a bedsit,” Hunter whispered, “I know what a bedsit is.”

“Jackie’s just a friend. Someone I can talk to. She’s just passing through. I’ve been at the bedsit a long time. They come and go, but Jackie has been around longer than most.”

“They?” Hunter’s tone smiled, “Who’s they?”

“I mean the… decent, normal ones. They stay a while, but they always leave. Once they’ve managed to jump the hurdle they’ve stumbled at, they leave. The others hang around. But they’re pointless.”

“Hmnn. I don’t believe that. I don’t think that anybody is pointless.”

MacGregor laughed silently, his shoulders moving up and down as he suppressed the sounds. He thought of the two drug addicts living in the flat.

“You would need to meet some of them,” he said, “maybe you’d change your mind.”

She was smiling. Her face was close enough to his that he could feel the subtle changes in the muscles there.

“So this is an ordinary friend, or a romantic friend?”

“Jackie?” MacGregor shuddered at a sudden chill, “Just a friend. Not a romantic friend. She’s only lived in the flat for a few months. She won’t be there much longer.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss her when she leaves,” Hunter commented, “make sure you tell her that before she goes.”

MacGregor nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him that Jackie would be leaving the flat someday soon. He hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t wanted to think about it.

“She isn’t all that special,” he said, “just someone who pops in for coffee now and again.”

He was lying. Jackie was very special. He realized it now with an immediate and deep sadness. She was the most special person in his life. Every time she appeared, his day brightened.

“I will miss her,” he said, “I hope she doesn’t leave, but I know she has to.”

“That doesn’t mean that you won’t stay in touch. So what hurdle did she stumble at?”

He didn’t understand for a moment. Then, in a flash, he remembered what he’d said.

“I don’t know. She lost her job, I think. She was living with some guy in Kelvinbridge, near to the old museum of transport. Something happened and then she started looking for somewhere to live.”

“They broke up?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she told me what happened.”

He knew that he was lying. Jackie had told him the truth. He just hadn’t been listening. He’d only remembered the aspects of her conversation that had been important to him at the time. She had just left a relationship. She would be staying in the end flat for a while. And she’d smelled so good. He remembered that now as he absently inhaled Hunter’s scent from the back of her neck where her thick hair formed a v.

“She told me what happened with her relationship,” he said, “I just don’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy focusing on myself, I suppose.”

“Why do you think that was?”

He blinked, thinking. He was breathing loudly, more rapidly. Hunter’s body felt good, but her closeness made him want to pull away. He tried to command his body to relax. Instead, he trembled from his neck to the base of his spine.

“Relax, John,” Hunter said, “we’re warming up together, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you think you were so focused on yourself?”

“Because I’m a f… fricking idiot,” MacGregor trembled, “I should have listened to her more.”

“You like her?”

He felt strange talking like this. His arms were looped around Hunter’s waist and her arms were around his, underneath the stiff and waxy coat and tight against his body.

“You mean that way?”

“Uh, huh.”

He thought about it. He thought about it some more. It was difficult to concentrate with Hunter’s large, soft breasts pressed against his chest. She smelled of coconut and he was starting to really enjoy breathing her heat deep into himself. He’s had occasional accidental contact with Jackie. Other than that, the only female contact he’d had was when a one of Ashraf’s sisters had held onto his hand whilst handing him his change.

“I don’t really know. I look forward to talking to her. I miss her when she’s not there. But it isn’t any more than that.”

“What about Jackie? Do you think she has feelings for you?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I’m just someone to talk to. Someone she thinks doesn’t belong there. I think that’s what it is.”

“Mmm,” Hunter hummed, “okay.”

The tent wasn’t flapping around so much. The wind was dying down. The rain seemed to have increased in intensity, but he didn’t mind the sound of it. There was something rhythmic and almost hypnotic about it.

“I’m going to rest a while,” Hunter said, “I’m feeling tired. I’m going to close my eyes.”

He felt her take a deep breath. Then the muscles of her upper body were relaxing. Her arms moved down from his waist to rest behind his buttocks, slightly touching them. He felt his breath catch. He clenched his teeth, feeling a stirring in his loins. He inhaled sharply, hoping that whatever was happening between his legs wouldn’t be too obvious to Hunter.

“I’m married,” she said quietly.

“Oh.”

“It hasn’t been working for a long time,” she whispered, “but he’s still there for me.”

“Okay.”

“I think he’s still there for me,” Hunter said, “anyway, I’m sorry if I snore.”

He wanted to say something else. Wanted to ask more and show that he was interested in her life, her situation. Like she had been with his. But then she was very obviously suddenly and deeply asleep. Her head rested against the side of his own. He resisted the urge to stroke the back of her neck. Instead, he held her close to him, keeping her warm.

The rain battered the side of the half-tent and he sat there listening to it for a long time. He listened to the sound of her breathing and inhaled the faint, distant echo of her perfume. After a while he decided to close his eyes, too. When he opened his eyes again, the rain had stopped.