Blacker

Sharpe was indeed dead. Hunter quickly confirmed this. MacGregor was nothing but relieved. It was all he could do to take a breath. His chest ached from the powerful soldier’s elbow pounding. He was shaking uncontrollably. So much so that he couldn’t say the words that he wanted to say to Fraser. But after about thirty seconds, Fraser answered his unspoken questions.

“I’ve been stabbed,” Fraser said. “I’m bleeding. We’ve got to get out of here now, pal.”

“How bad is it?” Hunter asked. “Let me… where are you?”

“Here,” Fraser wheezed. “Crazy bastard got me a couple of times in the chest, I think. Do you… you want me to unbutton this shirt?”

“I’ve got it,” Hunter said, “just relax. There’s not too much blood. John, can you still remember the way out?”

“I…” MacGregor could barely speak, “I’m not… no, I don’t know.”

“Come towards my voice,” Hunter said. “Keep walking forward slowly. About ten or fifteen steps. If you don’t make it out then it’s the wrong way.”

“Okay,” MacGregor replied.

MacGregor got to his feet. He almost tripped over Sharpe’s body. Then he stood on the knife. He stopped to pick it up.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Fraser said weakly.

“Just stay still and don’t speak,” Hunter commanded. “John, how are you doing?”

“I’m walking,” MacGregor said. “That’s ten paces. I think I’m still inside.”

MacGregor had his hands out in front of him again. The blood soaked knife was in his right hand. He didn’t know where else to put it.

“That’s me taken about fifteen steps.”

“Try a little more,” Hunter said.

MacGregor kept walking.

“Okay. If I get out, I’ll come right back in. Then you guys can come towards me. Alright?”

“Yes, John. Just keep walking.”

MacGregor took each step slowly. The ground at his feet was smooth and unchanging. There was nothing in front of him and nothing above him. He didn’t remember entering the SOD. He didn’t know what the exit would be like, if it was even in this direction.

There was a tearing sound behind him. Hunter grunted from some exertion she was making. MacGregor heard the ruffling of fabric.

“Fraser. Can you hold this in place?” Hunter said. “Over this one wound, okay?”

“That one’s alright,” Fraser whispered. “It’s the one by your left hand that hurts.”

“This wound is bleeding,” Hunter explained. “The other isn’t. But you’re losing quite a bit of blood from this one. So hold this in place, okay?”

“I’m losing blood?” Fraser sounded surprised, “Am I going to die?”

“You’re not going to die,” Hunter said, “I promise. John, where are you now?”

“I’ve taken about twenty steps. I’m about five meters away from you now. How are you doing, Frase?”

“Go a little further. Fraser’s doing fine. Fraser, you just save your voice.”

MacGregor kept walking. Five more steps. Fraser’s breathing was rapid and loud. MacGregor was about to report on his progress when the knife touched something solid.

“Oh shit!” MacGregor exclaimed. “Got something!”

“What is it? Just step through whatever it is, John. Tell them we need help and then come back in.”

“It’s a solid wall,” MacGregor said, exploring with the digits of his left hand. “Feels like the floor. Same material as the floor.”

“Look for a door,” Fraser said.

“I’m looking.”

MacGregor explored the new boundary. The surface was smooth to the touch, neither warm or cold. He swished his fingers over the wall in large circles. There were no features on the wall. Like the floor, it was just a solid flat surface. MacGregor squatted so that he could touch the floor again. He found it and probed the point where the floor joined the wall.

“Can’t find a door or anything,” he stated. “The floor just blends right into this wall. There’s no seam or anything.”

“Okay, keep following the wall. We need you to move a little faster now, alright?”

“How’s Fraser?”

“Fraser’s going to be alright,” Hunter said. “But we need to get him some help.”

MacGregor knew from Hunter’s tone that Fraser was in bad shape. He didn’t want to waste any more time and started walking along the edge of the wall. It took him about ten seconds to realize that the wall was curving around. He began to trust that, besides the floor and the wall, there would be nothing else to collide with. Using this thought to embolden him, he moved along the wall more swiftly and kept exploring with his fingertips.

“It curves round. Still just flat and smooth, but we’re inside the SOD and the wall is totally solid. I’m looking for… I don’t know what. How are you doing, Frase?”

“He’s losing blood,” Hunter said. “I think he’s bleeding internally. I can’t find some of the puncture wounds.”

“I’m fine, man,” Fraser said quietly. “Just need to get out of this shit and see Matthew.”

“Is Matthew your son?” Hunter asked.

“Aye. He’s so great. You’ll love him. He’s just so great.”

“I can’t wait to see him.”

MacGregor has moved about ninety degrees around the curved boundary wall. He still hadn’t found anything. He stepped up the pace, still skimming the wall with his fingertips.

“No door or anything. Just completely smooth.”

“I want Susan,” Fraser’s voice was a whisper. “Can you get Susan for me?”

“I’ll get her as soon as I can, okay?” Hunter replied.

“Is he alright?” MacGregor felt a shiver run down his spine, “Frase, I’ll find us a way out. Just hang on.”

“I’m doing fine,” Fraser breathed.

“He’s doing great, John. Just find us a way out!”

MacGregor was now behind Hunter and Millar. Still there seemed to be no features to the surface that his fingers probed. He’d missed some spots, but he was hurrying. Something in the way that Hunter was speaking. Her voice had a new tone. It wasn’t urgent or frightened, but there was something artificial in her tone that told him Fraser was in real trouble.

MacGregor realized that there wasn’t going to be a hole or a door. He followed the wall as it circled round Fraser, Hunter, and the dead Sharpe. There was no opening. There were no features of any kind. He had gone almost halfway round the wall again when he decided that there was no way out.

“It just goes round us,” MacGregor said. “We’re in the middle of it – or you guys are.”

“Alright,” Hunter said, “but we had to come in somehow.”

“Above,” Fraser whispered.

“Yes, Fraser. That’s a possibility. Perhaps there’s an opening above us that we dropped through.”

“I’ve reached up as high as I can. I couldn’t feel any ceiling.” MacGregor stretched up again, following the wall with his fingertips. As high as he could reach, there was nothing. He jumped up, searching for something solid above him.

“Nothing,” he said, “nothing above us. Maybe there’s an opening higher up. Maybe this is a pit. Should we shout for help?”

“From whom, Mr. MacGregor?” Hunter’s voice was icy.

“I… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. Excuse me, John. We can try calling out for help. It won’t hurt. But we don’t have much water, and shouting is going to make our throats dry very quickly.”

“Drink.” Fraser’s voice was almost inaudible. “Just a little drink.”

“In a minute,” Hunter replied. “Just rest for a minute.”

“How’s he doing?” MacGregor asked. “Why can’t you give him a drink?”

“He’ll be alright in a minute,” Hunter said. “He just needs to close his eyes.”

“But he needs a drink of water.”

Fraser made a sound. MacGregor could tell that his friend was trying to speak. The sound was weak.

“He couldn’t drink it now if I gave it to him.”

MacGregor left the wall. He got to his hands and knees and crawled towards Hunter’s voice. He found Sharpe’s warm body in a few seconds and worked his way round it. The floor beneath him was wet with thick, syrupy fluid. His hands found Hunter’s slender wrists and followed her slippery wet hands to his friend’s face. He touched Fraser’s eyelids at first. They were moving rapidly. Blinking or frowning. He felt the creases of Fraser’s forehead. He moved his fingers lightly to Fraser’s lips. They were open and dry.

“Fraser?”

“He isn’t breathing,” Hunter whispered. “There’s nothing I can do. I couldn’t stop the blood loss.”

“Oh shit, we’ve got to do something though. Hang on just a minute, Fraser.”

He felt Fraser’s lips close and then open again. Suddenly the body moved violently. He felt Hunter’s hands move and his own followed suit. Fraser’s neck stiffened. He was making an almost inhuman gurgling sound. His knees pushed against MacGregor’s arms as MacGregor held onto the shoulders. The arms stiffened too. There was a long sigh, something like the sound of pressure being released. Then MacGregor felt Fraser’s body relax.

“Frase!” he shouted, “Shit, what’s happening?”

He put his hands to Fraser’s face. There was no movement at all. The lips were still and rubbery. Tentatively, MacGregor explored Fraser’s eyes. They were wide open and staring. He felt Hunter moving beside him, her hands touching the side of Fraser’s neck. He realized she was checking for his pulse. He couldn’t believe what was happening. The knife was still in his right hand. He tossed it to the side.

“He’s dead?” MacGregor asked, incredulous. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” Hunter said, “I’m sorry.”