Blacker

By Richard Fairbairn

A mysterious alien artifact is draining energy, light, and life from everything around it. The deadly influence is spreading fast, and all life on Earth will be extinguished if its creators cannot be found and reasoned with.

Blind veteran John MacGregor leads a team of specialists into the dark mystery, but the team finds only death and horror within. When the survivors emerge, the world has changed forever. Joining forces with no-nonsense adventuress Eilidh Hunter, MacGregor heads for the one place on Earth that still holds hope. But the more this cruel new world is explored, the more horror is revealed...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Fairbairn
• Release date: Sep 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463390900

Richard Fairbairn

His debut novel Beyond the Starport Adventure is listed as one of "The 30 Best Self-Published Books of All Time", but author Richard Fairbairn hasn't rested on his laurels. He's written some hard-hitting dark science fiction, along with several action and adventure stories now in beta stage. The fan-favorite Bullet series is ongoing, with the second novel expected early into 2020!Richard drives a flame-red 1978 Triumph TR7, holds a brown belt in karate, and is an amateur astronomer.

Book preview

John MacGregor opened his eyes; the smoke detector’s beeping was not a part of his dream after all. Heidi really was shouting his name, and - most likely – she’d be fully clothed and not about to take part in the passionate liaison his imagination had concocted. Her hand smacked against the door, threatening to crack the thin plastic panel in the middle of the frame. He struggled out of bed, pulling on jeans and wriggling into a threadbare t shirt.

Heidi rapped faster, more insistent.

I’m sorry! MacGregor said. I’m coming!

He smelled the smoke as he reached the door, opening it automatically. Heidi stormed past him, coughing. She reached his bed and pounded the mattress, cursing in her native Swedish. "Jävla skit, John! You set the bed on fire again! Are you trying to kill us all?"

"Java what? MacGregor said. You can’t come in here speaking your foreign gooble-gobble this early in the morning."

"It is not early! She stomped past him and wrestled with the window until it creaked upwards. The cold morning air rushed in, bringing the sound of the railway, and the sharp, insistent, craw of disgruntled crows. The new air brought a rancid stench of garbage from the refuse storage area below. And this gooble-gobble, as you describe it, is a refined and musical lilt – not the awful, guttural, strangled croaking you Scottish frog people make."

Nice, MacGregor said. Okay, fair play. I’m sorry about the fire. I must have missed the ashtray. I’m sorry.

Her hands were on his collar. Warm skin brushed against his neck so wonderfully as she jerked and tugged his clothing. The sensation was so pleasant that he couldn’t help but smile, despite Heidi’s obvious anger. Your shirt is inside out, she said, her tone softening. "Oh yes, John. Smiles and laughter. It’s all so perfectly funny, to you. Burn us all to death, dress like a homeless person. This is such amusement for you, ja?"

"Don’t I get any sympathy? I am blind, after all!"

Well boo-hoo, John. You’re breaking my heart, Heidi said. You know what I think about sympathy? It’s a tool of the Devil, helping no-one and inhibiting change. It also encourages wallowing. Do you really want me to help you wallow?

No.

"In Sweden, we have a saying. Envar är sin egen lyckas smed. Do you know what it means?"

I have absolutely no idea.

It means everyone is the creator of their own happiness, Heidi said. That means you too.

The occasional flaws in her English garnished an already delicious accent. He waved in Heidi’s general direction, trying to clear the smoke – but the back of his right hand bounced against something soft, round, and heavy – Heidi’s right breast. She gave a yelp of indignant surprise, albeit muted.

"Fantastisk, she said. Now I am being molested by the defenseless blind man who lives in the room next door. She exhaled, laughing quietly. Her long fingers crept onto MacGregor’s hand, patting lightly and warmly – perhaps reassuring him that the accidental boob-bash was not a problem. It’s time to wake up now; time for you to start your day."

Okay. He swallowed nervously, dry-mouthed.

Heidi Andersson had moved in five weeks ago, MacGregor becoming aware of her presence when he’d awoken to angry shouts and tearful cursing, most of it rendered in a hotchpotch of melodic Swedish and jarring English. The cause for her anxiety? Food she’d naively left in the communal kitchen’s fridge had disappeared. It had been Fifi and Mickey, of course, the bedsit’s resident drug addicts. MacGregor had consoled the raging Swede, and had helped her secure her yale lock against Fifi’s credit card trick.

Thirty-seven years old, a drama student suffering from stage fright and the curse of being told she was physically unsuitable for any credible role by most of the talent scouts she’d met, Heidi had lived her whole life in a small village on the east coast of Sweden. It the kind of place where everyone knew your name, your business, your family history; an absolute hell for an introvert. Seeking escape, Heidi had hooked her wagon to a young actress friend – the promiscuous dreamer, Agnetha Fransson – and when Agnetha had been offered a television role, Heidi had followed the stereotypical flighty blonde bombshell all the way to Scotland. The job turned out to be much less than Agnetha had fooled Heidi – and herself, it seemed – into thinking it would be. Within a few months, Agnetha wanted to go home. She missed Sweden too much, missed the little village and the attention she got being the big fish in the little pond. Heidi liked the anonymity and elected to stay. Heidi’s controlling father had objected noisily on the phone, but that had just made it even more fun. Of course, leaving Agnetha to find her own way home had ruined that tenuous friendship – but Heidi was surprised at how little she missed her ditsy, self-obsessed, friend.

Heidi enjoyed steady work for a while, providing the gentle voice of a software support company, reading lines she barely understood from a script intended for the elderly, unwise, or incapable. An easy gig, but one that had ended a short time ago when the umbrella company had moved its support resource to India. Running low on funds, she’d given up her rented flat in favor of the – temporary, she promised herself – dingy bedsit. She was working, but everything she was offered was just below the ever-decreasing threshold of humiliation. The weekly phone calls back home were beyond intolerable – but at least dad was happy to know he’d been right all along.

MacGregor couldn’t understand Heidi would come to such a place, or why she stayed so long; most of the sensible tenants didn’t stick around once they realized what they were getting into. He spent as much time as he could with Heidi, but each meeting since the great fridge incident had been fleeting and arbitrary. He had the feeling he was milking a dying friendship. But Heidi’s brief visitations represented the only human contact MacGregor had, and he looked forward to hearing her heavy footfalls moving around the communal areas of the flat and his heart would skip a beat when he imagined they were approaching his door.

A train rumbled by on the lines below, headed for the small railway station a few hundred meters east of MacGregor’s flat. A cold Autumn wind was blowing into the room as a disgruntled wasp bumped and buzzed against the window. Heidi was moving again and, sensing she was about to leave, MacGregor tried to think of something that might delay her exit.

Umm... what are you doing today? What are your plans?

"I have a fantastic day ahead of me, thank you for asking! First, I have to buy milk to replace the carton that silly girl has stolen from me. Then I have another interview for a position I am overqualified for, but will not get."

Don't cry over the stolen milk. They've probably found some way to inject it into themselves, or something. Thanks for telling me about my shirt. I'm sorry about the fire and sorry you're stuck in this shithole. You deserve way better than this.

Hmnn, she said. What about your plans? Some housekeeping, perhaps? A shower?

I’m going to try the talking software on the laptop they loaned me, MacGregor said. I gave up yesterday and almost threw it out the window. But if I can make sense of the laptop I might be able to connect to O’Donnell’s Wi-Fi downstairs.

Persevere, she said. "Lyckan står den djärve bi." She stepped towards him again, her hands sending a gentle push of air onto his cheek. Her incredible warmth stopped an inch from his neck. MacGregor felt his pulse there would jump out on its own to touch her.

She cleared her throat. Her hands lingered for an eternal moment.

"Lyckan står den djärve bi. Heidi repeated, her voice a close whisper. Fortune favours the bold, John."

Good luck, he said. Today.

She closed the door. He wanted to tell her to stay, but it was too late. He listened to her walk across the carpeted hall to her own room. She unlocked the door and it clicked shut. He went to sit on the edge of his bed and stared sightlessly towards the door. Ten quiet minutes later, Heidi left her room again. The heavy outer door opened and her heels clicked down the first flight of stairs; soon lost in the background grumble and moan of Glasgow's awakening south side.

Later, the telephone in the hall rang. MacGregor stared sightlessly at the ceiling, smoking a cigarette. The phone rang for over a minute and then stopped, leaving MacGregor in dark silence once more.

Two: Fraser.

Heidi returned to the flat as the phone rang for the fourth time. She hurried into the bedsit and answered the phone, speaking quietly as he strained to hear. MacGregor’s name was mentioned, which was an unwelcome surprise. She walked towards his door and gently tapped the door.

John? she said, There’s a phone call for you. Do you know a Fraser Millar?

MacGregor felt a surge of inexplicable panic make his hair stand on end. Fraser? Er, yeah. Jesus Christ, yes. I know Fraser.

He’s on the phone.

Can you tell him I'm not here?

He says he's a friend from the forces. Heidi persisted, a slight edge to her voice. He’s waiting on the phone.

I know where he's from. MacGregor found a little cruelty coming to his words. I'm f… not… ah ... I don't want to speak to him right now.

She made the disgruntled tut-tut that he'd somehow grown to enjoy. He opened the door, hoping she'd invite herself in. She didn’t. He could feel her staring at him. He imagined her standing, tall, arms folded under her ample chest with an expression of irritable frustration.

You’re not here? she said.

I’m not here.

That’s it?

I’ve gone out. You don’t know where.

Alright. Heidi tut-tutted once more. I'll just tell an obvious lie to your old friend, yes?

That would be great, thanks.

She jogged back to the phone, heavy footfalls thudding on the ancient moldy carpet. Heidi ended the call swiftly and the handset clicked back onto its hook. She trotted back to his door, breathing hard. He was still standing inside the room, waiting for her to enter, but she didn’t.

Are you coming in? You’re standing in the doorway like some kind of… sentinel.

A sentinel?

A foreboding presence, he said. Won’t you come into the room? You’re freaking me out, standing there like that.

When she didn’t make a sound, he put his hands out by his side.

Come on. Give generously to your blind friend.

You really have a way with words, she said, "and you know how to flatter a woman. Jävla sentinel indeed!"

Well, are you going to come in? Are you mad at me?

Will you come down to the shop with me? I need milk.

To Ashraf’s? MacGregor said, I can probably manage that.

She clapped her hands together. I feel accomplished now. Enticing your lazy backside out of the flat – even for five minutes – is enough to brighten my day.

Heidi said she had a letter to write before they left. Her absence would give MacGregor time to shower, she said, which was her delicate way of telling him he stank. It had been four or five days since he’d had a shower, and as soon as the hot water hit him he appreciated what he had been missing. He stayed in the shower too long and the coin meter ran out. Luckily, he’d already rinsed most of the soap away. He returned to the room, already dressed in damp clothes.

Don’t you feel better? Heidi’s voice in his room came as a shock. Oh, did I give you a fright?

I didn’t hear you. Did you just let yourself in?

Well, you left the door open, so I thought I’d let myself in before anyone else did. You know, our little rat-companions who nibble our food and steal our mail. Are you about ready to go?

Is there a rush?

Not really. But I thought it would be nice to pop to the Albert for an afternoon drink.

He was suddenly nervous. The Albert Bar?

As opposed to the Albert Hairdresser? The Albert Shoe Shop? Heidi chided. "Yes, John, the Albert Bar.

What about the milk?

I’ll get that on the way home. You’re looking worried, John. Scared to leave the building, perhaps?

I’m not worried.

Alright then. How long do you think you’ll take to get ready?

"I’m ready now, he said. Just let me get some money."

More tut-tutting. What about your hair? You may not see yourself, but others can.

He frowned, then pushed his fingers of through his wet hair, slicking it back over his forehead and behind his ears.

How’s that?

Are you serious? she laughed. It’s sticking up all over the place.

He repeated the action another few times.

It’ll do, Heidi said. But it’s not exactly perfection.

They started down the stairs of the building. He felt a pang of anxiety as the smell of urine and disinfectant drifted into his senses along with petrol fumes, cigarette smoke, and Ashraf’s fragrant Samosas. Going outside was never easy, and it was getting harder every time. There were always more and more excuses not to leave. He stopped at the end of the concrete passage leading out of the building and jumped as Heidi’s hand brushed against his.

Are you alright?

Yes, he said. Just feels… weird. I’m not getting out enough.

Stay close to me, she said. I’ll protect you. Do you want to take my arm?

Okay.

Alright, she said, we made it this far. Ready to feel the sun on your face?

Sure.

She laughed quietly, barely a sound at all. They took a step into the warm sunshine. The sounds of the city jarred, the traffic unbearably loud, people shouting and arguing. Heidi gripped his arm tight.

Come on. We’re outside now.

The Albert Bar wasn’t far away. They had to cross the street away from Ashraf brothers’ shop, then walk past the hairdressers on the other side of the road. Heidi helped him across the road, his arm in impatient jerks that were almost painful at times. They turned right and crossed another road, a heavy vehicle rumbling by behind them. The Albert Bar’s heavy door creaked open – a familiar and welcoming sound. Warm air and the smell of a beer-soaked carpet drifted past MacGregor’s face. He pulled his folding cane from the inside pocket of his hip-length leather coat and flicked it open. Heidi let out a surprised yelp and then she laughed very loudly.

You had that the whole time? Heidi said. I didn’t think you even had one of those.

I don’t use it that much, he said. Mostly I depend on the sympathetic to lead me around.

We’re good for that, aren’t we?

They went to the bar. Heidi ordered a glass of red wine for herself and a Southern Comfort for MacGregor.

With his drink in one hand and the white stick in his right, he tapped his way across from the bar to the lounge seats at the north end of the bar. There were three tables there, he remembered, and normally they were fairly empty; the Albert Bar was like a morgue most afternoons.

Watch it! she warned.

It was a little too late. The man coming from the bathroom collided with MacGregor. But MacGregor was used to collisions and spilled only a few drops of his drink. He kept his balance too, even if he was surprised to find strong hands catching him.

Clumsy clod!

The voice was familiar, so was the overpowering Kouros aftershave and reek of harsh Turkish cigarettes. MacGregor felt a jumble of emotions; anger directed towards Heidi and an inexplicable fear mixed with a strange kind of embarrassment.

Fraser, MacGregor said. What the hell are you doing here?

Came to see you, of course. Fraser’s voice was deep, his northern accent as strong as ever. Won’t take my calls, will you? So, I had to arrange this ambush.

They sat together at the corner table. Fraser was drinking something that had the heady odor of Guinness. MacGregor wasn’t a fan of the dark, Irish stout. He took a long drink from his short glass of Southern Comfort.

You must be Heidi, Fraser said, I’m Fraser.

MacGregor felt the table move, wondering if Fraser had leaned in to kiss Heidi’s cheek. But there wasn’t anything that sounded like a kiss. Heidi introduced herself a little too enthusiastically, invoking a pang of jealousy. There was a clinking sound, Heidi and Fraser touching glasses. MacGregor felt excluded When Fraser whispered the word, Success, MacGregor felt his temper flare.

I don’t like being fucking manipulated.

He felt Fraser’s big hand on his forearm, squeezing hard. It’s me, pal.

Come on, John, Heidi piped up. You’re supposed to be friends. You don’t hide from your friends, John.

Her words made MacGregor’s anger rise further. I wasn’t hiding.

Fraser was laughing. The slow, deep laugh MacGregor remembered from so long ago.

I’ve caused a lover’s tiff. Sorry, guys. I didn’t know we weren’t all on the same page. Come on, John, let’s have a drink together, eh?

MacGregor jumped to his feet. His knee banged against the table.