Sunspots and Forever Dark Omnibus

by Gary Martin

  He glides gracefully over the crowd and drops down when he gets near to one of the six or seven dancing poles placed around the room. The one he lands next to has no one dancing or writhing on it, and he walks towards it. He looks left and right, and then proceeds to climb it. It looks like he's planning on climbing up as far as it goes. I turn to Terrell and motion towards the exit. He looks puzzled and raises an eyebrow, until I point at Jacob steadily making his way up the pole. He stands up quickly, nods his head, and we swiftly head for the giant doors. We work our way through the throng of sweaty semi-naked bodies writhing and grinding around us, and when we're within a few metres of the exit, we turn around to watch the carnage begin. If what happened next hadn't been so disgustingly horrible, it may almost have looked beautiful.

  17

  Jacob finally reaches the top of the pole, then crosses his feet and holds his knees together. He holds out both arms and begins to slowly lean back. When he's pretty much upside down he holds his position for a few seconds, and then pulls his arms back in. He then looks around the room, and spots Terrell and me by the doors and smiles. He then puts the fingers of his right hand down his throat. At the same time, he loosens his grip slightly on the pole and starts to very slowly move down it and spin around. He quickly withdraws his fingers and projectile vomits on the unsuspecting people underneath. This is no ordinary vomit, mind you: this is bright blue, and glowing. He loosens his grip some more, and he spins faster around and down. It goes everywhere, a giant circle of luminous sick. The people dancing underneath look up, smiling, assuming it's some sort of special effect the club has put on, until they smell it. Then all hell breaks loose.

  Jacob is down and running towards us before anyone's realised what's just happened. But he's making slow progress because of the crowd. I see a few people, with glowing blue on their heads and shoulders, point in Jacob’s direction and start to give chase. From where he is, he raises his hands above his head and flaps them about in the universal Run like fuck! gesture. We don't have to be told twice. I turn to head for the exit as fast as I can, but before I realise it's happened, I smash straight into a massive guy carrying a large tray of drinks. The glasses smash, cutting his bare chest, and the drinks go everywhere. His face goes from shock to fury in a split second. He then suddenly bangs the back of his head, his eyes start to glow bright red, and so do his shimmering tattoos. He grabs me by the throat and slams me against the wall, holding me so my feet are dangling above the floor. I can't breathe, and I actually think he means to kill me. Terrell tries to pull him off me, but one swipe of this guy’s left arm knocks him on his ass. Black spots start appearing in my peripheral vision, and he moves his head closer to mine. I can see in his red eyes that he doesn't plan to stop this anytime soon, and he squeezes tighter. I try to hit and kick him, but he doesn’t move. I just about spot Jacob still running towards us. He grabs a bottle from a table as he runs past it, jumps up in the air and smashes it on the back of the big guy’s head. His eyes open wide, and they change colour from red, to blue, to purple. It repeats the pattern, getting faster and faster. His eyes start strobing and he let's go of me and grabs the sides of his head. Sparks fly out of the back of his skull where the switch must have been and he falls to his knees screaming. The bottle must have damaged the switch, and whatever liquid was in it must have somehow got into the implants. Poor fucker. But that’s what happens if you get ocular implants done on the cheap.

  Jacob grabs Terrell and pushes him out of the doors. I don't hang around and leg it after them. I look over my shoulder as we're running down the stairs and can see three vomit-covered people in pursuit. Adrenaline has kicked in and I can only just feel the pain around my neck. We get through the foyer a lot faster than I would have expected, with the amount of people milling around and generally getting in our way, and then we're finally outside and into the cold wet night. We continue running and end up heading back towards the lights of the city.

  We stop after about ten minutes when we realise that anyone who was chasing us has long since given up. I'm so unfit that when the adrenaline starts to wear off, the effects of being strangled and trying to catch my breath work against each other, and the effort to breathe hurts so much I almost collapse.

  After a few minutes of sitting down, I'm still wheezing slightly, but breathing fine.

  “Jacob, you absolute bastard,” I say. “You had that planned all night, didn't you?”

  “Everything except you getting strangled. The circle of blue? You know I've always wanted to try that, well … ever since we came up with the idea and decided it wasn't possible. And I wanted your last night out to go with a bang. Did it look good from where you were standing?”

  “It was the best, and worst, thing I've ever seen,” Terrell says, and then looks at me.

  “What's the reason then? Why's this your last night?” he asks.

  I look at the pavement, and am about to answer when we hear a familiar whirring noise.

  “Stand up, and start walking,” Jacob says, suddenly really serious.

  We start walking and the police cruiser slowly moves past above us on the mag-lane. It slows down even more and shines its spotlight on us. We're so fucked. After what happened at the club, I'd be surprised if we didn't get electro-shock treatment to correct our behaviour, and then have to spend the next six months inside. I hold my hand to protect my eyes against the brightness, although that's the least of my worries now, when suddenly it switches off. With a quiet hum, the police cruiser speeds away. The three of us stand dead still. We start to slowly look around, then look at each other, and finally we burst out laughing.

  We continue walking, and the laughter subsides.

  “John, I know this isn't actually your last night out with us, but you're not going to be around so much anymore, are you? It feels like maybe the end of an era, and I get the feeling you have something big to talk to about.” Jacob puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “But you know we can't do that without seeing my mother, and we're not far away – it's only a little way down the road from here.”

  When we were kids, Jacob’s mother would always let us drink or do anything stupid at her house. She said that it was better to be supervised, that way we'd stay out of trouble and not get ourselves arrested. As we got older, she would often join us on our misadventures and I never really thought of her as Jacob’s mother at all, just another friend. She always had the best advice on most subjects, and was a great listener. She did have some odd quirks, though. She was heavily into the idea of an afterlife, and spirituality (whatever that was), even after the main religions had been abolished and such beliefs could get you arrested or put in an asylum.

  We get to the gate. It's locked. We start to walk around the outside perimeter, and notice that there are some bent bars on the iron fence. We climb through and walk past the countless shabby-looking graves, to the one that is still constantly tended. Jacob comes here once a week, to think and to maintain it, even though the rest of the place seems to be going to ruin. He made her a promise on her deathbed that if he had any big decisions to make, or any problems in life, he'd come and visit, and have a drink with her. And that offer had been extended to all of us. When Terrell split from his wife, we came here and had a drink with her. After my almost disastrous first date with Ez, I came here afterwards and had a drink with her. Maybe it's just the quietness of this place, or because of her strange beliefs, but somehow it feels like maybe she is still here and listening. But more than that, it always seems to help. She died far too young, and I still miss her.

  Jacob and Terrell made a small, slightly shoddy bench to put beside the grave about six months ago, so we all sit down, and it creaks under our weight. Jacob pulls out four bottles of beer from his man bag. He passes one to me and Terrell, and puts the fourth one in front of the headstone.

  “What’s going on then, Johnny boy?” Terrell asks me.

  “Everything. Nothing.” I try and think of the best way to say it,
but decide that straight out with it is probably best.

  “Ez wants kids. After years of not wanting them, she now does. She's made me quit my job, and has said she wants me to be a stay at home dad. I really don't feel grown up enough, and I feel a bit trapped, if I'm honest.”

  They look at each other, and what comes next surprises the shit out of me.

  “You're nearly forty, John,” Jacob says. “There's no way you're not grown up enough. And she didn't make you quit your job, she asked you. If you’d really liked it, you'd still be doing it.”

  I press the button on the lid of my beer, and the heat of my finger tip pops it off. I don't wait for it to cool down, and take a swig straight away. It's Terrell's turn now.

  “Ez is a beautiful, beautiful woman, John. Why wouldn't you want kids with her? I know what you're like, you're very stubborn. Once you've made up your mind, you stick to it. But this is something you can change your mind about. There are no absolutes here. I think you've said you don't want kids for so long now that you don't feel you can change your mind without looking like you're going back on yourself, like somehow your pride is at stake. It isn't. You can change your mind. What would you prefer, being back up there with the twats on that spaceship, or being at home with a son or a daughter of you own? Being a father,” he says putting a hand on my shoulder.

  I take another swig of my beer.

  “I thought you guys would have been dead against it. What about the three musketeers? I think you may be right though. I have been on the fence for a while. I've been arguing with Ez mainly because I didn't want to let go. What do I have to let go of though, really? I'm not young anymore. If I wait too long, and stay on the same page, I'll lose her. And I'll die miserable and alone with nothing and no one,” I say.

  “And who would we have to pass on our infinite wisdom to? It's not like me or Terrell here are going to have any kids anytime soon. You are the only likely candidate. We'd be like the best uncles ever!” Jacob says with a big grin.

  I smile at that.

  “The best, or creepiest?” I ask.

  “Probably a bit of both. But John, seriously, go for it. What do you have to lose?” Jacob’s grin fades a little as he says it.

  I didn't have anything to lose. I didn't even know why I was fighting it. So finally, my mind is made up. Jacob and Terrell have completely surprised me. I'm going to get home, and when Ez gets back from work, I'm going tell her we should go for it. And apologise for being such a prick.

  We down our drinks, and Jacob opens the bottle by the headstone. He pours the beer on the grave, kisses the top of the stone and we silently walk out the way we came in.

  18

  The next morning I wake up and my head and neck are hurting like bastards. The space beside me on the bed is empty. I guess Ez is at work and has left me to sleep in. After last night’s mini epiphany, I literally feel like a new man. Except for the headache and the sore neck that make me feel like an old man, but hopefully they'll be gone soon. I can't wait for Ez to get home so I can tell her. I decide to make it a special occasion, and plan to get her some flowers and chocolates. I'm really beaming. I feel like a missing part of my life has just been put in place. Why have I been denying it for so long? Oh yeah, I'm a fucking idiot, that's why.

  I get into the shower and wash off last night’s exploits. It's warm straight away, there's no boiling, freezing, boiling, freezing followed by swearing that Sunspot 2's showers always give me. And for the first time since quitting, I'm really happy that I'm never going back.

  I towel off and get dressed, and decide to take the scenic route into town, by the river, when I hear the front door open and slam closed. I walk downstairs to find Ez curled up in a ball on the sofa, crying and visibly shaking. I sit down next to her and put my arm around her.

  “What's wrong?” I ask.

  She looks up at me, her eyes are blood-shot, and it looks like she's been crying for a long time.

  “He's gone,” she manages.

  “Who's gone?” I ask.

  “Rupert … he … he's disappeared.”

  “Didn't you mention him yesterday? It's not even been twenty-four hours yet. He probably just decided to not come in and forgot to tell anyone.” I wonder why she's so upset; it seems quite trivial, and I start to get paranoid.

  “No, John. You don't understand. He's gone. And he's taken the project we were working on with him.”

  “The project …?”

  “Yes, I can’t say any more than that. Please don’t ask. He's been acting very strange recently. He didn't seem to want to finish it. And now he's taken it and vanished. I was working on it as well, and Skylark think I had something to do with it. They think I helped him, John. I've been questioned all morning. My God, I'm being questioned by government agents tomorrow, and if they don't believe me I'll be picked up, tortured and then executed as a traitor. I haven't done anything, John, I'm not a traitor, I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!” she screams before curling back into a ball, and continues to cry. I try to reassure her, and tell her that everything is okay, but she's having none of it.

  “John, Skylark are merciless. There’re a lot of things I haven't told you, I didn't want to scare you. People I know have been tortured for just having Skylark schematics on their personal computers. They were just behind with their work, John, that's all. They were tortured and then imprisoned for that. If they think I've helped steal something this big, John …”

  I hold her tightly, it's the only thing I can think to do. I think back to yesterday, with all its hope for the future. When she kissed me goodbye last night it was one of the last times I saw her happy. I never see that beautiful smile again.

  19

  “John, wake up …”

  SLAP!

  “John, WAKE UP!”

  SLAP! SLAP!

  “Alright! I'm fucking awake!” The side of my face stings. I cough instead as I breathe in the smoky air. Kerry smiles at me and I sit up. The bridge is bathed in red light, and a layer of smoke is floating halfway up the room. Luckily, I can hear the loud whine of the air scrubbers doing their job. Kerry holds out a hand, I grab it and she pulls me to my feet. I look around and see Mark sitting at his station, holding his head. His white hair looks as pink as Kerry’s in this light. There doesn't seem to be too much damage in here as far as I can tell, just a lot of unsecured objects strewn across the deck. I don't know about the rest of the ship. I look out of the viewports. The stars are moving upwards at speed, followed by the Sun, followed by more stars, back to the Sun again. That's not a view I've ever seen before. I stand back and rub my eyes. I realise that the impact has sent the ship spinning out of control. After standing up for less than a minute, I can feel how badly my back hurts, and how badly my throat hurts from all the smoke. I hurt all over. I look at Kerry and Mark. They look like they've been through the wars too. Mark's bleeding from his forehead, and Kerry has blood underneath her nose, mixed with soot. I smile at them.

  “We're not dead. I'm a little bit surprised by that,” I say.

  Mark takes his hand off his head, looks at the blood on it, and puts it back.

  “I feel dead. And I get the feeling the ship may be dead too.”

  Kerry rolls her eyes.

  “I love your fuckin' optimism, Mark, we haven't even checked any of the systems yet,” she says, picking up her chair from the deck and sitting down at her console. She flicks a few switches and presses a few buttons, but there's nothing. The monitors are just showing static.

  “The pessimistic fucker’s right, John. We're dead in space.”

  “What about the hangar?” I ask, realising there's no way to tell if it's attached or not without physically looking, so I walk back to the viewports. I have to tiptoe to look down to where the hangar should be, and it's there. It's in its housing. That's one thing that has gone right. In a fucked-up sort of way, at least.

  “We have it … it's attached,” I say.

  Kerry and Mark look out at the vast sola
r-panelled top of the hangar deck, and let out almost simultaneous sighs of relief. Mark then starts to look puzzled.

  “It looks like it's maybe bowing slightly, as if the impact has bent the housing so it's at a different angle to the rest of the ship. If that's the case, we won't be able to get on board through the adjoining airlocks, they'll be at least three or four metres apart,” he says.

  I look out again, and I realise he may be right: it's definitely bowing downward.

  “It looks like you're right again. Bugger. I'll go down to the cargo bay and check it at the airlock. While I'm gone, see if there's anything you guys can think to do up here,” I say, heading towards the hatch, then I pause and turn around to look at them both and point my finger.

  “Except fucking, definitely no fucking.”

  As I get through the hatch and into the habitation level, I can hear a groaning noise coming from the far end. I get off the ladder and walk through the smoke, which is still thick here, and glowing red due to the emergency lighting. I can't see more than about three metres ahead of me. I notice the air scrubbers don't seem to be on. In my quarters, I grab a towel from the deck where I left it earlier and hold it over my face. I hear the groaning again. I realise it's Robert. The panel with the controls for the scrubbers is next to the sick bay door, so I put one hand on the wall and walk to the end as fast as I can. My eyes are streaming by the time I get there, and I can barely see a thing. I can't imagine how Robert's feeling. I'm surprised he's not dead from the smoke inhalation.

  I get to the panel and hit the red button. The scrubbers whine into life. I get down to my knees and crawl in through the door, trying to breathe as little as possible. The sick bay is a mess: all the equipment is on the deck, and a lot of it looks smashed. All the beds are on their sides. I can just see Robert underneath one of them. The beds are massive, heavy-duty things. If one were to fall on you, it would very likely break bones. Robert has had a very bad time of it so far today, far worse than me, Kerry or Mark, and a lot of that is down to my actions. His day has probably not been as bad as Tim’s though, as it's very likely that he's pretty fucking dead.