Alone
By Andy Morris
When the strange phenomenon occurred, there had been no one else in the beer garden of The Mailman’s Arms to witness it. They’d had the area to themselves, which had been perfect. A little privacy was the reason Paul had brought young Sarah out to Lyndhurst in the first place. They wouldn’t be recognised by anyone out here, whereas there were far too many prying eyes back home. If people saw a middle-aged teacher in a pub with his sixteen-year-old pupil, awkward questions would be asked.
Sarah was one of Paul’s special girls. There were several in his school and he liked to take them out for some private tuition every now and then. They’d have a drink or a meal somewhere and he’d help them with their assignments. There was nothing immoral or illegal about it. He had years of teaching under his belt and imparting his wisdom and guidance over drinks in a nice quiet pub helped to create a good learning environment.
They’d been in the beer garden for about twenty minutes when it happened. Paul had been telling his pupil about his local squash club and why she should join. Sarah was showing interest but then she had suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence. Paul had glanced up from his beer and saw she was no longer there. One moment she had been perched opposite him at the picnic table and the next moment, she was gone. She’d disappeared and he was left all alone. His first thought was that she was playing a trick on him. Only, she couldn’t have been because he would have seen her go or sensed her moving at least. Unbelievably, there had been no movement, no sound and Sarah had completely vanished into thin air.
Paul rubbed his beard as he stood up and slowly turned around again, trying to take in every detail, just in case he caught a glimpse of her. The grassy square, the handful of vacant picnic tables and the wooden Shack that ran along the far wall of the garden were all eerily uninhabited. There was no way Sarah could have slipped away, so where was she? He found his gaze turning towards the lattice windows of the pub. The sunshine was reflecting off the glass making it impossible to see inside.
“Sarah?” he called out again, no longer caring if he looked like a nutter. This wasn’t funny!
A warm breeze caused the leaves to whisper to each other in the tall trees that surrounded him. The sound made Paul realise just how quiet everything had become. He was the only person out here but now he realised he couldn’t hear any voices from the pub or noise from the traffic outside. The dense silence pressed in around him. It was as if someone had muffled garden in an invisible blanket, smothering out all trace of the outside world. The sense of peace and respite provided by the leafy plot was gone, replaced by a feeling of desolation and abandonment. Paul left his half-finished pint of Ringwood and Sarah’s barely touched gin and tonic and made his way back into the pub.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He paused in the doorway next to a rack of colourful leaflets advertising various local attractions. As with most pubs nowadays there was that clean smell of fresh beer and old wood. Everything in The Mailman’s Arms seemed normal inside except for the volume of conversations and the clink of glasses. These things were curiously absent. He’d become aware of that as soon as he’d come through the doors but now as he looked around he saw the reason for the lack of atmosphere – there was not a soul in here. Like the Mary Celeste, the pub was totally abandoned. What was more disconcerting was that people had actually been in here earlier. On the table next to him were a couple of plates of fish and chips, still steaming hot and untouched. The handful of old fellas at the bar had gone, leaving only half-empty pint-glasses to mark where they’d been. Even the television on the far wall, which had been showing a cricket match when they’d arrived, now displayed the silent snowy fuzz that accompanied a loss of signal.
Paul was no stranger to the feeling of nagging guilt that often pressed on his mind, especially when he was out with a pupil. That feeling was present again now. Only this time it felt different. It was as if he was trespassing in the pub and he was about to be caught. He shouldn’t be here. He needed to leave before he got into trouble. Biting his lower lip he cast a final glance around the bar before hurrying towards the entrance. The reason for his urgency was unclear to him, more instinct than rational choice. His footsteps knocked loudly on the wooden floor that encircled the bar. As he reached the double doors that opened onto the high street, he paused. Someone else was in here.
In the far corner of the pub hovered a solitary, not particularly attractive, young woman. She was petite and had bright pink streaks running through her black hair. Her nose could have been described as cute if it hadn't been for an unsightly gold nose-ring looping through it. More metal of varying shapes and sizes spoiled both her ears in an unnecessary statement of rebellion. On the table in front of her, amid the array of cider bottles were a couple of drum sticks and a pile of flyers for what looked like a punk band called ‘The Lil-lets’. She was slightly older than Sarah but even if she’d been in his class, this girl would never have been considered a special student. Even without her piercings, Paul was disappointed to see her wearing one of those long flowing skirts that he always associated with free-spirits and non-conformists. He theorised this girl had little respect authority and she was probably one of those types who questioned everyone’s motives and actions. She wouldn’t appreciate his personal teaching style and she’d likely end up causing him problems. Normally he’d avoid her type like the plague but due to the bizarre circumstances taking place he found himself approaching her.
The girl still hadn’t noticed him. Her hands were held together as if in prayer. With her fingers covered her mouth she stared off into space, lost in her own troubled thoughts.
“Hello?” Paul stalked closer.
The girl looked at him blankly for several moments before answering. “Did you see that?” she suddenly laughed. “Everyone…” She gestured around the empty pub. “Everyone just, just disappeared. My god, what is going on?”
“I don’t know. I’m looking for my friend. Colleague” Paul corrected himself. “You haven’t seen a young woman come through?”
She shook her head. “There’s no one here. It’s crazy. One minute we were all talking about last night’s gig and the next, they all vanished. Everyone just seemed to evaporate, right in front of me.” She forced another humourless laugh.
“Why? How…?” Paul began, but before he could continue he was interrupted by a loud metallic crunch from outside. The sudden clang of bending metal was almost deafening in the exaggerated silence and it made them both jump.
“What was that?”
“Oh god," the girl breathed tightly. “I don’t know”. She scooped up her drumsticks and tiptoed to the door to see. Paul was right behind her.
They emerged outside to find it was just as devoid of people as the pub. Silence over the deserted high-street as the quiet vacuum swallowed the last echoes of the crash. It had been caused by a white plumber’s van running into one of the wooden posts that stood in front of the old pub. There was no driver behind the wheel. Up and down the high-street the cars were all empty. With no one behind the wheels, the traffic seemed to have rolled to a stop, bumping into other vehicles or lampposts.
“Where’s everyone gone?” The girl voiced Paul’s own unasked question. Concern was starting to etch itself onto her face and he found himself reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was an instinctive, comforting gesture. He didn’t mean anything by it but the girl immediately shrank away from his touch.
Paul snatched his hand back in irritation. Most people could see that he was a good person but there was always the odd one. It was as if they thought he had some contagious disease and they’d do everything they could to avoid being touched by him. This confirmed his earlier suspicions that this girl was another of those touchy, prudish types.
“I don’t know what’s happened but there were loads of people out here earlier.” The girl said quickly, pointing up the road with her drumsticks. Paul nodded slowly and crept after her as she began wandering up the road towards the main concentration of shops. A ghostly aspect had descended over the rustic town. Lyndhurst was usually bustling with people and traffic but now it was as unnaturally quiet and empty as a classroom outside school hours.
As Paul followed the girl up the slumbering high-street he became aware he was wringing his hands, the same way his Nan used to when she had something on her mind. Neither of them spoke in the eerie quiet. Each time he peered into an empty shop window or an abandoned car, Paul’s confusion twisted deeper into unease. The girl at his side was walking confidently as if she knew where she was going but he could tell it was just an act and she was just as perplexed and uneasy as he was. At least they were together, he decided, despite her rejection. It would be far worse to be alone right now. Paul glanced back towards the bottom of the hill where the deserted pub stood and where he’d last seen Sarah. By way of distraction, he began to draw on his own tried and tested method of dealing with stress. He allowed himself to indulge the seedy side of his imagination and stole an appraising look at the girl beside him. Despite her taste in fashion and starchy attitude, he supposed she wasn’t thatbad looking. Not traditionally his type, obviously, but he could perhaps see himself with her. Picturing her without that skirt, maybe wearing a school uniform or netball skirt certainly helped. He knew these thoughts would keep his uncertainty at bay, for a while at least.
“I’m Paul, by the way.” The lack of human voices was starting to get to him.
“Maggie.”
The walked in sticky silence for several more minutes before Maggie blurted out. “I think something bad has happened. I just want to know what’s happened to my boyfriend and my friends!”
Paul found himself mildly surprised at the mention of a boyfriend. Maybe she was bi then? Not that it mattered.
“What if we’re the only people here? The only ones left?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find someone soon,” Paul replied automatically.
She didn’t say anything for a while.
“You’re not alone, Maggie. We’ll figure this out, together.” Paul said, glancing back towards The Mailman’s Arms again before sidling closer to her. This time she didn’t pull away from him. Paul held his breath. Knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to help himself, he reached out a tentative arm and this time Maggie let him put it around her shoulder. She made a snuffling sound and he looked down to see her wiping away a tear.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
“It’s okay?” she echoed sarcastically, her voice trembling. “Everyone’s gone!”
“Come on.” Paul opened his arms and was drawing her in before he was even aware he was doing it. Normally, this would be a simple gesture of reassurance. It was an automatic reflex, a conditioned response to a woman showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. But this time, fuelled by his anxiety and lustful imagination, Paul knew where it was leading. Maggie’s hair smelled of almonds. She still wasn’t pulling away so he closed his eyes and held her tighter, savouring the moment as a new, more daring fantasy began to uncurl in his mind. He liked her confidence and maturity so perhaps he’d found a new type? Despite the sense of dread threatening to overwhelm them both his thoughts remained with the more exciting prospect on the horizon. Only, it would never come to anything.
His hands roamed down her back enjoying the feel of her firm body pressing against him but as he reached her backside, she was no longer there. Paul’s arms were wrapped around nothing. Maggie was gone. She’d vanished without warning, without making a sound. Like Sarah, one moment she was there and the next she wasn’t. The two drumsticks she’d been carrying clattered to the ground and began rolling away.
Paul’s breath came in shallow gulps as he stared up and down the vacant high-street.
“Maggie?” His voice sounded hollow and unreal as the creeping silence continued its march down the deserted high-street.
Sarah was one of Paul’s special girls. There were several in his school and he liked to take them out for some private tuition every now and then. They’d have a drink or a meal somewhere and he’d help them with their assignments. There was nothing immoral or illegal about it. He had years of teaching under his belt and imparting his wisdom and guidance over drinks in a nice quiet pub helped to create a good learning environment.
They’d been in the beer garden for about twenty minutes when it happened. Paul had been telling his pupil about his local squash club and why she should join. Sarah was showing interest but then she had suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence. Paul had glanced up from his beer and saw she was no longer there. One moment she had been perched opposite him at the picnic table and the next moment, she was gone. She’d disappeared and he was left all alone. His first thought was that she was playing a trick on him. Only, she couldn’t have been because he would have seen her go or sensed her moving at least. Unbelievably, there had been no movement, no sound and Sarah had completely vanished into thin air.
Paul rubbed his beard as he stood up and slowly turned around again, trying to take in every detail, just in case he caught a glimpse of her. The grassy square, the handful of vacant picnic tables and the wooden Shack that ran along the far wall of the garden were all eerily uninhabited. There was no way Sarah could have slipped away, so where was she? He found his gaze turning towards the lattice windows of the pub. The sunshine was reflecting off the glass making it impossible to see inside.
“Sarah?” he called out again, no longer caring if he looked like a nutter. This wasn’t funny!
A warm breeze caused the leaves to whisper to each other in the tall trees that surrounded him. The sound made Paul realise just how quiet everything had become. He was the only person out here but now he realised he couldn’t hear any voices from the pub or noise from the traffic outside. The dense silence pressed in around him. It was as if someone had muffled garden in an invisible blanket, smothering out all trace of the outside world. The sense of peace and respite provided by the leafy plot was gone, replaced by a feeling of desolation and abandonment. Paul left his half-finished pint of Ringwood and Sarah’s barely touched gin and tonic and made his way back into the pub.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He paused in the doorway next to a rack of colourful leaflets advertising various local attractions. As with most pubs nowadays there was that clean smell of fresh beer and old wood. Everything in The Mailman’s Arms seemed normal inside except for the volume of conversations and the clink of glasses. These things were curiously absent. He’d become aware of that as soon as he’d come through the doors but now as he looked around he saw the reason for the lack of atmosphere – there was not a soul in here. Like the Mary Celeste, the pub was totally abandoned. What was more disconcerting was that people had actually been in here earlier. On the table next to him were a couple of plates of fish and chips, still steaming hot and untouched. The handful of old fellas at the bar had gone, leaving only half-empty pint-glasses to mark where they’d been. Even the television on the far wall, which had been showing a cricket match when they’d arrived, now displayed the silent snowy fuzz that accompanied a loss of signal.
Paul was no stranger to the feeling of nagging guilt that often pressed on his mind, especially when he was out with a pupil. That feeling was present again now. Only this time it felt different. It was as if he was trespassing in the pub and he was about to be caught. He shouldn’t be here. He needed to leave before he got into trouble. Biting his lower lip he cast a final glance around the bar before hurrying towards the entrance. The reason for his urgency was unclear to him, more instinct than rational choice. His footsteps knocked loudly on the wooden floor that encircled the bar. As he reached the double doors that opened onto the high street, he paused. Someone else was in here.
In the far corner of the pub hovered a solitary, not particularly attractive, young woman. She was petite and had bright pink streaks running through her black hair. Her nose could have been described as cute if it hadn't been for an unsightly gold nose-ring looping through it. More metal of varying shapes and sizes spoiled both her ears in an unnecessary statement of rebellion. On the table in front of her, amid the array of cider bottles were a couple of drum sticks and a pile of flyers for what looked like a punk band called ‘The Lil-lets’. She was slightly older than Sarah but even if she’d been in his class, this girl would never have been considered a special student. Even without her piercings, Paul was disappointed to see her wearing one of those long flowing skirts that he always associated with free-spirits and non-conformists. He theorised this girl had little respect authority and she was probably one of those types who questioned everyone’s motives and actions. She wouldn’t appreciate his personal teaching style and she’d likely end up causing him problems. Normally he’d avoid her type like the plague but due to the bizarre circumstances taking place he found himself approaching her.
The girl still hadn’t noticed him. Her hands were held together as if in prayer. With her fingers covered her mouth she stared off into space, lost in her own troubled thoughts.
“Hello?” Paul stalked closer.
The girl looked at him blankly for several moments before answering. “Did you see that?” she suddenly laughed. “Everyone…” She gestured around the empty pub. “Everyone just, just disappeared. My god, what is going on?”
“I don’t know. I’m looking for my friend. Colleague” Paul corrected himself. “You haven’t seen a young woman come through?”
She shook her head. “There’s no one here. It’s crazy. One minute we were all talking about last night’s gig and the next, they all vanished. Everyone just seemed to evaporate, right in front of me.” She forced another humourless laugh.
“Why? How…?” Paul began, but before he could continue he was interrupted by a loud metallic crunch from outside. The sudden clang of bending metal was almost deafening in the exaggerated silence and it made them both jump.
“What was that?”
“Oh god," the girl breathed tightly. “I don’t know”. She scooped up her drumsticks and tiptoed to the door to see. Paul was right behind her.
They emerged outside to find it was just as devoid of people as the pub. Silence over the deserted high-street as the quiet vacuum swallowed the last echoes of the crash. It had been caused by a white plumber’s van running into one of the wooden posts that stood in front of the old pub. There was no driver behind the wheel. Up and down the high-street the cars were all empty. With no one behind the wheels, the traffic seemed to have rolled to a stop, bumping into other vehicles or lampposts.
“Where’s everyone gone?” The girl voiced Paul’s own unasked question. Concern was starting to etch itself onto her face and he found himself reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was an instinctive, comforting gesture. He didn’t mean anything by it but the girl immediately shrank away from his touch.
Paul snatched his hand back in irritation. Most people could see that he was a good person but there was always the odd one. It was as if they thought he had some contagious disease and they’d do everything they could to avoid being touched by him. This confirmed his earlier suspicions that this girl was another of those touchy, prudish types.
“I don’t know what’s happened but there were loads of people out here earlier.” The girl said quickly, pointing up the road with her drumsticks. Paul nodded slowly and crept after her as she began wandering up the road towards the main concentration of shops. A ghostly aspect had descended over the rustic town. Lyndhurst was usually bustling with people and traffic but now it was as unnaturally quiet and empty as a classroom outside school hours.
As Paul followed the girl up the slumbering high-street he became aware he was wringing his hands, the same way his Nan used to when she had something on her mind. Neither of them spoke in the eerie quiet. Each time he peered into an empty shop window or an abandoned car, Paul’s confusion twisted deeper into unease. The girl at his side was walking confidently as if she knew where she was going but he could tell it was just an act and she was just as perplexed and uneasy as he was. At least they were together, he decided, despite her rejection. It would be far worse to be alone right now. Paul glanced back towards the bottom of the hill where the deserted pub stood and where he’d last seen Sarah. By way of distraction, he began to draw on his own tried and tested method of dealing with stress. He allowed himself to indulge the seedy side of his imagination and stole an appraising look at the girl beside him. Despite her taste in fashion and starchy attitude, he supposed she wasn’t thatbad looking. Not traditionally his type, obviously, but he could perhaps see himself with her. Picturing her without that skirt, maybe wearing a school uniform or netball skirt certainly helped. He knew these thoughts would keep his uncertainty at bay, for a while at least.
“I’m Paul, by the way.” The lack of human voices was starting to get to him.
“Maggie.”
The walked in sticky silence for several more minutes before Maggie blurted out. “I think something bad has happened. I just want to know what’s happened to my boyfriend and my friends!”
Paul found himself mildly surprised at the mention of a boyfriend. Maybe she was bi then? Not that it mattered.
“What if we’re the only people here? The only ones left?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find someone soon,” Paul replied automatically.
She didn’t say anything for a while.
“You’re not alone, Maggie. We’ll figure this out, together.” Paul said, glancing back towards The Mailman’s Arms again before sidling closer to her. This time she didn’t pull away from him. Paul held his breath. Knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to help himself, he reached out a tentative arm and this time Maggie let him put it around her shoulder. She made a snuffling sound and he looked down to see her wiping away a tear.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
“It’s okay?” she echoed sarcastically, her voice trembling. “Everyone’s gone!”
“Come on.” Paul opened his arms and was drawing her in before he was even aware he was doing it. Normally, this would be a simple gesture of reassurance. It was an automatic reflex, a conditioned response to a woman showing any kind of emotional vulnerability. But this time, fuelled by his anxiety and lustful imagination, Paul knew where it was leading. Maggie’s hair smelled of almonds. She still wasn’t pulling away so he closed his eyes and held her tighter, savouring the moment as a new, more daring fantasy began to uncurl in his mind. He liked her confidence and maturity so perhaps he’d found a new type? Despite the sense of dread threatening to overwhelm them both his thoughts remained with the more exciting prospect on the horizon. Only, it would never come to anything.
His hands roamed down her back enjoying the feel of her firm body pressing against him but as he reached her backside, she was no longer there. Paul’s arms were wrapped around nothing. Maggie was gone. She’d vanished without warning, without making a sound. Like Sarah, one moment she was there and the next she wasn’t. The two drumsticks she’d been carrying clattered to the ground and began rolling away.
Paul’s breath came in shallow gulps as he stared up and down the vacant high-street.
“Maggie?” His voice sounded hollow and unreal as the creeping silence continued its march down the deserted high-street.