Empty Planet

by Lynette Sloane

  Arriving at school ten minutes early, we joined a group of boys making snow slides on the tennis courts. Unfortunately the school bell soon interrupted our fun so we reluctantly piled into our classrooms.

  French, first period: ugh! The only good thing about French was our teacher, Miss Kennedy. She was newly qualified, in her early twenties, slim, and very pretty. Her thick brown hair reached past her waist and she wore short skirts, even in winter. The lads often asked her to spell difficult French words, hoping they would catch a glimpse of her underwear when she reached up to write on the whiteboard. I think most of the boys had a crush on her, me included.

  Today she spent most of the lesson sitting at her desk, so I passed the time watching the snow falling and gazing at the Christmas decorations we’d put up during the previous lunch hour. A long piece of gold tinsel hung over the whiteboard, a couple of purple and silver streamers edged the ceiling, and a small imitation Christmas tree stood at the back of the room, covered in red and gold baubles. Miss Kennedy had placed a small nativity scene at the back of her desk to complete the effect. It sparked and the star above the stable lit up when she pressed the ‘on’ button.

  The other teachers didn’t let us decorate their rooms, but Miss Kennedy said young people should be able to express themselves. She was special.

  I finally looked down at my writing book. I was supposed to be writing out French sentences with the ‘to be’ verb. Je suis un pomme de terre. Was that right or did it mean I am a potato? I raised my right hand to get Miss Kennedy’s attention and looked up, but she wasn’t there, and nor were any of my classmates.

  I shivered as the room temperature suddenly dropped; it was as cold in the classroom as it had been outdoors on the way to school. Well that’s one way of getting out of French class, I thought, panicking inside. I remained in my seat for a several minutes, just in case everyone quickly came back. If I had wondered off and they returned I would be in big trouble for being out of the classroom. I soon became bored, so as no one had reappeared I decided to have a look around the school. My hands were going red with the cold, so I cupped them over my mouth, and huffed into them several times in an attempt to warm them up. I was beginning to calm down, reasoning that everyone would return by nightfall at the latest.

  Apart from the temperature nothing seemed to have changed in the classroom. School bags sat under chairs and French books, pens and pencil cases rested on the desks. I opened the classroom door and made my way down the corridor, taking a quick look in each room as I passed. No one was around and once again the eerie silence struck me. I grabbed my coat from the cloakroom, and, deciding to have some fun, sneaked into the classroom where the tall girl I’d snowballed earlier would have been sitting. It was easy to find her desk as her maths book was still sitting on top of it. I took her pen and wrote on the cover, carefully disguising my writing. ‘Lucy Harris is a stick insect and stinks’, then put the book back on her desk and ran out of the room laughing to myself.

  Next, I made my way through the art block. As I neared the canteens the smell of burnt food greeted me. I opened the canteen door. Evidently, the cooking staff had started dinner. A very large metal container had been placed on the electric hob, but with no one to attend it, it had boiled dry and the container had burnt through triggering off the overhead fire sprinklers. These had now stopped and everything was soaked. It was a terrible mess.

  Feeling rather hungry, I opened the fridge. The smell of bad milk and decaying food was overpowering, so I slammed the fridge door shut. Suddenly I had an idea: I opened the store cupboard and took out a tin of vegetable soup, chuckling to myself as I made my way to the history department and into Mr Jeffery’s classroom. Mr. Jeffery had given me several ‘losses of reward’ this term for not tucking my shirt in my trousers, so I pulled back the ring top and tipped the soup into his briefcase. Bits of carrot, peas and sticky gloopy stuff covered his paperwork and mobile phone. I wouldn’t have normally done this, but I considered it too good an opportunity for a young boy to miss.

  I was still holding the empty tin and admiring the mess when I heard the door behind me creak open. I nearly jumped out of my skin, for a second thinking that everyone was back and I’d been caught ruining Mr. Jeffery’s belongings. However, the room was still empty. In the doorway stood a small, very frightened boy of no more than six years of age. He was slightly built with short auburn hair. I recognised him as Darren Jarvis. I’d seen him at sports days with his Mother, and his sister, Heather, who was in my year. We stared at each other for a moment in disbelief, then he turned and shot out of the room like a startled rabbit.

  “Wait, come back,” I yelled after him. I ran out into the corridor wondering which way he’d gone. As I raced downstairs the door near the main hall slammed shut telling me he’d gone outside. I dashed through the games hall and left the school by the side exit normally reserved for teachers. The snow was falling very thickly now, but I could still just make out the boy’s tiny figure running across the playing fields towards the woods and railway line.

  I shouted at the top of my voice, “DARREN. DON’T GO THAT WAY!” Darren continued running towards the woods so I chased after him, his pace slowing as he tired. The amount of snow fallen since I’d arrived at school amazed me; it was well over my knees in places. I was just catching up with the lad when he disappeared into the woods through a hole in the fence. I squeezed through the hole and followed him carefully picking my way through snow-covered brambles and long grasses left over from the previous summer. The snow had stopped falling, but my hands and face were freezing.

  Although I wasn’t allowed to play near the railway line, I’d been through these woods hundreds of times and knew there was a slope a little way ahead of us; it fell away very steeply and was quite dangerous. Before I could warn him, Darren shouted out in fear, and suddenly disappeared from sight as he lost his footing, slipped, and rolled down to the bottom of the slope. I panicked, realising he would land right next to the train track, or even on it, so I quickly followed him, sliding down the slope on my backside, the brambles and bushes ripping my school trousers, blazer and open coat.

  Suddenly I heard a train moving towards us at incredible speed. I reached out and grabbed Darren, lifting him off his feet and pulling him backwards. We both lost balance and landed in a snowdrift as the train sped by.

  Darren was crying. Like me, his face and hands were scratched and bleeding, and his clothes were ripped.

  “It’ll be ok,” I reassured him. “The people are back now, they have to be, ’cause someone was driving that train.” I helped Darren to his feet.

  “Where did they go?” he sobbed.

  “I don’t know, but they always come back. Has this happened to you before?” He shook his head.

  “We can’t tell anyone,” I said, “they wouldn’t believe us.” Darren nodded. It was strange, but I felt a strong compulsion to keep the disappearances from everyone else. It was my secret, and far too personal to share. I walked Darren home then climbed over the fence leading to Astley Road, my normal route back from school.

  As I neared home my pace slowed as I imagined what Mum would say. I rounded the corner and paused at the bottom the driveway. I could see her through the living room window, and she looked furious. I slowly walked up the driveway, dreading the forthcoming confrontation. Before I could knock Mum opened the door and stepped out onto the front step, glaring at me. I walked inside the house, purposely looking down at the hallway carpet to avoid direct eye contact. When she noticed my uniform was ruined I thought she was going to scream at me.

  “The school rang,” she said, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. “They said you took your coat and ran off during first period, and they’re not putting put up with this kind of behaviour. You could get suspended. What’s going on Steven? Don’t you realise how hard it’s been for me bringing you and Charlie up by myself all these years? I know your Dad’s back now, but I still don’t need trouble
. This isn’t like you, you better have a very good explanation for this.”

  I did; I had the best excuse in the world, but couldn’t tell her the truth. I wondered how I was going to get out of this one, but at least she gave me chance to explain.

  I told her, “I saw Darren Jarvis running towards the train line and chased after him in case he got hurt. There wasn’t time to call a teacher. Darren fell down the embankment, so I slid down on my bottom, and grabbed him. A train nearly hit him; I got to him just in time. That’s when I ripped my uniform and scratched my face.”

  As I retold my story I could see Mum’s facial expression and whole demeanour changing as she calmed down. Instead of punishing me for truancy, she hugged me and sent me upstairs to have a bath and change my clothes. I’d left the part about everyone disappearing out of my story, and was relieved that I wasn’t in trouble at home. My only worry now was what the teachers were doing to say at school the next morning.

  I enjoyed my hot bath, but just as after my previous ‘empty planet’ experience, I felt slightly nauseous and had a headache for a few hours.

  The next morning the headmaster summoned me to his office. I waited outside the door feeling very nervous, wondering if someone had found out what I had done to Mr. Jeffery’s briefcase. I almost hoped that everyone would disappear again. They didn’t though. A moment later the office door opened and the intimidating, grey-haired figure of Mr. Pitt, the headmaster appeared, his tall, thickset stature almost filling the doorway.

  “Come in,” he said in an educated southern accent. I stood in front of his desk while he surveyed me. “I suppose you are to be commended for saving that little boy yesterday.” He paused. “It was very brave … and very foolish. The matter could have ended very differently. This time next week we could have been attending two funerals.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “If you ever find yourself in a similar position you are to fetch a member of staff instead of taking matters into your own hands.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Right, go back to class, and well done.”

  The other kids branded me a hero and my new reputation lasted for months. I even got my picture and a mention in the local newspaper: ‘Local boy saves young child from railway line death’.

  Chapter 3

  It was Christmas Eve, cold, dark and raining, and Mum decided I should go with her to get some last minute Christmas shopping. I really didn’t want to, but she said she needed to buy an extra present for my paternal grandmother who had just invited herself to Christmas dinner.

  Atherton High Street was really busy and the streets were packed with last minute shoppers. I tagged along miserably as Mum headed into a designer jewellery shop.

  “Do you think Nan would like this necklace?” she asked, holding out a silver chain attached to a large, orange, tear-shaped pendant.

  “Yea, course,” I replied, not caring and wishing she’d hurry up. I hated shopping.

  “Darling, pass me that orange bracelet from that shelf by you, will you? It will match the pendant perfectly.”

  I was really bored. I reached down to pick up the bracelet, wishing I was at home playing computer games. Suddenly the noisy chatter of shoppers stopped and the shop became silent and still. I looked up, finding myself alone once more. Great, I thought. Hope they’re back for Christmas Day.

  This time my empty planet seemed very different. I walked out of the shop and into a warm summers day. The sun was shinning and the ground dry. Weeds, dandelions and grasses grew though the cracks in the pavements and on parts of the road, which was lined with several abandoned cars. All were dusty and looked as if they had been left untouched for months—much like the old banger I always passed in one of the gardens on my way to school.

  A dog sniffed around a lamppost a little further up the road next to a cake shop. Well I’m not completely alone I thought. That’s a good idea I think I’ll have a cake. I quickly made my way over to the shop taking off my winter coat and thick woollen sweater en route, and discarding them on a nearby bench.

  “Hey dog, you want me to get you a sausage roll?” I asked it. The startled mutt looked up, growled, barring its teeth at me, then ran off down the road. Ungrateful thing I thought. I was hungry so I pushed the shop door open.

  The shop was alive with hundreds of flies and wasps. They flew from cake to cake, and from pasty to meat pie and back again. The cakes, pies, bread and everything else were covered in mould, maggots and more flies, and the smell was terrible. I hastily left the shop and looked in the grocers, the café and the butcher’s windows. It was the same everywhere; everything you would normally buy fresh was spoiled and covered in green mould and flies.

  Disappointed, I walked back to the ‘Discount Shop’, which sold small household items, toiletries, and most importantly, crisps and pop. I helped myself to a packet of crisps and a can of lemonade. The crisps tasted stale so I dropped them on the floor, but the pop seemed palatable. I drank a whole can of lemonade before walking back out into the bright sunlight.

  The condition of the town and everything in it suggested that everyone had been gone for quite a while, maybe six months, a year or even longer. It didn’t make sense; only minutes before I had been Christmas shopping with Mum on a cold December’s evening.

  Hungry and in search of edible food, I walked to the large supermarket next to the petrol station and walked inside. I made my way past loads of mouldy green bread, avoiding the buzz of flies and wasps around the rotten fruit, and headed for the cereal boxes. I selected a sugary cereal, opened the box and tasted a handful. This wasn’t too bad. Next I found some tinned meat with a long shelf life and opened it with a can opener I found nearby in the home furnishings department. Why did I always feel starving when everyone disappeared?

  A large rat darted across the aisle near to my feet. I’m not hanging about in here, I thought. Not knowing how long everyone would be away, I quickly took some more tinned meat and a bottle of pop, and put them in a bag—all the time keeping my eye on the rat that had now been joined by several more rats—and quickly left the shop, not paying for the food this time as I reckoned no one was around to collect the money.

  I wondered if I’d see Darren. This would probably have happened to him too, that is, if it always happened to him at the same time as it happened to me. The thought came to me, what if this happens to lots of people at different times and we all think we’re the only ones? Maybe I should start a Facebook page for people who have ‘empty planet’ experiences.

  Having collected what I needed, I ventured over to the park to eat my picnic and enjoy the sunshine. It was a lovely change to feel the sun on my face instead of sliding around in the remainder of the previous week’s snow. Snow was great when it first fell and you could go out and have fun, but it was no good when it was all trodden flat or slushy; it was just a nuisance then.

  I picked my way through the long, park grass and thorny brambles until I arrived at the sandy area around the swings, roundabout and slide where it was less overgrown. Looking for somewhere to perch to enjoy my meal, I climbed to the top of the slide and sat down and opened a tin of meat. My snack made me appreciate the fresh bread I’d left at home earlier. I wondered if I would be able to find fresh bread the next time I found myself on an empty planet—if it ever happened again.

  After my unusual meal, I slid down the slide and lay back on the flat metal part at the bottom wondering when everyone would be back. I didn’t have long to wait.

  The sky suddenly became very dark and I felt extremely cold. My slide was now wet, my trousers were soaked, and I wished I hadn’t left my sweater and warm coat in the main street. I very quickly ran back to the shop where Mum had been buying Nan’s present, and got there just as Mum stepped outside looking for me.

  “Whatever are you doing out here?” she asked. “One minute I was talking to you in the shop, and the next you had disappeared and I found you wandering about out here … and where’s your coat and sw
eater? You’ll catch a death of cold.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I just muttered, “I don’t know. I was bored and felt ill.” Mum drove me home. I was very quiet because I had another headache and felt really sick. This was much worse than after my last empty planet experience.

  The next morning, Nan came over as she had planned to do. After a traditional Christmas dinner of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, roast potatoes, carrots, and disgusting sprouts, followed by Christmas pudding and brandy sauce, we sat in the living room around the Christmas tree and opened our presents wishing we hadn’t eaten so much. Nan loved the matching pendant and bracelet.

  She put them both on and smiled as she asked, “Did you help Mum choose these Stevie?”

  “No, but I knew you’d like them.” I didn’t like being called Stevie anymore—it was babyish—but it was Christmas day and I hadn’t seen Nan for months, so I smiled back and said nothing.

  “Maisie, how would you like it if the boys came and stayed with me for a few days next half term?” I looked at Mum eagerly, hoping she would say yes.

  “Thanks, that would be lovely,” she replied. “I really need a break sometimes.”

  “And it would give you a chance to spend some quality time with John,” Nan continued, winking at Charlie and I.

  Nan lived in Walton, a small welsh village in the Borderlands near the Herefordshire and Powys boarder.

  Next spring term break she kept her word and Dad drove Charlie and I over to stay with her. I spent the first morning making a tree hut in one of the fir trees that marked the boundary between hers and Mrs. Price’s extensive gardens. The previous year Charlie would have joined me, but this year he said that he was too grown up and played on his computer console all day instead. I thought he was getting boring.

  After lunch I helped Nan tidy the back room for a bit: out of boredom, not because I was feeling helpful. She had been sorting out boxes of old jumble for the Church sale and it all needed ‘bagging’ for the Vicars wife, Mrs. Perderoy, to collect later that day.