West Pier (Chapter 3: Space)

Space

A block or so after his encounter with Paul, Noah became aware of the emptiness of things. Cars, seemingly abandoned, lined Blatchington Road, and the shops, although apparently open for the day were completely void of people. The wind tore towards him, branches wrenched from their trees skated along the pavement as though possessed. The gnarled clouds menaced overhead and now made it seem more like early evening than midday. And still, the heavy, metallic smell lingered.

Where was everyone?

Noah tried to recall seeing another living soul since his meeting with Paul, a moving car, a bus or bike. Was is possible that something catastrophic had happened or was about to? Had everyone, but Paul and himself, taken shelter? Had Mum abandoned him?

Watching the wind suspend shop doors half-open, while wreaking havoc on window displays, Noah dismissed the idea of his mother purposely leaving him, no matter how much danger she was in or how quickly she needed to evacuate the house. Sheer panic consumed him again; he felt as though the churning clouds above were in the pit of his stomach and the siren of the wind was blaring in his head. Yet, something, perhaps a yearning for something familiar, perhaps a hope against hope that beyond the cusp of the school gates things would be normal, compelled him to continue his push through the gale.

The giant old oak in the centre of the teachers’ parking area lay crest-fallen on its side with the wind whipping off clumps of soil from its roots, exposing them for the first time in hundreds of years. Sheets of paper swirled in a column of air-born debris above the school gables. Noah’s hopes were lifted slightly as he noticed that the classroom lights were turned on. Barely able to walk upright, Noah shielded his eyes from the stinging wind and edged towards the heavy wooden doors.

Out of the storm, Noah became aware of the racing of his heart and was overcome by lightheadedness. Crouching down, he tried to gather his thoughts and breath. The ringing in his ears completely deafened him and tears in his eyes blinded him though he could make out the royal-blue of the carpet his hand rested on. He strained to see whether Mrs. Hurd, the school receptionist was at her desk; after wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he could see that she wasn’t.

Noah made his way past empty classroom after empty classroom, all similarly to the cars and the shops, seemingly suddenly abandoned. Lights were on, chairs by their desks and even books open as though being read. Reaching 2A, at the end of the corridor, Noah through force of habit knocked on the door before entering. English Lit: pages of ‘The Crucible’ were projected onto the board, books were all open on the same pages and there was even an opened Coke on Ben’s desk. Noah walked tentatively through the scene, almost as though not wanting to interrupt the class. His desk was in the back left corner; the chair was upturned and rested on the desk, the way he had left it the day before, Tuesday.

Through the windows, the raging storm was now deconstructing a reality that Noah had come to take for granted. Parts peeled off sliding cars, bricks shifted from walls before vanishing off on the wind, houses reduced to cement shapes within patches of green; it was as if the world was being scrubbed of everything he knew. Yet, from inside his classroom, all this was happening in an eerie silence, the hum of the classroom’s fluorescent  lights all he could hear above his own rapid breathing. Noah stood, stunned and confused by what he was seeing and experiencing, and certain that the school too, was being picked apart by whatever this storm was, and that he was about to die, to be erased.

“You’re a million miles away, aren’t you?”

A warm hand took his and pulled him gently around so that he faced away from the windows and looked directly into calm, deep, green eyes. Her face was solemn but serene, her concern clearly more for him than the apocalypse unfolding all around them. Noah’s mind felt utterly fragmented, like a jigsaw puzzle thrown to the waves. Who he was, how he had got there and the events of that morning: it all seemed to be coming undone like the shingles he had seen blown off the roofs of houses earlier. Yet, she was here: someone he knew, someone he trusted, someone who always wore the same dependable red surf jacket. And yet, even she seemed somehow out of place.

“You don’t go to school here, Edie,” was the only thing Noah could muster saying.

“Not anymore, but I used to.” Edie placed her hands on Noah’s cheeks and very gently pulled his eyelids down with her thumbs. “Let’s get you home first, shall we?”