The Empty World

by D. E. Stevenson

  Jane clutched Sir Richard’s arm. “What does it mean? Am I dreaming? What has happened?”

  “If it is what I think —” Sir Richard began, and then added, “But it can’t be. Let’s find some food.”

  The others had already gone into the restaurant, they were standing in the middle of the floor looking round them helplessly. Miss Hervey was still sobbing.

  Jane signed to Maisie to help her (the silence was so overpowering that one feared to break it by speech). They put three small tables together and arranged six chairs. Bunce, when he saw what they were doing, brought some plates of sandwiches and rolls from the counter.

  “There’s a coffee-urn over there, sir,” he whispered to Sir Richard. “It’s cold — shall I light it?”

  “Yes, light it, Bunce,” Sir Richard replied. In a few minutes the coffee was warmed, and they were all sitting down at the table eating sandwiches and drinking coffee.

  “It’s the funniest dream I ever had,” said Maisie suddenly.

  “I was thinking the same thing, my dear,” said Miss May, helping herself to a large currant bun. “In fact, I don’t remember ever having dreamed before about eating a meal. The food tastes so very real, too, doesn’t it?”

  The elder Miss Hervey recovered a little, she blew her nose loudly, and put her handkerchief away. “Couldn’t we go and see George now?” she enquired. “George will know what has happened.”

  “George is our nephew,” explained Miss May. “He is married now and has a little baby — they live at Knightswood. Minnie is a delightful girl, we are very fond of her —”

  Sir Richard had no hope of finding the Misses Hervey’s nephew at Knightswood, but he agreed to drive out in that direction because there was nothing else to do — nothing that he could think of. They might as well go there as any other place. So, after they had finished breakfast, they all got into the car, and found their way (under Miss May’s somewhat vague pilotage) to a row of pleasant villas in Knightswood.

  “It’s the one with the rockery,” said Miss May. “Minnie is very fond of her rockery. I brought a little plant for her from America. It’s in my heavy luggage, of course, but I shall tell her about it —”

  She broke off suddenly. The house with the rockery was shuttered and empty. The door was locked, and a notice in the window informed them that the keys were with a firm of lawyers in Bath Street. After some argument Bunce got into the house by breaking the pantry window. He opened the front door, and they all streamed in. There was nobody in the house. Dust lay on the sideboard and on the mantelpieces. Jane thought the house must have been shut up for a week at least, judging from the thickness of the dust.

  “How strange of George not to have told us they were leaving home!” Miss Hervey said.

  “He may have been called away suddenly,” suggested Miss May. “My nephew is a scientist,” she added to Sir Richard. “He studies the Heavens.”

  “A most interesting subject,” said Sir Richard politely.

  One of the psychological results of their situation was their anxiety to keep together. Jane noticed that nobody liked to be left alone for a moment. She, herself, was not immune from the feeling. Left alone in the shuttered drawing-room, she found a sense of panic growing in her breast. She was glad to leave the strange, homely, deserted little room, and rejoin the others upstairs.

  They spent the rest of the morning driving round the city. Jane found herself peering out of the window at every cross-road for some sign of life. There was none. No dogs, no cats, nothing living was to be seen.

  They lunched at a shop in Sauchiehall Street. By this time they had begun to adapt themselves to the strangeness of their surroundings. It seemed quite natural to help themselves to the food — pressed beef, salad and bananas — and to arrange the tables to suit their requirements.

  “What about to-night?” enquired Miss May. “Do you think there is any likelihood of getting a train to London, Sir Richard?” Sir Richard did not think there was. “You see, we have no clothes,” she added in her matter-of-fact manner. “Only just our handbags. Even in a dream one requires clothes.”

  “Yes,” said Sir Richard. “That is a problem.”

  “There are plenty of clothes in the shops,” Miss May pointed out. “Perhaps, as it is only a dream, it would not be stealing if we each took what we required, and no more.”

  “I’m afraid we shall have to do that.”

  “We could leave a cheque for the amount,” said Miss May.

  “If that would be any consolation to you, I should certainly do so,” Sir Richard replied gravely.

  They rested in the lounge of a big hotel until tea-time and then shopped. It was a strange experience. The Misses Hervey were a little shy of doing their intimate shopping under Sir Richard’s eye, but they were loath to let him out of their sight. For this reason, and because nobody knew where anything was kept, it took them a long time to collect what they wanted. The group moved round the big empty store together. First to the ladies’ outfitting department, and then on to the gentlemen’s. Here the Misses Hervey examined neckties with intense interest, whilst Bunce found pyjamas for Sir Richard, and measured them up against him to see if they were the right size. Jane felt a surge of hysterical laughter rising in her breast. She stifled it with difficulty.

  The next thing was to find a place to spend the night. It seemed obvious to go to an hotel, and they were lucky in finding one, which seemed clean and comfortable, in a small back-street. Jane and Maisie decided to share a room, and they found that the others had formed the same resolution. Nobody wanted to sleep alone, to be alone in this deserted city was more than human nature could bear. Three rooms at the end of a passage were chosen and prepared for the night. The Misses Hervey retired early after their exacting day.

  “I think I shall go out for a bit of a walk before I turn in,” Sir Richard said. “I’ve been sitting in the car all day.”

  “Wait for me,” said Jane.

  She wanted to speak to Sir Richard. She felt that he had some sort of theory as to what had happened — she had none. The whole thing was beyond her understanding, beyond her imagination. She put on her hat and coat, and caught up her bag. Sir Richard was waiting for her on the landing with Bunce.

  “I’ll look after the Miss Herveys, sir,” Bunce said. “But don’t you be too long. I don’t like the feeling of this place when you’re not here.”

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  “Mr. Noah the

  Second”

  It was a beautiful summer evening. The heat of the day had departed, and there was a pleasant coolness in the air when Sir Richard and Jane went down the steps into the street. Jane turned up her fur collar and slipped her hand through Sir Richard’s arm. It seemed a natural thing to do. They walked along for a few minutes without speaking, their feet made a noise like the tramp of armies in the quiet street.

  “Well,” said Jane at last, “what has happened?”

  He turned his head, and looked down at her, gravely. “I have no right to say anything — it is the merest conjecture,” he replied. “But, personally, I think it must be the electrical disturbance prophesied by Boddington — you remember Fenemore spoke of it.”

  “The comet,” Jane said thoughtfully.

  “Yes, something to do with the comet. I want to get hold of some back numbers of papers — newspapers — and see what it was he predicted. I read something about it, but, to tell you the truth, I thought he was another of these scaremongers. I thought he was insane.”

  Jane said nothing, she was too busy with her thoughts; she followed Sir Richard into the public library, and helped him to look through some of the newspaper files.

  “Tear out all the pieces you can find which have anything to do with Boddington,” Sir Richard said, “or anything to do with the comet.”

  Jane took a file and sat down. There was not much to be found about Professor Boddington, merely a mention here and there. The most important piece of news was tuc
ked away in the corner of an evening paper which had evidently run out of copy and put in the madman to fill up a column. Jane found it under the alluring title of “Mr. Noah the Second.” She read it through slowly.

  “If Professor Boddington is to be believed, the world as we know it will come to an abrupt end on August 29th. (This will be unfortunate for those who have drawn a ticket in the September lottery.) Interviewed at his residence in London, the Professor was somewhat chary of giving any information to our representative. “If people disbelieve me they think me a lunatic, if they believe me they would go crazy themselves,” said the strange man, as he fingered his long white beard. “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.” “But in the cause of science,” urged our representative. After some persuasion Professor Boddington made the following statement. “The New Comet which I discovered nearly ten years ago will approach our planet at 1 p.m. on the 29th August. I am of the opinion that the comet’s tail will touch the earth, and, by so doing, will release a terrific force of stored electricity.” Our representative asked Mr. Boddington what result was to be expected from this occurrence. He replied, “I can only describe it by saying that the world will be knocked slightly out of its orbit. The sea will be so disturbed that all shipping will be lost, and the earth itself will become — for the space of some minutes — so pregnant with electricity that all life will be extinguished. It will become what is popularly known as a live wire.” “Do you mean that everyone will be killed?” enquired our horror-stricken representative. Professor Boddington smiled and said, “Every living thing upon the earth will not only be exterminated but will be shrivelled up to dust. The human body, and indeed any body, is made up to a large extent of water and acids. Eliminate these and you are left with a handful of dust.” Our representative then enquired what steps Professor Boddington was taking to meet the catastrophe, but no information was given to him upon that point. Our readers must form their own opinions as to whether the Professor is trying to hoax the world, or whether his long and arduous pursuit of knowledge has unhinged his brain.”

  The article concluded with a list of various prophets who had foretold the end of the world in bygone days, and hinted, complacently, that the present generation was too level-headed to be taken in by cranks and charlatans.

  Jane showed this to Sir Richard, whose search had been unproductive.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

  “You don’t mean it’s true?” cried Jane.

  “Well, what else can it be?”

  “Then we are the only people left on earth?”

  Sir Richard shrugged his shoulders. “How can we tell? There may have been other people who escaped as we did. And then there is Boddington. I think we may assume he did something about it — tried to save himself, I mean. He may not have succeeded, of course.”

  “But if we are the only people left we ought to go back to them — to the aerodrome I mean,” cried Jane, almost hysterically.

  “I wondered if you would say that.”

  “Isn’t it the obvious thing to say — if we’re the only people left alive? — but I can’t believe it — I can’t.”

  “Was there — is there anybody you specially care about?” said Sir Richard after a little silence.

  Jane shook her head. “Not specially. I have lots of friends, of course, but — but nobody very near. I am rather a lonely person — my books took up a lot of time, and you have to have time for friends. My sister doesn’t approve of me — I wouldn’t marry the man she wanted me to — she has her own family, of course —”

  Jane’s voice died away, and she sat for a few minutes gazing into space. How queer it was to think that Agnes wasn’t there any more — probably — and Malcolm — all gone. She supposed she ought to mind dreadfully, but the truth was she didn’t. She was dazed by the magnitude of the catastrophe — it wasn’t real to her.

  “I hadn’t anybody either,” Sir Richard said quietly. “I’ve been too busy all my life —” He was silent for a moment, and then added with a sigh, “So you want to go back to the others.”

  “Well, don’t you?” Jane enquired.

  “I don’t think I do. What is there to be gained?”

  “I liked those young pilots,” Jane said. “And Farquhar —”

  “And Iris Bright, and Haviland, and Maule, and the steward with the bat’s ears?”

  “You mean we should lose more than we gain?”

  “Something like that,” Sir Richard said thoughtfully. “Once we go back we can’t pick and choose. We’ve got to decide which it is to be, all or none.”

  “And your preference is none.”

  “I’m quite content. Bunce is a good chap, and I like your Maisie. As for you —”

  There was something so strange in his eyes that Jane said hurriedly, “What is your idea, exactly?”

  Sir Richard smiled. “I’ve hardly had time to form an exact idea; we might find a house somewhere, the six of us, and settle down together. Once we have explored a bit and found out whether Boddington’s theory is right —” He hesitated for a moment, and then added, “I think we might be very happy, what do you think?”

  “Is this a proposal?” Jane asked lightly, trying to meet Sir Richard’s eyes with a smile, but not succeeding very well.

  “My dear,” he said eagerly, “It is if you want it to be — if you could ever think of it — No, I must be fair. You don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand?”

  “You don’t understand anything,” he said incoherently. “How could you understand? No, it isn’t a proposal. I only want to do what is best for you. There is no other thought in my mind. No other wish.”

  “We have known each other such a little time,” Jane said.

  “But we have been through such a lot together,” he replied quickly. “I feel I have known you all my life. I admire you so much — your courage, your intelligence, your thoughtfulness for others. Jane, my dear —” He put out his hand and touched hers very lightly. “But it would not be fair to bind you — you are free — I don’t want you to say anything at all. I only want you to know that I am all yours.”

  Jane was touched. She admired and liked Sir Richard for the very qualities which he had found admirable in her. She had become very fond of him, so fond, that if he had urged her or persuaded her in any way she would not have refused him. She was a little surprised that he did not urge his suit, a trifle disappointed. In this strange empty world it would have been comforting to feel that she belonged to someone. Her thoughts flew this way and that, she realised the truth of all that Sir Richard had said — they might be very happy together in a quiet way. She and Sir Richard, Maisie and Bunce, and the two old ladies. She tried to visualise the future. She imagined them living together, helping each other, meeting unforeseen difficulties — Sir Richard had the kind of brain to find solutions for difficulties, he had all the qualities of a born leader.

  “It seems to me not quite fair,” she said at last, trying to express her nebulous feelings in words. “Not quite fair on the others, I mean. If we are the only people left — or nearly the only people — shouldn’t we stick together — at any rate for a bit? If we found we couldn’t bear them any more we could separate. Wouldn’t we be sorry afterwards if we had shirked our responsibilities? It seems to me that you are a valuable person. There was nobody else who could take the lead. They were like sheep.”

  “Fenemore could,” said Sir Richard.

  “Too young,” Jane replied.

  “Jane, I don’t want to take the lead. If Fenemore is too young, I’m too old — and tired. My brain is not adaptable enough. It’s bound to be difficult.”

  “Why difficult?” Jane wanted to know.

  Sir Richard rose and paced up and down. “Six women and about fifteen men,” he said, “and two of the women elderly.”

  Jane saw the trend of his thought, and did not like it. “Wouldn’t it be better to call it about twenty-
one human beings?”

  “It would be infinitely better, but unfortunately it would not alter facts. We must face the situation as it is. Civilisation as we knew it exists no longer. The world has gone back in one bound to primitive conditions.”

  “Primitive conditions?”

  “In essentials,” he explained. “It is true we have motorcars and tinned food, and other luxuries of the twentieth century, but, in essentials, we have gone back to prehistoric man. It’s every man for himself against every other man, and against Nature. The others may not have realised it yet — it may be some time before they realise it, I can’t tell. But I do know this: — sooner or later they will realise it, and then the only chance for a woman will be to take a man who can protect her —”

  “Don’t you think human nature has changed?”

  “No,” he said at once. “No, I don’t think so. Primitive man is still lurking underneath the veneer of civilisation.”

  They did not speak for a few moments. They were both a little awed at the immensity of the responsibility which had been thrust upon them. They both saw that their whole future and the future of the others depended upon their decision. Sir Richard resolved to say no more to influence Jane, she should choose, and he would abide by her choice, and stick by her through thick and thin.

  “Well, you know,” said Jane apologetically, “I still think we should go back.”

  Sir Richard sighed. He would have enjoyed a quiet life with Jane, but it was not to be. Perhaps it was selfish to want to keep Jane for himself.

  Jane’s decision was made more for Maisie’s sake than her own. It was Maisie’s life that they were ordering as well as their own lives. If Jane fell in with Sir Richard’s plan Maisie would marry Bunce — Jane saw that quite clearly. It came to this: — was she justified in limiting Maisie’s choice to Bunce? Jane did not think she was justified in doing so. She did not feel she could take the responsibility. There were other reasons for Jane’s decision, but they were too vague and nebulous to be put into words.