The Void

by Christine Bernard

  “I can’t wait to spend lazy Sunday afternoons watchin’ bee documentaries with you,” she said.

  I glanced up at the telly now, which had become background noise to me since talking to Sarah. It was then that I noticed the show had changed, and I gasped when I saw what was on.

  “Sarah. I have to go. Check the telly. We’re on the news.”

  I wiggled out of the beanbag with difficulty, and fetched the remote. With the volume on full, I sat close to the TV, feeling oddly disconnected to the story I was listening to. It wasn’t the first time we’d been on the news, and for a moment I held my breath as I waited for something new to be revealed they hadn’t discovered the first time around. The segment was over within minutes, followed by a more recent news story, and I finally allowed myself to relax. A photo of me had popped up on the screen when the reporter had been talking, along with the others. We’d been referred to as ‘The Forgotten’ even though both Elton and me had left at our own will. Instead of climbing back into the beanbag, I scooted over to lean against the sofa, reaching for the beer I’d placed on the floor.

  For a while we’d all been big news, with every channel broadcasting what had happened. We’d been called in for interviews, and the story had shifted and changed depending on who was telling it. After everything had finally come out, I’d gone into hiding to get away from it all. As it turned out, I wasn’t as keen for the limelight as I always thought I was. I’d stayed with Sarah, who, in such a short space of time, bounced straight into my heart. She’d taken the whole thing quite hard too, not because she knew Larry, or any of the others, but because that was the sort of person she was. It was why I had fallen in love with her.

  “I miss Larry,” she’d said to me the other day during one of our daily conversations.

  “What do you miss about him?” I’d asked, and I could picture her smiling as she recounted what she knew about him.

  “He reminded me of a child. Maybe that’s why I connected with him so much. I’m like a child too sometimes, ya know? He was sweet, and caring, and…excitable. It was like he couldn’t hold all his energy inside, so it came out in other ways. He had this funny little twitch sometimes, which he always got when he was excited about something.”

  “You don’t think what he did was wrong?” I’d asked. It was a question I had asked myself since it happened.

  “I think he went after his dream,” she’d said, then sighed. “Maybe it was a bit wrong. It’s hard for me to think that way. I mean, if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have met ya.”

  That was true. It was hard to get upset about something that ended with such a good outcome. Still, that didn’t make it right.

  Larry Arnold Dreyton was a sixty-nine-year-old retired science and psychology teacher. He lived alone and had carved out a somewhat monotonous life for himself. He had a critical mind and a watchful eye, and if the police hadn’t discovered years’ worth of diaries at his home, we might never have known the full truth. Thankfully, Larry Dreyton wrote everything down, leaving no detail spared. He rose every day at 7.04, showered, and walked twenty minutes to Sarah’s café. Every day he ordered two boiled eggs, white toast, and coffee. That is, of course, until the day he ordered two coffees. The day that signified the start of it all. The day my life changed. While most of his diary remained in the hands of the police, two pages had circulated through the media. Two diary entries, almost two years apart.

  1 April 2016

  I’m sorry I haven’t written for a while. I’ve been too angry. My meeting with the local TV station didn’t go according to plan. Nobody would even talk to me. Apparently, I needed an agent, a creative elevator pitch, followed by proof—as if that was possible—that the show would work, as well as a whole string of ridiculous things I was not prepared to go through. They also had the audacity to tell me the chance of my idea being successful was rather slim.

  “It’s a tough business to crack for an unknown,” some gum-chewing woman had said to me when I’d phoned to follow-up the meeting. I hadn’t met this woman, but she seemed the gum-chewing type.

  Maybe I should’ve forgotten the whole thing. Maybe I should’ve moved on. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. However, I’m not someone who can let things go.

  I just flipped through my diary. Somehow, with all the excitement (and frustration) going on, I forgot to tell you about my plan. My big plan. The one the TV people seemed to think was a bad idea. Or, at least, a bad idea for an unknown like me.

  I’ve been interested in solitary confinement ever since I saw a documentary about a group of guys in prison. I found the whole process so fascinating. Did we need people? Did we need distractions? What happened when we took all of that away? Would some of us cope better than others? Watching the prison show, I’d been sure I could do it. I was used to living alone. I’d never married, I didn’t have a pet, and spent most of my time living in my own head. I didn’t need anyone. Or so I thought. I set myself a personal challenge of one week – no phone, no internet, no books, nothing. I’d be fine, wouldn’t I? Apparently even a quiet guy like me could only last two days. Despite me living alone, my days were filled with things that kept me busy, and while I loved digging into the minds of others, I didn’t like it when the tables had turned to focus on me. Too much introspection had unhinged me, and I’d walked away from the experience a little unsure of my life decisions. I failed at something I thought I was good at, but the experiment stayed with me. How would others do? Could I create my own little documentary on this? The idea grew and grew and grew, until it was all I could think about. Then, one day, I knew what I wanted to do. A TV show, with a seemingly simple premise: Last two weeks and win some money. Sounds easy, right? With no clocks, and no way of telling time, it might not be as easy as they think. Come on, who wouldn’t want to run a show like that? If the stations weren’t willing to take this on, I’d do it all myself. I had the money. I always believed in going after what I wanted. I better go, I have some pods to build, and some contestants to find.

  15 March 2018

  It took me twenty minutes to get to the café today, five minutes shorter than usual. Even though my legs were long, my gait was slow, so it must’ve been my excitement propelling me faster. As usual, I was greeted by the fresh-faced Sarah. She was young, talkative, and just the right amount of crazy. Almost the way I pictured myself to be fifty years ago. I shuddered at the thought. Was I really fifty years her senior? Sarah didn’t need coffee. She was bubbly enough without it. She bounced back moments later with my cup, and as usual she got it just right. When I’d first moved to Victoria Point, just over five years ago, I’d worried I wouldn’t have a regular coffee spot like I did when I lived on the Gold Coast. I was pleasantly surprised to find such a nice little place situated under one of the big gum trees that lined the street. It was in walking distance to my house, the staff were friendly, and the coffee was served just as I liked it. Sarah was busy that morning, and I wondered why the place was so much busier than usual. For a moment, I thought perhaps some of my contestants had arrived early to scout out the area—something I would’ve done in their position—but as I glanced around I didn’t identify any of the new faces. Not that I’d met them, of course, but I’d studied their features long enough through their application forms to feel like I already knew them. The café was like that, though. One day it could just be me and the house cat for the first hour of the day, while other times the place was buzzing with people. I’d tried to identify the reason, by keeping a daily diary for six months, but I gave up after I was unable to come to a conclusion. Some things, I was starting to understand, simply could not be measured. The trip to the café that morning had been a good one, the extra coffee a break in my routine, and a symbol that my life was about to change forever. I’m in my office now, and it’s taking me forever to write this out. I keep glancing up at the screens, making sure the contestants are okay. It’s day one, and my heart will not stop pounding. I haven’t had this much excitement since I’d stood u
p in front of a podium for the first time. Goes to show, if you want something badly enough, you should just go out and get it. I was proud of myself. This is what I had wanted to do for a very long time. There was nothing more intriguing than the human mind, especially when it came to discerning how far someone could be pushed. Other than the location and their sworn documents toward secrecy, I’d been very forthcoming with all of their questions. An open book, really. Well, except for one thing. I hadn’t quite gotten around to telling them there was no TV show yet. I didn’t see the point, really. I was sure the show would get snapped up. If not, I’d give them the money myself. What could go wrong?

  What could go wrong? I’d seen and heard those words so many times since the diary entries had gone out. It had played in my head on a loop. As it turned out, a lot could go wrong. Larry had been sick for a long time, as his doctor’s reports had shown. Maybe it was this steady decline of health which had caused him to put his dream into motion without the go-ahead from the TV station. Perhaps he wanted to leave his mark before he left the earth. How could I blame him? It made me wonder what I would do if I knew my time was almost up. Although didn’t we all have a time limit? Sarah and I had discussed this at length, which was probably why we’d ended up together. Why waste time when you knew something was right?

  If Larry wanted to leave this world with a legacy, he had done it. Who could forget the story about the man who had died while three people remained locked up inside self-made pods? No wonder the story was still making headlines. Of course, The Void never got aired, although small clips had somehow seeped out. Thankfully, there’d been none of me. At least, not yet. I’d been open about my breakdown, and I didn’t mind telling people what had happened. I always thought the experience was going to change me, I just never knew how much. I called Jon.

  “Did you see the news? We were on again,” I told him.

  “Nah, I didn’t see it. Not surprised, though. I think we’re on it more than we know.”

  “Bet you love being famous,” I teased. “Hey, what’s going on? Sounds like you’re in a war zone,” I asked as a loud bang sounded in the background.

  “We’re moving. Keri tried to pull a box down, and it almost fell on her head. Hey, Ke, careful, you might mess up your hair!” he yelled out.

  “She’s showing you the finger now, isn’t she?”

  “You know her well.”

  “Wow, so you’re actually moving. I didn’t think you’d go ahead with it. That place close to my parents?”

  “No, didn’t I tell you? Shit, sorry, I’ve been so busy I forgot. We found a place down the road. Literally down the road.”

  “Really? I thought Ke wanted to move out of the city.”

  “She did, until she saw this place. Hey, any chance you want to come help us pack?”

  I laughed. “It’s on the top of my list for things I want to do today.”

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “Just kidding. I’ll be there. Ten minutes? That’s if I ever get out of this bean bag.”

  “Mate, you’re amazing. Thank you. I’ll supply the beer.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  I squirmed out of the bean bag. Just thinking about Keri and Jon packing made me laugh. The two of them had gone through a rough patch after coming out of the pod, and I was sure they were going to break up. Keri had even moved in with her mum for a few weeks. Now they were inseparable and closer than ever. Which, in their case, meant most of their days was them teasing one another. Jon had celebrated his birthday a week ago, and Keri had bought him a new set of kettlebells which had made Jon laugh harder than I’d ever seen him laugh before. My gift had been tickets to a comedy show – featuring a few up-and-coming comedians, and a headlining act from Bob Store.

  I grabbed my jacket and my car keys, and was about to make my way out when I noticed I had mail. It wasn’t often I received anything with handwriting on it, so the envelope caught my eye. I stared at it, wondering who would take the time to write to me, then opened it. Inside lay a photo that made me smile. So, that’s where you’ve been. The photo was of Melanie standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. She looked different to what I recalled of her, and from the small video clips I’d seen of her in her pod. I always thought of her as calm, and subdued, although Jon had used the word ‘sad’ to describe her. She didn’t seem sad at all in this photo, her broad smile transforming her face and her arms up in one of those typical tourist poses. I turned the photo over to find a small note written on the other side.

  Dear Ryan,

  I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been avoiding the media for my own personal reasons, as I’m sure you understand. I’m sorry to hear what happened to Larry, and even though what he did to us was not right, it’s hard to stay angry at him. I’ve moved to Paris, and life is treating me well. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you did for us. I liked you from the moment I saw you, and I’ve always believed I was a good judge of character. Stay true to yourself, and keep happy. Life, as we all know now, is very short. I better go, I have places to explore, and a hungry cat to feed.

  Lots of love,

  Melanie, and Todd.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  I loved writing this book. At the time of writing it, I lived in South Africa, but the editing and publishing was all done in Australia. And, with a baby on his way, I’m excited for this new journey.

  I want to thank my favourite human, Warren, who has supported me throughout my writing career and who always takes the time to listen to my ‘grand ideas’. Thank you for always making me laugh and for always bringing me snacks.

  Thank you to my family - Mom, Papa, and Pascal, for always supporting me. It is my constant goal to make you all proud. Thank you also to my friends – you know who you are. You’re all crazy and I love you for it. Also, an extra big thank you to a very special alpama, who has been a constant support system this year.

  A big thank you to my editor, Nerine Dorman. Your honesty is refreshing, and your feedback invaluable. I cannot thank you enough.

  I cannot end off without giving thanks to my online support group – The Dragon Writers. Everyone needs a group like this.

  And a special thank you to the guinea pigs. Actual guinea pigs. For general all around fluffiness.

  About the Author

  Christine Bernard has an obsession for good coffee, books and guinea pigs. She enjoys writing stories seeped in the psychological, no matter what the genre. She also writes children’s novels under the name Chris Bee. When she’s not writing, she’s illustrating. When she’s not writing or illustrating, she’s probably at a café.

  If you want to know when Christine’s next book will come out, please visit her website and sign up to her newsletter.

  www.christinebernard.com

  Also by Christine Bernard:

  Unravel

  Will

  Mute

  Haze

  Crackerjack