Chapter Two: - The Sound No One Heard

“You can see that white wall?”

Jenkins looked around the room. Where’s Lee gone? He couldn’t have left the room unnoticed. If that was possible, he, Jenkins, would have figured out how to do it years ago.

Weird, he thought. Bloody weird. Oh well, what to do now. He slouched back in his uncomfortable chair, even more depressed that Lee had somehow escaped and he was still here. He glanced at his watch. 1:38:53 p.m. God, this class had only been going eight minutes; it felt more like eighty.

Samuels was skimming through the current school newsletter that was on his desk, it bored him. He didn’t care. He let his eyes gaze around the classroom, watching his students fidget in their seats, some supporting their writing hand with their other hand to ease the aches. He enjoyed the atmosphere of misery that he imposed on each and every class. I'm going to miss this, he acknowledged to himself yet again.

This was one of his favourite exercises, it would take them more than the allocated 90 minutes just to copy over the formulas into their exercise books, giving them no time to try and solve them. Plus he knew the formulas were impossible for them to work out at their age level.

Even Jenkins, just sitting, doing nothing, looked miserable. He’d refused to work in Samuels class for the whole year and despite Samuels requests for caning, detentions or expulsion, Jenkins had parental support and along with the recent new headmistress, who he believed had never disciplined a child in her life, it had been agreed that Jenkins would sit in class, silently, no punishments for refusing to work. If only Jenkins had been at the school ten years ago, I could have caned the brat for sitting there doing nothing.

Still, he looked miserable so that was good. Samuels glanced elsewhere. Ahh the Paignton girl, rubbing her wrist every few seconds, fidgeting in her seat, a look of anguish on her face. Stupid child, he sneered inside. Another one of life’s thickos.

He liked that word, 'thicko'. When he’d started he’d bark it whilst lobbing a well-aimed piece of chalk at a child’s head. He’d become very proficient with his aim and, back in the ‘good old days’, the parents would thank him for disciplining their children after he had given them a good thrashing. Times however had changed for the worse. Now he was left with only glares and detentions.

Tossing the newsletter into the bin Samuels rummaged through his desk drawers and pulled out his newspaper turning to the half-completed crossword from the morning and casually carried on, his eyes frequently taking in the class, feeding from the emotions of their gloom. I’m definitely going to miss this, he sighed, and glanced at his watch. 1:41:03 p.m.

Tock

Trisha looked around the classroom and wondered what the noise was. No one else seemed to have noticed it.
Jenkins looked at her and mouthed silently, “What was that?”

That surprised her. In all the years they had known each other this was the first time he’d ever spoken to her without adding his standard ‘fatso’ line at the end. He was definitely maturing. With Samuels’ head buried in his newspaper she risked a “No idea.”

Jenkins looked around and gave himself a start. The desk next to where Lee Edwards had been sitting was now empty. Two empty desks — Lee’s, and now Debbie Brown. She was a prim and proper type, not the sort to bunk off. Where the hell has she gone? thought Jenkins. And where’s Lee?

He mouthed to Trisha, “Where’s Lee and Debbie gone?” and indicated with his head towards their empty desks.

Trisha looked at him blankly. What’s he on about, she thought. She didn’t know Lee or Debbie. She looked to where he was indicating — everything looked normal, everything in place, all desks filled apart from the two empty ones at the back. Typical, he’s being his normal idiot self, she thought, and turned away, ignoring him.

She’s weird, thought Jenkins as Trisha turned away. Hadn’t she noticed they’d gone? He took another look — yes, two empty desks. How the hell had they escaped? Damn that Richard Davis, if he’d been sat at the back as normal he might have been able to escape class as well.

Oblivious to any missing children, Samuels studied his crossword. Sixteen down, ten words, starts with D, sixth letter S. Samuels pondered the clue and quickly hit upon Depression. It fitted. Very apt, he smiled as he filled in the letters in neat ink.

He glanced at his watch. 1:44:03 p.m.

Tick

Trisha and Jenkins looked around at the sound. “What was that?” Trisha asked out loud.
“Stop speaking in class,” Samuels immediately answered.
“What is it, Sir? It’s pretty loud and that’s the third time I’ve heard it now,” Trisha continued.
“Be quiet, child,” Samuels replied crossly. “Be quiet or detention.”
“Yeah, but what was it?” said Jenkins, not worried about detention and looking around the room. He then stood up suddenly, startled.

The desk next to Debbie’s was now empty. Andrew somebody had been sat there. “Where’s that lot gone?” Jenkins pointed to the three empty desks. “Lee, Debbie, and Andrew.”

Samuels groaned inside. “Sit down, Jenkins, or detention,” he demanded
“Look,” insisted Jenkins, still pointing, “where have they gone? Their desks are empty.”
Trisha looked at Jenkins, wondering what he was playing at. Missing kids? Did he want detention?

“I don’t know what your game is, Jenkins, but consider yourself with a detention. I will be informing your parents by letter tomorrow, and now sit, or we will make it a week’s worth.” Samuels glared at Jenkins. “All fresh for next term boy,” he added. How dare the brat speak in class.

He kept staring and smiled inwardly as Jenkins slouched back into his chair, looking confused. He made a mental note to fill in a detention form and carried on with his crossword. Four more clues, he thought sadly. These things are getting easier every day. He glanced at his watch again. 1:47:03 p.m. He smiled — a long time to go until the bell was due.

Tock

Jenkins and Trisha looked at each other as the sound happened again and both looked around the rest of the class; no one else seemed to have heard it. Jenkins jumped out of his seat knocking his chair over in the process. “What the fuck,” he swore. Samuels immediately shouted:
“Headmaster’s office, immediately, swearing in class. I’ll have you caned for this, boy.”

“Where’s Simon gone?” Jenkins asked firmly, pointing at the empty desk where he remembered Simon sitting.
“Get out,” demanded Samuels, staying put in his chair. Jenkins was of equal height, if not taller, and a ruffian — certainly not the sort of child he would challenge physically, sadly at sixty-five, those days were behind him.

Jenkins ignored him and spoke to a kid in the second front row. “Sam, have a look, where’s that lot gone?”
Sam looked over his shoulder blankly. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied in a quiet tone, not wanting to get involved.
“Will you get out” bellowed Samuels.
Ignoring him further, Jenkins pleaded with the other kids. “Anyone, where have they gone? Lee, Debbie, Andrew, Simon?”

The majority of the class ignored him:
a) because they didn’t know what he was talking about, and
b) because they were in Samuels class and didn’t want to get detention.

“So no one finds it strange that four of us have disappeared and there are now four empty desks?” said Jenkins, clearly frustrated.
“OUT NOW” demanded Samuels again pointing to the door.
“With pleasure,” said Jenkins.

Trisha watched on wondering why Jenkins was acting so strange. There had always been those four empty desks in the class for as long as this term had been running. Usually Jenkins liked winding teachers up, but he always had a grin on his face during the process. This time he was different, totally earnest. Not bothered about a week’s worth of detentions.

She glanced up at the clock above Samuels’ desk. 1:50:03 p.m.

TICK

Jenkins had been in the process of leaving the room when he heard the noise again. He looked around and again no one reacted to it, except Trisha, who was looking around for the source of the sound. “Shit,” he exclaimed. Now the desk next to Simon’s was empty. What was her name — Jo Paignton? That was it. Now gone. Five empty desks, only one more and it would be the entire back row.

“Anyone else hear that noise?” he asked. Silence. He looked at Trisha. “You?”
“Yeah, weird noise, something electric?” she replied quietly.
“Look at the desks,” Jenkins said. “There’s five kids, gone.”

Trisha looked over at the back row. Yeah, so what, five empty desks, there’s always five empty desks / there’s always four empty desks.

The double thought hit her sharply. Didn’t that girl Jo Paignton sit there? No, it had always been five empty desks, surely. She looked at Jenkins, confused.
He looked back at her almost imploringly. “Jo, Simon, Andrew, Lee, Debbie?” he pleaded.

“Get out now,” bellowed Samuels, making an effort to stand up and use intimidation, wishing yet again that he could properly punish him. A sharp slap across his face. Proper discipline.

“Think,” said Jenkins to Trisha, ignoring Samuels. “You heard the sound, each time it happens someone vanishes.” Trisha looked again at the empty desks, two different memories in her mind.
“If this keeps up it’s gonna be Davis next.” Jenkins flashed a brief grin of revenge, but quickly broke off. “You look confused,” he questioned. “Can you notice it?”
Trisha said nothing, confused.

He looked at his watch. 1:53:03 p.m.

TOCK

They both heard the sound and both looked at the back of the classroom. The entire back row was gone, in its place an other worldly wall of whiteness, softly glowing, impossible to see through. It ran the width of the room from floor to ceiling, emitting an almost silent hum.

The whiteness was positioned at the front of where the last row of desks had been moments ago, only a few centimetres from the desks in front.

“Look out, you lot,” shouted Jenkins, pointing at the whiteness as Trisha stood up in shock, acknowledging the missing Davis and the white wall. The rest of the class stayed in place, carrying on with their copying exercise.

“Oh, you are going to be in serious trouble for this, boy,” said Samuels, leaning on his desk, his face red with rage. “As you refuse to leave I am going to fetch Mr Williams to come and eject you by force and you will be taken to the headmaster and caned for this defiant behaviour.” He took a few steps towards the door. “And you, Trisha, Detention. Now sit down at once and resume your work immediately."

”You can see that white wall thing?” Jenkins asked Trisha, who was staring at it in shock. Both paid no heed to Samuels’ words.
“Yes,” she replied softly. “What is it?”
“How do I know, I’m not Spock,” replied Jenkins.

“What on earth is going on here?” bellowed Samuels, now trying to get the classroom door open. Somehow it was locked, but he hadn’t locked it. He pulled out his keychain — the only key for the door — and tried to unlock it. But it wasn’t locked. It just refused to open.

“What have you done here Jenkins?” he demanded from across the room tugging on the handle. The remaining classroom looked up in interest, wondering why Jenkins had locked them in, with a couple of the more clever ones trying to figure out how he had done it unnoticed.

Jenkins looked over. “What, nothing to do with me, you were the last one in.”

The clock above Samuels’ desk hit 1:56:03 p.m.

KCIT

Trisha and Jenkins looked at each other. “It’s like a sucking sound,” she said. Jenkins nodded and looked at Samuels, still pulling furiously on the door handle.
He half expected steam to come flying out of his ears.

They both looked around and spotted a new empty desk, far right, second row from the back.
“Jay Fowler sat there,” said Trisha.
“Yeah, well, glad you can see what’s going on. No one else seems to be noticing,” said Jenkins.

Everyone in the class was calm, bemused by the behaviour of Jenkins and now Trisha, who seemed to be joining in with whatever prank Jenkins was up to. And Samuels, trying to get the door open and failing miserably, was certainly more entertaining than the grueling work he had tasked them with.

“Get on with your work brats, or detention for all,” shouted Samuels, still tugging on the door.
“Julie,” Trisha said pleadingly to a girl in the second row. “Look behind you, that white whatever, look.”
Julie looked, turned back and mouthed, “What?”

“Will you get this door unlocked, Jenkins,” shouted Samuels, glaring at him. “What have you done? Superglue? Oh, we are going to get the police involved in this matter, boy. That’s criminal damage.”

“I haven’t done anything,” said Jenkins, who walked over to the door pleased to see Samuels move out of his way, obviously scared of him. He pulled on the handle and, like Samuels, was unable to open the door. He peered down at the locking mechanism. “It’s not locked,” he said.

“Typical of you to know about locks, boy,” Samuels said snidely.

Jenkins banged on the wooden door frame. Silence. He banged harder — more silence. The rest of the class watched on in bemusement as Trisha came over.
“That didn’t make a sound,” she said, banging on the door with a closed fist herself. Silence.
Jenkins banged the glass section of the door with enough force that it should have shattered. It didn’t. It didn’t make a sound either.

1:59:03 p.m.

KCOT

Trisha jumped as the noise sounded again, and they both noticed another empty desk, the second-to-last back row now missing two children. The white void stayed where it was, a few centimetres behind the second-row desks.
“You see that?” said Jenkins.
“Sally Sharpe,” answered Trisha. “Gone.”

She looked at Samuels, who was standing a couple of metres away, side on to the class, staring at them. He was about two feet away from the whiteness but, like all the others, he clearly couldn’t see it or he’d be panicking too. This is scary, she thought. Everyone I know is disappearing and we’re trapped.

Jenkins picked up the nearest empty chair and struck it against the door. Nothing. No damage to the door. Silence as the chair struck. Samuels quickly moved away to the middle of the room in fear and despair. He’d never felt this helpless before, not in his classes.

This time Jenkins had gone too far. Disrupting the whole class, locking them all in, and then trying to smash the door down. “How dare you, boy,” he shouted, trying to take control of the situation, frustrated that all the other children were watching Jenkins trying to smash a door down in amusement. They should all be suffering.

“Window?” suggested Trisha.
Jenkins continued to ignore Samuels and, carrying the chair, walked to the other side of the classroom. Trisha had already tried to open the window via the simple catch, but it had refused to budge. Jenkins smashed the chair aiming at the glass. Nothing. Silence as it struck.

2:02:03 p.m.

KCIT

They both looked around the classroom. The second row from the back now had only three children sitting at their desks.

“Jay Smith,” Trisha said with building panic. She looked at the boy in the next desk, the boy who would vanish next. “Look, David, look. Where’s Jay gone? He was just sitting next to you?” she stated, desperate for him to notice. He gazed at her blankly.

“It’s something to do with the noise,” said Jenkins. “What you said — it’s sort of a sucking sound, maybe something electronic?”
“Yeah, and it’s kind of backwards, like they did on those old Beatles albums,” added Trisha, “and it’s every three minutes. I started timing it four noises back.”
“Oh yeah,” he agreed. “It does sound like a backward sound,” Jenkins smiled. “Good thinking, Batman.”

He looked at her for a second. She wasn’t that bad, actually. She’d always annoyed him as a kid, always the teacher's pet, but lately he had done some growing up and girls were becoming quite pleasing to his eyes.
“Why is everyone else unaware?” she said, not expecting Jenkins to have an answer. The remaining class had their eyes switching between Trisha and Jenkins and Samuels, who was once again thumping furiously on the classroom door.

Can he not hear it’s not making a sound? Trisha wondered. He’d seen Jenkins try and break the door with a chair, why’s he bothering to thump it?
She heard Samuels muttering, “Jenkins, you’ll pay for this,” as he thumped away.

“No idea,” replied Jenkins, “but I want out.”
“Me too, but how?” Trisha looked at her watch as she heard the next noise. 2:05:03 p.m.

KCOT

Both their eyes turned to the next desk and yes, David was gone now. Five empty desks, one to go. Bill Simmons.
“Look, Bill,” implored Jenkins, taking a step towards him, “look, your whole row has vanished, you’re next mate, move.”

Bill looked at Jenkins blankly. A small, underfed kid who always did what he was told, the whole series of events had been distracting and better than all the writing, but he wasn’t getting involved. Not in Samuels’ class.

“He’s telling the truth, I think you should move,” pleaded Trisha, which confused Bill. Trisha was okay, she’d let him copy homework once or twice. He wasn’t sure, but slowly began to get up, out of his chair, and then immediately sat down when Samuels bellowed at him to do so.

“None of them can see it,” mused Trisha. “Just you and me. Why?” They both stood by their desks staring at the white void.

Samuels stopped thumping on the door and instead made his way to the other window at the back of the classroom. He’d seen Jenkins attempt to smash the window by Trisha’s desk. Obviously Jenkins had prepared the window beforehand, some kind of protective tape no doubt. I’ll have him, Samuels promised himself.
He walked through the whiteness, unaware, and headed to the back window. As he passed through, the pair were watching him.

“Look,” said Trisha, startled. “He’s just walked through it.”

They kept their eyes on the whiteness, unable to see Samuels within.

‘Stinky Sam’ reached the rear window and tried to open it. Locked. Firmly locked. No doubt Jenkins had glued this one too. Fuming, he walked back to his desk and sat down raging. Oh, you are going to get it, Jenkins. He admitted to himself he was enjoying this rage. There was no way Jenkins wouldn’t get the cane for this. He’d ask the headmaster if he could sit in and watch — maybe even be the one to administer it.

He’d use his long-disused cane, the one he still kept locked in the cupboard for old times’ sake, just in case a change in the law ever brought back corporal punishment. Proper teaching. He remembered fondly the sharp crack of rattan striking flesh, the screams that followed.

For a moment he thought about fetching his cane from his cupboard, the one that was well used and full of warm memories. But he quickly dismissed the idea — a fit fifteen-year-old could easily turn on him. Better to wait: the bell would ring at three, the other teachers would find them locked in, and Jenkins would be hauled off for kidnapping and hopefully sent to Borstal. Samuels sat down at his desk, glaring at all. “Get on with your work,” he barked at his remaining class.

Trisha and Jenkins stared agog as Samuels passed back through the void again, unscathed and seemingly oblivious to it. Trisha looked at her watch.

“2:08:03 p.m.,” she said.

KCIT

Bill Simmons gone, one child, Ruth Muir, was all that remained of the second row and remained blissfully unaware. Trisha looked at her. “Ruth, look,” she pleaded, pointing to the whiteness.

Ruth shook her head. “Go away Trisha,” she whispered, scared of Samuel’s wrath. Trisha gave up and watched as Jenkins picked up a pencil from her desk and tentatively threw it into the whiteness. It passed through the void emitting no sound as it was swallowed up.

“Go and pick that up,” demanded Samuels pointlessly.
“You honestly can’t see it, can you?” responded Jenkins. Samuels shook his head and said nothing.
“You were scribbling a note earlier Jenkins,” said Trisha. “Who was it to?”
“What’s that got to do with you?” replied Jenkins.
“Just tell me, don’t be a pain.”
“Well, not that it matters, but it was to Lee Edwards. He was the first one to go.”
“Yeah. You told me at the beginning there were four kids missing.”

Trisha’s brain was in overdrive, trying to find clues. “I don’t remember those four desks, but when you said it and the fifth one went I started to notice it, and I remembered that last desk with Richard Davis in it. You flicked his book on the floor earlier, yeah?”
“Yeah,” said Jenkins, and they both glanced at their watches when they heard the noise again. 2:10:03 p.m.

KCOT

“Shit,” said Trisha, “that was a minute sooner.”

They both stared ahead of them — the entire two back rows gone, swallowed up by the whiteness, which was now resting a few centimetres behind the second front row of desks.