Nick Cracknell - The Quiet Apocalypse [= Island Zero]

We walked mainly in silence for a few minutes, apart from Hans occasionally breaking wind and grunting in approval. I picked up the pace, eager not to be associated with him, like a teenager walking through a mall with their parents.

I started to head off Fred Olsen itself to walk on the beach, but I could feel Hans had stopped behind me and so turned around. I couldn’t see him anywhere, but I could sense his presence only a few feet away from me.

After a few more paces, he said, “What about here?”

I found myself looking directly at Gambrinus, the open air bar that had advertised itself in the leaflet that had directed me to Avenida Fred Olsen.

“What for?” I said to the air in front of me.

“You invited me for a beer, bro,” said Hans, matter-of-factly. “What about this place? It looks nice, eh?” He paused and made a sweeping gesture around himself. “Nice trees and shit.”

The bar was like any other cerveceria on the street, but two small trees had been planted into the concrete pavement outside in an attempt at landscaping.

“I suppose, yeah,” I said.

“I’ll have two lagers,” Hans said, and I could hear a chair being pulled out from one of the tables, and the sound of him sitting down with a relaxed sigh.

“I always drink the first quickly, and it’ll save us going up to the bar again, eh?” he called, and then there was silence.

I stood on the pavement wobbling slightly in the hot sun, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. It obviously was, but was I willing to go along with it? After a long pause I decided I would. It wasn’t as if I had a pressing engagement and I was sure Bernard the Ant would be there later in the day.

I headed into Gambrinus and approached the bar. I heard Hans shouting, “Oh, and check if there’s a fag machine eh bro!”

I was slightly annoyed that I’d allowed myself to become saddled with this irritating man when all I wanted to do was go searching for an ant.

Inside the restaurant I pulled three cold beers from behind the bar and noticed a 200 pack of Marlboro Lights under the serving area. I grabbed two packs and headed outside.

Once on the external terrazza overlooking the beach, I looked around for Hans before feeling stupid and sitting at the nearest table. Looking out over the beach I felt a calmness and serenity begin to filter in that I hadn’t had for a few days. But when I turned my head to the left there was Hans, reflected in the restaurant window. He had made himself properly comfortable with his feet up on the table, matching me sip for sip from his glass tankard of cold beer. He sighed epically.

“This is the life, eh bro? Don’t wanna go find some ant anyway.”

He sniggered, and I got the impression he found the idea of searching for an ant for company as ridiculous as it sounded. I realised I hadn’t even mentioned Bernard to him, but then I supposed what I knew, he knew. Or maybe he was part of my subconscious that I didn’t even know existed, part of the 90% of my brain that I wasn’t using. Maybe he knew a few things I didn’t, and vice versa.

“Have you been having strange dreams lately?” I asked him tentatively.

“Fuck you talken about?” he laughed and I paused.

“Never mind. How long have you been here, Hans?” I asked.

“Don’t remember bro,” he said. “I like it fine though. Plenty of beer, plenty of sun. No worries eh?”

Another long pause.

“Don’t you think about escaping?” I asked.

“Nah.” He simply said, and was quiet while he sipped his beer. He’d finished his first quickly as promised, and I looked down and saw mine was empty too.

“May as well settle in, eh?” he said, getting started on his second beer. “Get any food in there?”

“I didn’t see any. I’m not really hungry anyway.” I replied. He frowned, seeming slightly annoyed by my response.

I wasn’t sure where this fraternal encounter was heading. I felt uneasy in his company, like he was judging me for some unknown reason. Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. You’re sitting in bar on your own, talking to yourself in a reflection. How could this be anything other than totally insane?

“You alright there, bro?” Hans asked me, that slight grin playing on his lips again, as if he was aware of my discomfort.

Something about this man, me in reflection, didn’t seem right. I felt like he was the embodiment of everything that was wrong inside me. His face was mine, but at the same time it was wearing expressions that I had never seen on myself. It was as if he was contorting my features for his own personal amusement.

“You don’t look so hot,” he said somberly. “I recommend you drink some more beer, that’ll sort you out.”

Of all the trips I’d had on this island, this was definitely turning into the most unnerving. I suddenly felt the need to get far away from him, as far away as I could and quickly. I felt as though if I didn’t, something bad would happen. I tried to be calm.

“I’m fine.” I said. “It’s just the heat. I’m a bit dehydrated I think.”

This seemed to cause him even more amusement and he barked out a long loud laugh.

“You’re telling me!” he said, a little too loudly for comfort. “That’s what happens when you don’t DRINK enough bro!” he raised his second beer to his lips and took a hearty swig. “I know just how to remedy that eh?”

He reached over and I felt his hand touch mine, coaxing it towards my beer mug, which had remarkably filled itself with a fresh beer. I felt my skin start to sear where his hand rested on my arm, as if he were either insanely hot or sub-zero freezing. I recoiled my hand in surprise, and he laughed again.

It hit me, all I had to do was get up and walk away. If I stayed out of the line of sight of any large shop fronts or mirrors I wouldn’t be able to see him, and then he wouldn’t be able to affect me as he was. A wave of irony struck me, here I was in Arrecife desperate to find company and I was trying to escape the only bit of human interaction I’d had.

You’re a fool! I thought to myself again. This isn’t human interaction, you’re bloody hallucinating!

I rose sharply and stared ahead at the beach, but in the corner of my eye I could see that Hans had stood just as urgently as I had. Of course.

“What’s up bro?” he said quietly, his breath ragged. “You getting bored of my company eh?”

He had seen straight through me.

“I’m just going for a walk on the beach,” I said as nonchalantly as I could, and started to walk away from the table we were seated at. For some reason I felt if I kept my movement sharp and clipped it would throw him off track, but the booze was making that difficult and I stumbled over my heels more than once. I made it to the edge of the terrazza without looking in his direction.

“EH?” he shouted. “That’s rude, boy! I was just messing with you then, ya rude kent!”

I could feel his eyes on the back of my head, and felt a sudden sharp pang of fear, almost a premonition, that he was going to throw his beer mug at me. I turned slowly.

Sure enough, his arm was cocked back, his glass emptying itself of its frothy contents as he prepared to sling. It must have been the expression on my face, a mixture of terror and utter confusion, that caused him to freeze. He stood there, his arm held back behind his head, poised to hurl the glass at any second.

Then he grinned. A slow, ironic snarl that pulled his teeth ( my teeth! ) back off his lips and exposed his gums. I had never seen that grin on my face before, even when doing my Jack Torrance in The Shining impersonation.

“Aaaaaaah!” he laughed. “I’m just fucken with you bro!”