Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  But Pan just closed her eyes.

  ‘I’m going now,’ said Nate after a minute’s silence. ‘I’ll cut the cords at your ankles, and you just slide out from behind the waterfall. There’s a path to your left. If you can bring yourself to talk to me again, leave a message – scratch a cross into that rock you were sitting on in the clearing. I’ll check regularly. If it’s there, then I’ll meet you here, behind the waterfall, that same night.’ She felt his hand against her cheek and she flinched from the contact. ‘Goodbye, Pan.’

  Pan felt the bindings on her ankles give way, but she didn’t open her eyes until she sensed Nate had gone. The sound of thundering water was still deafening, but she had become accustomed to it. Indeed, there was something almost relaxing in the assault on her hearing. It was like white noise that drowned everything out and allowed her to explore her thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Pan watched the curtain of water and let her mind wander. She didn’t think about what Nate had said. She couldn’t afford to think about it right now.

  Her thoughts travelled instead to Jen. If Pan was to achieve anything at all, then Jen was the only person she could trust unconditionally. They had shared pain and joy and the bond that only comes from the contemplation of imminent death.

  Jen was key.

  The idea came slowly at first, the merest glimmering, like the shifting patterns of light in front of her eyes. But gradually, it firmed. It was absurd. Pan knew it was absurd. The chances of success were so slim that if anything else had occurred to her she would have taken it gladly. But nothing did. If she was to re-establish Jen’s faith in her, she would have to violate that faith in the most profound way of all. When the world was at stake, minor issues of morality were unimportant. So she told herself.

  Nonetheless, Pandora Jones felt sick at what she was about to do.

  She got to her feet. Her legs felt stiff, the muscles cramped. The path Nate had mentioned was still discernible, though the light had faded. Night is falling, she thought. How long have I been here? She inched along the path, the waterfall a mere metre or so from her face. She could feel its power in the shuddering of the rock beneath her feet, but little water actually fell on her. Where the water hit the ground there was a steep incline, just noticeable in the gloom. The momentum of the fall took the exploding water vapour outwards and into the clearing, leaving the cave relatively dry. It was a secret place, a haven hidden from view. Pan wondered if The School knew about it or whether this was a private place that Nate kept to himself. Not enough information, she thought. There was simply no way to tell if Nate had even a nodding acquaintance with the truth. This was one more thing she would have to find out. In time.

  The clearing was bathed in shadows, the water droplets a milky mist around her. Nothing stirred. Pan took a deep breath and started running. She had no idea of the time, but there were a few things she had to do before The School settled down for the night.

  And the night would be crucial.

  Chapter 4

  Wei-Lin was checking her arrows by the light of a flame torch when Pan approached the dormitory. She sat on a rock close to the shower block and took each arrow in turn, smoothing and grooming the flights until she was satisfied, holding up the shafts and squinting along them, checking they were straight and would fly true. She only glanced up when Pan was virtually on top of her. She smiled.

  ‘Hey, Pan,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

  Pan sat on the rock next to her and drew a deep breath.

  ‘I’m sorry, Wei-Lin,’ she said. ‘I’m really, really sorry. I want to apologise for my outburst in the canteen. I know you all meant well, and . . .’

  Wei-Lin put the remaining arrow back in her quiver and turned to face Pan. She leaned forward and took Pan’s hands in her own.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s the team who should be apologising to you. You’d just got out of the Infirmary and there we all were, carrying on as if you’d had all the time in the world to recover. Talk about insensitive.’

  ‘No,’ said Pan. ‘That’s not fair. Well, Eric maybe.’

  Wei-Lin laughed. ‘That boy is made of different stuff from the rest of us.’ She paused. ‘But you should know that we do admire what you and Jen did. If I’d been through half of what you have, I reckon I’d be a basket case for months. I mean, jeez. That climb up the cliff, and you afraid of heights. Then throwing yourself off on something Jen had built and you’d had no time to test. I couldn’t have done that, Pan. I don’t think any of us could. And then everything that happened at sea.’

  Pan smiled.

  ‘Sounds crazy when you describe it like that,’ she said.

  ‘It was crazy. Crazy and brave and . . . fantastic. You guys are legends.’

  Pan took another breath. She’d thought about this on the run from the waterfall. It was time to bend the truth a little.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘Even though the whole thing was a failure? I was so sure that we would find the world still going about its business, Wei-Lin. So sure. But all we did was prove me wrong. Hardly worth it, really.’

  ‘No. It was worth it. Absolutely it was worth it. You’ve given us inspiration, you and Jen. All of this . . .’ Wei-Lin waved her hands around, encompassing the broader reaches of the night. ‘It’s just preparation for the real thing. And you’ve been there and showed us it’s possible to survive. That we can all overcome the odds.’

  Pan bowed her head.

  ‘Can I ask you something, Wei-Lin?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘When Jen told you what we’d found out there, was there any part of you that was disappointed? I mean, I remember you saying that all my theories were cruel, just building hope where none existed. “Picking at the scabs of our misery” was, I think, the way you expressed it. I just wondered if you’d had any doubts yourself.’

  Wei-Lin took her time answering. When Pan glanced up, she saw tears in her eyes.

  ‘I wanted to believe you so badly, Pan,’ she said in scarcely more than a whisper. ‘Of course I did. Who wouldn’t grab hold of hope, even if everything you experienced told you it was impossible? Get my family back? Oh, yeah. I thought about what you said. I tried to convince myself that what I remembered from the virus was just a nightmare, that maybe – just maybe – you weren’t some crazy person. You planted that seed in my mind and it wouldn’t go away.’

  ‘And now you know for sure.’

  ‘Yes.’ Wei-Lin picked up her quiver and slung it over a shoulder. ‘Now I know. Now we all know.’

  ‘And you don’t hate me?’

  Wei-Lin stood and looked up at a sky freckled with faint stars.

  ‘No, I don’t hate you,’ she said. ‘But I’ll tell you what I did hate – still do.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Shutting me out.’ She sighed. ‘I know you and Jen had to keep the details of your escape secret. I would have done the same. Any secret is strongest when the fewest number possible know about it. But . . . it hurts, Pan. It hurts that you didn’t confide in me before your escape. I thought we might be friends, that’s all.’

  ‘We are friends, Wei-Lin.’

  Wei-Lin glanced down at her. ‘Then maybe you should start treating me like one,’ she said. ‘Think you could do that, Pan? No more secrets, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Pan lied. But in her heart she knew the time for lies was coming to an end. At least, she hoped that was true. What else did she have but hope?

  Pan found Jen doing pull-ups from the beam in the dormitory. Other girls were sitting on their bunks and chatting, or lying back, hands behind heads, eyes closed. Pan sat on Jen’s bed and watched her friend’s muscles bunch with each repetition. Seventy-eight, seventy-nine . . . It seemed that their recent exertions had done nothing to douse her fanaticism for fitness. Pan waited until Jen reached a hundred and dropped to her toes.

  ‘Can I have a word, Jen?’ she said.

  Her friend smiled. ‘Go for your life and have two, Pandora,’ she replied, putting
an arm across Pan’s shoulder.

  ‘You’re not angry at me for telling everyone to shut up at the canteen?’

  ‘Nah.’ Jen strode over to her bedside cabinet, took out a grimy and threadbare towel and rubbed at the sweat on her face. ‘You’da known if I’d been offended on the grounds I’da punched your lights out.’ She tossed the towel back on her bed. ‘So, the word?’

  ‘In private?’

  ‘It’s lights out in half an hour and I need a shower. That private enough?’

  Pan thought. Eight-thirty was the peak time for the shower block; they’d probably have to wait in line for fifteen minutes. It was the last place to get privacy.

  ‘I really need to talk to you alone.’

  Jen sighed, lifted an arm and sniffed her armpit.

  ‘Disgusting,’ she said. ‘Stay upwind if you’ve got any sense. I could topple an elephant at fifty metres and you want me to go without a shower so we can chat? I remember telling you once, Pandora, that I don’t do that chick-bonding crap.’

  Pan smiled.

  ‘One of the few advantages of The School,’ she said, ‘is we’re all so rancid, all the time, that no one’s gonna notice. And I think we’ve done enough bonding out there beyond the wall to last a lifetime. Come on, Jen. Five minutes. You can shower afterwards, even if it’s in the dark, can’t you?’

  ‘You want a run?’

  ‘No. What is it with you and running? A slow, leisurely walk. One that doesn’t involve breaking sweat.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Jen. ‘You’re one sick puppy, but a walk it is.’

  The night air was almost balmy and the stars had brightened. For once, there was no cloud cover and the full glory of the Milky Way wound across the sky. Despite a few flame torches that danced like fireflies in the distance, there was no other light to dilute its splendour. A shooting star ran like a tracer across the sky, dimmed and died.

  ‘Makes you feel good to be alive, doesn’t it?’ said Jen. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Pandora. I’ve never been an isn’t-nature-glorious chick. But even I think that’s cool. Nearly carking it gives you a different perspective, I guess.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Pan.

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Jen. ‘A V8 supercar is beautiful, that’s just a bunch of stars.’

  They walked in the direction of the canteen, though the night was too dark, even with the stars, to see the buildings.

  Pan chose her words carefully.

  ‘Jen?’ she said. ‘Did you ever think I might’ve been right about anything? You know, the world out there being unaffected by the virus, The School tricking us? Was it only when the helicopter flew over the city that you realised I was wrong?’

  Jen stopped walking. She looked at Pan.

  ‘Pandora,’ she said. ‘I loved your theories, girlfriend. All my life, people have been putting things over on me. Cheating me, lying to me. When you came out with all that crap, I thought, hey, that figures. Why would this place be any different? Doesn’t matter which society you’re in, they’ll always try to screw you over.’ She started walking again. ‘So, yeah, it was a bummer, but at least now we know.’

  Yeah, thought Pan. At least we know.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else,’ Jen continued. ‘I can’t wait to get out of here again. I mean, think about it. There’s a whole world out there just waiting and it’s empty. A new start. It’ll be messy and tough, but I love that messy and hard shit. All this waiting until the bodies rot. How long can that take?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Pan. ‘A while, I guess.’

  ‘I need a city,’ said Jen. ‘Imagine Sydney with no people in it. No tourists, no wankers in suits running the show. Now, that’s beautiful.’

  ‘Do you still dream?’

  ‘Do I still dream?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Pan. ‘You know, the nightmares.’

  ‘Not as much,’ said Jen. ‘I dream like crazy, but you know . . . the nightmares, well, they’ve kinda stopped recently. Why d’ya ask?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Pan. ‘Just curious.’

  ‘So what did you want to talk about, Pandora? Come on, the stars and shit, the nature of the world, my dreams . . . not the reason I’m missing a shower, I hope. So, shoot.’

  ‘I want to borrow your knife.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m serious,’ said Pan. ‘I want to borrow your knife.’

  Jen stopped again and put her hands on her hips.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘This is weird. Why the hell would you want to borrow my knife?’

  Pan had thought this through and come up with a number of explanations she might make to Jen, none of which satisfied her and certainly wouldn’t satisfy Jen. For protection? Yeah, right. As a keepsake? Creepy. So she’d decided to stick as close to the truth as she dared.

  ‘I can’t tell you yet, Jen, so you’ll have to trust me. I’ll return it in the morning, I swear. I just need it for tonight.’

  ‘I smell adventure,’ said Jen. ‘You wouldn’t be planning an adventure and leaving me out, would you? ’Cos that would suck.’

  ‘I won’t be leaving the dorm, Jen. I promise.’

  ‘So you want to sleep with my knife?’

  Pan didn’t say anything and Jen sighed. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said. ‘If this is some kind of I’m-actually-straight-but-would-love-to-have-a-lesbo-crush, then count me out, Pandora. I told you. You’re not my type.’

  ‘Nothing like that,’ said Pan.

  ‘Thank Christ,’ Jen breathed. She slipped the knife from her waistband and held it out, handle first, to Pan. ‘Here ya go, weirdo. Knock yourself out.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And that’s it, is it?’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Pan.

  ‘I’m going for a shower,’ said Jen. She turned back towards the shower block, then stopped and faced Pan again. ‘You’re not going to slit my throat in the night, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Anyone’s throat?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Including your own?’

  ‘Swear.’

  ‘I thought I was strange, Pandora, but ya got me beat.’ And then the night swallowed her.

  It was close to midnight before the groans started. Pan sat up in bed, throwing back the covers. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could see the faint forms of sleeping bodies around her. Cara’s empty bed still served as a sharp reminder of both tragedy and failure and she tried to avoid looking at it. Wei-Lin tossed and turned to her right, making only the occasional whimper. Pan couldn’t see Jen’s bunk, but she knew her friend was probably asleep. Nonetheless, Pan waited. She wanted to be sure Jen was at the deepest point of sleep before she did anything. She held the knife in her right hand and gently stroked the blade with the fingers of her left. If anyone could see me now, she thought, they’d really know what nightmares mean. She fought back a giggle. The truth was, she was nervous. Nervous about failure.

  Pan closed her eyes. Tick, tock, she thought. She found it difficult to banish random thoughts from intruding. And then the very idea of random thoughts generated more. Concentrate on the knife, she thought. Nothing else exists. The knife and one breath after another. Everything else is irrelevant.

  It was easier this time, perhaps because Jen was asleep and whatever barriers the mind constructs were relaxed. Pan could feel the connection, the connection between the hard steel in her hands and the person who had touched it so many times. She probed carefully at the edges of Jen’s mind, looking for a place where she could slip in unnoticed. Ill-defined images swam in her head. Grey shapes, buildings, maybe. A voice, unfamiliar. She tried to go further and then stopped. Resistance was there, but it wasn’t strong. She pushed a little more. Jen groaned and turned, the sound of bedclothes unnaturally loud even against the backdrop of sighs and moans. Pan snapped back into her own head. Careful. You must not wake her. She waited until she sensed Jen settling back into sleep and then tried again.

  There was a ro
om, a small and cheerless place. A single bed and a cheap wardrobe. Nothing on the walls. There was a narrow counter near the window, an old kettle plugged in and two mugs, a box of tea bags. One of the mugs had ‘Have a nice day’ on it and a yellow smiley face. The gaze – Jen’s? – panned right. A girl in a chair. She sat with both feet tucked up under her bottom. A slight girl with a shock of red hair. She was smiling and beautiful – an elfin-like beauty, a snub nose with the merest trace of freckles across its bridge. A name. Sal. The girl held out her hand . . .

  Pan broke the connection and opened her eyes. Her heart was thudding and she wiped a thin film of sweat from her forehead. This felt dreadfully wrong, an invasion. There is virtually no privacy in The School, she thought, and now, thanks to me, not even dreams are safe. She sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her thoughts. She was surprised at how filthy it made her feel. But she couldn’t simply be an observer, a voyeur of the images in Jen’s mind. If her plan was to have any chance of success, she needed to influence what Jen dreamed about. The trouble was, she had no idea how to do it. Now she knew she could actually get inside someone else’s head, it was time to consider what she could do when she was there.

  Already she sensed that if she tried to take any active part in Jen’s dream, even if that was possible, she would make her presence known and that would almost certainly produce a strong reaction. Pan remembered the sense of deepest outrage that greeted her occupation of that mysterious scientist’s head back in the Infirmary. Within a fraction of a second she had been thrown out violently, and although she was unprepared for the experience – she’d had no idea she was going to slip into someone else’s mind – she doubted she would have been able to resist that eviction. It is, by its nature, unnatural, she thought. A mental violation. Pan shuddered.

  But she knew that it was possible to be an observer, at least in a dream when the subject’s mind was not alert enough to detect the invasion. Possibly her presence was just another aspect of the dislocated nature of dreams, a jumble of images and experiences that made little sense anyway. What if she sat back, as it were, and thought about where she wanted Jen’s mind to roam? Might that influence her unconscious? She couldn’t think of a better plan. Pan closed her eyes and resumed the rhythmic stroking of the knife blade.