Now, there was a problem that would have to be sorted. And sooner rather than later.
Pan sat next to Sam at lunch. The first bridge to be built. And given that Sam and Karl were basically inseparable, she could kill two birds with one stone.
‘What is this crap?’ said Karl, his head bent over the contents of his bowl. ‘Is it just me or is the food getting worse? This looks like something a cat has spewed up.’
There were groans around the table.
‘Jeez, Karl. That’s gross.’
‘Even tastes like cat spew,’ said Eric cheerfully.
‘No. It’s worse than that,’ Karl replied.
‘Eaten a lot of cat spew, have you?’
‘Can we give it a break, guys?’ said Wei-Lin. ‘I’m trying to eat here.’
Jen was the only one who didn’t react. Even Sanjit gave a wry smile, but Jen just shovelled the food in, her eyes down.
Pan placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and opened her mouth to speak.
It was like a sharp jolt of electricity snapped into her brain. Pan snatched her hand away. Her elbow caught her bowl and knocked it onto the floor where it rolled for a couple of metres, leaving a thin trail of grey liquid in its wake. There was silence at the surrounding tables as Pan got to her feet.
‘Told you it was bad,’ said Karl.
‘Are you okay, Pan?’ said Wei-Lin. ‘You look pale.’
Pan felt dizzy. For a moment she thought her legs would give way and she had to reach out a hand to the bench to support herself. But then the moment passed.
‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘Just clumsy. I’ll get something to clean this up.’ She tried a smile, but it didn’t feel right on her face. ‘Sorry.’
The walk to the washing-up area at least gave her time to collect herself. She found a grimy dishcloth and returned to mop up the spill. The joking continued around her as she knelt on the hard concrete floor, but her mind was miles away. Sam is pregnant, she thought. It had been so clear, the moment her hand made contact with Sam’s shoulder. A new life, only weeks, maybe days, into its journey. The sensation had taken her breath away. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Does she know yet? A new life. But would it be born into a world full of horror? Another responsibility I must bear, she thought. It’s not just the billions of the living, but also the unborn that rely on me.
As soon as she finished cleaning up she walked out of the canteen and into the pale sunshine. She needed to clear her head and she needed to be alone.
It was almost dusk when Pan was ready to re-engage with other students, and she sought out Tom, the young boy with the passion for falconry. Pan found him in his clearing at seven o’clock, the beginning of free time. She had skipped most of dinner, just taking a bread roll from the counter and eating it in the shadow of the cairn memorial to Cara and Nate.
Tom appeared even more dishevelled and dirty than she remembered. Someone in his team should take him in hand, Pan thought. The kid can’t look after himself. But he seemed happy enough with his beloved Kes on his arm. They chatted for a few minutes and Tom happily lent her the hood used to cover his falcon’s head. Pan said she was taking up classes in fabrics and would make some more for him, as the design seemed simple. Tom asked if she’d also work on some leather jesses for the bird, because the three he had were becoming thin with use and his greatest fear was that Kes would find freedom more attractive than Tom.
It was eight-thirty when Pan arrived back in the dormitory. Jen was doing pull-ups from the overhead beam.
‘My knife, Pandora?’ said Jen as Pan passed behind her.
‘Could I keep it one more night?’
‘Nope.’ Jen dropped to the floor and walked over to Pan’s bunk, her hand outstretched. ‘You’ll probably cut off your head in your sleep.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘The knife?’
Pan sighed and withdrew it from under her pillow. Jen examined the blade and wiped it on her trousers, before tucking it into her waistband. She turned away and then faced Pan.
‘This weirdness, Pandora,’ she said. ‘The thing with the knife, avoiding everybody, skipping all classes. I don’t like it. We need to talk.’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Pan. ‘I promise. But I’m just too tired tonight.’
Jen tilted her head and regarded Pan for a moment. Then she nodded and went back to her beam. Pan pulled off the blanket, which was still stained with dried blood, and got in beneath the single sheet. Lucky the nights have warmed up, she thought. Even so, she had to curl herself into a ball to preserve as much body heat as possible.
It was two in the morning when she slipped out of bed and padded silently over to Jen’s bunk.
Pan cleared her mind and thought of the tanker, the phone call to her mother, the helicopters and the men with guns. And she thought of Nate moving towards them, raising his gun. When she was ready she reached out her unbandaged hand and touched Jen’s wrist. The girl shuddered slightly, but didn’t draw away.
Pan knelt at the side of the bed and slid into Jen’s dreams.
Chapter 6
The hand gripped Pan’s shoulder and shook her roughly.
‘Wake up!’
Pan tried to curl into a tighter ball. She groaned and it was then, in the first moment of waking, that the pain hit. There was a jackhammer in her skull and she felt that if she opened her eyes she would be sick.
‘Leave me alone. I’m ill.’ Her voice was weak and sounded distant in her own ears.
‘No, Pandora. Wake up or I’ll drag you out of bed. We need to talk and we need to talk now.’
There were muffled cries from other girls in the dormitory. ‘Keep the noise down, willya? Trying to sleep here.’
‘Yeah, shut up. It’s the middle of the night, goddamnit.’
Pan opened her eyes a fraction and the thudding in her head intensified. Jen was leaning over her and she didn’t look happy. In fact, her face was like thunder.
‘Okay,’ Pan whispered. ‘Okay. But give me a moment, Jen. I’ve got the mother of all headaches.’ She tried to sit up and had to close her eyes again. ‘Dear God,’ she mumbled.
‘I’ll be outside,’ said Jen. She made no effort to keep her voice low. ‘If you’re not out in five minutes I’ll be back.’
And then she was gone. It took the better part of three minutes for Pan to sit up in bed, her legs dangling over the side. She desperately wanted to curl into sleep where the pain in her head might dissolve, but this must be the moment she had been waiting for. Why else would Jen want to talk at . . . she glanced at the luminous dial of her watch and winced – four-twenty in the morning? She forced herself to stand and had to hang on to the side of the bed for a minute before she could trust her legs to carry her. Even then, she weaved unsteadily down the dormitory aisle. The other girls had either fallen back asleep or were trying to, since no one commented on her progress.
Pan leaned against the dormitory door and took deep lungfuls of clean night air. She felt marginally better. Even the beating in her head had subsided a little. She prayed the migraine would blow away in the faint breeze that cooled her cheek, but Jen didn’t give her much recovery time. She grabbed Pan by the arm and led her deeper into the dark. Pan groaned, but she didn’t have the strength to resist.
Jen stopped close to the shower block and stood in front of Pan, arms folded across her chest. In the faint moonlight, Pan could see anger flashing across her friend’s face. Pan sat on a large rock – the same rock she had sat on when she had tried talking to Cara, when Cara had said she wasn’t ready to trust anyone. The thought of Cara brought a different kind of pain, one that lodged in the pit of her stomach. She put her head into her hands and waited. Jen remained standing.
‘Dreams, Pandora,’ said Jen. ‘Let’s talk about dreams.’ Her voice had an edge as sharp as her knife.
‘Okay,’ said Pan. ‘What about them?’
‘You tell me. It’s your obsession.’
Pan wished her head felt clearer, her mi
nd as sharp as Jen’s voice. But she was still muddled with sleep and pain. I must trust my instincts, she thought. They are about the only thing I can trust at the moment. And her instincts told her the time for pretence was over. Pan lifted her head from her hands.
‘I know what you dreamed about last night, Jen,’ she said. ‘You dreamed we were in the water, but this time no helicopter came to our rescue. This time a boat picked us up. There were three men in oilskins and they couldn’t speak English. They took us to a tanker. I used the ship’s satellite phone and rang my mum. She picked up, Jen. I heard her voice. But then the connection was cut and the next thing was that helicopters did arrive. But they weren’t coming to our rescue. They were coming to take us, against our will, back to The School. We ran, we fought, but they trapped us. A guy in a balaclava. He shot you.’ Pan paused and took a breath. ‘What wasn’t in your dream is that he shot me as well. Tranquilliser darts, the kind they use on animals.’ Pan stopped. It was difficult to read Jen’s expression. The silence lingered. ‘Am I close, Jen?’ she added.
‘How the hell could you know that?’ Jen’s voice was as thin as the night breeze.
‘How could I know?’ Pan felt stronger now. The headache was easing by the second. She still felt weak and disorientated, but her strength was returning. ‘I know, Jen, because that is what happened. All of it. It was real. They brought us back here and they filled your head with lies – the helicopter, the dead city. Blotted out the truth and gave you another one, one they wanted you to believe.’
‘Bullshit,’ said Jen. But her voice told another story. She took a couple of paces away and then returned. This time her voice was fierce. ‘This is just more of your crap, Pandora. The conspiracy theory you love so much. I know what I remember and what I remember is what happened. Your story – that’s the dream.’
‘So explain this, Jen. The story I just told you – that’s what I remember. Nothing about any helicopter rescuing us from the ocean, no ruined city with dead bodies. I don’t remember that because it never happened. What you dreamed last night – how could I know that’s what it was if it wasn’t the truth? Think, Jen. I need you.’
Jen resumed her pacing. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘This isn’t right. None of this is right.’
Pan got to her feet and this time there was no trembling, no weakness in her legs. Jen rushed up to her and, for a moment, Pan thought she was going to be physically attacked. But Jen just put her face right into Pan’s. ‘Tell me something, Pandora,’ she continued. ‘How the hell could you know that’s what I dreamed last night? Huh? If this crazy story of yours is true, then why would I be dreaming about it, since The School, according to your theory, has blocked it?’
Pan took a deep breath. The moment had come and she knew Jen wouldn’t simply swallow her story, would find the logical inconsistency. But of one thing Pandora Jones was certain. She was sick of lies, both hers and The School’s. Maybe the unvarnished truth was the only option.
‘How do I know, Jen?’ The pain in her head had all but disappeared and she made her voice loud and forceful. ‘How do I know? The same way I know your girlfriend’s name was Sal – that she was slight, had red hair and a wicked smile. The same way I know you stole a car together and took the cops on a wild chase through the streets of Sydney.’
Jen’s face had drained of colour and she took a couple of paces backwards, but Pan stepped forward to fill the gap.
‘Because I’ve been in your head, Jen. While you were sleeping. That’s why I needed your knife, so I could have a connection, so I could slip in when your defences were down.’
‘Bullshit,’ Jen stammered.
‘Oh, yeah? Well, what about this?’
Pan grabbed Jen’s hand and pushed with her mind as hard as she could. It was more bizarre than she could possibly have imagined. She sensed a barrier, but it gave way easily. And then, for the briefest moment, she saw through Jen’s eyes, saw her own face only centimetres away, eyes wild and staring, almost possessed. She felt Jen’s emotions, her bafflement, her feeling of incredulity. And then came disgust and revulsion, the violent discharging of Pan’s presence. There was no way Pan could resist that expulsion, and she was flung back into her own head, which flared with pain.
The punch caught her flush on the jaw and knocked her to the ground. Then hands gripped her by her collar and she was dragged onto her feet. Jen spun her round, lifted her and slammed her into the side of the shower block building. Jen’s face was millimetres from her own, and she didn’t know which was more painful: the sharp ache in her head, her throbbing jaw, or the look of disgust on her friend’s features.
‘You sonofabitch,’ Jen snarled. ‘You do that again and I will kill you, Pandora. Do you hear me? I will kill you, I swear to God.’
Pan rolled her tongue around her mouth and tasted the tang of blood. A back tooth was loose and as she tentatively touched it with the tip of her tongue it gave way. She spat it onto the ground and felt a thin trail of blood seep from the corner of her lips.
‘There’s no time to spare your feelings, Jen,’ she said, though her face was swollen and the words came out so mangled she could barely recognise her own voice. ‘The clock is ticking and I’m tired of lies. I’m sorry, but I had to do it. There was no choice.’
For a moment, Pan thought that Jen was going to punch her again, but then she did something that was even more painful. Jen let go of Pan and crumpled to the ground. She curled up on her knees and vomited. Pan listened to her retching and felt desperate and powerless. Finally, she knelt and put a hand on Jen’s shoulder.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again.
Jen flinched from the contact. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she spat. ‘Don’t ever touch me again.’
It clearly took effort, but Jen got to her feet and wiped her mouth. She staggered slightly and Pan instinctively reached out a hand before withdrawing it. Jen gathered her composure with an effort of will.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I believe you can get inside my head.’ She shuddered. ‘But that only means you can screw with it. So answer me this, Pandora. I remember two things. A memory you say The School put there. But I have no evidence they are even capable of that. What I do know is that you can. So isn’t it more logical to think you’re the one messing with my mind?’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because you’re insane. Because you’re so obsessed with this conspiracy story you’ll do anything to get converts. Because you’re sick.’
Pan hung her head. Her tongue went instinctively to the bloody socket in the back of her mouth. The migraine made it difficult to think. But she knew she had to convince Jen.
‘Would you believe me,’ she said, ‘if you heard it from someone else?’
‘Like who?’ said Jen.
‘Like the man who shot you on that tanker? Would you believe it from him?’
Chapter 7
There was no point in going back to bed, even though the oblivion of sleep would be a welcome relief from pain, both emotional and physical. So Pan walked slowly towards the forest and the waterfall and tried not to think too much. She probed at her empty socket, and as far as she could tell the tooth had come out cleanly. It hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to the Infirmary, even for painkillers. Anyway, her migraine made the ache in her mouth seem trivial.
The faint tinge of orange above the mountains indicated dawn was not far away, but the forest was still dark, sinister. She followed the roar of the waterfall. The clearing appeared suddenly and Pan felt the water in the air, coating her clothes and making her face cool and slick. She licked her lips, walked towards the waterfall and was soon soaked to the skin. Pan stopped where the solid curtain of water met the ground and put out her hand. Her palm stung with the impact. It was too violent a deluge to keep her hand there for more than a second or two, so she walked along the face of it to where the water pooled before feeding the river that flowed past the staff quarters and down through the distant wall and into the vil
lage and the sea.
Pan knelt at the edge and dipped her hands into the icy water. Within moments they were numb from cold. Then she plunged her head right under. The cold was intense and she wanted to gasp, but she forced herself to stay under as long as possible, until her lungs were screaming. When she surfaced, the pain had lessened. Once more she dipped her cupped hands into the pool and brought the water to her lips. Every tooth ached. But she forced herself to rinse. It was still too dark to see if there was any blood when she spat.
Pan stayed for ten minutes and waited for some warmth to return. When it did, her head felt clearer, the migraine fading. Then she stood and walked to the centre of the clearing. The rock was just discernible in the light. She plucked a stick from the ground and made a cross in the dusting of lichen. Then she walked out of the clearing and back towards The School.
Pan missed breakfast, but she couldn’t miss lunch. Not another meal. She felt light-headed enough and she had to keep her strength up. But that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. In particular, she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Jen again.
Tom was at his usual place in the canteen, handing out lumps of bread to the queuing students. His eyebrows rose when he saw Pan’s face.
‘What happened to you?’ he said.
‘I asked someone what happened to her and she punched me in the face,’ Pan replied.
Tom thought for a while.
‘That’s a joke, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Not really,’ said Pan. ‘At least, I’m not laughing.’
‘Have you done the hoods yet?’
‘Tom, give me a break. I only saw you yesterday.’
She was relieved to see Jen wasn’t there, but she couldn’t avoid further questioning when she sat down at the table with the rest of her team.
‘Holy crap,’ said Karl, his spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘What happened to you? You looked like you’ve been kicked by a horse.’
Pan opened her mouth to make another dismissive remark, but then closed it again. Building bridges, she thought. You can’t build them on lies.
Pandora Jones: Reckoning Page 6