Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  It was delicately balanced on the pier. If it had fallen a few centimetres to the left it would have toppled into the sea. Pan picked up the gun – it was far heavier than she expected – and dropped carefully back into the ocean, keeping the rifle above her head and treading water furiously. She edged back under the pier and used one hand to move from pillar to pillar, making painstakingly slow progress, the other hand keeping the weapon away from the sea.

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but Pan knew if she could get behind the soldiers, then she might have a chance to at least draw their attention away from the team. At best, she might hit one or both of those shielded by the helicopter. The arriving helicopter was dropping soldiers onto the pier itself, so it made sense to be behind them when they landed.

  The end of the pier jutted up against a shallow bank and Pan was able to wade the last few metres. By the dim light she examined the gun’s mechanism. There were switches and levers and she had no idea what any of them did. But at least the trigger was where she expected it to be, and Pan hoped the soldier would have readied the gun before he ran towards her and Dr Macredie. Perhaps all she had to do was pull the trigger. Maybe, while there was so much noise around, it would be sensible to try. Pan moved the gun away from her body, pointed down towards the sea, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  The recoil knocked her off her feet and she fell down abruptly into the shallows. Damn, that thing was powerful. Her one good ear rang with the noise. More by luck than judgement, she had kept the gun above water. She got unsteadily to her feet. Pan had no idea how many bullets had been fired in that one brief burst, nor did she know how much ammunition remained.

  Pan put her head above the boardwalk once again and forced herself to take in as many details as she could. The grounded helicopter was fifty metres in front of her and to her right. The other chopper was hovering near the shore and the first men were dropping down from the ropes and already heading towards the village buildings. Off to her far right, a figure moved stealthily from one boulder to another, circling behind the stationary chopper. And Pan recognised the figure. The slight build, the lithe movement, the bow drooping from her left hand. Her team had a plan. It was the same conclusion she had come to. Get a weapon. And Wei-Lin had been given the responsibility to do just that.

  Pan crouched and moved cautiously. Her clothes clung to her uncomfortably and the weight of the gun made her arms cramp with the effort of keeping it hitched at waist level. She ground her teeth and took one careful step after another. She wasn’t sure if Wei-Lin had seen her. But if any of the soldiers turned, then it would be impossible to remain hidden.

  The noise that had been to their advantage suddenly ceased. The new arrivals had not yet fired, at least as far as Pan could tell. The others must have decided that firing blindly into buildings was unlikely to do anything other than waste ammunition. Or they were worried they might hit one of their own. Pan stopped and took stock. The men from the hovering helicopter were fanning out to right and left. Seven of them. Ten in all, plus the pilot who obviously had remained in charge of his craft. And whoever was coming from the watchtowers. Her team needed to make inroads, do something to even up the odds.

  Suddenly the soldier on the furthest side of the helicopter arched his back and screamed, an arrow jutting from between his shoulder blades. Pan turned her head, and Wei-Lin was there, totally exposed, head high, bow drawn, already loosing the next arrow. It skimmed past the other soldier behind the chopper, who had turned and was raising his gun. Possibly his instinctive movement saved him. But not for long. Wei-Lin was quick. Another arrow was already engaged and this time it took him in the neck. He staggered back a couple of paces, dropped his gun and raised his hands to the shaft, fell without a sound.

  Pan was running without even being aware she had made the decision, eyes flicking from side to side, processing, taking everything in. The group of soldiers beyond the pier turning, Wei-Lin reaching behind her for another arrow and finding her quiver empty. The soldier on the ground, the one who had been firing from the tripod, getting to his feet and lifting his weapon, turning, turning. But why was everything happening so slowly? Pan’s feet hammering the ground, but not fast enough. Nowhere near fast enough. Raising her own gun, heart thudding, a sudden pain in her head – the migraine she had not yet time to acknowledge, compounded by the pulse of blood and adrenaline through her skull.

  The soldier, standing now, lifting his gun. Wei-Lin only twenty metres away, the bow fallen to the floor, taking a couple of steps backwards, her hands rising.

  Pan screamed.

  Chapter 24

  She was almost thrown backwards by the force of the weapon in her hands. It sprayed wildly and she had to steady herself, regain some semblance of control over where the bullets would fly. She continued screaming and running, the trigger still engaged. The gun bucked and kicked in her arms as it spread its lethal cargo.

  The bulk of the helicopter loomed in front of her and the ground beneath her feet shredded and dirt flew, stones hitting her legs. There was a sharp pain in her shoulder. Everywhere hurt and all was chaos. She skidded to a halt beneath the frame of the helicopter and suddenly Wei-Lin was beside her. Pan’s gun was still firing, tearing up sods of earth in front of them. Wei-Lin reached out a hand and gripped the weapon. Suddenly the world was quieter. Not totally quiet. Far from it. Bullets whined past, hitting the chopper with sharp pings. Only a few centimetres from her face a hole appeared, its edges frayed with jagged metal.

  Pan lay on the ground and tried to find control. Without control everything else was futile. But the pain. And the noise.

  ‘It’s okay, Pan.’

  The voice was cool, but Wei-Lin’s embrace was not. She took Pan in her arms, lying there on the ground, and held her close. The contact was electric, and almost immediately Pan felt calmer. What had just happened? She lay for a moment and surrendered to the physical contact.

  Hold me, Mummy. Hold me and tell me everything will be all right.

  But the gunfire continued.

  Pan lay spread-eagled beneath the fuselage of the helicopter and dared to look out. The first thing she saw was a crumpled form twenty metres away. Limbs flung at strange and unnatural angles. And the blood. The ground all around was red.

  I did that, Pan thought. Her mind was starting to operate again, but it was fractured. That was a man and I have killed him. The world, my world, has altered irrevocably. He had a child and another on the way. The woman in the polka-dot dress, smiling. How can I live with this?

  How can you not? was the reply and she didn’t know where it came from. Pan shuddered, closed her eyes and then forced them open.

  Yes, he’s dead. Think about it later. Make sure there is a later.

  Wei-Lin crawled over to the fallen soldier and picked up the gun beside him. She had to shout to make herself heard above the noise.

  ‘I’ll take this side. You take the other,’ she said. ‘We need to hold them off, give the rest of the team a chance to attack from the other side.’

  Attack with what? Pan thought. A knife between five of them? Even Jen couldn’t hope to succeed against those kinds of odds.

  But she couldn’t think of a better idea. It was impossible to retreat to the rocks where Wei-Lin had skirted the enemy. They knew where they were now, and the girls would be cut down before they had run ten metres. The only thing they had going for them was the cover of the helicopter, but even that wasn’t safe. The skids on the chopper meant there was a considerable gap between the fuselage and the ground, and sheltering behind the skids offered only partial protection.

  Pan forced herself to assess their situation. Suppose they managed to kill the remaining enemy. How would they escape? The boats anchored offshore were one option, but she imagined that was where the scientists and the other inhabitants of the village had been evacuated to. Maybe they didn’t have weapons, but it wouldn’t take much effort to move the boats further out to sea if they saw the team swimming to
wards them. That left the two helicopters. The one they were sheltering beneath and the other hovering over the pier. Maybe Sanjit would know how to fly one. Or possibly Nate. Hadn’t he said he was from a military family? Didn’t Professor Goldberg say he’d been a helicopter pilot? They were long odds, but there didn’t seem many alternatives. Perhaps they could capture one of the pilots, force his cooperation.

  A burst of gunfire and the sharp crack of metal broke her concentration and she ducked further down behind the skid. What was that smell? The air was thick and sharp, burning her nose and the back of her throat. Fuel. Pan looked to her left and saw a thin jet of liquid spurting from the side of the helicopter. It pooled on the ground and ran away towards the pier. The fuel tank must have taken a hit. Pan realised how incredibly lucky she and Wei-Lin had been. Had the tank exploded there was no way they could have avoided the blast. One more bullet was all it would take and they would be caught in an inferno. And the one thing she could guarantee was that there would be another bullet.

  They had to get out of there. And quickly.

  ‘Run, Wei-Lin,’ she screamed. ‘This thing is going to blow.’

  Pan saw her own fears reflected in Wei-Lin’s face. They had to abandon their only shelter and take their chances across open ground. Ten metres before they were cut down? More like five. But there was no choice, no choice at all, and Pan started to run towards the rocks. She was aware of Wei-Lin getting to her feet, aiming her gun to the left of where Pan had been lying. Her friend’s face twisted into a snarl as she squeezed the trigger. A brief burst of fire and then Wei-Lin was at her side, the two of them running as fast as they could, expecting at any moment for bullets to tear into their flesh and punch the life out of them, fling their crumpled bodies onto the rocks and dirt.

  The punch came, but it wasn’t from a bullet. One moment Pan was running, the next her body was picked up and she flew on a wave of scalding air. All noise disappeared abruptly and she couldn’t see, had no idea what was happening.

  Is this death? she thought.

  Then the ground appeared and she skidded face-first into the dust and rocks. A pain blossomed on her right cheek. She tried to get to her feet, but there was something wrong with her left leg and it gave way as soon as she put weight on it.

  Just lie down, she said to herself. Lie down and rest. When was the last time you rested?

  Someone grabbed her arm, slung it over a shoulder while a hand circled her waist. She hobbled forward, picked up a little pace. What were they running from? Pan couldn’t remember.

  Wei-Lin let her go when they got to a large boulder on the edge of the quay and Pan sank to the ground. She still had her gun, she realised. It was a miracle she hadn’t dropped it when she fell. Pan peered around the edge of the boulder.

  The helicopter was ablaze. The explosion had rocked it onto its side, so that it lay at a strange angle, one skid raised. Most of the frame was shrouded in thick, cloying smoke. She could see nothing of the soldiers beyond that dense pall.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘Thought it was sensible to light that fuel leaking from the chopper. Figured it would act as a fuse, give us a chance.’

  ‘Why are you apologising?’ asked Pan. ‘You’re sorry for saving our lives?’

  Wei-Lin blushed and lowered her eyes. ‘You might not thank me when you see yourself,’ she said. ‘You’re a mess, Pan. Clothes shredded, covered in blood, most of your hair singed or burned.’

  Pan looked down at her left leg. There was a large gash in her pants and blood seeped through it, creating a steadily growing stain. She tried to flex her knee and it was painful, but she took that as a good sign. Perhaps it was just a flesh wound.

  ‘It’s not as bad as your shoulder,’ Wei-Lin said.

  Pan craned her neck and then thought better of it. It hurt and it would do no good to see.

  I’ve been shot, she thought. How strange is that?

  ‘If you’re enjoying being the bearer of bad news, Wei-Lin,’ she replied, ‘I’d wait until you look into a mirror. Trust me, you’re no oil painting yourself.’ It was true. Her friend’s hair was frizzy from the blast of heat and her face was covered in dirt. At least she didn’t appear to be injured. ‘What now?’ Pan added.

  ‘One of us stays here and holds off those guys,’ said Wei-Lin, ‘while the other gets a gun to the rest of the team. They’re holed up in a building not far from here. If we can do that – and the way is mainly protected by large rocks – then we’ll be the ones attacking them from two fronts. I’d say the odds would swing back in our favour.’

  It was a good plan because it was the only plan. Pan smiled, but even that hurt.

  ‘Then I guess I stay here,’ she said. ‘You know where the team is and I’m not going to be winning any gold medals for sprinting just at the moment.’

  Wei-Lin nodded, reached out and brushed Pan’s cheek with her palm. And then she was gone.

  Pan wiped sweat from her face with a dirty sleeve and poked her head above the boulder. The fire was still blazing and acrid plumes of smoke continued to roll across the landscape. Impossible for her to be seen, but equally impossible to know exactly what the enemy was doing.

  I need to move, she thought. They must have seen the general direction Wei-Lin and I were moving in; better not to be here when that smoke clears.

  She brought herself to a crouch, ignoring the pain in her shoulder which was increasing steadily, and looked to right and left. The large rocks gave decent cover on both sides, but it made sense to go left, towards the pier and the water she had only recently left. They would expect her to rejoin her group. And the helicopter still hovered over the pier and Pan was reluctant to move too far from it.

  As soon as she tried to move, the pain in her leg rose to a frightening intensity. She tried to crawl, but that was worse. Her shoulder and her leg throbbed. In the end, there was nothing for it but to grit her teeth and push through the pain. She hobbled from rock to rock, aware that in the few seconds between them she was totally exposed. But nothing happened. There was no gunfire at all. Was that good or bad? Not enough data, as Sanjit might say.

  Pan was labouring when she finally ducked behind the last boulder, a few metres from the end of the pier. It felt as if her leg and shoulder were on fire. She had difficulty drawing breath and there were dark spots before her eyes.

  If I had time, I’d pass out, she thought. But that’s not an option.

  The smoke was clearing, partly due to the whirring blades of the other helicopter, which churned the smoke and pushed it inland. Pan had a relatively clear view of the entire pier and a number of village buildings beyond that. Of the soldiers there was no sign. Maybe they had circled round the burning chopper, intending to outflank her and Wei-Lin. She hoped so. By the time they got there both girls would have been long gone. At least the team had a weapon, assuming Wei-Lin made it back safely.

  Pan wiped her eyes which stung from the steady trickle of sweat from her forehead. The helicopter was swaying in the air at the far end of the pier. The ropes still dangled, strange black threads snaking out of the craft, drifting over the surface of the sea and ruffling it. They lashed the boards of the pier, then rose a metre or two above as the helicopter made slight adjustments in altitude.

  No time to think. No time to calculate.

  Pan slung the gun over her uninjured shoulder, though even that action caused her to flinch. She stood and almost collapsed as her leg gave way momentarily.

  Put the pain away. It is an enemy and you cannot submit. Like everything else, it can be beaten.

  Pan didn’t quite run. A strange lurching motion was all she was capable of. It took twenty seconds to reach the boardwalk, a distance she would normally cover in less than five. And then there was the pier itself stretching before her. A vast distance, exposed. Pan stumbled along it, her eyes fixed on the ropes trailing on the boards at the far end.

  Time was doing that strange thing again. She hobbled and hobbled, and ignored the pain and
the possibility of death.

  Only the rope mattered.

  Finally she reached it. She stood and tried to understand why she was there, why her heart was threatening to burst from her chest. Climb. That’s why you are here. She didn’t question the statement, but took the rope in her hands and attempted to lift herself from the pier. Immediately, the pain in her shoulder flared and she gasped. Sweat ran into her eyes again and this time she couldn’t use her hands to wipe it away. Climb.

  The gun swayed and bumped against her chest as she climbed. A few centimetres at a time. Her right arm was almost useless; she could use it only to grab hold of the rope. Her left arm had to exert all the energy, lifting herself fractionally, her right leg trapping the rope as she moved up. Stand on the rope, pull up, ignore the pain. Above all, ignore the pain. Jen would do this, she thought. Jen would be swarming up this rope and wouldn’t think twice.

  An age passed. Pan glanced down. The pier swayed beneath her and her eyes had difficulty keeping the view locked. Sweat was streaming down her face. She blinked, and her vision blurred, and her eyes stung. Her arm muscles screamed in pain.

  Keep moving upwards. Keep moving upwards.

  Another age passed. Pan reached up with her left arm again and found something solid. Not the rope, but something else. She hooked her arm over it. Her head was so heavy and she allowed her chin to rest on her chest for a few seconds. There was movement below, dark shapes scurrying, but it was too hard to process. Keep moving upwards. She raised her head and realised she was hanging from the entrance to the helicopter, one arm gripping a metal stanchion inside the fuselage, the rest of her body dangling. Get inside, she thought.

  The final exertion was almost too much. One arm to lift her entire body weight, and not even her strongest arm. Maybe she cried out with the sheer effort, her legs kicking and scissoring to find purchase. Or maybe the noise was all in her head. Her left hand was slick with sweat and she could feel her grip on the stanchion faltering. I am going to fall. And with that thought her mind cleared. I will pull myself inside the helicopter, she said. And as soon as I am inside I will unsling my gun and train it on the pilot. That is the plan. He will take us away from The School because no one wants to die, and I will have the power to decide whether he does or not. All I have to do is get inside.