Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  There was a cough behind her. Immediately her heart leaped into her throat and she spun around, stumbling, almost falling.

  He was short, Asian, with greying hair and dressed in an immaculately tailored suit. There was something absurd about that suit, on a beach in the middle of nowhere, but Pan was too preoccupied with the rising panic in her chest to give it much thought. The School. They have found us.

  But then the man smiled and bowed. When he spoke, it was with a faultless British accent. ‘I am so sorry to have alarmed you. Forgive me. I mean you no harm.’ He smiled and bowed again, but Pan didn’t believe mere words. She looked from side to side, thought about running, but realised she wouldn’t make it five metres. ‘I am Dr Wei, Wei-Lin’s father, and you are Pandora Jones.’

  It took another minute before Pan’s heart stopped racing and she managed to get her breathing under control.

  ‘I want to thank you, Pandora Jones, for bringing my daughter back to me. She is . . . much changed. This is a debt I can never repay.’

  Still Pan said nothing.

  ‘You are weak,’ the man continued. ‘Allow me to help you back to the house. You need to rest.’

  ‘I’ve been resting.’ The words were out before Pan realised. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

  ‘Close to sixty hours.’

  Pan tried to work it out, but the figures refused to make sense. ‘Two and a half days? That’s impossible.’

  ‘You slept for a full day before I arrived. After that, I gave you a little something to help you rest.’ He smiled. ‘For many years I was a medical practitioner. I still am, at heart. Your body needed to recuperate, Pandora.’

  ‘There’s no time.’ That dizziness washed over her again. ‘You don’t understand. There’s no time to sleep.’

  ‘I understand.’ The man took one pace backwards as if to prove he was no threat. ‘My daughter told me everything.’ He held up his hands. ‘It’s an extraordinary tale. And had anyone but my daughter told me, I would have struggled to believe it. But Wei-Lin tells the truth. She always has. Even so . . .’

  He put his hands behind his back and looked out over the ocean. ‘Even so,’ he continued, ‘I’m a man of science and I must have proof.’

  ‘Sanjit . . .’

  ‘I know. I’ve seen the files and although they’re outside my area of expertise, I knew enough to be alarmed. I sent the files to colleagues, and asked for their help as a matter of urgency. I received a reply only hours ago, a reply that confirmed my daughter’s story. I believe you, Pandora Jones. There are many of us who believe you.’

  Over the man’s shoulder, Pan could see a slight figure running towards them through the sand. Wei-Lin, her black hair streaming behind her. Further back was another figure. Jen. Dr Wei glanced over his shoulder and continued.

  ‘My understanding, based on the files, is that the virus is easy to detect in the human system if you know what you’re looking for. It embeds itself into the lining of the lungs. My colleagues conducted tests and . . .’ He shrugged. ‘They found it. In themselves and members of their families.’ Dr Wei smoothed his hair down. ‘As you can imagine, Pandora, that provides a powerful incentive to act. The thing that is working against us, unfortunately, is time.’

  Pan didn’t have a chance to reply, because Wei-Lin burst past her father and threw herself into Pan’s arms. Pan almost buckled under the force. A few seconds later, Jen joined her. She stood a few steps behind Wei-Lin’s father, a smile on her face. A large bandage ran across her forehead and completely enclosed her ear.

  ‘I was worried sick, Pan,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘We went to check on you in your room and you were gone.’

  ‘I needed air,’ said Pan. ‘And I needed to be alone. I’m sorry, Wei-Lin.’

  ‘Jen leaves you for an hour and you choose that time to disappear.’ Wei-Lin stepped back, though she still kept her hands on Pan’s arms. ‘She watched over you, you know. All through the night. Both nights. Changed your dressings. Only left once to get something to eat, comes back and . . .’

  ‘Calm down, Wei-Lin,’ said Jen. ‘You’ll give her the wrong impression. Told you before, Pandora. You’re not my type. I just didn’t have anything better to do.’

  Pan’s knees buckled and Wei-Lin moved forward to stop her falling. Jen instantly stepped up and helped support her.

  ‘I guess I’m not as strong as I thought,’ Pan muttered.

  The girls put Pan’s arms over their shoulders and helped her back towards the house. It was a laborious journey. Even with help, Pan had to stop on a number of occasions until the aching in her legs subsided. Her breathlessness had returned as well, though she managed to hold a halting conversation as they moved.

  ‘How is your sister, Wei-Lin?’

  ‘Alive. Jiao is alive.’ The joy was evident in her voice.

  ‘Is she here?’

  Wei-Lin’s father interrupted.

  ‘I received the call from my daughter and I came here by myself.’ There was a short pause. ‘Wei-Lin’s mother and sister are away from home at present. In America, receiving treatment. Experimental, but the early signs are encouraging. I made the decision not to tell them, not until I saw the proof, with my own eyes, that Wei-Lin was alive. I wanted to spare them any further emotional burden. It is a phone call that Wei-Lin will make herself.’

  Pan took a few more steps and stopped.

  ‘You mentioned time, Doctor,’ Pan said. ‘And how it’s against us. How much have we got?’

  ‘Difficult to be exact.’ His voice drifted over her shoulder. ‘We’ll know more soon. But maybe a month. The files contain the entire process of therapy required to ensure the virus doesn’t spread within the body – the same process, I imagine, you were subjected to at the place you call The School.’ He sighed. ‘I’m told it’s both relatively straightforward and brilliant, cutting-edge science. The cure targets the virus and a single gene within it – the gene responsible for activation. The on-switch, if you like. The problem is with logistics. Even if we get this information out quickly – and we’re working hard on that, trust me – then there is the troublesome matter of time and technical expertise.’

  ‘What would the treatment look like?’ asked Pan.

  The doctor sighed.

  ‘Beautifully straightforward. The cure can be incorporated into a genetically modified adenovirus that the patient inhales. Think of an asthma inhaler. It helps, of course, that the virus is limited to the lungs, which means that one inhaler per person should be sufficient. Two to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Then the world needs to start producing them,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘It doesn’t have a choice.’

  ‘The world always has a choice,’ her father pointed out, ‘and there are huge challenges involved with the manufacture and distribution of the treatment. We need to set up labs across the world, employ the best scientists and pour huge amounts of money into producing billions of inhalers. Then there’s getting them to the population.’ He rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘It’s a logistical nightmare. What I suspect will happen is that the authorities will do all they can to suppress this news. Think of the panic. Think of what desperate and dying people might do if they believe there is a pandemic – and a treatment that’s being withheld. It will create its own death toll.’

  Jen turned and spat onto the sand.

  ‘Same old shit,’ she said. ‘It’s kinda ironic. This is one of the reasons The School gave for why the human race should check out. You can’t tell me we’ve gone through all of this just so The School’s big plan works out anyway.’

  They had reached the grounds of the house and Pan edged her way onto the lawns. She was desperate to sit down before she fell down.

  ‘Disaster is inevitable, whatever happens,’ said the doctor. ‘There will be millions upon millions – possibly billions – who will die. Third world countries. The poor. There simply won’t be the time, the will or the resources to treat them.’ He shook his head sadly.

  �
�So what are you saying, exactly, Doc?’ asked Jen. ‘Keep it under wraps? Look after ourselves and our families and stuff everyone else? Because that doesn’t work for me.’

  Pan finally made it inside the house. Wei-Lin and Jen helped her into a soft chair just inside the wide French doors. She wanted to close her eyes, but this was too important. Jen was right. Had they gone through all this for nothing? If they had, then she wanted to die with the rest of them. She leaned back into the plush leather cushions and tried to focus.

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ said Wei-Lin’s father. ‘Everyone deserves to know. I can’t get past that moral imperative. There is time to treat many, many people. And maybe, if the authorities understand that, then the inevitable riots can be kept to a minimum. Possibly people will behave responsibly if they see that effort is being made.’ He sat down in a chair himself and wiped sweat from his forehead. ‘I think we have to trust the human race. And hope.’

  There was silence while his words were absorbed. Pan summoned up her energy to speak.

  ‘I can get into people’s minds, Doctor. Let them see what is there. All I need is to make contact with as many important people as possible.’

  ‘Pan.’

  She turned her head, though it was painful. Sanjit and Sam and Karl came through the door from the interior of the house. All were smiling and each came up and hugged her. Sam gave her a peck on the cheek. Your daughter, thought Pan. If nothing else, your daughter is safe.

  ‘Sanjit has something to say,’ Sam said.

  Sanjit looked tired and drawn, on the point of exhaustion. He sat on the couch and rubbed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. ‘We were listening outside the door.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said in a voice devoid of sorrow. ‘I’m glad Dr Wei believes the world has a right to know, because that is out of his hands now.’ He turned to Pan. ‘You said you can make contact with people, Pan. Persuade them if you let them see what’s in your head. I know that. I’ve experienced it. But there was an easier way. A quicker way.’

  Pan held up her hands and spread them.

  ‘The internet,’ said Sanjit.

  Karl jumped in. ‘You wouldn’t believe the hacking this guy can do. It’s . . . it’s . . . amazing. There’s nowhere he can’t get into. I’ve watched him for close to forty hours. He didn’t sleep, never took his eyes from the screen. Unbelievable.’

  ‘It’s what I do,’ said Sanjit. ‘Before the virus . . . before I was abducted, it was what got me into trouble.’

  Pan had a flashback to the counselling session with Dr Macredie after they’d returned from the island. The group sitting around a table and Sanjit blaming himself for Nate’s supposed death. What had he said? Misfortune follows me. I bring trouble on everyone around me.

  ‘I’d hacked into the Pentagon. Among other places.’ He shrugged again. ‘I just wanted to know if I could. I didn’t want to do any harm. It was just . . . anyway, they were onto me. I followed their investigations – hacked into them, as a matter of fact – and I knew it was only a matter of time before there was a knock on the door. It was kind of funny. I thought the virus had saved me. Now I guess I’ll still have to face the music.’

  ‘Yeah, great, Sanjit,’ said Jen. ‘Bigger issues here now. You were saying about the internet?’

  Sanjit shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I hacked into all the obvious places first. The World Health Organization.’ He paused. ‘Then specialist organisations. Do you know how many virology departments and associations there are in the world? Anyway, then came key government agencies. I made sure the contents of the files we downloaded – the cure – are now on every database of all the world’s leading scientists, public health experts and chief medical officers.’ He stopped. ‘Sorry. I exaggerate. Many leading scientists and experts. Enough, I hope.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Karl, ‘he also . . .’

  ‘Karl, shut up,’ said Sam. ‘Let Sanjit tell it.’

  ‘But the biggest challenge is getting the word out. Dissemination of information. So I moved on to social media.’

  ‘Facebook. Twitter . . .’ said Karl.

  ‘Shut up!’ said Sam.

  ‘I’ve spread the story of the virus as far as I could in the time I’ve had. I figured if it was out there, then nothing could stop it spreading.’ He smiled. ‘Like a virus.’ ‘But will people believe it?’ said Sam. ‘What’s to stop it just seeming like another conspiracy theory?’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Sanjit. ‘People will want proof. So I thought about The School itself, the place and the students we left behind.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I logged onto TOR, contacted some . . . like-minded friends on networks most people don’t know exist.’

  ‘The Darknet,’ said Karl.

  Sanjit twisted his mouth. ‘You’ve played too many video games, Karl,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I calculated the rough area where The School is located. I know the exact GPS location of Wei-Lin’s house and I know how long we travelled on the helicopter and the approximate direction. My . . . friends will find it. Within a day, I suspect. And then everything’ll hit the fan. The students, the staff and the stories they’ll tell. And once one School is found, the others will follow. It’ll provide the proof people need to believe – and act.’ Sanjit smiled again.

  ‘But,’ said Pan, ‘that doesn’t help with the logistics of manufacture and distribution that Dr Wei mentioned.’

  ‘Anything is possible if the incentive is big enough,’ said Sanjit. ‘If there was an asteroid heading towards us, all the world leaders would apply themselves to finding a solution to the problem. So too with this.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘You’ve watched too many movies,’ said Jen finally.

  ‘I’ve done everything I can,’ said Sanjit. ‘I just hope it’s enough.’

  ‘We’ve all done everything we can. And now hope is all we have left,’ said Pan. ‘Unless there’s anything else you can tell us, Sanjit?’

  ‘I only talk when I have something to say. And I’m done.’

  Pandora Jones closed her eyes. What did her instincts tell her? Images swam before her in the dark. People dying, but also people living. The world going on, battered and bruised, towards a future she couldn’t see. I never could see the future, she reminded herself. And maybe that’s just as well. Maybe it would be too much for me to bear. For now, she’d have to settle for a hunch. And she had a hunch the world would come through this, though the price would be enormous.

  ‘Hey, Pan.’

  Pan opened her eyes as Wei-Lin walked towards her, hands behind her back. ‘Apart from Dad, none of our families or friends have been contacted. We decided it wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Pan.

  ‘Because you deserve to be the first.’ Wei-Lin brought one hand out from behind her back and offered a phone.

  ‘Ring home, Pandora Jones,’ she said. ‘And talk to your mother.’

  Acknowledgements

  A trilogy is a long journey and although many of the steps are taken alone, I could not have made it without help and support along the way.

  My wife, Nita, is always my first reader and she suggested ideas and provided insights into how the world of The School might operate. Just as importantly, she gave me the time, space and encouragement to push on when it would have been easier to give up. As always, I am immensely grateful for her constructive criticism. My daughter, Lauren Moss, also read the manuscripts and her enthusiasm for Pandora Jones kept me going through some hard times. My son, Brendan Moss, was equally enthusiastic. It is almost impossible to overstate the importance of family support and I had it in spades.

  My good friend and great writer, Scot Gardner, put me right on a number of things, especially in regard to hang gliding and the physics of thermals. Dedicating this final book to him is, I hope, some small acknowledgment of his contribution.

  My editor, Jodie Webster, brought her customary professionalism and keen ey
e to a quarter of a million words. She enjoys cutting, does Jodie, and my writing is much better for it.

  Associate Professor Phillip Giffard of the Menzies School of Health Research in Darwin, kindly responded to my pleas for specialist help regarding viruses and how they operate. He patiently chipped away at my ignorance and provided many fascinating articles about cutting-edge research in virology. Phil also read sections of the manuscript and suggested improvements. I am hugely indebted to Phil for helping me sound like I know what I am talking about with regard to viruses. As always, any errors or misinformation within this book are entirely my responsibility.

  Finally, a huge thank you to my students at Casuarina Senior School in Darwin for following Pandora’s journey. In particular, thanks to Jacob Hazeldine who created the fabulous book trailers for the series.

  About the Author

  Barry Jonsberg’s young adult novels, The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull and It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! were shortlisted for the CBCA Book of the Year, Older Readers, awards. It’s Not All About YOU, Calma! also won the Adelaide Festival Award for Children’s Literature, Dreamrider was shortlisted in the NSW Premier’s Awards for the Ethel Turner Prize and Cassie (Girlfriend Fiction) was shortlisted for the Children’s Peace Literature Award. Being Here won the 2011 QLD Premier’s Young Adult Book Award and was shortlisted for the 2012 Prime Minister’s Award. My Life as an Alphabet won the 2013 Gold Inky, the 2013 Children’s Peace Literature Award, Older Readers, the 2014 Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards, the 2014 Territory Read, Children’s Literature/YA Fiction Award, and was shortlisted for the CBCA Book of the Year, Younger Readers and the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards/Children’s Fiction.

  Barry lives in Darwin with his wife, children and two dogs. His books have been published in the USA, the UK, France, Poland, Germany, Hungary, Brazil, Turkey, China and Korea.