Pandora Jones: Admission

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘There’s not much to say.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s good to talk even when you haven’t got anything to say. Nate does that, have you noticed? Just talks for the sake of it.’

  Cara shrugged. There was silence for a minute.

  ‘You’re not alone in your pain, Cara,’ said Pan. ‘You must know that.’

  ‘Yes I am,’ said Cara. ‘We are all of us alone in our pain.’

  ‘I thought the food was better at dinner tonight,’ said Pan. She will not respond to anything directly. I need to build this slowly.

  Cara seemed to relax slightly. ‘They have no idea about spices,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing how something basically tasteless can be made better with a sprinkle of pepper and some salt.’

  ‘Keep teaching them,’ said Pan. ‘Please.’

  Cara turned her eyes to the stars. ‘It’s peaceful out here,’ she said. ‘I like this time of night. Just watching the sky, feeling the night air on my skin. It’s calm.’

  ‘Whereas in there it’s anything but calm,’ said Pan. ‘No one can find refuge in sleep; dreams wait for all of us. Nightmares. The monsters from our past.’

  ‘Do you know the worst thing about my nightmares?’ said Cara. ‘It’s not the horrors, the bodies in the streets. They seem . . . distant to me, somehow. What I can’t cope with is the other dreams, the nightmares that make more sense.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Cara got to her feet. ‘I’m going back to bed, now, Pan,’ she said. ‘I know you mean well, but I just need to be alone.’

  ‘I want to be your friend, Cara.’

  The girl smiled then, but it was pale and lifeless. ‘Can you have friendship without trust?’ she said, as if to herself. ‘I don’t even trust my memories, Pan, so I’m not ready to trust people. But I thank you anyway.’

  Pan stayed another hour outside on that rock, watching the night sky. What I can’t cope with is the other dreams, the nightmares that make more sense. I don’t even trust my memories . . .

  The words struck her with the force of truth. What was wrong with her dreams and what did they really signify?

  ~~~

  ‘Right,’ said Gwynne. ‘Get into protective gear, pair up. I’ll go through basic attacking manoeuvres again, how to counter them. Then you practise on each other. Questions?’ He sniffed and wiped at his nose.

  There were none.

  Pan struggled into the bulky clothing and she welcomed some warmth. Nate winked at her as she fastened her helmet.

  ‘What do you say, Pandora?’ he said. ‘Want to partner up with me?’

  Jen stepped in front of him.

  ‘I think that would be unfair, Nate,’ she said. ‘Girl on girl is much better. How about it, Pan? You and me?’

  Pan’s first instinct was to refuse. But she thought that showing weakness towards Jen was not wise. Plus, Gwynne was supervising and no real harm could come to her. Could it?

  ‘Sure,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

  Jen smiled and picked up a staff. Nate leaned close to Pan.

  ‘I’d watch out if I was you. Jen is tough and we both know she’s not the founding member of your fan club. Be careful, okay?’

  Pan nodded. She watched as Jen did warm-up exercises, twirling her staff in complicated geometric patterns. She was strong and light on her feet, and the air sang. Pan picked up a staff. It felt heavy and cumbersome in her hands. Gwynne called the group to order.

  ‘Listen up. Watch carefully. Attacking manoeuvres and how to defend them. We’ll do this very slowly. Jen and partner. Step forward.’

  Pan and Jen stepped into the circle of students. Gwynne sniffed.

  ‘Okay. The basics. Watch as Jen brings the staff over. A roundhouse arc towards the top of the head.’

  Jen took one pace forward and brought the staff in a curve towards Pan’s head, stopping as she reached the highest point of the trajectory. The instructor brought Pan’s hands up so that her staff lay parallel to her shoulders.

  ‘Remember? The barrier protects the head. Even a solid blow shouldn’t get close.’ He nodded to Jen, who brought the staff down quickly. A jolt of pain lanced through Pan’s left hand. She nearly dropped her staff, but held on. Jen’s blow had glanced across her knuckles before meeting the barrier of the wood. She bit hard on her lip and fought back tears. Her hand pulsed with fire.

  ‘Remember I warned about this? Jen’s partner wasn’t listening. Keep your hands fluid. Again.’

  This time, Pan moved her hands and Jen’s thrust hit the centre of her staff with a satisfying clunk.

  ‘Better,’ said Gwynne. ‘Now watch other attacking options and ways to counter them.’

  They went through methods of blocking blows aimed at the sides. Despite the cold air, Pan was sweating freely and the staff shifted in her clammy hands. Finally, they did a couple of multiple manoeuvres – blows aimed at the head followed immediately by attacks to the side. Even though it was all done in slow motion, Pan had to concentrate hard to ensure that Jen’s blows didn’t get through.

  ‘Okay,’ said Gwynne. ‘Pair up, go through those routines. I will be watching. Carefully.’

  ‘What do you say, Pandora?’ said Jen when the other students were lined up and going through the slow-motion roundhouse attack and defence. ‘We’ve done this loads. Think you’re ready for a few multiple blocks?’

  Pan wasn’t ready. She didn’t trust Jen. But she simply nodded and hefted her staff in her hands, flexed her knees and stood, feet slightly apart. She concentrated upon keeping a good balance, both of her body and the heavy staff, which felt like lead.

  The first attack came quickly. Jen went for an overhead blow, but it was a feint. The staff twirled in her hands and as Pan brought her staff up to block, the weapon smacked into the protective padding of her vest. The breath was punched from her lungs.

  ‘You okay?’ said Jen in a tone of voice curiously devoid of care. ‘Should have seen that coming. It’s important to react quickly. In battle, you can’t expect an opponent to follow the rules of a drill. Gwynne taught me that. Go again?’

  She didn’t wait for a reply. This time, she skipped forward, her staff a blur. Pan had no time to react. She half-blocked a thrust to her side, but couldn’t recover before her helmet took a sharp blow just above her right ear. This time she staggered back, her head ringing with pain. I will not fall, she thought. Whatever she dishes out, I will not fall. But she was wrong. The next attack swept her legs from underneath her and she landed on the rocky ground. A jagged stone punched into her right thigh. Pan got to her feet immediately, but her leg felt dead. She could hardly move it and the next attack hit her square on the injury. She gasped with pain.

  ‘Want to stop?’ said Jen. ‘Take a breather?’

  Pan shook her head. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought. Gwynne should see that Jen is trying to hurt me and he should stop it. But the instructor was down the line, helping to correct Sanjit’s grip on the staff. Toughen up. That was the key. Take it, then take some more. Get hard.

  Pan tried to ignore the pain. She crouched and balanced the staff. Watch her eyes, she thought. The eyes are the key. Don’t watch the staff. Empty your mind. Don’t try to anticipate. Concentrate on your breathing. Watch her eyes.

  When the next attack came, Pan allowed her arms to react instinctively. She didn’t take her gaze away from Jen’s eyes, which bored into her own. Pan brought her arms up for the overhead, but then swung the staff down to block a side attack. The thud of wood on wood told her that blow would have hurt. Jen’s eyes widened in surprise, but then narrowed again. Pan shifted her weight slightly, brought her staff round to block another blow and then another. She stepped in, made her own feint and cracked her staff against Jen’s right knee. Jen gasped. Pan took a few paces back. She was dimly aware that the others had stopped their routines and had gathered in a circle again. But she didn’t allow her gaze to shift from her opponent’s.

  Jen’s eyes to
ld Pan that she was hurt. But it was more a blow to her ego than anything physical. Her eyes hardened again and she readjusted her grip on the staff. The next attack would be serious. Just react, she thought. Use your instincts.

  There was something almost beautiful in surrendering herself. She didn’t focus on where her feet were placed or how they moved. She didn’t think about the staff or altering her grip or even where the attack was coming from. She simply allowed her body full control, to react as it saw fit, to move to its own pattern. Pan was conscious of the movement of her hands, the blur as staffs sliced through air, the shifting of her feet, the impact of wood on wood. She danced backwards under the frenzy of the assault. Each block appeared to enrage Jen more. Anger was dangerous. Anger clouded the mind. She let the blows rain in on her, twisting the staff, blocking, skipping on the balls of her feet. When the opening arrived, she was scarcely aware of delivering the blow. Her staff swept under Jen’s guard and she felt the solid and jarring impact. Jen’s feet were swept from beneath her and she hit the ground hard, her head cracking on a rock. Instantly, Pan brought her staff round with devastating force. She saw Jen’s eyes widen as the staff swung towards her head.

  It stopped centimetres from its target.

  There was silence and then Pan dropped her staff and crouched down in front of her opponent.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’

  Jen’s eyes were flooded with pain. And something more. Fear. Pan flinched from the raw emotion.

  ‘Okay, step aside,’ said the instructor. He didn’t seem particularly bothered. He helped Jen to her feet, removed her helmet and looked into her eyes. ‘Mild concussion, maybe,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Careless, Jen. Very careless.’

  ‘A lucky shot,’ replied Jen through gritted teeth.

  Gwynne sniffed and wiped at his nose.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t. Infirmary, Jen. Get yourself checked.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ said Jen.

  ‘Not open for debate,’ replied Gwynne. ‘An order. The rest of you, put away equipment. Lesson’s over for today.’ He looked up and down at Pan, wiped his nose. Then he grunted and turned away to supervise the packing away of equipment.

  ~~~

  ‘What the hell were you doing?’ asked Nate. He walked with Pan as they made their way to their respective personal development sessions.

  ‘Making an enemy even more of an enemy,’ replied Pan.

  ‘Not sure I’d want you as an enemy. Where did you learn to do that? It was . . . like . . . awesome. Ninja Pan.’ He laughed.

  Pan glared at him. ‘I never learned stuff like that. That was the first fight I’ve ever been in. I think.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a gift for it, then. Tough chick, huh?’

  ‘No,’ said Pan. ‘Not tough at all.’

  ‘If you say so.’ He held his hands up in front of his face. ‘Tellya. I’m not arguing with ninja Pan.’

  She stopped and put her hands on her hips.

  ‘This is not funny,’ she said, ‘I’ve hurt someone. I nearly killed her, for God’s sake. I am not proud of that. And I’m not in the mood for stupid jokes. Grow up, Nate.’

  He was silent for a while as they continued walking. Pan wasn’t looking forward to a session with Dr Morgan. After what had just happened, the thought of guessing the colours of cards struck her as monumentally pointless. At least she would be able to ask after Jen when she got there.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about her,’ said Nate. ‘I was watching. I think she would have killed you if she had half a chance. You did what you had to do.’

  ‘I’m not worried about her,’ replied Pan. ‘I’m worried about me and what I might become.’

  Chapter 12

  When Pan returned to the dormitory for free time, she found Jen doing pull-ups from a ceiling beam. She grunted as she brought her chin up to the beam and lowered herself gently before repeating. Pan heard her counting. Forty-four. Forty-five.

  ‘Jen,’ said Pan after a minute. ‘Can I have a word?’

  Jen didn’t reply at first. She made it to fifty pull ups and then dropped lightly to the floor. She started stretching.

  ‘So talk,’ she said without glancing at Pan.

  ‘I want to apologise for what happened this afternoon. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I . . . I don’t really know what happened. But I didn’t mean to cause you pain. It’s important you know that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why didn’t you mean to cause me pain?’

  ‘As if you need to ask. We’re in this together. We’re on the same side. I have no desire to hurt you or anyone else.’

  ‘Then you’re a fool.’ Jen stopped stretching and met Pan’s eyes. ‘We were in battle. I was trying to hurt you. If I’d got through your defences, then it would have been you on the floor, counting stars. I didn’t. You did. End of story.’

  ‘Then you’re not mad at me?’

  ‘Why should I be mad at someone who beat me? I’m mad at myself. It won’t happen again. I promise you that. It won’t happen again.’

  Pan nodded, but she still felt uneasy. There was nothing in Jen’s tone that suggested forgiveness. There was nothing in Jen’s tone. Maybe it was as simple as that. She saw Pan as a test she had failed. No resentment, just a determination to improve, correct a fault Pan had exposed. Nothing personal. But as Pan turned to her own bunk she found it hard to believe it was going to end as simply as that.

  ~~~

  A week passed in a breathless tumble of routine. Running with Miss Kingston, the Professor’s classes, which had moved on to comparative religions. Woodwork and basic metalwork. Pan was looking forward to Sunday, but when it arrived it was as busy as any other day. She took her dirty clothes to the building that served as a laundry and had to queue for nearly two hours before she could dunk her uniform in a large barrel filled with dirty, cold water. She kneaded her clothes as best she could, wrung them out and draped them over a rock to dry. The pale sun didn’t fill her with confidence that they would be dry for a considerable number of hours. Even so, the change of clothing made her feel better, almost fresh, though she knew that in a day or two they would be stiff with sweat and stained with dirt.

  The sessions with Dr Morgan continued, though he gave her little feedback about how she was performing. For the most part, they continued with the card guessing and Dr Morgan relentlessly took down statistics. Occasionally, they would try something else. Once Dr Morgan drew on a piece of paper, put the sheet into an envelope and then asked Pan to recreate what he had drawn. Pan held the envelope and drew a picture of a sea with two boats and a flock of seagulls. The drawing was child-like, the boats simple geometric shapes and the seagulls a series of wavy lines. Morgan looked at her drawing, but his expression didn’t give anything away. Another time, he hid his keys and asked Pan to find them, which she did within two minutes. The sessions were boring, but climbing the steps to the Infirmary wasn’t as onerous as it had been at first. Pan was becoming physically stronger.

  Her nights were still broken by strange, disturbing dreams, and by the cries of others as they went through their own. But time passed.

  At dinner on Monday, Nate leaned and whispered in Pan’s ear. ‘What you doing this evening?’

  Pan almost laughed.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Nate. Let me think. Maybe take in a movie, go to a restaurant, check out a club.’

  He frowned.

  ‘Pity. If you hadn’t been otherwise engaged I was going to ask you out.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, if you change your mind I’ll be outside the dormitory at eleven o’clock. Maybe you’ll give the club a miss and join me.’

  Pan glanced around the table, but no one was paying attention. Even so, she bent and whispered in his ear.

  ‘You’re going over the wall?’

  Nate shrugged again. ‘I seem to remember you asked me to let you know. Hey, are you going to finish that soup?’

&n
bsp; ‘This is soup?’

  ‘Closest description I can make.’

  ‘Yes, I’m finishing it. And, yes, I’ll give the club a miss. You know what nightclubs are like. They get boring after a while.’

  ~~~

  The lights went out at nine o’clock, as always. Pan lay under her scratchy blanket and coiled herself into the smallest shape she could manage. The cold was constant. She’d thought she’d get used to it, but she hadn’t. She tried to conserve her body warmth, use the blanket as a cocoon to keep the night’s chill at bay. Wei-Lin and Sam talked for five minutes before they fell silent. Within minutes Pan could hear faint snuffling and the occasional rustle as someone shifted in sleep. The moans and cries would come later.

  Two hours until she could meet Nate. It had been a hard day and her body was crying out for rest. She felt her eyelids droop towards sleep and forced them open. Finally, she pulled the blanket away from her body. The cold would have to be her sentinel. There was no way anyone could sleep in the freezing night air. She watched the faint luminescence of her watch. Her breath fogged the glass. The minute hand moved unnaturally slowly.

  Finally, at ten-forty-five, she swung her legs out of bed, collected the camouflage jacket from her cupboard and made her way gingerly down the line of bunks. She kept on the tips of her toes past the huddled forms of sleeping bodies. Some of the girls were stirring restlessly and an occasional moan broke the silence. Pan cracked open the door of the dormitory and slipped out into the night.

  There was a thin sliver of moon and a frosting of stars. They made the landscape colder, bathed faintly in silver. Pan shivered and pulled on her jacket. She walked to the path that connected her dormitory to the rest of The School. No sign of Nate. She stamped her feet against the cold and hugged herself.

  ‘You make too much noise.’

  She jumped. Nate seemed to morph out of the rocks, like a shadow magically infused with life. Pan put her hands on her hips.

  ‘Thanks a bunch, Nate,’ she whispered. ‘Trying to give me a heart attack, or what?’

  When he grinned she caught a flash of white. His face was black, only the whites of his eyes visible. She looked him up and down. Even his hands had been daubed with something dark. No wonder he appeared part of the night.