Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘It’s good to see you, Pandora.’ Jen whispered into her ear. ‘How the hell are ya?’ She took a step back, hands on Pan’s shoulders, examining her face. Then she hugged her again. Pan had no breath to protest.

  ‘Hey, Jen.’ The voice was Wei-Lin’s, but Pan couldn’t see her because her face was pressed into Jen’s jacket. ‘Give the girl a break, Jen. And I don’t mean her backbone. You’re crushing her to death. Ease up.’

  ‘Sorry.’ This time Jen let go entirely, but Pan’s relief was temporary. First Wei-Lin and then Karl and Sam hugged her, and even Sanjit patted her shoulder. Eric had sat down again, and Pan noticed him sneaking Jen’s piece of bread into his bowl.

  It was a relief to sit. The applause had stopped and all the students returned to their food, though many still glanced at Pan. It was like she was some kind of hero, returning from a war where she had performed glorious feats. It was certainly a far cry from the way students normally treated her. Wei-Lin seemed to understand this from Pan’s puzzled expression.

  ‘It was the same when Jen rocked up a few days back,’ she said.

  Karl insisted on fetching her food, though Pan wasn’t sure she could eat anything. But he was so pleased to be of service that she couldn’t bring herself to turn him down.

  ‘Everyone wanted to pat Jen on the back,’ Wei-Lin continued. ‘A few of the younger kids actually asked for her autograph. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Pan.

  ‘’Cos they’re morons, Pandora,’ Jen chipped in. ‘We escaped and now they think we’re freakin’ heroes.’ Jen reached for her bread, then realised it wasn’t there. ‘Hey, who took my bread? I had half a slice left. That you, Eric?’

  The red-haired boy grinned, revealing a set of overly white teeth. ‘As if I would steal from you, Jen. We’re a team, hey?’

  ‘Damn right,’ said Jen. ‘I see you take something of mine, I break your arm. Got it?’

  Eric’s smile broadened. ‘Sure.’ He turned to Pan. ‘I’ve gotta theory,’ he said. ‘About your celebrity status. Wanna hear it?’

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ muttered Jen.

  ‘Fifteen minutes of fame,’ said Eric without missing a beat. ‘Reality TV. We need everyday heroes, man, and you’re it. You should hire bodyguards and be shitty at interviews and do lots of drugs. Whaddaya reckon?’

  ‘I reckon you should shut up,’ said Jen, but Eric kept his eyes fixed on Pan, who shrugged and forced another smile. Karl returned with a bowl of bread and something that resembled jam. It was red, anyway, though it had the consistency of blood. Pan spread a tiny amount on the corner of her bread, took a bite and grimaced.

  ‘Want to tell us about your adventures, Pan?’ Eric asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Karl. ‘Blow by blow. Come on.’

  ‘I’m sure Jen has already told you,’ said Pan. She took another bite from her slice of bread. It tasted only marginally better by itself.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eric. ‘But we haven’t heard your side.’

  What Pan really wanted to do was go back to the dormitory, away from everyone, and find space. There was too much emotional and physical clutter here; she was surrounded by people who didn’t, couldn’t understand the world as she knew it. But these were her friends, the only ones who might be able to help if she could figure out a plan. There’s been too much alienation, she thought. I need to establish trust.

  ‘Jen told you about the hang-glider, I guess,’ she offered.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Karl. He burst out laughing. ‘Said you were bricking it on the cliff. Scared of heights. But you did it, and that takes guts.’

  ‘Look,’ said Jen. ‘Maybe Pandora doesn’t wanna talk about it right now. Give her a break, guys.’

  Eric laughed. ‘And Jen told us that the canvas started to unravel.’ He raised a hand and brought it down with a thump on the table. ‘Like, game over, or so you thought . . .’

  ‘Eric!’ said Wei-Lin.

  Pan toyed with her bread, unable to stomach another bite, and let the words wash over her. The clock is ticking, she thought. I have to do something, and soon. What had Professor Goldberg said? Three months and the virus would become activated. How long since she and Jen had been on board the tanker? Seven or eight days, probably. One week down, eleven to go. Less than that, of course. Probably no more than eight weeks to get out into the world, if there was going to be time to avert the disaster.

  Even if she could escape again – and how likely was that, given The School would be keeping an especially close eye on her? – how could she convince the authorities to take her seriously? Even if she could find a way of locating The School and bringing it to the attention of a journalist or someone with the power to act, how long would it take for steps to be taken? Even if people believed her, there wasn’t time. An artificial virus she couldn’t identify. How could anyone find an antidote in that time, even if they had all the information? It was impossible. Tears welled in Pan’s eyes. Impossible, but what option did she have?

  ‘. . . Hey, Pan. How’d you feel when that boat sunk, huh?’ Eric’s words brought her out of her reverie. ‘I mean, you must’ve reckoned you were shark bait . . .’

  ‘Eric,’ said Wei-Lin, ‘you need to shut up now.’

  What other ways are there of escaping? Forget the wall. Over the mountains? That would take weeks. Months. Not that I could survive the mountains. No one could. So what does that leave? The helicopter. Easy, if only I can steal it – and learn how to fly it – in the next week or two . . . Pan choked back a sob.

  Wei-Lin was still talking. ‘She doesn’t want to revisit it, Eric, so stop hammering away.’

  ‘Yeah, have some respect,’ said Sam. ‘They saw the world out there and it was dead. Dead, Eric. Just how insensitive are you? I mean . . .’

  Pan suddenly stood. Her chair fell back and silence descended again. Eyes fixed on her from all over the canteen.

  ‘Shut up,’ she screamed. ‘For Christ’s sake, all of you. Just shut up.’

  And then she was outside, running, the wind on her skin and a light rain dusting her face, spreading and diluting her tears. Pan ran as if all the evil in the world was hard on her heels and reaching with red-stained talons for the nape of her neck. But, no matter how hard she ran, despair was closing, catching with every passing second.

  Chapter 3

  Pan ran with no sense of direction. She ran because she had no option.

  It was only when the landscape changed that she slowed and took her bearings. The forest lay before her; the forest Nate had shown her so long ago. Pan glanced up at the mountainside towering above the canopy. Before it had been coated in snow, but now all she could see was bare rock with the occasional splash of green where a plant struggled to gain a foothold. High above the cloud cover the softening ice caps were feeding the meltwater that ran down the mountain face like tears. Pan saw three, four separate streams winding through gulfs and channels, each producing mini waterfalls at intervals. She knew those streams would merge and rush towards the huge waterfall that even at this distance she could hear – rumbling, like machinery, making the ground she stood on tremble.

  Pan walked into the forest.

  Almost immediately, she experienced the tranquillity she remembered from her first visit. The fitful sunlight filtered through leaves and dappled the earth with pools of light. The grass beneath her feet felt springy and lush. She couldn’t remember how to get to the waterfall. Nate had taken her last time and she hadn’t paid sufficient attention, but she trusted her ears and moved deeper into the forest, following the sound. Within minutes, the thunder of crashing water drowned out everything, but she could still see only the trees, their slender limbs entangled. There was no path, but she pressed on, her instincts drawing her towards the waterfall. Not simply for the peace it offered, the contrast with the bleakness of The School with its dull uniformity of rock and greyness. Something else. Images came to her, images she was reluctant to recall. Nate standing with his back to her, s
urrounded by clouds of mist, rainbows playing over his head. Turning towards her and bending his head to whisper in her ear, his breath a caress on her cheek. Pan shivered. Trust me. Yet, of all the revelations in The School, none was more shattering than his apparent betrayal. Even now, she felt the pain like a physical wound beneath her rib cage. She tried to banish the idea. She had more important things to focus on. But, for all that, the vision of Nate surrounded by patterns of light persisted.

  The waterfall appeared suddenly. One moment she was pushing through the forest, the next the trees fell away and she stood on the edge of a clearing. If anything, it was more magnificent than she remembered. The rush of water was greater and the mist of dispersing vapour lent the scene a magical element. Even at her distance, probably more than fifty metres, she was dusted with fine droplets that felt cool against her skin.

  Pan stood for a few minutes, just watching. Then she moved further into the clearing. If there was any place in The School where she could think, it was here. And she needed to think.

  There was a large rock in the centre of the clearing, partly buried in the ground and dusted with lichen. Pan sat on it and though she felt dampness seep into her clothes immediately, she ignored the discomfort. She put her elbows on her knees and gazed into the mist. Time was suspended.

  When she rejoined the world, time would be at a premium. But for now . . .

  A realisation of danger flashed into her head, but there was no time to react. A hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled off the rock, a knee against the small of her back. For the briefest moment she found a reserve of strength and struggled, but fingers explored the side of her neck, found a spot and pressed. Pan felt a sharp jab of pain, but then the jumble of sky and mist against her eyes gave way to a darkness that admitted no light. And no thoughts.

  Images swam sluggishly, stilled and then surfaced. Slowly, the world came back, though Pan could make little sense of it. There was a roaring in her ears, a sound that blotted everything out. What was it? Pan knew she should know, but she couldn’t focus. There was a pain in her head, and her neck felt as if the muscles had knotted. She opened her eyes, but even that hurt.

  The light was dim, and there was an opaque curtain in front of her. It sparkled, light playing against its surface. She closed her eyes again. Think, Pandora. What happened? You must find control. She had been sitting on a rock in a clearing, the waterfall in front of her. A hand around her mouth. What then?

  Pan opened her eyes again. It was the curtain of the waterfall, but seen from a different perspective. I am behind it, she thought. I am in a cave behind that sheet of cascading water.

  It made her feel better to know she could work out where she was, that her mind was still functioning. But immediately the next thought made her gasp and twist. Who brought me here? Pan turned.

  Nate sat on a rock behind her, his dark mop of hair plastered against his forehead. A smile haunted his face. He spread his hands.

  Pan tried to get to her feet and stumbled. There were cords binding her ankles, and they dug painfully into her flesh. She fell to her knees and felt a flash of pain as a jagged piece of rock bit into her shin. It was all too much. She put her head back and screamed into the darkness of the cave, but the waterfall took the sound and swallowed it. And then Nate’s arms were around her. She struggled against his embrace, but he was too strong. He pulled her to him, and then her strength gave way and she sagged against his shoulder. His mouth pressed close to her ear.

  ‘Pan,’ he whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please calm down.’

  But Pan couldn’t calm down. Everything that had happened to her in the past twenty-four hours threatened to overwhelm her. Professor Goldberg. The Infirmary. The clock ticking, ticking. Her group’s inconsequential chatter. Above all else, the thought of her brother. Watching television, going to school, playing computer games. Was he infected with the virus yet? Perhaps he had picked it up as he went to school on the bus, from one of his friends or the driver, or just someone he passed in the street. And if he hadn’t, then it was only a matter of time. It was spreading as Pan lay there, behind a waterfall in a place that probably wasn’t recorded on any map. Spreading. Maybe her mother would infect her brother. Or vice versa. An exponential growth. Spreading. Each second another step in the process. And she lay in Nate’s arms in the middle of nowhere. Helpless.

  ‘Listen to me, Pan. I mean you no harm, I swear.’ The words came from a distance, a small rain of blows on a mind no longer capable of feeling pain. Pan sagged further and wished for death.

  ‘I know I betrayed you, Pan.’ The voice in her ear was urgent and unforgiving. She knew it wouldn’t stop. ‘I have betrayed myself and I don’t even know why or how. But I need to make amends, Pan. I must make amends.’ A part of Pan’s mind knew that Nate was shouting. The clamour of the waterfall meant normal speech was not an option. She tried to ignore his words.

  ‘Breathe, Pan,’ Nate said. ‘Remember? Breathing is crucial, in running and in life. It’s about control. In and out, regular intakes of oxygen. Work with me on this.’

  The words were familiar enough. She had heard them so many times, not just from Nate, but during her various workouts at The School. There was no pain, no physical suffering, that could not be alleviated by the regulation of breathing. What a sick joke. But, instinctively, she reacted to his words. There was a drumming in her head, but she couldn’t tell if it was the actual waterfall a few metres away or the waterfall of her thoughts. In. Out. She concentrated upon the simple matter of breathing and almost immediately her mind calmed. Think of nothing else. One breath, followed by another. Nothing else matters. The drumming faded, her vision cleared. Nate looked into her eyes.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll be brief. We’re behind the waterfall. I found a pressure point in your neck that caused you to pass out for a few minutes. While you were unconscious I dragged you here. Do you understand? I need to talk to you, Pan, and I couldn’t think of any other way. Are you following me?’

  Pan said nothing. Although her heart still hammered in her chest, she understood one thing. Nate was too strong, her feet were bound, and she had no choice but to listen to what he had to say. He could have killed her in the past. He could kill her now. Panic wouldn’t help. She needed to keep her mind clear. She focussed on her breathing.

  ‘I’ll try to explain,’ said Nate. ‘What I can . . . there’s so much I don’t understand myself. So much that’s . . . clouded . . . in my head.’ He paused. ‘You’re in no danger, believe me. Please show you understand, even if it’s just a nod.’

  Pan blinked. She wasn’t prepared to give him anything.

  Nate rubbed his eyes. ‘You probably think I’m working for The School,’ he continued. ‘And I guess that’s true, Pan. I guess it’s true. But I can’t be sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.’ He looked into her eyes.

  If it was an attempt to convince Pan of his honesty, it failed. But for all that, she could sense something, read something in his hot breath against her cheek. He radiated . . . chaos.

  Nate bent towards her again. ‘I think I’m a victim too, Pan,’ he said.

  Pan closed her eyes. There was much she was prepared to believe, if only because the alternatives were too terrible to bear, but that Nate had suffered like others in The School was unacceptable. She tried to find some reserve of resolve, to let Nate’s words wash over her, to endure this new torment.

  ‘Do you remember when we went over the wall and into the village? That happened, didn’t it?’

  Pan said nothing.

  ‘There are so many images, so many memories in my head, Pan, and I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. But I think I remember this. I fed your misgivings, gave you clues about how there was something wrong. I helped you. Didn’t I?’

  Silence. Pan allowed it to stretch. Endure. She concentrated on the fierce drumming of the waterfall. Endure.

  ‘And I showed you another way into the village, throug
h the sluice gate, so you and Jen could sneak into the village, sniff out whatever you could. Is that the behaviour of an enemy, Pan? Talk to me.’ His lips brushed Pan’s ear and a cold shiver ran up her spine.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. Why should you believe me? In The School, on the island, on the tanker – I betrayed your trust. But they mess with our heads, Pandora. They put things in there that never happened, make us do things we don’t want to do, so that now I can’t even be sure if I was ever on that island or on that tanker – I can’t even be sure of who I am or where I came from. They made me into this, Pan. I’m a victim too.’ He pulled away and put his head into his hands, rubbed furiously at the bridge of his nose. Then his face was close to hers again. ‘Even now they’re in there,’ he said. ‘They’ve implanted something in my skull. It records everything I do, transmits every word I say. That’s why I brought you here, behind the waterfall, so the sound will drown out what I say.’

  More silence.

  ‘I think I left you a note once. Trust me. I meant it. I meant it. Please, Pan. Look at me.’

  And she did. Pan opened her eyes and leaned back. Nate’s face was softly lit by diffused light. Subtle shadows played across his features as the waterfall reflected and fractured the daylight. His head was slightly to one side and he bit at his lower lip, his brown eyes boring into hers.

  Pan put her full weight behind the slap.

  Nate’s head snapped to the side, but there was no sound. Pan’s hand tingled with the impact and she knew the blow must have caused him pain. What she wasn’t prepared for was the pain she felt, not in her hand, but with her whole body, and her instantaneous wish was that she could take back the slap.

  When Nate faced her again, he displayed no reaction other than a hint of moisture in his eyes. He leaned in close, his cheek almost touching hers.

  ‘There’s only one thing in the world I am sure about, Pan,’ he said. ‘And that’s you.’ He moved back.