Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  The first thing she was aware of was the cold, hard floor beneath her back. Her muscles ached as if she had been in the same position for far too long. Pan tried to sit up, and immediately the pain in her head took her breath away and she slumped back.

  ‘Take it easy, Pandora.’ Jen placed one hand on Pan’s forehead. ‘You’re okay. Don’t rush.’

  Pan wanted to open her eyes, but she was scared what damage the light might do, so she kept them closed. She tried her voice, though she wasn’t confident any part of her body was under control.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You passed out, girlfriend. We did the best we could, found something to act as a pillow, but you’ve been out of it for a while now. How ya feelin’?’

  ‘Like something chewed up and spat out.’ Pan opened her eyes this time and was relieved the pain didn’t increase. The room was dark and through a window to her right, she saw night had fallen. Her skull was still splitting, but the memory of what she had experienced was strong. She concentrated on her breathing and the pain eased slightly. ‘Did it work?’

  Jen crouched down in front of her. She was smiling.

  ‘It was . . . amazing, Pandora. Like nothing I’ve ever known. Seeing what happened to me through your eyes was weird as hell. Hey, I’m a strange-looking chick, aren’t I? I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, you see yourself in the mirror, but that’s reversed, right, so you’re not seeing yourself as others do. I’m so . . . lumpy . . .’

  ‘Jen.’ Pan struggled to her feet and found the nearest chair. She felt better being upright and she wiped her hair back from her forehead. Her face felt clammy and there was an unpleasant taste at the back of her throat. ‘Do we have a team?’

  Jen sat in the chair beside her.

  ‘Yes. I think so.’

  ‘How did they react?’

  Jen sighed. ‘Sanjit didn’t say a word. That kid doesn’t react much to anything, mind you. It was like he already knew. But the others . . . well, it was kinda dramatic, Pandora.’

  Pan said nothing. Jen would take her own time and, anyway, she didn’t have the energy to push her.

  ‘Sam freaked out. I mean, really freaked out. Sobbing. Hysterical, in fact. Hey, she said she picked up she’s pregnant. Is that right?’

  Pan nodded.

  ‘Wow,’ Jen continued. ‘That’s . . . interesting. Anyway, Karl was comforting her, but you could tell he was freaking out as well. They were angry, Pandora. I’ve never seen them so angry.’

  They thought their families, friends, all their loved ones were dead, Pan thought. They hadn’t come to terms with it. Who could, really? But they’d reached a point of numbness. Now everything had changed. Of course they were angry. The real question was, where was that anger directed and what were they prepared to do about it?

  ‘What about Wei-Lin?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah.’ Jen shifted her feet against the floor. ‘She left, Pandora. Soon as we all came out of that . . . whatever that place was. She took off. Her face was pale and she looked like shit. Like someone whose world’s just fallen apart. I don’t know. The others stayed and helped me get you comfortable. Then they left as well. But not before I told them about meeting Nate behind the waterfall.’ She laughed. ‘I kinda figured that would be the icing on the cake. You know, any lingering doubts we were all in a massive fantasy world. They saw Nate die. So I told ’em I’d seen him with my own two eyes. And I told ’em they could meet him, just in case they thought I was a lying bitch. No one said much, but, yeah. I think we’ve got us a team.’

  ‘Apart from Wei-Lin.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jen conceded. ‘We need to talk to her, but I reckon she needs time alone first. They all need time alone.’

  ‘And what about you, Jen? Any lingering doubts?’

  Jen smiled. ‘Nah. That show you put on . . . That was different from my dream. That was real. I felt it. We all felt it.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Pan sighed. ‘Yes, they need time to come to terms with all this, but time is in short supply.’ She got to her feet. ‘But you’re right. They have to think. And I need to sleep.’

  Pan walked to the door and opened it. Jen joined her in the doorway. The School spread across their line of sight, shadows mostly, but punctuated by occasional pinpricks of light from flame torches. The Infirmary loomed above, a soft glow spilling from the French doors. The wall stretched, as it always had, dark and ominous, the watchtowers with their frail sparks of flame just visible against the backdrop of a smattering of stars.

  How do they see this place now? thought Pan. Wei-Lin, Sam, Karl and Sanjit. It had never been a welcoming place, but it had, in a peculiar way, been home, because there had been no alternative. Did they look on it now, as she did, and feel sickened, betrayed and angry?

  If so, was their anger sufficient to bring it all tumbling down?

  Chapter 10

  Two flame torches had been set up a few hundred metres from the dormitory, jammed between rocks so they were more or less upright. They didn’t shed much light, but there was a large object between them. Pan and Jen were drawn towards the scene.

  They got within twenty metres before the first arrow struck. It was a blur, flashing out of the darkness and thudding into a crude target that lay between the two torches. Another followed almost immediately. The girls stopped.

  ‘I’ll talk to her,’ said Pan.

  ‘You sure?’ said Jen.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Pan. She sighed and rubbed at her eyes. Her headache was subsiding, though she still felt fragile; she knew this was something better done sooner rather than later. ‘Go talk to Sam, find out what she and Karl are thinking.’ She smiled. ‘I reckon Sam can talk for the both of them. The three of them now.’

  A third and then a fourth arrow thudded into the target.

  ‘This one’s mine. I think she deserves that, at least.’

  Jen nodded and walked towards the dormitory. Pan watched for a while longer. Wei-Lin, her bow dangling from one hand, walked into the pool of light, retrieved her arrows and then marched back into the night. Within fifteen seconds another arrow hit home. Pan walked towards the origin.

  Wei-Lin finished her next set of six as Pan arrived. She immediately strode off towards the target, retrieved the arrows and marched back. She stood close to Pan, but didn’t look at her. She reached over her left shoulder, plucked an arrow from the quiver and nocked it in one fluid movement. Wei-Lin brought the bow up and drew the string, her right hand brushing her right cheek. There was no hesitation. The arrow was released and another drawn before the first had even hit the target. Pan moved behind to watch. Six arrows, six strikes in the crude yellow circle drawn in the centre of the homemade target. Wei-Lin let the bow dangle from her left hand and walked forward again. Pan waited.

  ‘You’re good,’ she said as Wei-Lin took up her stance again. Wei-Lin didn’t reply, just loosed another set of six, walked after them, plucked them from the target.

  ‘We need to talk,’ said Pan as Wei-Lin returned to her position.

  ‘I need to practise,’ said Wei-Lin. Her tone was cool. Composed.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was no emotion in that voice, Pan thought. But she knew the composure was as thin and tight as the string on Wei-Lin’s bow. Six more arrows. Six bullseyes.

  This time Pan walked with her to retrieve them.

  ‘You’re angry,’ she said as they both entered the pool of flickering light around the target.

  Wei-Lin plucked the arrows out, returned them to her quiver. ‘More mind-reading, Pan?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t need to be a mind-reader, Wei-Lin.’

  ‘I guess not,’ she replied. ‘Yes. I’m angry. Very angry. And this is how I deal with it. Arrows in the heart of a target. You should try it. It’s relaxing.’

  ‘Angry with me?’

  Wei-Lin turned to face Pan.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I’m so furious I can’t even begin to express it. You know, it’s a funny thing, Pandor
a Jones. Right at this moment, I have two strong urges and I don’t know which one to indulge.’

  Pan said nothing.

  Wei-Lin walked back to her mark and Pan followed. ‘I want to hug you and I want to put this next arrow straight through your heart.’

  ‘I’ll take the hug,’ said Pan.

  Wei-Lin plucked an arrow from her quiver. ‘My mother and father are alive, my sister is alive,’ she said. The bowstring was drawn, an arrow loosed, another arrow nocked. ‘Everyone I knew, my friends, my neighbours, teachers, all those people just walking through the streets of Hong Kong – they’re all alive. You’ve convinced me of that, Pan. And now I feel dead.’ She laughed. ‘How’s that for irony? I thought it was the other way round.’

  Pan watched as the last arrow sped towards its target. Another six in the inner circle.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Pan asked.

  ‘I’m going to practise.’

  ‘For what?’

  Wei-Lin walked towards the target yet again. ‘For when this skill is needed. For when I get out of this place and make those responsible pay. Is that happening soon?’ She looked Pan straight in the eyes. ‘Tell me it’s happening soon.’

  ‘Very soon,’ said Pan.

  Eric was more obnoxious than usual at breakfast, which was doubly annoying since it was obvious that few of the team had got much sleep.

  ‘That Kingston is a piece of work,’ said Eric. He knocked a chunk of bread against the table. It made a hollow sound and he peered at the table’s surface as if checking for damage. ‘She wants me to run. I told her I don’t do running, unless it’s from the cops. Even then I prefer not to. She tells me I have to, I tell her I don’t have to do anything I don’t want. She gives me the whole “this is Armageddon” speech and I tell her to screw herself. So she . . .’

  ‘Eric,’ said Jen. ‘Shut the hell up or, so help me God, I’m going to break your arms. Then your legs. Before I make a start on the rest of your bones.’

  Eric laughed.

  ‘She’s not joking,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘Jen never jokes, Eric. If I were you, I’d take your bread and go for a stroll.’

  ‘Where?’ said Eric.

  ‘Anyplace I’m not,’ growled Jen.

  ‘Yeah, but . . .’

  Jen stood. Eric picked up his bread and scuttled towards the door. As he left, he gave Jen the finger, but she was already pulling apart her own bread roll and didn’t notice. ‘He’s one annoying turd,’ she muttered.

  ‘True,’ said Pan. ‘But he has skills we might need. I’ve been thinking.’ She glanced around the table. Sanjit was, as always, difficult to read. Sam had puffy eyes and she bit her lower lip constantly. Karl held her hand. He kept glancing at Sam and the worry on his face was obvious. Wei-Lin was wholly composed. She has a purpose now, thought Pan. There was something deadly in the girl’s calm as she ate her bread. A shudder ran involuntarily up Pan’s spine.

  ‘Yeah?’ said Jen.

  ‘What?’ Pan had lost her train of thought. ‘Oh, yes. Thinking. We need to get together again quickly. There’s a lot to discuss. But we also need to keep things as normal as possible, maintain the routine of The School. So I suggest we attend classes during the day and meet up at the cairn tonight during free time. If we are a team, then we must get down to planning as soon as possible. That’s the meeting tonight. A full discussion. And then a plan.’

  ‘You want me to go to classes?’ said Sam. Her eyes swam with tears and her fingers were clenched so tightly they’d turned white.

  ‘Pan’s right,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘Control yourself, Sam. People might be watching. It’s just an ordinary day at The School, guys. Act like it.’ She took another bite of her bread.

  Jen glanced over at Pan and raised her eyebrows.

  I know, thought Pan. Wei-Lin was turning into a different girl and it was . . . frightening.

  ‘I promise, Sam,’ said Pan, ‘that we won’t be doing nothing. But we can’t go at this without a plan. Trust me, I’m acutely aware that time is against us. Patience, okay? Tonight we talk. Tonight we plan.’

  Sam just nodded, though the action caused a tear to escape and roll down her cheek. She raised her bread to her mouth and then threw it onto the table, got to her feet and left the canteen. Karl scrambled after her. Wei-Lin picked up the bread and started to eat it. After a minute’s silence she glanced up at the two girls.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Pan. She turned to Jen. ‘What are the classes today? I’ve kinda lost track.’

  ‘Practical, thank God. Gwynne’s got a session on hand-to-hand combat. This afternoon Kingston’s doing weight-training. Apparently the blacksmith classes have made some equipment for her. Why? I thought you were done with school.’

  ‘I was. I am,’ said Pan. ‘But a little physical activity won’t hurt. And maybe I need to give the impression I’ve come out of my sulk, that I’m ready to play a full and dynamic part in school life.’

  ‘Keep ’em guessing, huh?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Pan.

  She skipped the two-hour physical activity session straight after breakfast, however. Some classes were skill-based and useful, but clearing rocks was spectacularly pointless. Instead, she walked to the cairn, sat at its base, her back against the rough stone, and watched others clearing the running track. Progress had been made, she had to admit. In a few weeks there would be a proper track, a clearly delineated circular route, free of debris and broad enough to accommodate several runners, so they wouldn’t have to run in single file. Enjoy it, she said to herself. Because I won’t be here. One way or another, I won’t be here.

  Pan closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. It had been a long and restless night and she’d had little sleep. Everything had churned in her head – she imagined the others had experienced something similar – and the churning itself had prevented any chance of clear thinking, of finding solutions or even reflecting properly on all that had happened. Now, poised on that tipping point between sleep and consciousness, she finally relaxed.

  And her thoughts settled on Nate.

  He’d let her in so easily. That, in itself, was surprising. She’d felt only the vaguest sense of resistance and then his thoughts, his memories, his whole history were laid out before her. So much to explore. Pan remembered how she had been embarrassed, that first day at The School, when Wei-Lin found her in the shower naked. At the time, she’d thought this was the ultimate vulnerability. But that was nothing to having your mind wide open, all your deepest secrets exposed. He had done that with virtually no hesitation. Not even an instinctive shutting-out, like Jen had done. Why? Why had Nate opened the door for her? He trusted her to do no harm, that was clear. But it didn’t explain everything. It was a mystery, and the answer could only be found in that jumbled, fractured terrain of his mind. His memories, his feelings. The truth. And the lies. At the time, Pan had explored only the most basic elements – the maze of memories was too scrambled for her to home in on details.

  His feelings for her – which could be trusted. What happened on the island – he had the full story. Or had he? She was able to glean the essentials of The School’s plan. A small village on an isolated island. The bodies were people who had already been exposed to the virus and left to die. The soldiers were soldiers-for-hire who had been ordered to kill anyone who came to the island. Except Nate. He was their commander. And then, when it was all over, the soldiers were left there, the boat to pick them up as promised never arriving. One by one they started to cough . . . When the whole world was expendable, what did a few more matter? Nate watched them die. And then signalled for The School to rescue him.

  Other memories cycled on repeat. Memories overlaid on other memories. There was a whole segment of the virus-infected world, people dying in the streets. Nate running in snow, the sky above crisp and clear. Talking to Professor Goldberg at the edge of a lake, the man ruffling his hair and smiling affectionately. His grandfather. Professo
r Goldberg was definitely Nate’s grandfather, but Pan couldn’t be certain that Nate understood the nature of their relationship. Nothing was clear. And there, on that tipping point between sleep and wake, Pan felt sadness as she remembered the mess of his mind, a composite of fiction and fact, of real memories and those that had been implanted. She saw him in a cabin, looking out through curtained windows at the sheer side of a mountain. The door was locked. The staff quarters by the side of the river. That’s where he had been sequestered. He believed it was his home.

  Other images came to Pan, not from Nate’s head this time, but from her own memory of the world as it had been. Tabloid pictures of celebrities, their faces twisted to such an extent they resembled gargoyles. Plastic surgery piled on plastic surgery until the effect was monstrous – a distortion, a horror that could not be remedied. That was Nate’s mind. He had been given so many memories that all that remained was a fractured mess. He didn’t know who he was and he couldn’t trust what was real.

  Something else. His certainty that there was a receiver in his head, which was why he couldn’t talk to Pan without the cover of the thunderous waterfall. The implant operation was clearly in Nate’s memories. But it was wrong. Pan knew it was wrong. Another fiction. To silence him. To intensify his paranoia. To further destabilise his mind. When the whole world is expendable, Pan reminded herself, what does one boy matter? But why would Professor Goldberg allow such a thing to be done to his own grandson?

  It was so easy to get into his mind, Pan thought. There was no resistance – and no corresponding price to pay in pain.

  Nate’s head was like a canvas waiting for more brushstrokes. The School had turned him into a clean slate where what was written could be erased and new information embedded. Pan choked back a sob. She would not let emotions get in the way. Not yet. There was a job to do and Nate would be a part of it. Because despite the train wreck of his mind, his feelings for her were genuine.

  Pan stood and blinked into the light. Then she moved towards Gwynne’s training ground. She was in the mood for fighting. She needed to be around pain – either inflicting it or being on the receiving end. Overhead, a lone falcon cried and circled, riding the wind.