Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘I guess.’

  The door to the girls’ shower block opened and Sam stepped out. She saw Pan and Jen and moved towards them. Pan was curiously touched to note that Sam instinctively placed her left hand against her belly as she walked. How would it feel to know there was something growing inside you, something that was a part of you, something you had created? That must be so weird, so magnificent. Pan wondered if she would ever experience that herself. Unlikely, but she was glad to think it wasn’t a complete impossibility. Another reason to be grateful she couldn’t see the future.

  ‘Hi,’ said Sam. ‘Has Karl spoken to you yet?’

  ‘Not seen him since we got back.’

  ‘Okay. He said his conversation with Eric didn’t go well. He reckons Eric doesn’t think he’s someone he has to impress. Suggested Jen.’

  ‘Me?’ said Jen.

  ‘Yeah. Karl reckons he’s got the hots for you. Apparently, Eric thinks you’re mad, bad and dangerous whereas Karl is just a plonker.’

  ‘A plonker?’

  ‘Kind of like a sook,’ Pan translated.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Jen. ‘Well, Karl is a bit of a sook.’ She held up her hands at the injured expression on Sam’s face. ‘Undoubtedly a stud,’ she continued. ‘And what I meant to say is he’s gentle. New Age. Transsexual.’

  ‘I think you mean metrosexual.’

  ‘Yeah. Whatever. Okay, Sam, get Karl to send Eric to me. We’ll wait here for him.’

  ‘It’s lights out in two minutes.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m mad, bad and dangerous. Tell Eric I sometimes stay up half an hour past bedtime.’

  Even Sam smiled at that. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she said and disappeared into the night.

  ‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books, Pandora,’ said Jen. ‘Eric wants to get into my pants. Then again, I’m not surprised his gaydar’s out of whack. This should be fun.’

  ‘Be gentle with him, Jen,’ said Pan.

  ‘Of course. Sensitive is my middle name.’

  They sat for a few more moments in silence and then Pan burst out laughing. ‘Transsexual?’ she said. There were tears in her eyes.

  ‘Just a thought,’ said Jen. She chuckled herself. ‘I’ve met a few. Hell, I dated one once. That’s who Karl reminds me of.’

  And then Pan couldn’t stop laughing. There was a pain in her sides and she had to stand up and bend over to relieve the ache. But the laughter continued to come. Tears poured down her cheeks. Jen stood and patted her on the back.

  ‘Having fun, Pandora, or just hysterical?’

  ‘Both,’ Pan gasped. ‘It’s what the imminent prospect of death does for you. I’m having the best time.’

  ‘Yo, Jen.’ The voice rang through the night. ‘You wanted to talk to me, yeah?’

  ‘Showtime,’ whispered Jen. She called out. ‘That’s right, Eric. You got a moment?’

  ‘For you, babe? Sure.’

  Pan thought that would kick the laughter off again for sure. Babe? But she kept control. Eric sauntered towards them, doing a decent impersonation of a pimp roll, his red hair flaming even against the darkness. Jen patted the rock.

  ‘Take a seat, Eric. You don’t mind if Pandora stays, do you?’

  ‘Two babes?’ said Eric. He grinned. ‘I can handle that.’

  Oh God, thought Pan. I’m not sure I can cope with this. But she simply smiled. Eric sat on the rock, put both hands on his knees.

  ‘So, shoot.’

  ‘Me and Pandora were curious about you, Eric,’ said Jen. Her voice had become treacly. A shudder ran up Pan’s spine.

  ‘About me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jen sat next to him on the rock. There still wasn’t enough room for two, but she pressed her thigh up against Eric’s. ‘All that stuff you were saying about running from the cops, lighting fires, blowing things up. Seems like you were a bad boy, Eric, back in the day.’ She shuffled closer. ‘I like bad boys.’

  Pan couldn’t help it this time. She turned away and managed to convert the explosion of laughter into a fit of coughing.

  ‘Ah, you know,’ said Eric. ‘I’ve had my moments. I won’t pretend otherwise.’

  ‘So how does it work?’ Jen asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The explosions. I mean, you can’t just walk into Bunnings and ask for a kilo of dynamite. So what do you do? Order on the internet?’

  Eric became positively animated. A look of rapture crossed his face and he twisted his hands together.

  ‘Ah, the internet. Yeah, you can, but it’s kinda dangerous, you know. Was kinda dangerous. People monitor those sites. Monitored. Anti-terrorist squads, that kinda thing. You had to be careful.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ breathed Jen.

  ‘I learned by word-of-mouth. Mates who knew their stuff, passed the knowledge onto me.’

  ‘But getting the explosives . . .’

  ‘Not a problem. All household stuff. Things people have in their kitchen cupboards, mainly.’ Eric’s voice was rising and excitement gave it an edge. ‘That’s the beauty of it, Jen. Your average household has enough explosives to blow up the whole street if you know how to put it together.’

  Jen sighed. ‘Sounds brilliant,’ she said. ‘You must be pissed off The School doesn’t have the materials you need.’

  ‘But it does, Jen. It does.’ Eric was almost beside himself now. ‘There are cleaning chemicals here. Even in the dormitories there’s stuff I could use. I’ve checked it out . . .’

  ‘I bet you have.’

  ‘. . . and I know I could put my hands on what I need to put on a good show.’ He raised his hands and spread them in an extravagant gesture. ‘Boom!’

  ‘Wow,’ said Jen. She paused for a moment. ‘You know what, Eric?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s my birthday the day after tomorrow.’ Pan had to suppress another giggle. No one had any idea of the date. Most students couldn’t remember the day of the week. Time had little significance in The School. Or at least it had until now.

  ‘And I was wondering,’ Jen continued. ‘A display would be fantastic. Kinda like fireworks to celebrate, you know? Let’s be honest here, Eric. This place is boring as shit. We could do with some excitement. Like an explosion. An explosion that started a fire. Imagine it, Eric. All the students standing round watching a show you’d created. You’d be a legend, man.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘Whatya reckon? Think you could do that for me? As a birthday present?’

  Eric paused for only a heartbeat. ‘Sure, babe,’ he said. ‘Anything for you.’

  ‘You’re a doll,’ said Jen. ‘Here’s how I’d like it to happen . . .’

  Afterwards, Jen and Pan watched the night sky, lost in their own thoughts. The day after tomorrow, thought Pan. It wasn’t much time to prepare. Then again, there was only so much planning they could do, given the limited time available. We’ll make it up as we go along, she thought. Most of it. There’s no choice.

  Jen stood.

  ‘I’d better get some sleep,’ she said. ‘I think I’m gonna need it.’

  ‘ “You’re a doll”?’ said Pan.

  Jen grinned.

  ‘Yeah. He is. I’m thinking Chucky.’

  Chapter 12

  The day dawned bright and clear and Pan decided to go for a run before breakfast. She needed to be alone, and she also needed to maintain her fitness levels. She headed for the wall, keeping her mind clear and concentrating only on her breathing. The weak early morning sun felt warm on her face and infused her with a sense of calm.

  After half a kilometre her thoughts returned to her conversation with Professor Goldberg. The world was dying. It was past its tipping point. If humanity became extinct, then all other life would flourish within fifty years. Nuclear weapons, chemical weapons, the brutality of human nature, the greed, the destruction. Humans were just another failed life form, like countless others that crawled and scurried the Earth and thought they were the pinnacle of achievement before turning to dust. Stars were
born and stars died. Humans were insignificant, less than insignificant. Not remotely discernible on the pulse of time.

  Was The School wrong? Pan hadn’t allowed herself to consider the question. Not properly. Because its methods were wrong, were immoral. But, if she ignored the methods, were Professor Goldberg’s arguments flawed? How could anyone feel optimistic about the future when people didn’t learn from the errors of the past? Pan had to admit it. Even if she managed to save the world – and how absurd a statement that was. Save the world? – then that wouldn’t necessarily alter the future. Extinction would still loom, as sea levels rose and the Earth got warmer and warmer and people turned against each other and wars escalated. What was that saying her mother was fond of when she talked about futile actions? Re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Saving the world could only extend the misery and the pain; what kind of gift was that?

  Sanjit had said it was the right thing to do, to fight. He didn’t say much, but Pan knew he thought long and hard about things. He would have considered all these arguments. Maybe it came down to something as simple, as naive, as that. The School was wrong because murder was wrong. In the end it was her duty to fight those who were wrong. Otherwise evil would always flourish.

  The wall towered above her and she ran along its base. Even craning her neck it was difficult to see the tops of the watchtowers, though she felt their watchful presence as a tingle on the skin. Pan brought her gaze level and regulated the position of her arms and legs.

  What if humanity survived, against all the odds? What if, a hundred, two hundred years from now, humankind reached for the stars, gave up this planet for other worlds, spread throughout the universe? Or what if the world died on Professor Goldberg’s schedule and few thousand of the chosen survived, found a new and secure niche in the environment? It was a dangerously low sample to seed the planet, susceptible to being wiped out in days by a new, if natural, virus. Even if they did survive, who could say that anything, five hundred years on, would be any different?

  Arguments, ideas. They buzzed in her head. Pan realised the rhythm of her breathing had faltered. She stopped and put her hands on her knees, bent over and drew in deep breaths.

  Danny. Danny was the answer. And Wei-Lin’s sister, and Sam and Karl’s baby, a small, fragile comma of life clinging to the side of her mother’s womb. And those other children, yet to be born. They deserved the chance to change.

  I have resisted the Cassandra prophecy, thought Pan. There are those who believe me. Now I must fulfil the Pandora promise. Yes, I brought destruction to the world, albeit unwittingly. But there is something remaining in the box and it is mine to free, even if I die in the attempt.

  I will not abandon hope.

  The day passed, though the minutes seemed to crawl by. Once again, Pan cut her academic classes, but she did turn up to Miss Kingston’s afternoon fitness session. She pumped weights for half an hour, but then gave up. There was no time to build muscles and she figured physical strength was Jen’s domain anyway. Instead she went for a lengthy run around the track at the base of the Garden on Top of the World, and the simple movement helped clear her mind. Plus, stamina was certainly going to be an advantage over the next few days.

  Returning to the canteen for dinner, Pan passed Gwynne on one of the winding tracks. His face was bandaged heavily, broad swathes of lint, held on with sticking plaster, covering his nose. He stopped and regarded Pan as she approached, his hands on his hips.

  ‘Know your mistake?’ he said. His voice was muffled and thick. Pan wondered how he was going to sniff now and whether it would be painful. She sighed and stopped.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘You were down and out. At my mercy. I should have killed you while I had the chance.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘No. Wrong, Mr Gwynne. Completely wrong.’ Pan blew air through her lips and fixed her gaze on him. ‘Nothing would have been achieved by your death. Just another one among many. That would have been a waste and I wanted no part of it. I still want no part of it.’

  ‘Out there . . .’

  ‘But we’re not out there yet.’ She turned away. ‘You need to grow up, Mr Gwynne,’ she said over her shoulder.

  And she walked on. But she could feel Gwynne’s eyes boring into her back.

  There was an air of tension among the group as they ate their food. Everyone was preoccupied. Everyone except Eric. He kept up an endless stream of chatter, not at all put off by the lack of response. No one paid him any mind. It was as if, by filling the silence, he was sparing them the task.

  But after ten minutes, Pan interrupted. ‘Can I ask a favour, Eric?’ she said.

  Eric smiled. ‘Sure. Anything.’

  ‘Can I have a lock of your hair?’

  Five heads raised themselves to her face.

  ‘A lock of my hair?’ Eric said after a lengthy pause. ‘Are you taking the piss?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Pan. She sighed and toyed with her food. ‘To be honest, this is a little embarrassing. Not for me, but for Jen.’

  ‘It is?’ said Jen.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Pan. ‘You see, Eric, Jen likes to give off this aura of a tough chick, but underneath that veneer, she is just a softie. A confirmed romantic.’

  ‘I am?’ said Jen.

  ‘Yes,’ Pan continued. ‘So the lock of hair is not for me. It’s for Jen. She asked me to ask you if she could have one as a keepsake . . .’

  ‘Now hang on . . .’ said Jen.

  ‘She wasn’t expecting me to ask you right now. I guess she thought I might be more . . . discreet. But everyone in this group should know Jen’s true nature. It’s not something to be ashamed of, it should be treasured. I hope you’ll forgive me, Jen, but I honestly think you need to stop hiding beneath that tough exterior.’

  Pan winked at Jen, but it didn’t do any good. The look on Jen’s face suggested violence was under serious consideration. Her brows knitted, her eyes narrowed and her lips turned down. It was all Pan could do not to burst out laughing. ‘Please, Eric?’ she added.

  ‘Hey,’ said Eric. ‘I’m kinda romantic myself, you know what I’m saying? Sure. I got plenty of hair. Knock yourself out.’

  ‘Lovely,’ said Pan. ‘Perhaps Jen could take a lock herself with that sharp knife of hers?’

  Jen stood and withdrew the knife from her waistband, but she didn’t take her eyes from Pan’s. She walked around the table and stood behind Eric. Everyone had stopped eating. The team held its collective breath. Jen paused for a moment, then took a strand of Eric’s hair between her fingers and sliced. She slipped the knife back into her pants and tucked the hair into her pocket. When she resumed her seat there was thunder in her face. Sam snorted and Sanjit smiled. Wei-Lin returned her eyes to her plate and started eating again. Eric took up his monologue from where he’d left off, but it was clear he was pleased. Jen refused to meet Pan’s eyes.

  ‘Okay,’ said Jen as they walked back to the dormitory. ‘The explanation. And make it good.’

  ‘Sorry, Jen,’ Pan replied. ‘But you should have seen your face. It was priceless.’

  ‘That’s it, then?’ said Jen. ‘A practical joke? Let’s humiliate Jen in front of everyone.’ She stopped and put a hand on Pan’s shoulder, turned her so their faces were only centimetres apart. ‘Listen up, Pandora. Just because I took the piss out of Eric yesterday, doesn’t mean you’ve got the right to do it to me. And in front of everyone? Jesus Christ. I was that close to punching your lights out.’ She held up her finger and thumb, almost touching. ‘That close.’

  ‘I know,’ said Pan. ‘But there was a reason I wanted Eric’s hair, Jen. I just couldn’t think of a way of getting it. Then I remembered he has a crush on you and . . . hey, it seemed the easiest plan.’

  ‘Why the hell would you want a lock of that dipstick’s hair?’ She thrust a hand into her pocket and took out the fiery red clump. ‘Here ya go, by the way. You’re welcome to it. I feel dirty just carrying it around.’

 
; Pan took the hair and slipped it into her own pocket.

  ‘Thanks. I have a very strong feeling we’re going to need it.’

  Jen shook her head.

  ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say you’d been smoking something you shouldn’t, Pandora. What the hell use is a lock of hair?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I have a hunch and I’ve learned to trust my hunches.’

  Jen resumed walking.

  ‘You’re weird as,’ she muttered.

  ‘I know,’ said Pan. ‘But I’ll tell you something else. It gave everyone a laugh. You could have cut the tension at that table with a knife.’ She scurried to catch up with her friend. ‘Loosen up, Jen. No one in our team is in any doubt about your feelings towards Eric. You weren’t humiliated. You just improved morale.’

  Jen didn’t turn round.

  ‘You’re weird,’ she muttered again.

  Pan glanced at her watch. Ten forty-five at night and there was still no sign of Wei-Lin. She and Jen sat on the rock by the shower block, facing in opposite directions, lost in their own thoughts. They hadn’t spoken for half an hour.

  Pan was worried. They had discussed this earlier. Jen had been adamant Pan should not be the one to watch Nate when he turned up to their scheduled meeting at the sluice gate. Wei-Lin had offered to go, and though Pan couldn’t think of any reason to talk her out of it, she was still uneasy. Wei-Lin had taken her bow and quiver – of course she had, she never went anywhere without them. There was something in her manner that suggested she would be happy to use them. If Nate was with a group of people lying in ambush, then it was possible Wei-Lin wouldn’t simply return and report back. She might decide it was time for revenge. Pan shuddered to think of the possibilities. She had seen how accurate Wei-Lin was with the bow. It might be carnage. And that would blow their plan to hell.

  Jen hadn’t been so concerned.

  ‘Chill, Pandora,’ she’d said. ‘If Nate is gonna betray us, then it makes sense Wei-Lin is armed. Don’t worry. She’s no psycho. She’ll just check it out and come back here. You’ll see.’