Pandora Jones: Reckoning

by Barry Jonsberg

  I see all of you, Nate.

  And is it good?

  It’s miraculous.

  I wanted you to know me. I wanted that so badly.

  We still have time.

  I don’t think so.

  You cannot die, Nate. I forbid it.

  Pan. Don’t ask me for something I can’t give. Please.

  Nate . . .

  Pan, find the world and save it. He laughed in her head and it was a laugh of pure joy, a laugh that was intensely . . . alive. You’ve gotta hand it to me, Pandora. Save the world. Live up to your name. Deliver hope. A helluva last request, hey?

  Nate . . .

  But the images were fading. Pan felt Nate’s hand in hers, but another type of touch was slipping from her grasp. She tried to hold on. She tried so hard. But it squirmed and there was a last fleeting sensation, a warmth as fragile as gossamer. Pan knew it for the simple thing it was. Love.

  And then, nothing.

  Chapter 26

  Pan lost track of time. It no longer held any importance.

  She had flown for hours. No one spoke to her. Maybe everyone was too exhausted or too traumatised. Or maybe they did speak to her and she simply didn’t hear. She flew on, across vast tracks of ocean, and had no idea where they were going. Somewhere deep down she registered the status of the fuel tank, knew they were getting low.

  When Jen grabbed her by the arm, the feeling was so strange she jumped, almost cried out.

  ‘Pan,’ said Jen. ‘Pay attention, okay?’

  Pan glanced at Jen’s face, tried to put her into context.

  ‘You called me Pan,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah? So what?’

  ‘You’ve only ever called me Pandora.’

  Jen smiled, but it was a tired smile, almost lifeless. ‘Maybe I’ve decided informality’s good.’ Her smile disappeared. ‘Listen up, Pan. We need you to hold it together a bit longer. Wei-Lin recognises the landscape.’

  ‘What landscape?’

  ‘What landscape? Look below.’

  Pan did. There was a mountain range beneath them and a plain leading down to a coast. The water was a startling blue, dotted with flecks of brilliant green. Coral reefs. A white sand beach stretched to the horizon. Where did all of that come from? Pan tried to remember when they had first seen land, but it was all a blank.

  ‘We’ve been following the coastline for twenty minutes, Pan,’ said Jen, as if reading the confusion on her face. ‘Wei-Lin knows where we are. More important, she knows where we can go.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ But then maybe she did understand. Her connection to Professor Goldberg through his hand, his knowledge of The School’s location and its position relevant to the civilised world. In many ways she was the ultimate autopilot.

  ‘Pay attention, Pan,’ Jen continued. ‘We need to land soon. We passed a city – well, a large town, according to Wei-Lin, a few minutes back. But we don’t think that’s a great idea.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Two reasons. One, we’re bound to be arrested – a bunch of kids in a stolen military helicopter. We can’t afford to let that happen.’

  Pan shook her head. Thoughts were returning slowly. She’d switched off, she realised, shut down her mind and most of her body. Jen was right. She needed to pay attention.

  ‘But we must get our story to the authorities. It’s the only hope.’

  I have a promise I must keep, she thought. And I will keep it.

  ‘No one would believe us,’ said Jen. ‘Would you? Anyway, even if we did manage it – well, there’s another thing to consider.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The School. Are they going to give up on us, just like that? They must be out there now, scouring the skies for us. Like they did when we were on the tanker, remember? And let’s say we do make the front page of every newspaper in the world, hey . . . we might as well have a flashing sign above our heads. Here we are. Come get us.’

  ‘But we’ll be safe.’

  ‘C’mon, Pandora. Safe? Against The School? We’d be dead within twenty-four hours. They’ve got too much invested to be put off by real “authorities”.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But we have a plan. Wei-Lin has a holiday home not far from here, further down the coast. Turns out her parents are filthy rich and have a big house about a million kilometres from the nearest neighbour. That’s where we’re going.’

  ‘What for, Jen? A holiday?’ Pan wanted to be able to ring her mother and Danny. She wanted all this to be over, to sleep in a bed and not worry about dying. She wanted to go home. Have time to grieve and heal. Hand over the information in Sanjit’s hard drive to someone who’d just make it all go away.

  ‘Wei-Lin will get in touch with her parents, tell them she’s safe and to come meet us.’

  ‘And you think The School won’t be monitoring calls to all our contacts? You brought up the tanker, Jen. They cut me off in seconds, remember, before I even had a chance to speak. Even if they allow her to talk to her family, it’ll only be to find out exactly where we are.’

  ‘Yeah, we thought about that as well. She’ll leave a coded message. “Meet me where we had my tenth birthday party.” Something like that.’

  ‘So Wei-Lin’s parents turn up. How does that do us any good?’

  ‘Her dad’s a big shot in the scientific community, apparently,’ said Jen. ‘Wei-Lin’s sure he’ll know what we’re talking about and get something done about it. Think, Pan. We need someone we know is on our side. Who better than a scientist whose daughter has been abducted? He’s already two-thirds of the way to believing us.’

  Pan closed her eyes. Dr Macredie was dead. The others didn’t know that, and there had been no time to tell them. Did that mean, with her death, the threat was over? Would the whole organisation crumble without her vision and leadership? Or was that wishful thinking, and dangerous – terribly dangerous – if wrong? This organisation had to be bigger than one person. Professor Goldberg had talked of a consortium of the world’s richest and most powerful people being involved. At the very least, there would be dire consequences for anyone involved in the conspiracy. They would be unlikely to fade away and hope for the best. It would make more sense to eliminate the threat while they could.

  Jen was right. The team was right. They had come so far. It would be devastating if they failed when they were so close to success.

  ‘Okay,’ said Pan. ‘But we have to be quick, Jen. Every minute takes us closer to the end of the world.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I know. But . . .’

  Later, Pan understood how they had all managed to miss the moment when Professor Goldberg regained consciousness. The team was close to exhaustion, some sitting on the floor of the chopper, heads in hands, or peering out at the landscape as it unfurled beneath them. And Pan had let go of his cold hand. She had taken everything from him that she’d needed and had almost forgotten his existence.

  There was a flurry of movement and then Professor Goldberg was crouched, the gun in his hand, the gun that must have lain beneath his body after Nate had attacked him. The gun Pan had forgotten about. His eyes were on Nate’s body. No one moved.

  Professor Goldberg had always looked old, but now it was as if he had aged a further twenty years. His mouth twisted as he gazed at Nate and the pool of blood, sticky and congealed around the edges, which lay like some macabre blanket under his grandson’s body. Nate’s eyes were open and empty. Maybe only Pan heard the keening of grief and guilt, a shrill wail that filled her head. Professor Goldberg shrank in upon himself.

  Then he turned the gun in his hand, put the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger. The windscreen in front of Pan crazed, blood and brains a mist on the broken glass.

  Wei-Lin crouched next to Pan and rested a hand upon her arm.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘That building, a couple of hundred metres from the shore.’

  Pan glanced down through the one clear area of the windscreen. There was no ot
her building in sight, even from their altitude. A large expanse of red-tiled roof, sparkles from an enormous swimming pool. A long track leading through a forest.

  ‘I’ll have to bring us down on the beach,’ Pan said. ‘There’s nowhere else.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Wei-Lin.

  ‘We can’t just land and leave,’ she said. ‘A helicopter sitting on a deserted beach? How long before it’s spotted?’

  ‘Just get us down first, Pan,’ said Jen. ‘Keep the engine running. I’ll deal with the rest.’

  There was no time to think through the implications. Pan’s mind envisaged the descent and her body moved automatically to make it so. The white sand stirred beneath them, whipped by approaching blades. The right skid made contact slightly before the left and the chopper bounced a few metres before coming to rest. Outside the open door, a flurry of sand made it almost impossible to see. But Sanjit was already jumping from the craft, his head down, eyes tightly closed. As soon as his feet touched the beach he scurried away from the blades in a curious, crab-like motion. Karl and Sam followed, their hands entwined. Within seconds, Pan couldn’t see any of them.

  ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘Now I take this chopper and ditch it at sea,’ Jen replied. Pan would have laughed, but maybe laughter was something she’d lost forever.

  ‘You can fly this, Jen?’

  ‘Not a clue. But then I don’t need to fly it. I need to crash it.’

  Pan sighed. ‘You need to fly it to crash it, Jen. And even if you could get out to sea, how will you get back?’

  ‘I swim.’

  Pan stretched and then grimaced with pain. She had been concentrating on flying and her body had allowed her to do that without complaint. Now she had landed, her injuries clamoured for attention. She glanced around the chopper, and flinched at the sight of the two bodies on the floor. But she knew there would be a time to think of all that Nate had been and the void his death had left inside her. Later.

  ‘It has to be me,’ she said. ‘I can fly and I can swim. Leave me. I need to do this now, before I have time to think.’

  ‘Not happening, Pan,’ said Jen. Her tone of voice brooked no argument. ‘You’re exhausted. Get this thing out to deep-enough water and you’d never get back. And you’re a crap swimmer. Anyway, you’ve done enough. Time for someone else to take over.’

  ‘Jen, listen to me. Please. You can’t just fly a chopper. You don’t have my gift, remember? The only reason I can fly this thing is because I could tap into . . . the pilot’s mind. It has to be me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jen. ‘But you haven’t touched him for the last hour, Pan. You’ve been doing this by yourself, with the knowledge you . . . I don’t know . . . downloaded, I guess from Professor Goldberg’s mind. So give that to me. Do that freaky stuff with my head, give me the skills. I won’t need them for long.’

  Pan looked at the floor and for a brief moment her vision clouded. Everything lost focus and it took all her concentration to not slump sideways in her seat.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s too risky.’

  Jen laughed. ‘Hell, Pandora,’ she said. ‘That’s why I have to do it. Me and risk, we’re best friends. You know that. Anyway, I’m not arguing. If necessary, me and Wei-Lin will drag you outta here – you can’t fight us, we’re too strong and you’re too weak. So give me a fighting chance. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘Jen, please.’

  Jen took her face in both hands and pressed her forehead up against Pan’s.

  ‘Now, Pandora,’ she said.

  Pan felt the tears running down her cheeks.

  ‘I can’t lose you as well, Jen,’ she whispered.

  Jen’s reply was strong. ‘Then help me, Pan.’

  And Pan was simply too weak to resist anymore. She saw her friend’s eyes widen in surprise as her mind reached out, and then she closed her own eyes and let go. There was no information as such to share, no blueprint, just the feel of the helicopter’s controls under her hands. It wouldn’t be enough. It couldn’t be enough.

  And then she felt softness beneath her feet, Wei-Lin’s arms around her waist, her eyes blinded by a storm of sand. Pan saw a dark shape move in the pilot’s seat. And two other shapes behind, slumped on the floor. She tried to move towards them, but Wei-Lin’s grip was too firm.

  ‘Nate!’ Pan yelled.

  Wei-Lin’s voice was quiet in her ear. ‘He’s going with Jen, Pan. Let him go. Let them go.’

  The engine noise rose in intensity and the swirl of sand grew thicker. Wei-Lin drew Pan away from the blades and then all sight was lost. They crouched and waited until the maelstrom eased and the air settled. Only when the helicopter was in flight and away did Wei-Lin let go of Pan, who instantly ran towards the sea.

  The chopper was low over the water and it lurched as it moved, an ungainly insect, wounded and faltering. It picked up height and then abruptly fell, regained some fragile stability, moved further out to sea. Pan was aware that the others had joined her at the water’s edge, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the craft as it zigzagged towards the horizon. They stood in a line watching and no one said a word.

  The seconds passed, became minutes. The helicopter still flew. Then it tipped on its side, hung for a moment as if defying gravity, and plunged into the sea. Even at a distance Pan could see the blades sheer off as they hit the water. There was a series of glints as sunlight reflected off shards of metal, and a boiling in the sea. It took a surprisingly short time before the ocean recovered. A swell of white churned, then all was smooth. Within a minute it was as if the helicopter had never been.

  The group continued to watch. Pan had focused her attention on trying to spot a small shape leaving the craft, hitting the water, putting distance between itself and the crash site.

  But she had seen nothing. Nothing at all.

  After an hour, Wei-Lin and the others prepared to go to the house.

  ‘Come with us, Pan,’ pleaded Sanjit.

  ‘You need food and water and rest,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll all come back once we’ve recovered.’

  But Pan didn’t reply, and they left her alone under a darkening sky and a dipping sun. She sat on the sand and watched the sea, her mind blank. Clouds on the horizon caught the sunset and turned the world orange. The waves rolled in, each one a burst of hope. Movement. But every movement smoothed into disappointment.

  And still Pan sat and watched. Wei-Lin, Sanjit and Karl and Sam returned and joined her. She shook her head when they offered food, though she did drink when a bottle was pressed into her hand. The stars came out and a three-quarter moon hung above her head. It was almost impossible to see the water. How long would it take to swim? She should have been back by now. If she was coming back.

  It was Sanjit who jumped to his feet and ran into the surf. Pan could barely stand, and when she did a wave of dizziness washed over her. The others were in the sea as well, half-carrying, half-dragging someone, Sanjit’s shoulder under one arm, Karl’s under the other. Even then she couldn’t think until Jen was in her arms. It was with the last of her strength that Pan held her close. She had no energy to speak.

  ‘Told ya, Pandora.’ The words were so soft that Pan didn’t know whether they were in the air or simply in her head. ‘Me and risk. We’re made for each other.’

  Chapter 27

  Pandora Jones opened her eyes and had no idea where she was.

  Her head hurt and there was sunshine slanting through a window. She closed her eyes again. Something soft was beneath her body. She tried to move a leg and groaned when the pain hit. Her hands felt fabric, a sheet covering her. She lay still, then tried again. This time she was able to inch her way up in bed. A bed. She opened her eyes again.

  She was in a large bedroom, spotlessly clean, with a minimum of furniture. Artwork, abstract and tastefully framed, hung on the immaculate white walls. She looked down at the bump her legs made under the sheet and wondered why she was still alive. On her right was a bedside cabi
net, a carafe of water and an empty glass. Almost immediately, her throat felt thick and she fumbled with the glass, nearly knocking it to the floor. The carafe was heavy and initially she didn’t think she would have the strength to lift it. But she managed to half-fill the glass without spilling much.

  The water tasted better than anything she had ever tasted. Pan gulped it down, refilled her glass and drank some more. She swung her legs out of bed and sat for a moment while the giddiness subsided. She leaned forward and rolled up the leg of a pair of silk pyjamas. There was a broad bandage covering most of her calf, a rusty stain in its centre. Was I shot? Pan couldn’t remember. Her left shoulder was sore, and by carefully craning her neck She could see that had been attended to also. She could remember nothing.

  Except that wasn’t quite true. The flight on the helicopter, the landing, Jen taking off again, the slow plunge into the sea and the long, long wait for her to come back to them. Yes, Pan remembered that, but it was like a movie watched a long time ago, events fractured, the narrative flimsy.

  Nate. She remembered Nate. Pan closed her eyes and tried to find some calm. She took deep breaths, the slow and careful regulation of breathing that had helped back at The School. But even that did little good. She opened her eyes again and tried to stand. Her legs were pitifully weak, but they held firm and she took a few tottering steps.

  One entire wall of the bedroom was a bank of windows, curtains drawn partly across. She leaned against the glass and gazed out over the view. There were trees to her left and right, and perfectly trimmed grass leading down to a white beach and the sea beyond, blue and benign. Pan slid open the glass door and stepped out onto a patio. There was a breeze blowing in from the sea and she felt her hair lift and dance in response. The air smelt clean and fresh and wholesome.

  She thought about the team, but didn’t want to join them. Not yet. What she wanted to do, more than anything in the world, was walk down to the beach, breathe and be alone. She craved solitude.

  By the time she made it to the lapping edge of the ocean she was almost at the point of exhaustion. The sand was soft and fine and felt good beneath her bare toes, but it was also tiring to walk through. Pan stood and waited for the ache in her muscles to ease, her eyes fixed on a featureless horizon. Gradually, she felt herself recovering.