Pandora Jones: Admission

by Barry Jonsberg

  When she woke – sitting bolt upright in bed, her face covered in sweat and a cry dying in her throat – she didn’t understand where she was. Then she saw the French doors, the rows of beds, and remembered. When I was a child, she thought, and I was having nightmares, awakening was a blessing, a restoration of normality, a sense, finally, of being safe. Now it was waking from one nightmare into another. She forced herself to get out of bed. The temptation to lie down again was strong, but the fear of what sleep would bring was more powerful. She found her way to the bathroom.

  The soap stung her eyes and she reached blindly for the towel draped over the rail.

  It was placed into her hands.

  For one moment, Pan didn’t understand. Then the knowledge that she wasn’t alone hit her. Her heart quickened and she pulled the towel up against her body, scrubbed furiously at her face, working the soap from her eyes.

  ‘Sorry to alarm you,’ said a voice. It was a girl’s voice. ‘I forget sometimes that newbies are sensitive about such things.’

  As soon as her eyes cleared, Pan wrapped the towel tightly around her body and blinked at her visitor. The girl was short and lean, jet black hair to her jaw line, cut, rather inexpertly, into a fringe that framed a face with small delicate features. Her eyes were almost as black as her hair.

  ‘Where I come from,’ said Pan. ‘It’s polite to knock.’ She didn’t attempt to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  ‘But you’re not there,’ the girl pointed out matter-of-factly. ‘You’re in The School now.’ She ran her eyes up and down Pan’s body. ‘We don’t go for social etiquette much around here. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like crap.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Pan. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get dressed.’

  The girl didn’t move.

  ‘In private?’ Pan added.

  ‘I brought you some clothes,’ said the girl. She pointed to a pile of army fatigues, neatly folded on a bench. The clothes seemed very similar to the ones the girl herself wore. ‘Whatever you were wearing when you came in was burned. Standard procedure. And it’s cold out there right now, so a hospital gown just isn’t going to cut it.’

  Pan hugged the towel tighter. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said. ‘As you so tactfully pointed out, I look and feel like crap. Once I dry off I’m going back to bed.’

  The girl shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re not. You are coming with me for orientation.’ She smiled then and it brightened her whole face. Pan almost found herself smiling back. It was infectious. But she fought the impulse and won.

  The girl held out her hand. ‘My name is Wei-Lin,’ she said. ‘And you are Pandora Jones. I’m pleased to meet you, Pandora.’

  Pan was tempted not to take the offered hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to be deliberately rude. She shook and the girl’s face brightened.

  ‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ she said. ‘Please be quick. The others are waiting and we have a lot to get through.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’ said Pan. She had decided that she would accompany the girl, but felt it was important to establish that she had a will of her own. The hospital bed had lost what few charms it ever possessed and she was curious about what lay beyond the Infirmary’s walls. But she bristled against the assumption that she would simply follow orders without question.

  Wei-Lin smiled. ‘You’ll come anyway.’

  ‘You mean you’d physically force me?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She appeared immensely cheerful at the prospect. ‘But I don’t think that would get us off on the right foot, do you? So I would much appreciate it if you got dressed and came with me, Pandora Jones. Please.’ She moved towards the door, but immediately turned back. ‘Haven’t you done enough sleeping to last a lifetime?’ She left without waiting for a reply.

  Pan was grateful she didn’t have to answer the question. She had done enough sleeping and, anyway, it had brought nothing but pain. She put the clothes on quickly. They were baggy in the body, but the length of the trousers was about right and the camouflage jacket’s sleeves were only slightly too long. The dark combat boots pinched somewhat and Pan hoped they would break in quickly. She towel-dried her hair and pulled it back from her face. When she looked into the mirror she almost laughed. Her reflection was faintly absurd, an emaciated girl trying to look tough and failing spectacularly. Pan didn’t laugh, though. She wasn’t sure she would ever laugh again.

  Wei-Lin was waiting outside the door. She glanced at Pan, but said nothing. Then she walked down the corridor, past the nurses’ station and out the front door. Pan followed, struggling to keep up. Her leg muscles tightened and burned almost immediately. I’m in really bad shape, she thought.

  ‘Don’t we need to tell the doctors that I’m going?’ she panted at Wei-Lin’s back.

  Wei-Lin threw her answer over her shoulder. ‘They know. They weren’t happy, but they know,’ she said. ‘Anyway, they’re not doctors. Morgan and Macredie. They call themselves doctors in The School but out there . . .’ she gestured vaguely towards the sea ‘. . . they were something else entirely. I think Macredie might have been a school nurse and Morgan was in hospital administration. The closest he came to medicine was a first-aid certificate that he had to have for his job.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Pan. She stood for a moment and resisted the temptation to bend forward and put her hands on her aching thighs. Wei-Lin turned. ‘How can they be doctors here?’ Pan added.

  Wei-Lin shrugged.

  ‘We’ve lost ninety-nine point something percent of the world’s population. They have an interest in medicine and they have books. It would have been convenient if a few GPs had survived, maybe some surgeons. Perhaps they did, but they are not here. This is a new world, Pandora. We make do with the talent we have. And we learn.’

  Pan took deep breaths and gazed out at the surrounding landscape. The view was as dramatic as it had been from the courtyard outside the Infirmary. The sky was overcast with low clouds that threatened rain and she could not see the sea. But the rest of The School was spread before her. And the wall.

  ‘What’s beyond that wall?’ she asked.

  Wei-Lin took a couple of steps back and stood next to Pan. She too looked out over the landscape.

  ‘I’ll answer your questions at orientation,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to repeat myself unnecessarily. Time is precious, so let’s go.’

  ‘How do we get down?’ The question hadn’t occurred to Pan before and she wondered why. The plateau that the Infirmary was on was bounded at the back by the mountain face. On the other three sides there was a sheer and precipitous drop.

  ‘There are stairs.’ Wei-Lin pointed to the left-hand side of the outcrop, but it was impossible to see anything from where they stood. ‘Cut into the rock. Steep, and there are no handrails. I hope you’re not afraid of heights.’

  ‘Actually, I am.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘That’s something you will have to master then. Or maybe the simplest solution is not to get sick or injured. That way you might never have to visit the Infirmary again.’

  The descent was terrifying. Pan kept to the right side of the steps, as close to the rock face as she could, but although the steps were broad, she could still see the edge and the dizzying drop. Her eyes were drawn to it. She focused on fixing her vision on each step and tried to regulate her breathing. One step after another, bringing both feet together before reaching for the next. It seemed to take forever. Wei-Lin appeared to have no concerns. On the few occasions that Pan looked up, her companion was almost skipping down, stopping every few minutes to allow Pan to catch up. If she was impatient with Pan’s progress she hid it well. Finally, they reached the bottom and Pan let out a long sigh. Her legs were cramping, and she was grateful for the cold, clean air.

  ‘Just a couple of hundred metres to go,’ said Wei-Lin. She pointed towards a low-set structure down a dirt path strewn with stones. ‘That’s where we’re going.’

>   The building reminded Pan of the drab portables at her school.

  ‘It’s time to meet the rest of our group,’ said Wei-Lin. She set off down the path and Pan forced her aching muscles to follow.

  ~~~

  The room was spare and cold. The few windows were uncurtained and festooned with cobwebs. A dilapidated desk was at one end, in front of an old-fashioned blackboard and an assortment of plastic chairs arranged in a haphazard circle. Sitting on the chairs were three boys and three girls. They looked up as Wei-Lin and Pan entered. They appeared as dispirited as the room they occupied.

  Wei-Lin walked briskly to an unoccupied chair, but she didn’t sit. Pan took a place next to a tall, good-looking boy of about seventeen. She met his eyes and he nodded briefly before returning his gaze to the floor.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘Welcome to our group and I’m sorry I have kept you all waiting. With the exception of me, you are all new to The School. Think of this as your very first day of school.’

  The boy next to Pan snorted, but he didn’t raise his head. If Wei-Lin heard him she didn’t acknowledge it.

  ‘My name is Wei-Lin and I am your mentor. This does not mean that I am in any position of seniority over you. The School doesn’t operate like that. All it means is that I have been here longer. Five weeks to be precise. I know my way around The School and understand how it functions. The purpose of this orientation is for me to pass on what knowledge I have, give out important information and answer your questions to the best of my ability. Is that clear?’

  No one said anything.

  ‘Okay,’ she continued. ‘Some basic stuff to start. You’ve all been issued with one set of clothing. On the bench over there you will find another set and a backpack. When we’re done here, please put your change of clothes into the backpack. This is all you’ll be issued, so look after them. Sunday is the designated wash day so that means you’ll have only one change of clothes per week. Trust me, you get used to it. On top of the clothes, you will find a watch. Like the rest of the stuff here, this is army issue. The watch is tough and accurate. Wear it at all times. You’ll also find a map of The School, to help you make your way around at the beginning. You probably won’t need it after a few days.

  ‘Right. Here’s the idea. There are eight of us in this particular group. We live together, eat together, learn, study and work-out together. We’ll be self-sufficient and we’ll look out for each other. This is the smallest group in The School – most are around fifteen in number, but fewer and fewer people are coming in, so this is probably how we’ll stay. Should there be a further influx then it is possible that one of you will be selected to leave this group and mentor another. But that probably won’t happen, if only because we can’t afford to lose anyone.’

  Wei-Lin paused, but whether that was to allow anyone to speak was unclear. The group remained silent. Pan glanced around. Most still had their heads bowed, though one girl sat stiffly upright in her chair, her eyes fixed on Wei-Lin. Her gaze was flat and hard. She is tough, thought Pan. Possibly troubled. Maybe even trouble. The girl stared directly at Pan, who lowered her eyes instinctively. The silence stretched a moment or two longer.

  ‘It is hoped,’ continued Wei-Lin, ‘that we’ll become a tightly-bound group. A family.’

  The boy next to Pan laughed outright at that. It was a bitter laugh, but it wasn’t entirely without humour.

  ‘They say you can’t choose your family,’ he said, ‘so that’s consistent. And I’m sorry to piss on your parade, sister, but I had a family and they were trouble enough. I’m not sure I want another.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wei-Lin, calmly. ‘But your real family is dead. We’re not. That’s an important difference.’

  The boy shrugged, but he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Okay,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘We may become a dysfunctional family. Most are. But we need to get acquainted, if only so we know who it is we resent.’ The boy laughed again. ‘I will start and then we will go around the circle. It’s basic information. Name, where we came from and what, if anything, we are good at. The School is keen on identifying skills and developing them. It could be anything. Green fingers, ability at maths, skiing, whatever. A word of advice, before we start. Try not to revisit your memories of the virus. Most of us, I suspect, have jumbled memories anyway – a side-effect of infection, it would appear.’

  ‘Why?’ interrupted Pan. ‘I mean, why don’t you want us to talk about it?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want you to,’ replied Wei-Lin. ‘It’s just that it’s not productive. If you are anything like me, you visit some terrible places every time you fall asleep. Nothing useful comes of sharing it. We have all been through hell. We are still going through it. I can’t cope with my own nightmares and I certainly don’t want the burden of yours.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Pan.

  ‘My name is Wei-Lin. I am fourteen and I lived in Hong Kong. I once came third in my age group for archery in a competition in China. Archery is a skill I’ve been learning since I was eight years old. I guess this means I am top in my age group now. I was rescued AV by a helicopter on reconnaissance for survivors and brought to The School just over five weeks ago. I remember little of my rescue and even less of the days before that.’

  ‘AV?’ asked the boy next to Pan.

  ‘After Virus,’ replied Wei-Lin.

  The boy nodded. ‘I feel so much better knowing we have an acronym for it,’ he said. ‘Makes me feel nostalgic for the old world.’

  Wei-Lin smiled. ‘You,’ she said, pointing to the boy on her right.

  He had spectacularly bad acne. Pan felt relieved that she would be the last to speak.

  ‘My name’s Karl,’ he said. ‘Fifteen. Wellington, New Zealand. Not particularly good at anything, unless you count computer games. I was hot shit at that.’

  ‘Could be useful,’ said Wei-Lin.

  ‘You have computers here?’ said Karl. Hope lit up his face.

  ‘No,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘Not yet. But you will have developed some useful skills from playing. We’ll talk later. Next.’

  ‘Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam. Sixteen years old. Originally from the UK, but I was on holiday in Bali with my . . .’ She stopped and swallowed. ‘Can’t remember how I got here. I was in the Scouts for a long time. I’ve done some orienteering.’

  ‘Excellent. Next.’

  For a moment it seemed the girl wouldn’t say anything. She was pale, her face pudgy and coarse featured. She twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and was reluctant to meet anyone’s eyes. It seemed she was on the verge of bursting into tears. She is severely depressed, thought Pan. Though, then again, aren’t we all? Finally the girl opened her mouth, but everyone had to strain to catch her words.

  ‘Cara,’ she whispered. ‘New Zealand. I can cook. A little.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘The food here is disgusting, as you will find out. Anyone who can cook will be worth their weight in gold.’

  If Cara was pleased at this, she gave no sign. She simply continued to twirl the same strand of hair round and round.

  The next boy was almost as reticent. He identified himself as Sanjit from the Top End of Australia and that he was good with most things technological. Wei-Lin assured him that his skills would similarly be valued. The next was the girl with the hard stare. She was as loud as the previous two had been quiet.

  ‘Jen, seventeen, from Sydney, Australia. I have a black belt in judo and a number of different martial arts.’ That would be right, thought Pan. She looks like someone who would be keen on inflicting pain, rather than someone who studied martial arts for self-defence or spiritual enlightenment. The aggressive, possibly bullying member of this new family.

  The good-looking boy to her immediate left was next.

  ‘My name’s Nate and I’m eighteen,’ he said. ‘I was in Singapore for an athletics meet, but I’m American. Sorry about that, though there’s nothing I can do about it. Unlike everyone el
se, I remember everything – AV . . .’ he made speech marks in the air with his fingers, ‘perfectly, though most of the time I wish I didn’t. I am a runner. It’s all I’m good at. Give me a stretch of land and I’ll run across it. If running is part of this brave new world, then I’m your man.’

  Pan liked his accent. She liked the way he looked even more. Tall, dark, with a mass of black curls, and even though he was wearing the same fatigues as everyone else, they didn’t hide his lean and muscular frame. He also appeared to have a sense of humour. I bet he turns out to be a dick, thought Pan. The attractive ones always turn out to be dicks.

  She was unexpectedly nervous when it was her turn to speak. She kept it brief and then surprised herself when it came time to outline her skills.

  ‘I find things,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Wei-Lin. ‘You find things?’

  Pan regretted her words immediately. In fact, she had no idea she was going to say anything at all about her hunches, her intuition, until the words spilled from her mouth. Maybe it was nerves. Now she felt the eyes of the rest of the group on her and felt obliged to continue.