Wei-Lin shook her head. ‘Sorry, Cara. It was decided early on that we couldn’t have people simply going from one place to another. Those in the village are making trips out into the world, and although we probably shouldn’t be too concerned about the virus, we also don’t know about other diseases they are being exposed to. It would be irresponsible if those of us who survived the worst pandemic in history should then get wiped out by cholera or tuberculosis or an uncommon cold. Like it or not, this is home from here on in.’
A silence greeted these words. Cara resumed the contemplation of the floor beneath her feet.
No one else had any questions so Wei-Lin moved onto the curriculum at The School and the way the days were organised. She explained that they operated a six-day week, with Sunday designated a rest day, though few students treated it as such. It was a time to wash clothes, and do various jobs they hadn’t had time to do during the week. Most spent the majority of the day practising and honing their talent or gift. This was the day, Wei-Lin said, when she spent hours on her archery or making arrows out of whatever materials she could find. Others worked with the small number of animals they were raising, or toned their fitness or helped at the Infirmary. ‘There is little rest here, even on a Sunday,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘But if you want to read a book on the day off, then we have a small library. That’s something else you could volunteer for.’
Wei-Lin explained that most students got up around five-thirty and cleaned their dormitories and the shower blocks. After breakfast, there was a two-hour session of physical labour, often clearing the paths of rocks or renovating the buildings with the few supplies they had at their disposal.
The first formal lesson of the day was at nine-thirty and took place in a classroom similar to the ones they were familiar with from the ‘real world’. These classes ranged from domestic science to agriculture for beginners and basic carpentry, among others. In addition there were more mainstream subjects such as mathematics and literature.
‘That’s Professor Goldberg,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘The oldest and weirdest member of staff. Actually, he’s the only qualified teacher we have, but he was a university lecturer, so his classroom skills are a little . . .’ She waved a hand in the air from side to side ‘. . . rusty, shall we say?’ After lunch there was another prolonged session, focusing on fitness and survival. ‘Weapons-training is one of those,’ she said. ‘For our sins, we have Gwynne the day after tomorrow.’
The two-hour block from four-thirty onward was for developing each individual’s talent or gift. ‘Jen has hers sorted out,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘I suggest the rest of you find your area of expertise quickly. Anyone caught wandering around aimlessly can find themselves cleaning out the septic tanks. Not a good option, trust me.’
After dinner it was free time until lights out at nine o’clock. Apparently, there were electric lights in the dormitories, but they were controlled remotely and were only on for two hours in the evening.
‘I have copies of our group’s timetable for the next two weeks,’ said Wei-Lin. She passed a sheaf of papers to Pan, who took one and passed the rest to her left. Nate took his and handed on the remainder in his turn. ‘Study it carefully and don’t be late tomorrow to any of the classes. There’s quite a bit of competition between groups and we have to think of ourselves as a team. A mistake from one person reflects badly on the group.’
Pan glanced at her timetable. They had English Literature and Philosophy the next day at nine-thirty. The afternoon session was with someone called Miss Kingston and was entitled ‘Personal Fitness’. I don’t think I will be looking forward to that one, thought Pan. Though I’m probably not dreading it as much as Cara.
Wei-Lin glanced at her watch. ‘Okay, guys,’ she said. ‘I suggest you explore the grounds, get yourselves orientated. Use the maps I gave you this morning and make sure you know where the classrooms and the meeting areas are for tomorrow. I’ll see you back at the canteen for dinner. Remember, that’s at six-thirty as we are rostered on the early shift.’
~~~
Pan studied the map and tried to find her bearings. She noted the Garden on Top of the World, which was clearly marked on the map. Even so, it was difficult. She turned the map upside down and squinted at it.
‘Women turn maps upside down,’ said a voice in her ear, ‘but men don’t. Something to do with gender differences in spatial awareness. Did you know that?’
Pan almost jumped. She also almost smiled.
‘Thanks, Nate,’ she replied. ‘But I had heard that. Did you know that men who sneak up on unsuspecting women are generally considered dickheads?’
‘Yeah, but the scientific research is still continuing.’ He smiled. ‘Why don’t we pool our spatial awareness skills? Two heads are better than one when it comes to exploring unfamiliar territory, or so they say.’
‘Sure,’ said Pan.
The School was large in area, but it didn’t take long to become familiar with its layout. The classrooms were fairly close to both the canteen and the dormitories while other specialist areas, like the weapons-training ground, occupied the periphery. There was also a large area, roughly the size and shape of a football ground, close to the cliff that rose to the Infirmary. It was deep in shadow and Pan felt the chill creep into her bones as they explored it.
‘Physical fitness area,’ said Nate. ‘Where tomorrow we meet Miss Kingston. Looking forward to that, Pandora?’
‘I’m not,’ Pan replied. ‘Too cold here. It wouldn’t get much sun.’
‘Probably why they chose to have it here,’ said Nate. ‘It’s better to run in the cool than under the sun.’
‘Better not to run at all.’
‘Go wash your mouth out with soap and water,’ said Nate. ‘You’re talking about something I love. I must admit, though, it’s not the best running surface I’ve ever seen. Too many rocks.’
Pan spread her arms out to take in the surrounding mountain peaks.
‘I wonder why?’ she said.
Nate smiled. ‘Perhaps we should put in an order for artificial turf. I can’t see real grass getting a foothold here.’
‘Great idea,’ said Pan. ‘The world has been destroyed and you want a good running surface. I’m sure that will go straight to the top of the list, right above antibiotics.’
Nate grimaced. ‘You have a sharp tongue, Miss Pan,’ he said. ‘Maybe that’s the talent you should be developing. Breaking guys’ hearts with sharp-edged words.’
‘I don’t need to develop that talent,’ said Pan. ‘It’s generally acknowledged that it’s perfect already.’ We’re flirting, she thought. The idea was both shameful and exciting. Shameful because it was difficult to imagine a more inappropriate time for it. Yet, for all that, her skin tingled.
They wandered back towards the main collection of buildings. Nate stopped to check the map from time to time. He pointed out the buildings where carpentry and basic blacksmith lessons were conducted. Further off, close to the side of the mountains, he identified the staff quarters.
‘They keep a distance from the students, then,’ he said. ‘Bet their quarters are significantly better than ours.’
Pan was about to reply when she heard a distant buzzing sound. She stopped and lifted her head to the sky. Grey clouds formed a canopy that stretched to the horizon and masked most of the mountain peaks towering above. The buzzing increased and Nate also lifted his eyes.
‘Helicopter,’ he said. ‘Getting closer.’
It was the first time that Pan had heard a significant mechanical sound since she had been at The School. How strange, she thought, that we can become so accustomed to silence when most of our lives have been dominated by the noise of civilisation. She realised how difficult it was to find the position of a plane or helicopter by sound alone. The mountains, she imagined, distorted any sense of direction and added to the disorientation. The buzzing resolved itself into a drone and it appeared impossible that something so loud could remain unseen. It sounded as if it was just abo
ve their heads.
The helicopter appeared suddenly, a black shape that dipped through clouds shrouding the mountain above the Infirmary. It hovered for a moment, shimmied to the left, before descending rapidly towards The Garden on Top of the World. The noise of its engine echoed from the mountain walls and drowned out everything else. Pan and Nate watched in silence as it hovered briefly a few metres above the Garden and then landed. A small cloud of dust billowed and stilled. The blades continued to rotate for a minute or more before coming to rest. Silence returned. Pan glanced around her. Many students had appeared and were standing on paths or outside buildings, all of them staring at the black shape high above.
‘Another survivor, you reckon?’ said Nate.
‘Who knows?’ said Pan. ‘Probably. I hope so.’
Another cargo of misery, she thought. Another scrap of flotsam in a sea of destruction.
It was too far to see what was being unloaded from the helicopter, and after a few minutes it seemed pointless to continue staring. They continued their walk back towards the canteen. It was close to six-fifteen and Pan’s stomach was complaining, though the thought of The School’s food did not fill her with enthusiasm.
‘I guess if someone has been brought to the Infirmary,’ said Nate, ‘they’ll be joining our group. I wonder who it is.’
‘Someone damaged,’ replied Pan. ‘I can guarantee that.’
There was silence for a minute. ‘Then they’ll fit right in,’ said Nate eventually.
Chapter 6
Pan lay on her bunk and gazed at the ceiling. Even though she had earphones in, she could still hear someone crying out in their sleep. It was probably Cara. Pan glanced at the luminous dial of her watch. 4 a.m. She felt confident she would get no more sleep that night. After her nightmares, that was almost a relief.
~~~
Dinner had been worse than lunch. Once again, the canteen had been full to bursting and all the students had eaten with a palpable sense of urgency, heads bent over bowls, shovelling food into their mouths. It was another kind of stew. Or maybe it was the leftovers from lunch with a few added vegetables. There was some kind of white tuber, cut into large chunks that bulked out the meal. It didn’t taste of much and immediately sat heavy in her stomach, as if resisting digestion. Pan forced herself to eat all of it, and she noticed that again Cara ate virtually nothing. Wei-Lin polished off what she left.
In theory, after-dinner was given over to free time, but Pan noticed, as she took a stroll around the grounds, that few students took the opportunity to rest. Most attended extra lessons or developed their individual talents. Some focused on weapons-training, or fitness – lifting large rocks in lieu of weights. Some went running in a group, Nate included.
Wei-Lin worked outside the dormitory, fashioning a new arrow. She painstakingly whittled away at a piece of wood with a penknife, turning the shaft constantly to check if it was straight. She nodded a greeting as Pan walked past. Pan noticed, in the distance, Samantha and Karl going for a jog together. Is there a romance blossoming there? she thought. It was possible. The way they looked at each other appeared neutral, but she had a feeling about it. The plain English girl and the Kiwi computer nerd. It would probably never have happened in the old world, but circumstances had changed. Perhaps they could find comfort in each other’s company.
Cara was the only one who didn’t do anything. When Pan entered the dorm, she found her sitting on her bed, staring at the wall and biting her fingernails. Pan busied herself tidying her locker and remaking her bed – she felt embarrassed that she couldn’t do it as neatly as most of the others, though not embarrassed enough to spend too much time at it. She considered trying to engage Cara in conversation, but sensed it wouldn’t be welcome. Maybe in a few days. She knew there was a well of unhappiness in the girl – it was written on her face – but Pan had no idea how to lift her from it. I’m not sure she is going to make it, Pan thought, and then felt guilty for thinking it. It was almost a relief when Cara pulled a small notebook from her drawer and began writing. Her brow was scrunched in concentration and her pencil raced across the page. When a tear trickled down her cheek she seemed unaware and didn’t brush it away.
Eventually, Pan gave up on her bed – it still looked as bad as ever – and went for another walk. Watching Cara write was as tedious as bed-making, and she had to do something. Dusk was blending into night. Some of the clouds had dissipated and she could see a few pale stars. She wandered without purpose, trying to ignore the chill that seeped through her clothes. Maybe I will have to take up running, she thought, if only to stay warm. The weariness in her limbs had lessened and she could feel strength returning. Maybe there was some nutritional benefit in The School’s food, despite its appearance.
Her eye was caught by movement off to her left and she stopped. Nightfall made it difficult to see, but there had been a blur of something moving at tremendous speed. She walked closer. A boy stood in the middle of a clearing, his arm raised. Something was balanced on his hand, and as Pan approached she saw it move. Its silhouette was unsettled. Pan’s foot slipped on a rock and the noise caused the boy to turn towards her. Even in the gathering dusk she could pick out the bright red of the boy’s hair.
‘Hello?’ he said.
‘Hi,’ said Pan. ‘Sorry to scare you. It’s Tom, isn’t it?’
The boy smiled.
‘That’s me,’ he said. ‘And you’re the new girl. Hey, did you save me any meat?’
‘Sorry,’ said Pan. ‘My meal turned out to be entirely vegetarian.’
‘Pity,’ said Tom. ‘Kes here would’ve loved a snack.’
On the boy’s hand was a large bird of prey, a kestrel or a falcon of some kind. Its hooked beak snatched at something the boy held in his gloved hand.
‘Is that a falcon?’ said Pan.
The boy beamed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Isn’t she beautiful? Do you want to hold her?’
‘Well, I’m not sure . . .’
‘Go on. She won’t hurt you.’ Tom took a towel that had been tucked inside the waistband of his shorts and handed it to Pan. ‘Wrap it around your left hand and up your arm. I haven’t got another gauntlet, and I don’t think mine would fit you. Too small. But the towel will work. Just make sure you don’t leave any of your skin exposed.’
‘Maybe . . .’
‘Please,’ said Tom. He was hopping from foot to foot in excitement. His enthusiasm was so infectious that Pan couldn’t help smiling. She accepted the towel and wrapped it around her hand. Tom helped her arrange the towel so Pan’s fingers were uncovered.
‘You need to be able to hold the jesses,’ he explained.
‘Jesses?’
‘These.’ He showed her the leather cords attached to the bird’s legs. ‘Keep a tight grip on these and she can’t fly anywhere. Put your arm out,’ he said, ‘and I’ll pop her on your hand. Here we go. Careful. Don’t spook her. And make sure the jesses are nice and secure between your fingers. That’s it. There you go.’
The bird was much heavier than Pan had expected. It skittered a few paces along her hand and she felt the muscles in her arms bunch. Even through the thick bulk of the towel she could sense the power of the talons. The bird swivelled its head and preened a couple of feathers.
‘You want to see her in flight,’ said Tom. ‘The way she stoops.’
‘Stoops?’
‘Dives to intercept her prey. Like a missile. Bang.’
‘Is that why you keep the falcon, then? To hunt?’
‘Of course. Falconry is one of the oldest hunting sports.’ The boy took the bird back onto his hand, fished a hood from an inside pocket and deftly fastened it over the falcon’s head. ‘When I was rescued, I had Kes with me – we’d been doing some training – so I had this equipment as well. The jesses, the gauntlet and the hood. Luckily my rescuers knew how useful she’d be, and brought her along. I’ve put in an order for some extra equipment and another falcon – through the student representative council, you know? �
� but so far they haven’t brought anything back . . .’
I wouldn’t hold your breath, either, thought Pan.
‘I want to breed them. Get a colony going. If we had six or seven falcons, then we could get plenty of meat. I’ve told them that, The School council. And I’ve explained that I could train other students how to handle them.’
‘I’m sure you could,’ said Pan.
‘Let me show you,’ said Tom. He dug a hand into his shorts pocket and produced a small dark object. Pan narrowed her eyes.
‘A mouse,’ he said proudly. ‘Don’t worry, it’s dead.’
‘Where do you get mice around here?’
‘The chook yard. There aren’t many, but I check every night. I put traps out at the edge of the forest as well. Get the odd shrew, or whatever. Kes doesn’t care. So long as it’s meat, she’s cool with it. Here.’
He tucked the mouse into the gap in the towel where she had clasped the jesses. Pan suppressed a shudder as its limp tail brushed her fingers.
‘What do I do?’ she asked.
‘I’ll take Kes to the end of the clearing,’ said Tom. ‘When I take off her hood, hold your hand up and let the mouse dangle by its tail. She’ll fly to you. Well, she’ll fly to the mouse.’
‘She’ll be able to see it from that distance, in this light?’
The boy laughed. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘From much further than that. Their eyesight is phenomenal. You’ll see.’
‘Er, Tom?’ said Pan. ‘I’m not sure I . . .’
‘Don’t worry.’
He marched away across the clearing and almost disappeared in the fading light. When he was about fifty metres away he turned to face her.
‘Now. Hold your arm up. That’s the way. And don’t flinch when she lands. Let her have her food. Trust me, you don’t want to come between her and that mouse.’
Tom removed the falcon’s hood and raised his arm. Almost immediately the bird took off and speared through the air towards Pan. She barely had time to glimpse the graceful arrow of its flight before it thumped onto her arm and took the mouse in a single fluid movement. The impact made her stagger. The sharp hook of its beak ripped and tore. It was beautiful in a raw and elemental way. But it was also terrifying.
Pandora Jones: Admission Page 7
