‘What have you done to yourself?’ she said. ‘You loser. I don’t know. Boys! Always playing games. Bet you feel all macho in that get up, huh? What’s your last name again? Bond?’
He grinned again. It was faintly alarming, the flash of white in the dark.
‘Licensed to thrill, that’s me,’ he said. ‘Anyway, this is no game. We want to get over the wall, this is the best way to do it without being seen. Come on, Pan. Get with the program, girlfriend.’ He took something from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. A cold container. ‘Shoe polish,’ he explained. ‘Smear it all over.’
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ said Pan.
‘Absolutely. Look, Wei-Lin said that there was to be no contact between The School and those people on the other side of the wall, though how they manage to get supplies to us without contact strikes me as impossible. If we’re going to check out what’s over there, we don’t want to be seen.’
Pan wanted to argue but Nate had a point. She opened the can and dipped her fingers into it. The sludge felt thick and slimy, but she spread it over her face as best she could. Nate helped to cover those parts she missed. When he was satisfied, he put the container back into his pocket and then lifted up a backpack from the shadows at his feet.
‘Where’d you get that polish?’
‘I borrowed it from Miss Kingston’s stores.’
‘Borrowed?’
‘Okay, stole. Satisfied? Let’s get going.’
He didn’t wait for a response but ran into a night that swallowed him in seconds. Pan sighed and followed. The pale disc of the moon hovered above the dark bulk of the wall and they headed towards it.
~~~
Nate ran his hands along the stonework.
‘Smooth,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘No hand holds. Nothing to get a grip on. Strike you as suspicious?’
‘It’s a wall, Nate. A stone wall built a long time ago.’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
They had headed towards one of the six towers spaced evenly along the length of the wall. The glow of a torch burned within, though they couldn’t make out any movement in the window slits. Nate had insisted they wait and observe, to establish the level of security. ‘First rule of leadership,’ he’d said. ‘Assess all risks.’
‘A Miss Kingston saying?’
‘Nope. Made it up all by myself.’
They waited in the shadow of the wall for twenty minutes, but there was no sign of guards patrolling, no voices. The wall and the tower that erupted from it like a dark and swollen tooth remained blank, featureless and eerily silent. Finally, they walked along the base until they were roughly halfway between one watchtower and another. The moon was obscured by the wall and Pan could barely see Nate, though he stood only a metre or so from her. The night pressed in on them. It was a perfect place to begin their ascent. If they could find a way over.
‘So what now?’ whispered Pan. Her words sounded unnaturally loud and she felt sure they would carry for a considerable distance. Pan barely breathed out her remaining words. ‘Find a secret panel? Dig our way under?’
‘You work on that if it makes you feel better, while I try something else. You see, I’ve come prepared,’ replied Nate, digging into his backpack. ‘That’s my second rule.’ He pulled something out, but Pan couldn’t see what it was. She moved closer.
‘Crossbow,’ said Nate. ‘And a grappling hook. Length of mountaineering rope. Another few items I borrowed from Miss Kingston’s supplies.’
‘Borrowed?’
‘Okay, stole. Just using my initiative, Pandora.’
‘Third rule?’
‘You got it.’
‘What’s she doing with this stuff? I mean, a crossbow? We can’t get decent supplies of toilet paper.’
‘Who knows? Maybe it was already here. Anyway, keep quiet.’
Pan heard the hard metallic click of a mechanism locking. Nate took a few paces back. It was still too dark to make out exactly what he was doing, but she heard the whirr of the crossbow’s release. High above, a second sound filtered through the night – a clank of metal hitting stone. Nate cursed as something landed a few metres to his left.
‘Angle’s wrong,’ he muttered as he gathered up the coils of rope.
He got it right on the second attempt. This time there was a thin scraping sound as the grappling hook scratched its way up the other side of the wall, engaged at the top and held. Nate leaned backwards, put one foot on the wall and placed his full weight on the rope.
‘Grab hold, Pan,’ he said. ‘We don’t want this puppy slipping off halfway up.’
Pan took a length of rope curling behind Nate and added her own body weight. The rope didn’t budge.
‘This’ll take our weight, then?’ she said.
‘Us and another four people,’ replied Nate. ‘At least. But we aren’t going up together. I’ll go first, since I reckon I’ve got more upper-body strength than you. Then, when I’m on the top of the wall, I can help you. When we’re both up there, we can let the rope down the other side. Easy.’
‘Easy’ didn’t seem the right word to Pan. She could just make out the top of the wall, fifteen metres above. It was a wedge of darkness against the star-dusted sky. It looked a long way to climb. An even longer way to fall. Nate sensed her anxiety.
‘I know. Scared of heights. I’ll make a cinch knot around your waist before I go up,’ he said. ‘That way, if you slip, you won’t hit the ground. Safe as houses, Pan. Trust me.’
He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. He made the knot with practised ease.
‘When I get to the top, I’ll give a couple of sharp tugs on the rope,’ he said. ‘That’s your cue to start climbing. Put your feet against the wall as you go up. Try to walk up it. I’ll be taking the weight from the top. Ready?’
Pan nodded. She wasn’t ready, but she took a deep breath and watched as Nate took hold of the rope, pulled on it one more time and then climbed, hand-over-hand, into the darkness. He made it seem easy. He barely put a foot on the smooth surface of the wall, using instead the strength in his arms to support his weight. Pan squinted up into the night sky, kept the rope taut and waited. Fifteen metres was a long way, but the tugs on the rope came much sooner than she expected. A dark shape, a shadow against shadows, moved and squirmed against the sky. He had made it. Pan took a deep breath and started.
Within a minute, the muscles in her arms and legs shrieked in pain. She placed her feet against the wall, but it was so smooth that she slipped almost immediately. So she pulled herself up by the arms, clasping the trailing rope between her feet. Pull up a metre or so. Step on the trailing rope. Rest. Pull up again. At least she couldn’t see the ground and that was a comfort. It was as though she were climbing in a vacuum. No way of knowing the drop. But no way of knowing how far to go either.
Toughen up, she thought. It was embarrassing that Nate could swarm up this rope like a monkey and she was taking an age. Pull up. Rest. And then the moon silvered her face and Nate grasped her wrist. She made one final effort and flopped onto the top of the wall, her heart hammering. Pan clutched at the cold masonry and waited for her breathing to slow. At least the top of the wall was broad – about two metres in width. She rested her face against the cool surface. Nate stood and looked out towards the sea, but Pan wasn’t getting to her feet. She wanted to keep as much of her body as possible pressed to the security of that two-metre plane.
‘Whose idea was this?’ she gasped.
‘Not sure,’ said Nate. ‘I think we came up with it together. Look, Pan. It’s amazing up here.’
Pan got carefully onto her knees, trying not to consider the drop that lurked on both sides. She sat in the very centre. Nate paced up and down. Did he have no fear at all? Only when she was convinced she couldn’t fall did she look out over the village spread before her.
It was bigger than it had looked from the Garden on Top of the World. And, judging by the number of lights sprinkled along the streets an
d in the buildings, much busier and more heavily populated than it appeared from The School. It must have been midnight, yet there were plenty of signs of movement down there. Many places were in darkness, true, but there were also buildings brightly lit. The faint murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. Ships bobbed on the moonlight-dappled water and many of these had lights swaying against the darkness.
‘All of this,’ whispered Nate. ‘Just to supply The School? I don’t think so, Pan.’
Pan didn’t think so either. There was something wrong about the village. Nothing she could put into words, but a cold feeling in her gut. She was learning to trust those feelings.
‘Okay,’ said Nate. ‘No point being up here longer than necessary. Time to get down and do some exploring.’
He disengaged the grappling hook and attached it firmly to the other side of the wall. Its barbs dug into the masonry but it still looked a precarious hold against gravity. And Nate wasn’t able to test it by applying any weight. He uncoiled the rope and let it fall down the side of the wall into the village. It snaked and disappeared into shadows.
‘I go first again,’ he said, slipping his body over the side. ‘Feel the rope. When it goes slack, I’m down. You’ll find it easier this way.’
It took only a minute. Then the rope felt slack against her hand and she took a firm grip and edged her body over the side. It wasn’t easier. This time, all her weight tried to take her down faster than she wanted. She coiled the rope around her legs and slithered down. Despite the cold, her face was slick with sweat. Her hands were damp and the nylon rope was slipping and burning against her palms. She had to balance the desire to descend as quickly as possible with the caution that one slip would be her last.
Pan felt Nate’s arms around her waist and then her feet touched ground. Her knees nearly buckled, but she remained upright, leaning against the smoothness of the wall. The cool night air made her flushed face tingle. Nate pressed his lips against her ear and she shivered. On this side of the wall, there was a greater chance of being overheard. He kept his whispers low.
‘We leave the rope here. Keep together at all times. We stick to the shadows, suss out what we can but don’t take any chances. No talking, okay?’
Pan nodded and he pressed her hand. Nate took one pace towards the village.
The light struck like a fist, pushed them back against the wall. Pan brought her hand up to her eyes instinctively. And then there were shouts.
‘Down. On the ground. Now.’
‘Hands behind your head. GET DOWN!’
A scuffle of footsteps. Pan brought her hand away for a moment, but the light was too intense. It brought tears to her eyes. Shapes moved at the edges of the light, men bearing down on them. She caught a glimpse of guns, uniforms. Then someone grabbed her by the hair, pushed her to the ground. The shouts increased in volume. Everyone was yelling. She felt her hands being wrenched behind her back and the cold circle of a gun barrel burning against the nape of her neck. More men were at her feet. She felt cord biting into her ankles and wrists. Then a hood blotted out the light. Hands were all over her now, searching her pockets. Within moments, the noise diminished. She felt herself being lifted, carried. The only sound was the occasional barked order.
Then the prick of a needle in her arm.
After that, there was nothing.
Chapter 13
When Pan woke, her head was pounding and she squinted against pale light. For a moment she couldn’t remember what had happened, but then her memories flooded back. She groaned and rolled onto her side, closed her eyes again. The wall. The village. Men, soldiers, a needle. She shuddered as she recalled the pressure of the syringe against her arm. When she opened her eyes again she forced them to remain open.
Slowly, she took in her surroundings. She was in a room, similar to one of the huts where classes took place. But this was considerably smaller and had no furnishings other than the small bed on which she lay. There was only one window, a tiny rectangle of dusty glass just visible through sturdy bars. Her legs felt unsteady, but she staggered to the door and tried the handle. Locked. There was a small panel in the door – a peephole, she imagined – but there was no way to open it from her side. She turned back and surveyed the room. No way out. Not unless she smashed through the walls. Possibly use the bed frame as a tool. She sat on the bed and waited.
Slightly less than an hour later, the panel in the door slid open and a shaft of light painted the floor. Pan could see motes of dust dancing in the beam, but they were abruptly shut off as the panel slid across once more. There was a rustling of keys and the door opened. Pan blinked against the light and stood.
Gwynne stood there with a student she didn’t know by name, though she’d seen him in the canteen. He was tall, muscled and unsmiling. He’s the security, Pan thought.
Gwynne sniffed.
‘Come,’ he said.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
Pan shrugged. She didn’t have a choice. Her legs still felt trembly, but she managed to walk as if she had purpose. This was not a time to show weakness.
Gwynne and the student flanked her as she left the room. Her hut was situated on the extreme edge of The School, in a block of four or five similar buildings. The wall stretched out across the horizon, dark and inscrutable. Her escort marched her to the closest building, a hut somewhat bigger than the one she had occupied. There were no markings on the outside. Gwynne opened the door and Pan walked inside.
Four chairs were set in a line on the far side of a battered desk. Two of them were occupied by Professor Goldberg and Dr Macredie. A single chair was on her side of the desk. Gwynne and the boy took their seats. Pan stood beside the chair. Exert any power you can, she thought. Don’t sit. Let them look up at me.
Dr Macredie glanced at a sheet of paper in front of her.
‘This is a special session of The School Council,’ she said in little more than a whisper. Pan noticed for the first time that the doctor’s voice carried a hint of a Scottish accent. ‘And the matter before us is an episode of trespassing by Pandora Jones.’ She met Pan’s eyes and smiled. ‘Please sit down, Pan.’
‘I prefer to stand.’
Dr Macredie shrugged. ‘As you wish.’ She paused for a long moment. ‘Would you care to explain your actions?’ she said finally.
‘They need explanation?’
‘You entered a forbidden zone. I think that justifies giving a reason.’
‘A “forbidden zone”?’ said Pan. ‘Strange. I didn’t see any signs.’
‘But you were told that students in The School are not allowed to visit the village. That is true, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Pan. ‘Can you speak up?’
Macredie pushed a strand of red hair back from her eyes and repeated the question, though the volume was not noticeably greater.
‘Yes,’ admitted Pan.
Gwynne chipped in.
‘You knew you weren’t allowed, but went anyway? Wearing gunk on your face. So the question remains. Why?’
‘I wanted to see what was on the other side.’
Gwynne sighed, but Professor Goldberg chuckled. Gwynne rubbed at his eyes with one knuckle and glanced down at the desk as if summoning a reserve of patience and unsure if he would find it. He picked up a pencil and tapped it against the stained wood.
‘You’ve been told what’s on the other side of the wall,’ he said. ‘Supply route. Potential disease. Why did you scale the wall?’
‘Because I needed to see with my own eyes.’
Gwynne threw his pencil down. It bounced, rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. No one picked it up. Dr Macredie held up a hand towards the weapons instructor and then leaned towards Pan. She smiled.
‘Pan,’ she said. ‘We must protect all of our students. It is a solemn duty. We hold the future of the human race, the continued existence of humanity, in our hands. We must not fail. The stakes could not be hig
her. You must see that. You must understand that.’
‘I understand I have been assaulted, drugged and imprisoned,’ Pan replied. ‘Now I find myself in front of what looks suspiciously like a court, without any idea of my rights and without anyone appointed to defend me. It is difficult, under these circumstances, to see any of you as protectors. You must understand that.’
Gwynne sniffed yet again and wiped his misshapen nose.
‘“Rights”? Let me explain. None of us have rights. All this rubbish. Assault, imprisonment, the right to a defence. That was then. This is now. This is our only hope. For the future. We cannot allow anyone to jeopardise that.’
‘And that gives you the right to put a gun against my head and inject me with God knows what?’
‘Under the circumstances, yes. Absolutely. Reasonable force.’
‘Sounds like you’ve established a cosy little dictatorship here.’
‘A benevolent dictatorship, Pan,’ said Dr Macredie.
‘That’s what all dictators say.’
Gwynne shook his head.
‘No point in this conversation,’ he said. ‘Brendan, put Miss Jones back. Then return. Discuss appropriate punishment.’
The tall student got to his feet and came around the side of the desk. He was huge. Probably a rugby player in the old world, thought Pan. But he’s scared. He took her by the arm. Pan shook him off and left the room without a backward glance.
~~~
Less than twenty minutes after being locked back in her cell, the door opened and Dr Macredie came in. She left the door open behind her.
‘So the jury’s come to a decision then,’ said Pan. ‘What is it? Death by firing squad?’
Dr Macredie offered a wry smile and put a hand to her head. She suddenly looked very tired. She gestured towards the bed. ‘Do you mind if I sit?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Actually, it’s a week of lost free time. You and Nate will be spending quality time together cleaning out the septic tanks.’
Pandora Jones: Admission Page 14
