Pandora Jones: Admission

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘I suggest you shut the hell up. If you don’t, I’ll spray your goddamn eyes myself.’

  The words fluttered around in Pan’s head, floated and then broke up into small fragments and dissolved. Finally, all pain was gone and she welcomed the darkness.

  ~~~

  When the hand shook her she bolted upright and gasped. Immediately a hand clasped over her mouth and she felt a surge of panic. Jen’s face loomed within the darkness and she pressed her mouth close to Pan’s ear.

  ‘Quiet, Pandora,’ whispered Jen. ‘It’s only me. It’s time for your watch.’

  Pan heard the thudding of her heart and the race of blood in her ears. She swallowed and nodded. Jen took her hand away and Pan worked hard to resist the urge to take deep and violent breaths. Slowly, the drumming of her panic subsided.

  ‘What time is it?’ Pan whispered.

  ‘Eight o’clock. You have three hours on. Karl is next. Nate decided that we wouldn’t ask Sanjit tonight. He needs the rest. Tell Karl when you wake him.’

  Pan stretched and tried to get rid of the aches in her muscles. She stood and twisted her head from side to side, working out the kinks. It didn’t help much. She paced the clearing, stepping over the sleeping forms of the team. After a few moments she returned to the tree and sat down again. The rough bark on her back was sufficiently uncomfortable to ensure there was little chance of drifting off. Pan sat and listened to the faint sounds of forest nightlife, creatures scurrying. But ultimately she couldn’t resist her own internal mental scurrying.

  Pan tried to remember the details of her dream. It had been so vivid but already it was fading. She tried to recall the images. Running through a forest. Cara and Sanjit. A journal. A policeman and a car, a needle. The fine points were elusive, but the feeling remained strong. There was something in those dreams. Some hint, some clue that would explain everything. She made up her mind that she would talk to Sanjit. A journal? Sanjit had never mentioned anything about a journal. He had scarcely spoken at all. But it was a feeling and Pan trusted it.

  She hugged herself. Her clothes were finally dry, but it was still cold in that forest. At least there was no wind. The forest offered that advantage, that protection. And it wasn’t raining. Be grateful for that, she thought. Hoard the small mercies.

  When Pan first heard the sound, it was difficult to pin it down. There was something familiar about it, but it seemed out of context. Not a man-made sound. And not coming from the direction of the village. She strained her ears. It wasn’t the men returning. It didn’t smell of danger at all. And then she realised. It was a faint drumming, a quiet and insistent beat. She understood at the same time the rain began to filter through the forest. A large drop hit her on the head and rolled down the back of her shirt. She pulled her collar up and hugged herself tighter. The foliage was dense enough to afford some protection, but only if the rain remained light.

  Oh God, she thought. Hoard the small mercies and something steals them.

  No one stirred despite the rain. Pan made herself as small as possible and stared into the darkness.

  Chapter 21

  The rain had stopped by morning, but everyone was clammy and uncomfortable. The mosquitoes were out in force, too. Pan’s exposed flesh was mottled with bites and itching like crazy. She looked around the rest of the group and all she saw was misery. What sleep they’d had did not seem to have refreshed them much. Eyes were bloodshot and faces drawn in fatigue and hunger. Pan’s stomach rumbled. When was the last time she had eaten a proper meal? Back at The School. It was almost funny. The food at The School was insipid and often inadequate but now it seemed like the height of gastronomic luxury, a five-star meal in a three-hat restaurant. She groaned and tried to put thoughts of food out of mind.

  Nate beckoned them all together. Sanjit attempted to get to his feet, but as soon as he put weight on his injured ankle, his face twisted in pain. Nate pulled out a branch from the undergrowth by his feet. When Pan looked closer she realised it wasn’t a branch, but a crude crutch. At the top was a triangular contraption, bound together with rope and packed with some kind of material to form a cushion for the armpit. Halfway down the shaft was another piece of wood, also tied on, that was clearly designed for a hand hold. Nate looked apologetic as he passed it over.

  ‘The best I could do, I’m afraid, Sanjit. It’s a bit rustic, but it should take your weight.’

  Sanjit took the stick and propped it under his right armpit. He kept his right leg slightly off the ground and attempted a few steps. He made ungainly progress, but at least he could move.

  ‘Works well, Nate,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When did you do that?’ asked Sam.

  ‘During my watch,’ Nate replied. He shrugged. ‘While I was working I was also doing some thinking.’

  ‘Multi-tasking?’ said Karl. ‘Is there no end to this man’s talent?’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Nate. ‘Wisecrack all you like, if that keeps up the troops’ morale.’

  ‘Let’s hear the plan,’ said Jen. She looked in no mood for banter. Her face was grim and she scratched at her right forearm, which was a livid red. ‘I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m wet and cold. I could do with a plan of action.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Nate. ‘You may be disappointed then because action doesn’t play a great part in what I was thinking. But let’s talk it over. Here’s the way I see it. We’ve established that there are survivors here, and they are hostile. I reckon we’ve done what we can and need to report back. That means waiting around for slightly less than forty-eight hours before we meet Gwynne at the agreed rendezvous point and go home.’

  Home, thought Pan. A strange word to describe The School. It didn’t feel like home to her. It felt like a prison. She tried to focus on what Nate was saying. ‘The hostiles are better armed and better equipped than we are. Our best option is to avoid confrontation. We also need water and food. Shelter would be welcome as well. Under other circumstances I’d suggest we stay in the village, despite the dead bodies. There’s shelter and a water supply not far off. But the fact that the hostiles returned here is not a good sign and I don’t think it’s worth the risk.’

  ‘Could you get to the plan, please Nate?’ said Jen. ‘We know the situation we are in.’

  ‘I propose we make our way back to the beach, explore the surrounding area. It is possible we might find a cave. There are cliffs near where we made shore. A cave in a cliff would be ideal. We could light a fire, get warm and dry. There are two further advantages. We could try to catch fish, since there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of game in this forest. And we would be on hand when Gwynne returns. We need to meet him at precisely six a.m. The worst possible scenario would be to miss that appointment.’

  Silence greeted his words. Sam broke it after about thirty seconds.

  ‘And the disadvantages?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Nate. ‘Yes. One or two. Vulnerability is the main one. The beach is exposed, and clearly the longer we’re on it, the greater the chances of discovery. And say we are lucky enough to find a cave. There would only be one way out. We could be trapped in there if the hostiles came looking. Plus, we are a long way from water unless we find another stream.’

  The group mulled things over. It was Wei-Lin who spoke first.

  ‘I like the idea. This is now all about survival. I reckon we stand more chance on the beach. It’s got to be better than sitting in this forest.’

  One by one, the team nodded their agreement.

  ‘Okay,’ said Nate. ‘We go first to the stream that Wei-Lin and Sam found. We stock up as much as possible on water. Everyone drinks enough to be comfortable and then we ration the water in the canteen. After that we go back to the beach. Sanjit? Will you be able to find the way?’

  Sam handed over the compass and Sanjit shook it a couple of times and glanced at the display. He nodded. Nate’s giving him something to do, thought Pan. Bolstering his self-esteem.

  ‘Right,’ Nate continued.
‘We move slowly, partly because Sanjit is unable to walk quickly, but mainly because I want no mistakes. We are not in a hurry and we must never forget that there are killers out there. Wei-Lin, I want you to take up the position you had yesterday. Last of the group. Watch our backs.’

  There was little further discussion. The team finished what was left of the berries, which had gone soft and mushy overnight. Pan ate her share this time. Her stomach felt cavernous and she fought the sensation of nausea, swallowing the bitter goo with grim determination.

  Sam led the way out of the clearing, followed by Nate and Jen. Pan walked beside Sanjit. Karl and Wei-Lin brought up the rear. Progress was slow. Occasionally, Nate would slow the leaders down so that the gap between the team members did not become too great. Pan was tempted to talk to Sanjit. The impression left by her dream played on her mind and she wanted to ask him about a journal. It felt important. But they were moving with extreme caution, detouring to avoid areas that would have caused too much rustling. Everyone kept quiet and she didn’t want to risk even whispering.

  After twenty minutes Pan heard a new sound. Water. Running water. Sam proceeded carefully. She put one foot precisely in front of the other, parting the branches with exaggerated care. The sound of the stream might also mask other sounds, Pan realised. They did not want to burst out of the forest and into the arms of men in camouflage gear and deadly weapons. If she were intent on ambushing someone, it’s what she would do. Stake out the place she knew they had to come to, eventually. The water source. Sam parted a final branch and the stream was before them. She stuck her head out gingerly and surveyed the area. Then she waved a hand and stepped out of the forest.

  The stream was small but fast flowing. The group did not waste any more time than necessary. Pan knew they almost certainly felt the same way she did. Vulnerable. After so long under cover, the open space, even though it was small, felt threatening, as if at any moment danger would spring from the forest and claim them. They knelt at the stream’s edge and sucked greedily at the water. It was cold and deliciously fresh. After she had drunk her fill, Pan ducked her head under the current. It was so cold that she felt a pain in her temples, but she kept her head under. When she came up for air, she saw Jen filling the water canteen. Nate beckoned and they slid back into the forest. Pan glanced up once at the sky. It seemed so long since she had last seen it. It was dark, cloud-filled and threatening. She shivered.

  Under cover again, Sanjit took the compass from his pocket and examined it. After a few moments he pointed into the depths of the forest. Nate nodded and moved forward. Pan noted that he still held the axe. His grip was relaxed but determined.

  They walked for an hour, stopping occasionally to check their direction. Once or twice, Sanjit made small adjustments. There was still no sign of pursuit. Pan forced herself to focus, to keep listening for any sounds that might indicate danger. But there was nothing. Towards the end of the hour, Wei-Lin shot a bird. The thrum of the bowstring caused Pan to stiffen and her heart to race. There was a brief and terrifyingly loud rustling of leaves and branches as the bird fell. Wei-Lin stepped past Pan and into the undergrowth, and when she returned she was holding the bird aloft triumphantly. The arrow had hit it clean in the chest. Nate came and inspected the bird.

  ‘Good job,’ he said. ‘I’m tempted to eat it raw, but we should wait until we can build a fire.’

  It wasn’t a large bird. Some kind of wood pigeon, and it wouldn’t go far between seven, but the group’s spirits rose perceptibly. Wei-Lin removed the arrow, cleaned it on her shirt and inspected it for damage. Satisfied, she returned it to her quiver. Then she took a small piece of cord from her pocket, tied it around the bird’s legs and hitched it to her belt. The group moved on for another ten minutes before Nate called a halt.

  ‘We should be close, shouldn’t we?’ he asked Sanjit.

  ‘Should be,’ the boy replied. ‘But all a compass does is tell us direction. Not distance. According to my calculations, we travelled due North from the beach to our first resting point, then it was south-east to the village. From the village we went north-east to the stream. We are now travelling south-west. Basic geometry. We must be close to the beach, but I can’t guarantee we’ll hit it at exactly the right place.’

  It was the longest speech that Sanjit had made. Pan wondered whether that was a sign of new-found confidence or whether he was simply more comfortable when talking about things he understood.

  Nate nodded. ‘The forest seems to have thinned out over the last mile or so,’ he said. ‘And I think I can detect a hint of saltwater in the air.’

  He didn’t sound convinced and Pan couldn’t smell anything.

  ‘Right,’ Nate continued. ‘You guys stay here and I’ll scout ahead. If we’re close, I want to check the beach is clear before we all go trooping out. Keep the noise down. I’ll be gone a maximum of half an hour. If I don’t return, then don’t come looking for me. Stay hidden and wait for Gwynne.’

  He slipped off. The group members glanced at each other and sat. Karl and Sam huddled together. Wei-Lin crouched on her haunches and examined her bow, checking the string and then inspecting the arrows. Jen stood, arms folded, her face like thunder. Sanjit hopped a couple of steps and then sat at the base of a tree. He placed the crutch at his side. Pan gave it a quick glance. Some of the padding was coming off, but otherwise it was holding up well. Nate had done a good job. Pan eased herself down next to Sanjit.

  ‘How’s the ankle?’ she asked.

  ‘Better,’ he replied. ‘I’m not ready to do without the crutch yet, but it’s definitely improving.’

  ‘Good.’ There was a silence.

  ‘Sanjit?’ said Pan. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a question? Do you by any chance keep a journal?’

  ‘A journal?’

  ‘Yeah. A diary about what happened?’

  Sanjit looked puzzled. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Why do I ask? thought Pan. She couldn’t think of a suitable response.

  ‘I’m curious about what people remember, I guess,’ she said after a lengthy pause.

  ‘I’m not,’ he replied.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. Partly because the memories are too painful. And partly because it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. This, the here and now, is what we have to deal with and it takes up all my energy coping with that.’

  Pan nodded. ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But I think it would help me if you would share something of what you remember.’ And Pan felt that was true, though she had no idea why. Sanjit frowned once more and plucked at the fraying edge of his bandage. He unravelled a thread and twisted it around his finger.

  ‘I won’t talk about my close family,’ he said eventually. ‘Or how they . . . died.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Pan. ‘What about anything you remember afterwards. How long was it before you were rescued, brought to The School?’

  ‘A few weeks.’

  ‘How did you survive?’

  ‘I lived in Darwin. Everyone called it a city, but it wasn’t much more than a country town. One hundred thousand people and I was the only survivor. I know that because I spent two weeks checking. Surviving wasn’t a problem. There was plenty of food and shelter in a place designed for so many people, but with a population of one. I ate better than I had ever done before. Or since. My physical health was fine . . .’

  ‘But your mind?’ Pan prompted.

  Sanjit twisted the thread tighter. Pan noticed that the tip of his finger was white as his circulation became choked. She reached over and gently took the thread off him. Sanjit gazed incuriously at his finger as it filled with blood.

  ‘A hundred thousand dead people. One living boy.’ His voice was small and close to breaking. ‘That’s a lot of ghosts to deal with. A lot of fear. A lot of loneliness.’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’

  ‘Did you see anyone alive?’

  ‘A few. But th
ey died. And that made it worse. Like I was given hope and then it was snatched away. Like everything else.’

  ‘Any memory in particular?’ Pan knew this conversation was coming to an end, and although she hated pushing she couldn’t help herself. Sanjit stayed quiet so long Pan thought he wasn’t going to respond. Maybe she had gone too far and he had locked some interior door against her. But then he spoke, though he didn’t raise his head.

  ‘I found my cousin. She was alive. She was sitting next to her mother, my aunt, playing with a doll. My aunt must have been dead for many days. Her face . . .’ Sanjit swallowed. ‘But my cousin was talking to her doll. Gently. She kept smoothing back its hair. She rocked it. Her dress was covered in blood and she was coughing. And every time she coughed the stain down her dress became worse.’

  ‘What colour was her dress?’

  ‘It was red. It was nearly all red. But at some point it had been white.’ Sanjit raised his head and met Pan’s eyes. ‘I’m done,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I’m not talking anymore.’

  Pan opened her mouth, though she had no idea what she was going to say. As it turned out, she didn’t get the chance. Nate slipped into the clearing and squatted down on his haunches. The group drew closer.

  ‘Good work, Sanjit,’ said Nate. ‘The beach is very close. Deserted, as far as I can tell. And the best news. There is a cave. Not huge but reasonably inconspicuous. It’s big enough to keep the rain off us and we could build a fire in there. When it’s dark. We can’t risk anyone seeing the smoke. Let’s move, people.’

  It was a relief to leave the forest. When Pan saw the ocean stretching away to the horizon, it was easier to breathe and her spirits rose. The beach was totally deserted and there were no footprints to indicate any recent human visitation. The tide must have swept away any signs of their landing. The sky was grey, blanketed with high rain clouds and a few seagulls circled aimlessly. Rain was coming. Again. Nate led them along the edge of the beach, close to the tree line for cover. The cliffs weren’t very high – no more than three metres.