Jen gave her a puzzled look. ‘I’m no good at riddles, Pandora. No, I don’t find that strange. I find that normal.’
‘What about your family?’
‘Oh, jeez. My family? What’s the point?’ She sat on the edge of the cliff, her legs dangling into space. Pan sat a metre or so behind her. She didn’t like heights and wasn’t prepared to tempt fate. ‘There was only my mother,’ continued Jen. ‘She disappeared one day when I was fourteen. Went for a ride on the back of some guy’s Harley and I never saw her again. Who cares? It’s not important.’
‘Not important?’
‘No. Just like all that death, all that suffering from the virus. You know what I reckon, Pandora? I think it was for the best. Most of the people I knew were struggling. Life was hard. Sometimes it was a real effort to get from one day to the next. And I had it easy compared to most. Think of all those kids in third world countries, starving to death, dying from preventable diseases. The world was stuffed. It was dying, bit by bit. The virus did us all a favour. Wiped out all that suffering so we could start again.’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Yes. Maybe I’m different from you. I didn’t see the world as wonderful. I saw it as nasty. People were basically shits. It’s just that some hid it better than others. No. The virus did the earth a favour and the only downside was it didn’t finish the job and wipe all of us out.’
Pan didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t much to say. But she wondered what kind of life Jen must have led to hold such a depressing world view. After a while, Jen got to her feet and brushed off the seat of her pants.
‘You done, Pandora? ’Cos we’re gonna be late for that meeting if we don’t get a move on.’
Pan wasn’t done. Not by a long way. But she could wait.
The group sat around the table that Pan had used for so many personal development sessions with Dr Morgan. Dr Macredie was at the head of the table, with Wei-Lin on her left and Sanjit on her right. Sam and Karl sat next to Sanjit, their hands clasped. Pan and Jen took seats next to Wei-Lin.
Pan glanced around the other members of the team. Sanjit sat with his head bent over the table, one finger tracing patterns in the pooled condensation from a water glass. I must keep an eye out for him, Pan thought. He is private and vulnerable. I cannot, will not, allow him to become another Cara. Sam and Karl were also subdued, but the way their fingers tightened against each other’s – Pan could see their knuckles blanching – showed how desperately they relied on each other to fight despair. I am glad for them, she thought. Happiness is frail and they must cling to it with all their strength. Wei-Lin was impassive, her eyes fixed on Dr Macredie’s face, but a telltale pulse jumped in her neck and hinted at inner turmoil. Jen’s face was similarly expressionless. She’s right, thought Pan. We’re a weird bunch, each fighting our own demons. But we are all we’ve got.
Dr Macredie coughed and tapped gently on the table with one finger.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ she said. Almost instinctively, Pan leaned forward in her seat. The woman’s voice was so soft the air appeared to blot her words almost as soon as they left her mouth. ‘Dr Morgan sends his apologies, but he is conducting an address to all the other students. After what happened to Nate, we felt it was important to keep everyone informed, allow people time to . . . grieve.’
No one spoke. Dr Macredie brushed a strand of red hair away from her cheek.
‘I have some experience in counselling,’ she continued, ‘and after loss, I know how important it is to talk, to purge emotions, to share our feelings. I believe it would be appropriate for each of us to say something about Nate, what we remember of his life and how we feel about his death. Would anyone like to start?’
There was silence for five seconds.
‘Yeah. Me.’ Jen folded her arms. ‘I’d like to know why our group seems to be singled out for disaster, Doc. I mean, Cara and now Nate. As far as I know, only two students have died and both of them were members of our team. Which happens to be the smallest of all the groups. Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but that seems pretty crappy odds, a little too coincidental. Are we cursed, or is something else at work here?’
Wei-Lin glanced at Jen, and the pulse in her neck quickened. But she didn’t say anything and she returned her gaze to Dr Macredie, who laced her fingers together and placed them in her lap.
‘Jen, I don’t know what to say . . .’
‘Could you speak up, Doc?’ Jen tapped her right ear. ‘Having difficulty here.’
Dr Macredie shifted in her seat, but when she spoke it was louder. Not by much, though.
‘Jen, I don’t believe in curses. As far as “something else at work”, I have no idea what you mean.’
‘Okay. Fine. Maybe we’re just unlucky. But here’s another question. Why did The School send us out there, to a place of danger, armed with only a knife and a bow and arrow against soldiers with automatic weapons? What’s with all that shit Gwynne came out with – we were gonna be left there unless we met up at a certain time? I mean, come on, Doc. Really? Something about that whole exercise stinks. You know it. We know it. I’d like the truth.’
Dr Macredie cleared her throat.
‘You are asking about operational matters,’ she said, ‘and I’m not in a position to explain . . .’
Jen laughed, but there was little humour in it.
‘Say what? Operational matters? Jeez, you sound like a politician. How about the simple truth? Because, you know what, I reckon it’s the least we deserve.’
‘Don’t you think it’s more important to talk about Nate?’
‘I am talking about Nate,’ said Jen. ‘He died out there and I want to know why. You come out with all this “let’s express our feelings” garbage, but you don’t wanna hear about mine. I’ll put it as simply as I can. I feel Nate’s death was at best unnecessary, at worst something The School is directly responsible for. It’s time for explanations.’
‘It was me.’
The voice was so low it was scarcely more than a whisper. Sanjit had not raised his head, nor had he stopped the obsessive tracing of patterns of water.
‘It was my fault,’ he continued. ‘If I hadn’t twisted my ankle, then we could probably all have got away. Nate ran on that diversion to protect me because I couldn’t keep up. It was me, I was the weak . . .’
‘Whoa, Sanjit.’ Jen held up one hand. ‘Stop right there. That is bullshit and you know it. If we’d all been fit then we’d have had no chance of outrunning them. Crashing through the forest. Might as well have lit fireworks. Our only chance was hiding while Nate led them away. You had nothing to do with his death and you have no reason to feel guilty.’
‘Maybe you should just let Sanjit express what he feels,’ said Dr Macredie. ‘Maybe that’s something he needs to do.’
‘And maybe that’d suit you because it would mean you could avoid answering my questions.’ Jen put both hands on the table. ‘Look, Doc. Let’s just get to it, shall we? Why did The School send us on that mission?’
Dr Macredie looked around the table as if for support, but no one said anything. She sighed.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘From what I understand, there were reports of a survivor and you were sent there to try to find him or her. But no one held out much hope – it was a very vague report – so it became a kind of training exercise. If we’d known there were armed people there, we would never have sent you. Of course we wouldn’t. So few have survived. Why would we deliberately endanger any of you?’
‘Well, I think you’ll find that was my question,’ Jen replied. ‘And I still don’t have an answer.’
There were other questions that Pan wanted to ask. What about the statistical improbability of finding so many so-called survivors together in one place? Why did the students in The School remember the same things with the same details? But these were questions that were too dangerous to ask. Keep your suspicions close, she thought. And trust no one. Especial
ly Dr Macredie.
‘I don’t have an answer either,’ said Dr Macredie. ‘If I did I would tell you. But you’ll have to forgive me, Jen. I understand your concerns, I really do, but we’re here for counselling purposes and I can’t allow you to monopolise the discussion. Sanjit, for example, is obviously feeling guilty about what happened and I think he deserves the opportunity to express that and receive support. Sanjit?’
Even then, Sanjit did not raise his head. His finger traced figure-of-eight patterns in the water, over and over again.
‘I. . . Before the virus,’ he said, his voice barely discernible, ‘I . . . I was in trouble. I don’t know. It’s as if . . . misfortune follows me. I bring trouble on everyone around me.’
‘What kind of trouble, Sanjit?’ said Dr Macredie. She leaned forward in her chair.
Sanjit shrugged. ‘Trouble,’ he said. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter now. Except to Nate . . .’
Sam coughed and stood. Karl joined her, though whether that was in support or because he didn’t want to let go of her hand was difficult to judge.
‘Dr Macredie,’ Sam said. ‘You might be trying to help. I don’t know. To be honest, I have no idea what to think anymore. But I don’t want to sit around having a cosy chat about feelings. It’s not helping me. It certainly won’t resurrect the dead. Jen is right. We deserve answers. So, unless you’ve got some, I’m leaving.’
Karl glanced at her and then nodded.
‘That goes for me, too,’ he said.
Dr Macredie sighed. ‘Sam, Karl,’ she said. ‘It’s unhealthy to bottle up feelings. Now, I understand you all experienced considerable trauma on that expedition. Another person, one of the . . . enemy . . . was killed.’ She glanced at Wei-Lin, who didn’t react. ‘At your hands,’ she continued. ‘I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this is for you all. But if you are to take the road to healing, you need to share your thoughts and feelings. We’re all friends here. And friends support each other.’
A chair scraped against the floor as Wei-Lin stood. ‘We have friends, Dr Macredie,’ she said. ‘Our team, what remains of it.’
She looked around the table and Pan and Jen got to their feet. Jen was grinning. Sanjit glanced up, then leaned against the table and pushed himself unsteadily upright. Sam reached out a hand to help, but he ignored it.
‘You weren’t on the expedition, Dr Macredie,’ Wei-Lin said. ‘No one from The School was there. We helped each other then with no outside assistance. We’ll help each other now.’
Dr Macredie rubbed a hand across her brow. She suddenly seemed weary.
‘This is a mistake,’ she said. ‘But I can’t force you. You know where I am if you want to talk. Even outside Infirmary hours I am available. Come to the staff quarters if it’s an emergency. Some students have done that already, you know.’
‘Thanks,’ said Wei-Lin. ‘We appreciate it.’
Sam and Karl helped Sanjit down the steps that led from the Infirmary to The School. He had difficulty placing his full weight on his damaged ankle, so Karl gave him a shoulder to lean on. Sam kept a pace or two ahead as they limped down gingerly. Wei-Lin followed behind.
It was a slow pace, and when the group stopped to rest Jen and Pan squeezed past. Within minutes they’d put distance between themselves and the others. Jen chuckled.
‘Must confess I got a kick from our walk-out,’ she said. ‘Did you see the look on Dr Macredie’s face when we refused to play ball?’
‘We need to look out for Sanjit,’ Pan said. ‘We’re all damaged goods, but I reckon he’s the biggest worry right now.’
‘You’re probably right. I’ll have a word with Karl. Get him to keep an eye out in the dormitory. Sanjit doesn’t say a lot, so he’s real easy to forget about.’
‘Yeah. And we can’t afford to forget about him, like we forgot about Cara.’
They arrived on the rocky plain of The School. A pale sun was low in the sky and the grounds were deserted. Dr Morgan must have finished his address to the rest of the students. Pan turned to face Jen.
‘Can you get your hands on a crowbar or, better still, a boltcutter?’ she asked.
‘Why?’
‘Can you?’
Jen screwed up her eyes and regarded Pan. ‘I have my ways,’ she said. ‘Not a boltcutter, though. I’ve never seen one in any of the storerooms. But I could probably get a crowbar.’
‘Could you get one by tonight? And some rope?’
‘Probably. What’s this about?’
‘I want us to try something. Just the two of us. But no one else must know.’ Pan felt a pang of guilt. The team had just made a grand gesture of unity and she was already keeping them in the dark. Just about tonight, she thought. Tomorrow I’ll tell them everything we’ve discovered. If we discover anything, that is. ‘Especially not a staff member.’
‘Is it going to be dangerous?’
‘Almost certainly. If we get caught.’
Jen smiled and it lit up her face. She seemed much more likeable when she smiled. It was remarkable how quickly coldness could be transformed into warmth. The same, Pan realised, was true of the reverse. An image of Nate came into her mind, and she shivered.
‘Excellent,’ said Jen. ‘I love danger.’
Chapter 2
The dormitory was as Pan remembered it. Clean, comfortless and totally devoid of any warmth. It smelled of loneliness. No one else was there when Pan entered. Jen had gone to find the equipment and they had agreed to meet at midnight outside the dormitory for their excursion. Pan was thankful for the time to herself.
She pulled back the blankets on her bunk. Someone had made her bed while she was gone and that in itself was surprising. In The School you did your own work because no one had the time or the inclination to help anyone else out. Pan smiled. She could sense Wei-Lin’s hand in this small gesture of solidarity. The bed was hard and the springs dug into her back when she lay down. She was desperately weary despite her long sleep in the Infirmary, but she welcomed the discomfort. She didn’t want to sleep again. Not just yet.
Pan tried to rediscover the certainty of her epiphany on the way back from the island, that The School was lying to them – worse, manipulating their memories, implanting new ones. That still felt right. But when she recalled her absolute certainty that Nate’s death had been staged, another illusion in a whole world of smoke and mirrors, it now seemed somehow insubstantial, as if it had leached away in the intervening hours. Maybe she was right about some things and wrong about others. What evidence did she have that Nate wasn’t dead? None. In fact, she had witnessed his death with her own eyes. All she had was her intuition. Was it, perhaps, a desperate act of self-delusion, an unwillingness to accept the truth: that Nate was gone and would never return? As dead as all the other people she had been close to? Her mother. Her brother. Her friends. Thoughts mingled and swirled, becoming less distinct in doing so. All she truly knew was that there were answers out there and that she must find them.
She clung to that determination, even as she fell asleep. This time she didn’t dream.
When she woke it was almost midnight and others were sleeping. She had set an internal alarm clock and was pleased it had worked. Pan slipped from her bed and shrugged into her camouflage jacket. Standard School issue and welcome against the night chill. The season was turning and temperatures were milder than when she’d first arrived, but it would still be cold outside at this time of night. Pan groped her way along the dormitory to the side of Jen’s bed. She didn’t have to wake her. Pan’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she saw that Jen was lying on her side, her eyes open. Pan jerked her head towards the door and Jen nodded. She was already dressed, and the two girls padded silently along the central gap between the beds. Outside, the cold was more biting than Pan had anticipated. A thin wind sliced through her clothing and settled in her bones. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter.
‘Did you get the crowbar and the rope?’ she whispered.
Jen nodded
and moved behind the dormitory wall. She rummaged in the darkness for a few moments and retrieved both items.
‘Thought it was safer to hide them,’ she replied.
‘Good,’ said Pan. ‘Also, I need your watch.’
‘My watch? Why?’
‘I have my reasons.’
For a moment Jen simply stared at Pan, then she shrugged, undid the watchband and handed the timepiece over.
‘Thanks,’ said Pan, undoing her own watch. ‘Wait while I put them in the dormitory.’
‘You’re being seriously weird, Pandora. You know that, don’t you?’
Pan shrugged. ‘It crossed my mind,’ she replied.
It took only a few moments to place the watches on their respective pillows, and then Pan rejoined Jen in the cold night.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Party time.’
‘Where are we going?’ said Jen.
‘You’ll see when we get there.’
‘A little trust?’
‘Distrust is healthier.’
They ran most of the way. Pan found it easier than she expected. The rigours of their mission on the island had left her exhausted, but after a while she found a rhythm. Jen showed no signs of discomfort, even though she was carrying a crowbar and a length of rope. The dull rumble of the river could be heard long before they found it. The meltwater had increased its size and intensity since she had sat on the river bank with Nate. Pan hoped the sound would mask their progress. She ran along the bank, Jen a few paces behind. They passed the staff houses and, although a few lights were on, most of the quarters were in darkness. No one was out on their verandahs, and they ran past unnoticed. After that, the darkness was complete once more, but they had found the full extent of their night vision and the going was relatively easy. Within fifteen minutes, the sombre bulk of the wall loomed before them.
‘Had a feeling we were coming here,’ said Jen.
‘Why?’
‘I’d call it intuition, but you’ve got the market cornered in that. Basic logic. Where else could we be going? We’re going over the wall, aren’t we?’
Pandora Jones: Deception Page 2
