Pandora Jones: Deception

by Barry Jonsberg

  After a minute or so, Jen patted Pan on the back and put out her hand. Pan took it and pulled herself to her feet. Jen crept towards the dark and hulking shape of the Infirmary, and Pan followed. No words were exchanged. We can elude the guard, Pan thought. We can assemble the hang-glider. This is the easy part. The shadows cloaking the building would provide cover. The girls stepped carefully to avoid the loose rocks that littered the Garden. Once or twice Pan glanced over at the guard. Judging by the position of the flame torch, he must be on the top step, and the night was dark enough to prevent him seeing far. Nonetheless, it was reasonable to assume he would move to investigate a sound, so they took their time.

  When Jen reached the wall of the Infirmary, she crouched and eased the backpack off, placing it against the building. Then she unhitched the bundle of pipes from her shoulder and placed them next to the backpack. She beckoned to Pan.

  ‘There’s nothing for you to do, Pandora,’ she whispered. ‘Keep an eye out for that guard while I assemble this thing.’

  Pan nodded and stepped to the side. She kept to Jen’s left so she could see what her friend was doing while also monitoring any movement from the other end of the Garden. Jen unbuckled the straps holding the pipes together and took out each piece, one at a time. The third section made a small clank as it touched the ground and both girls froze. Pan eased away slightly and craned her head to see the flame torch which was now partly obscured by the curve of the Infirmary wall. Nothing had changed. The flame flickered, but it wasn’t on the move. Pan gave Jen the thumbs up.

  It took at least an hour to assemble the hang-glider’s frame, mainly because every movement had to be done with exquisite care. Jen used a series of clamps, fastened with wing nuts, to secure each piece. The first part to be completed was a simple triangle which Jen placed flat on the ground. Then she bolted some straight lengths together, forming a cross with two struts angling back from one apex, but unfastened to the cross. When she was satisfied, she unpacked the material from the backpack and laid it out on the ground to the left of the frame.

  ‘I need help now, Pandora,’ she whispered. ‘See those channels in the side of the fabric? We slide the frame poles through them. That way it’ll keep the material tight. You take this pole,’ she indicated one of the angled struts, ‘lift it carefully and I’ll feed it into the channel. Then it’s simply pushing the pole through.’

  It took another twenty minutes to manage this, but eventually Pan could see the glider’s basic design. It was dart-shaped, and Pan thought briefly about the planning that must have gone into the design and manufacture. If it worked, she would tell Jen how much she admired her skill. If the glider didn’t work, then there wouldn’t be much time to say anything.

  Finally, the main frame lay on the ground, the fabric stretched between the poles. Jen bolted the struts to the cross and picked up the triangle shape. She fixed it to the main pole where the cross pieces joined, though Pan noticed she didn’t tighten the bolt too hard but allowed it some movement along the glider’s main axis.

  Jen stepped back and examined her handiwork. She appeared satisfied. Next she took the webbing that had held the frame pieces.

  ‘Stand behind me, Pandora and pass these straps around your back. Give me the ends and I’ll buckle us together. When we fly, hold on to the frame hard – keep your hands outside of mine, okay? – but try not to move around. Keep the shape of your body matching mine. Like being dinked on a motorbike. Lean with me, don’t try to compensate by leaning the other way.’

  Pan nodded. The time had arrived, she realised. Either the next fifteen minutes would see them leave The School or they would be dead. She took the straps and passed both behind her back. Jen received the ends and tightened them. Then she picked up the frame and the two girls moved cautiously out from the side of the building. Tied together, it was a little difficult to move, but they managed. Like a three-legged race, thought Pan, and had to stifle another laugh.

  ‘Won’t the guard see us?’ she whispered in Jen’s ear.

  Jen turned her head. ‘Maybe. But by then we’ll be gone.’

  Pan placed her hands on the triangular frame, a few centimetres outside Jen’s.

  ‘Ready?’ whispered Jen.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ said Pan.

  They were no more than ten metres from the edge of the cliff when Jen started running. Pan matched Jen’s stride more effectively than when they’d been walking. They were perfectly in sync. The edge was below them before Pan had time to think. She felt a brief moment of heart-wrenching panic and then they were over, with nothing but the wind in their hair and the unseen drop beneath.

  And then they fell.

  Chapter 17

  The sensation of falling lasted only a second or two, but to Pan it felt like forever. Her stomach lurched as gravity took hold and an absurd memory came back of a ride in an elevator where the descent was so rapid she felt like her stomach had been left a floor or two above. Her fingers tightened on the frame and she forced herself to keep her eyes open. If she was going to die, she would meet that fate with full consciousness. She would not have her eyes closed, like a child scared of the dark and the monsters it might contain. And in those few seconds she felt a resurgence of that peculiar euphoria she had felt on the cliff face – a glorious sense of freedom. This time she did laugh.

  And then she realised they were no longer falling. She glanced up and the fabric of the hang-glider was taut with air. She peered out over Jen’s head. It was impossible to accurately gauge their position in the dark, but she sensed they were maintaining altitude, maybe even gaining some. Jen tilted to the right and Pan leaned with her.

  They were really flying. It almost took her breath away. Off to her right was the outline of the mountain that fringed one side of The School. In front lay the wall, and beyond that, the village and the ocean. Pan risked glancing over her shoulder to see how far they had come from the Infirmary. The dark bulk of the building was only just visible in the pale wash of the moon and stars. She searched for the spark of the guard’s torch but couldn’t see it. Either they were too far away or the guard had heard them leaving and was even now raising the alarm.

  Jen turned her head.

  ‘Stay with me, Pandora,’ she shouted. The rush of air was so great that it was hard to hear her words. ‘I’m going to bank around, try to find height by using the wind. Just keep your body with mine, okay?’

  She and Jen were soaring, like falcons riding the air, letting the wind take them. A part of her understood Jen’s strategy. They were trying to go as high as possible, so they would have sufficient height to coast over the wall and down to the sea, their descent a slow glide to a gentle landing. It made sense to keep as high as possible when they went over the wall and the village. The watchtowers were manned constantly, at least as far as they could tell, and it was possible that someone in the village would spot them against the lighter backdrop of the night sky. But no one would expect a flight into the village. Then again, it was unlikely anyone would be expecting a flight of any kind.

  Jen pulled down on the triangular frame and the glider banked sharply. Pan kept her body as closely aligned as she could manage. It was difficult to judge distances but she could feel the wind underneath their bodies and knew they were rising, if slowly. The air was getting colder by the minute. The landscape spun beneath them and after a while Pan tried not to focus on the ground. It was making her nauseous. Instead she watched the stars perform lazy traces against the blackness.

  Jen headed for the wall, which appeared as a line drawn on the landscape below. For about thirty seconds, they maintained their height, but then the gust of wind into their faces abruptly ceased and the glider seemed to stall. Pan could feel gravity pulling, though the fabric of the glider held the air and their descent was relatively gentle. The wall and the watchtowers were close. She could see the tiny sparks of light in the six towers. It was difficult to imagine that whoever was on that lonely duty would think to look u
p, but Pan prayed no one would take their gaze away from the dull and unmoving landscape of The School and raise their eyes. What would they make of a dark and silent shadow eclipsing the moon? Would they think to report it to whoever was in charge out there?

  She glanced up. For a moment she didn’t fully understand what she saw. It was difficult to process. Part of the frame was exposed. Just a few centimetres of bare metal towards the front of the glider, where the struts joined the main frame. She blinked her eyes to clear her wind-induced tears and forced her mind to focus.

  One or two stitches had given way. Pan pressed herself harder against Jen’s body and shouted.

  ‘Jen. We might be in trouble. Look up.’

  Jen did. And cursed.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she yelled.

  Pan wondered how it could possibly be okay. The whole canopy might give way at any moment. What would happen then? If one side came loose, there would be nothing to keep them aloft. The glider would have no purchase against the air.

  Jen laughed. If there was any trace of hysteria within it, Pan couldn’t tell.

  ‘Dressmaking isn’t my strongest suit, Pandora,’ she shouted. ‘In fact, this is my first go at it. But I used my common sense. And shitloads of thread. I stitched those seams five times. Don’t worry. They’ll hold.’

  The wall passed beneath them and the village appeared. No lights were visible. Probably not surprising, thought Pan, since it must be at least four or five in the morning.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of material ripping. She looked up. A shining expanse of metal strut was now half a metre in length and, as she watched, another few centimetres gave way. The fabric no longer wrapped its way entirely around the frame, but a section trailed and flapped in the downdraught. The hang-glider lurched as air was taken from beneath it and Jen had to lean heavily to her right to keep an even keel. They were losing height at a terrifying rate and Pan could feel Jen’s effort to maintain a semblance of control in the bunching of her muscles as she fought against gravity and the instability of the glider.

  It appeared that they were descending faster than they were making forward progress. They would clear the wall unless the entire glider fell apart. But they might not clear the village. Jen was battling hard.

  They were going to crash. The only uncertainty was exactly where.

  The next sound of ripping fabric was loud and final. Almost instantly, the glider lurched to the left and Pan had to fight to keep a scream lodged at the back of her throat. She glanced up again and then wished she hadn’t. Almost the entire left side of the seam had given way and the flapping of the fabric indicated that what lift they’d had before was now diminished to virtually nothing. The only part of the glider that remained intact was the frame itself.

  This time Pan did close her eyes. Their only chance was to reach the sea. No. I will not die like this, she thought. Open your eyes, Pandora Jones. A calmness came over her and she looked down and then over Jen’s head. The land was rushing up to meet them. A rooftop passed beneath, so close Pan felt she could reach out and touch the chimney. It mustn’t end like this, she thought. Not until I have the answers. Provided I have the answers I can deal with anything. But not this.

  The last couple of minutes were entirely out of control. It was all that Jen could do to stop the spiral flipping them entirely out of the horizontal, but she fought fiercely right to the end. Another house passed beneath and then a stretch of wooden planking. Pan braced herself. Was it better to tense up against an expected fall or was it safer to be as relaxed as possible? Her body was rigid with fear and there was nothing she could do about it. She was dimly aware of her teeth grinding against each other, the pressure resonating in her head.

  And then they hit.

  Afterwards, Pan had no idea what happened to the hang-glider. She was aware of punching the water and a brief sense of surprise at how solid it felt. Then she was under the sea. Jen must have untied the straps that bound them, but she could remember nothing about it. There had been no time to even take a deep breath, and almost immediately she felt her lungs crave air. Maybe she had her eyes open, or maybe they were shut, but in either case the darkness was solid. She had no awareness of up or down and the realisation caused a lump of panic to lodge in her gut. There was a rushing sound in her ears and traces of light arced against her eyeballs.

  Then her head broke the surface and she took a deep lungful of air, though immediately a wave broke over her face and she inhaled water, coughed and spluttered and felt the sea close over her again. This time, she made her body relax and, kicking her legs gently, came to the surface. Pan spat out water, took a few inhalations and then lay on her back, floating in the swell. Stars freckled the sky and she watched them as her heart steadied. Apart from the lapping of the waves, all was silent.

  When a hand gripped her arm she panicked again and her legs kicked involuntarily.

  ‘No time for playing with rubber ducks, Pandora.’ Jen’s voice was low and relaxed. ‘Dawn can’t be too far away and we have a boat to steal.’

  Pan rolled over on her side, but even then Jen’s face was just a blur in the darkness.

  ‘I didn’t know if you were dead,’ she whispered.

  ‘Apparently not. Maybe we can discuss it later and come to a conclusion. Look to your left.’

  It was difficult to see, since the waves impeded her vision, but between the swells, Pan saw the glow of the watchtower lights, hovering and flickering like strange and distant suns. They seemed an impossible distance away and her heart sank.

  ‘Reckon we were crashing into the village, Pandora?’ Jen whispered. ‘Me too. But it looks like we were higher than we thought when that friggin’ glider gave up the ghost. We got lucky, but now we need to get moving. When the sun comes up I want there to be distance between us and The School.’

  Pan tried to focus on her breathing, but it didn’t seem to help.

  ‘I can’t swim fast,’ she said.

  ‘I know. I’ll go ahead. Aim for the middle of those lights and you can’t miss the quay. I’ll keep an eye out for you.’

  Pan wanted to protest. She didn’t like the idea of being alone in the darkness in the ocean. But Jen’s plan made sense. Maybe she could find a boat and have it ready by the time Pan got there. Any amount of time saved could mean the difference between escape and imprisonment. This time, Pan thought, if we’re caught there’ll be no second chances.

  ‘Go,’ she whispered. ‘But be careful.’

  ‘Always,’ Jen replied. And then she was gone.

  Pan watched her powerful freestyle, the splashing as her feet kicked hard, and then she was alone in the night. Even the sound of Jen’s progress was swallowed by the sea and the darkness.

  Pan started her breaststroke, highly aware of the mysterious depths beneath, the formidable distance ahead and the promise of answers. Already she had forgotten the crazy flight that had so nearly ended in disaster.

  Almost.

  Chapter 18

  Time lost meaning. Pan pushed ahead, resisting the urge to break her rhythm by trying to go faster. Steady, she thought. Breath, stroke, kick. Steady.

  The lights did not appear to be getting any closer, even though logic told her they must be. From time to time, as the swell increased, she lost sight of the beacons altogether, for minutes on end, and she fought against a panic that whispered in her ear that she was off course, that she had turned around and was swimming into nothingness until exhaustion would win and the sea would swallow her. Then the lights would flicker again and she’d make small adjustments. Breath, stroke, kick. Steady. Think about nothing but the rhythm of the body.

  By the time the village loomed into sight the graininess of night was lightening. Dark shapes appeared around her and it took her a moment to realise they were bobbing boats. Pan stopped, trod water and listened. There were more sounds here, the creak of ropes as the swell shifted the boats against their moorings, but she could hear no sounds of human activ
ity, no voices filtering through the dark. Where was Jen? She didn’t want to swim any further in case she got lost among the jostling boats, nor could she call out. There was nothing to do but wait.

  The hand gripped her wrist and she jolted again. She’s stealthy in water as well as on land, Pan thought. I didn’t even hear her coming. She could feel a mouth pressed against her ear.

  ‘Not a sound,’ Jen whispered. ‘Follow me. No splashing.’

  Pan forced her body to obey, though weariness seeped into her bones. It wasn’t so much the lack of sleep – the adrenaline generated over the last few hours was keeping that at bay – but rather the cumulative effect of so many demands on her body. The climb up the face of the cliff at the Infirmary, the terror of their tandem flight, the violence of their landing and the long, slow, arduous swim to shore. Pan knew she was coming to the end of her reserves of energy, but she had no choice. She willed her body to move through the water, a metre or so behind Jen’s effortless and efficient breaststroke.

  The girls wound between hulls that were moored in the harbour. Pan was able to steady herself against the boats and push through the water, though when the vessels were small she resisted the urge to disturb them too much. She had no idea where they were heading but hoped they’d get there soon.

  Finally, Jen stopped by a boat with dark panelling. There was a name engraved on the prow in white cursive script. The Adventurer. Jen lifted both arms, gripped the side of the boat and heaved herself up and over. The boat dipped alarmingly and there was a harsh creak of ropes straining under tension. Jen’s hand appeared over the side and Pan grasped it. She slid over the side and onto the deck, Jen supporting her so she made as little sound as possible. The boat pitched violently, and Pan was grateful for the darkness that would hide the movement from any observers onshore.