Pandora Jones: Deception

by Barry Jonsberg

  ‘But did you find out anything? Is the world still out there?’

  Jen smiled. ‘Well, these guys are clearly still alive, but beyond that I honestly don’t know. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.’

  ‘Who dressed me?’ Pan realised she was wearing warm clothes. They were loose and not designed for a woman. The pants were lined with some kind of insulation and she had on a wool jumper underneath a thick jacket.

  ‘Chill, girl,’ said Jen. ‘They gave me clothes and I dressed both of us. In private. Come on, Pandora. Time to go to the bridge and get some answers. Can you walk?’

  Pan got to her feet gingerly, taking her hands from the side of the bed with all the care of a tightrope artist. The sense of dizziness returned and then cleared. She tried a couple of steps and had to stop.

  ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t have to be Einstein to work it out,’ Jen replied. ‘After what we’ve been through it’s a miracle either of us can move. Here, take my arm. We can prop each other up, like a couple of pensioners.’

  It did help. As soon as Pan linked her arm through Jen’s she felt a surge of confidence, and not just because the world felt more stable. I can lean on her in more ways than one, Pan thought. She remembered back to that time – it seemed ages ago – when she and Jen had gone under the wall at The School. They had had a conversation about trust and how it was almost impossible, under their circumstances, to earn it. Jen had earned it.

  Jen opened a door and they stepped into a deserted corridor.

  ‘This way,’ said Jen, nodding to their left.

  ‘You remember how to get to the bridge?’ Pan held out her other arm to the wall to steady herself.

  ‘I did leave you once,’ Jen replied, ‘but only for ten minutes. I had to find the sea. It’s a container ship. I didn’t see any crew at all, but I did notice the bridge.’

  ‘What did you need to do?’

  ‘I got to thinking. A few hours ago we would’ve given anything for The School’s helicopter to find us, take us back. But that situation’s changed. I took the emergency beacon from the bag you were carrying and dumped it overboard. With luck, if anyone finds it, way back there in the middle of the ocean, they’ll think we’re drowned for sure.’

  ‘Good job, Jen.’ Pan wasn’t sure that if the situations had been reversed she would have thought things through so clearly.

  Jen tapped the side of her head. ‘Up here for thinking,’ she said.

  They came to the end of the corridor and Jen steered them to the right. Pan had to stop for a few moments to get her breath back and calm the resurgence of dizziness. A container ship. If the world had been decimated by a virus, how likely would it be that container ships were still operating? No. This felt like business as normal, transporting crates and containers around the world. Pan was convinced that her suspicions were about to be transformed into certainties. All we need is one person to talk to, she thought. A simple question and a simple answer. The thought spurred her on. She even managed to get up a small and rust-spotted staircase to the next level without stopping.

  Eventually, Jen opened a metal door and fresh sea air caressed their faces. It tasted sweet and Pan stifled a smile. She hadn’t thought she would ever welcome sea air ever again. They stood for a moment, watching the ocean. Pan glanced along the length of the ship. To her left, she could see the prow and an enclosed area, which she guessed was the bridge. She could even see a couple of figures silhouetted against the glass and, beyond, the pale sky. To her right, the ship’s deck was loaded with various cranes, containers and equipment.

  It took another five minutes to reach the bridge. There was a short flight of steps and Pan thought they might defeat her. She was so tired and her legs were cramping. But she made it. There were two men in the bridge and both turned as Jen opened the door. They smiled.

  ‘Hi,’ said Jen. ‘We need your help. Again.’

  The men turned to each other and then the older one, who had a weather-lined face, short grey hair and bright brown eyes, took a step towards them and spoke a torrent of language that neither girl had any hope of understanding.

  ‘English?’ said Jen.

  The men conducted a quick conversation and then shrugged apologetically. Pan’s legs began to buckle and she grabbed hold of Jen’s shoulder. Immediately the grey-haired man stepped over and helped Pan into a chair. It was dirty and worn, but Pan was grateful. The other man brought another chair for Jen. It wasn’t in any better shape. Then he went to a table at the other side of the bridge and took a couple of chipped mugs. He looked inside them, clucked and wiped out the interiors with his sleeve, before unscrewing a large thermos flask and filling both mugs with a dark and steaming liquid. He pressed one into Pan’s hand and the other into Jen’s, and made encouraging signs with his hands. Please drink.

  It was tea, exceptionally strong and sweet. In the past, Pan would have poured it straight down the sink. Now she drank it gratefully. The man smiled and nodded. He said something, obviously a question.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Pan. ‘I don’t understand.’

  The man put a hand up and then turned towards the window at the front of the bridge. There was a large console, filled with dials and lights. Technology, thought Pan. How could this boat have working technology if the world had ended? She turned to Jen, who raised her eyebrows, obviously thinking the same thing. The man took a handset from the console. It was attached by a coiled cable. A radio transmitter. The man made motions of pressing a button on the side and then nodded towards the girls.

  ‘I reckon he’s telling us he has already radioed the authorities,’ said Jen. Her voice was calm and matter-of-fact. ‘I was never any good at charades, but I can work that out.’

  ‘Which means . . .’

  ‘Which means there are authorities to be contacted. Which means . . .’

  Jen didn’t finish the sentence. Pan glanced over at her friend and was astonished to see tears coursing down her face. Pan reached over and held her hand.

  ‘We still don’t know for certain,’ she said.

  Jen gulped and wiped impatiently at her eyes. She took a deep breath and settled herself.

  ‘I’m not sure I ever truly believed you, Pandora,’ she said. ‘Not really. But if you’re right . . .’ She took a sip of the tea. Her hands were trembling.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Then someone – some people – will pay for what they’ve done to us.’ She met Pan’s gaze firmly, and it was as if the display of emotion had never been. ‘That is a promise, Pandora Jones.’

  ‘Okay.’ Pan stood. ‘It’s time to find out once and for all.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to phone home.’ She walked over to the console and pointed at the radio transmitter. The grey-haired man – he had to be the captain, Pan guessed – smiled and nodded.

  ‘Phone?’ said Pan. The captain’s smile faltered a little, but he continued nodding. Pan curled the middle fingers of her right hand into her palm and put her thumb to her right ear and her little finger to her mouth. The man’s smile broadened. He opened up a small case on one side of the bank of equipment, revealing what looked like a laptop. Nestled on the side of the machine was a handset. He picked it up and extended it towards Pan.

  ‘Please,’ he said and his smiled broadened, obviously happy he had dredged up one word of English.

  ‘A satellite phone,’ said Jen. She had stepped up to Pan’s shoulder. Pan took the handset with trembling fingers. Now the time had come, terror threatened to consume her. She looked blankly at the rows of numbers.

  ‘What’s the international code for Australia?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘Jeez, Pandora. No idea.’ Jen picked up the mug of tea that the captain had put down on the console. She dipped her index finger in the muddy dregs and drew a rough outline of Australia on the console’s surface. The captain leaned over her shoulder, his expression puzzled. />
  ‘Australia,’ said Jen, pointing to the outline which was already breaking up. She enunciated the syllables carefully and then tapped the phone in Pan’s hand.

  The captain’s face cleared. ‘Ah,’ he said. He rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a booklet, quickly scanned the index. ‘Please,’ he said again and took the phone from Pan’s fingers. He tapped a series of numbers on the keypad and then handed it back to Pan. He nodded.

  For a moment, Pan couldn’t remember her home number and panic made her breath come in short gasps. Calm down, she said to herself. Think. And then the number was there, as familiar as a friend, but she couldn’t remember what to do when ringing from overseas. Didn’t she have to leave out the first number of the local area code? Get rid of that initial zero? Well, she’d soon find out.

  Pan tapped in the numbers, put the phone to her ear and waited. There was a series of buzzes and clicks and then a ringtone. She stopped breathing and a rushing sound in her ears threatened to overwhelm her. She sat down in the chair before she fell. The ringing went on and on.

  Then someone picked up.

  ‘Hello?’

  It was her mother. Pan couldn’t mistake that voice.

  Her mother was on the other end of the line.

  Chapter 24

  Time stood still.

  Pan’s brain sent an order to her mouth, but nothing happened.

  ‘Hello?’ said the voice again, and this time Pan’s heart clenched. Her mother. She sounded so casual, so like her old self. In that instant, Pan processed a thousand thoughts. She saw her mother standing in the kitchen at home, the phone – an old cordless – pressed to her ear. She was probably tapping her foot, waiting for a response. Maybe Danny was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a meal – breakfast, dinner, who knew? – his hair sticking out at strange angles. Pan could see the scenario in her mind. It was so familiar, so ordinary. But her world had changed dramatically. She had changed, and at that moment she could find no way to switch from one world to another.

  ‘Pan? Is that you?’

  There was the slightest click. Then the phone went dead.

  It wasn’t her mother who had hung up. There had been no time; a fraction of a second after her mum said her name, it was disconnected. No time for her mother to have done that. Which left only one possibility. Someone had hung up for her. Pan found her fingers had lost all sense of feeling. The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

  ‘What?’ said Jen. She reached her arms around Pan, who was kneeling on the floor in front of her. Pan shook her head and looked up. The two seamen were gazing at her, their expressions concerned. The silence stretched and Pan found it hard to break it. So hard. Jen held her and waited.

  ‘I got through to my mother,’ said Pan, her voice a whisper.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Pan didn’t reply, lost in her own head.

  Jen shook her arm. ‘Pan, stay with me. Are you sure it was your mother?’

  Pan took a deep breath. It was too much to take in, this validation of all her suspicions. The world was out there. Her family was out there. The School was a lie.

  ‘Talk to me, Pandora.’

  ‘It was my mum, Jen. It was my mum.’

  ‘You’re really sure?’

  Pan took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart. ‘Yes,’ she said and was surprised at how her voice sounded so much in control. ‘She said my name. It was her, Jen. She’s alive. Everyone’s alive.’

  This time, Jen shook her head as if to clear it. There was silence for a second or two.

  ‘But you didn’t say anything, Pandora.’

  ‘We were cut off. Someone cut us off.’

  Another pause while Jen processed this information. ‘The School,’ she said finally.

  ‘Who else?’ said Pan. ‘They must be monitoring my home number.’ She grabbed her hair in her hands and tugged at it. ‘Of course they would. I escape, we escape. They’d know that sooner or later, if I survived, I’d get in contact with home. So they tap the phones, probably have people watching the house in case I rock up out of the blue. Now they know we didn’t drown out there.’ She gestured towards the window. ‘Which means they’ll be looking for us.’

  ‘But . . . but.’ Jen searched for words. ‘This is crazy, Pandora. How could The School tap your mother’s phone?’

  ‘Jen, listen.’ Pan had suddenly achieved a clarity of thought that, just a minute ago, would have seemed impossible. Almost everything slotted into place. ‘Think about it. The School has taken us to God knows where, it’s given us false memories – who the hell knows how that is possible, except it means they have technologies at their disposal in advance of anything we’ve ever heard about in the old world. Don’t you see, Jen? This isn’t just about The School. This is much bigger. This is about a power that can kidnap children from all over the world, remove them from their parents, from school and friends. Can you imagine the organisation that would require? They made us remember things that never happened.’ She tapped the side of her head impatiently. Think, Pandora. ‘They kept us in a high-security, secret location. They put our lives at risk on the island. They are clearly above the law. The School is not an outpost trying to save humanity. It is a hugely powerful outlaw organisation.’ Pan lifted her head and met Jen’s eyes. ‘We have no idea who we’re dealing with.’

  Jen shrugged. ‘So nothing has changed. We didn’t know who they were before. We don’t know who they are now. Let’s see what happens, see where this boat is taking us. Then we can think again. We can make a plan when we’ve had a chance to rest. Pandora?’

  But Pan was no longer listening. She was following her own internal logic, trying to think about things from The School’s point of view. What would they do now? They knew the girls were still alive – the phone call must have been confirmation. They must have traced the origin of the call, seen the satellite phone transmissions. Then they had severed the connection. They would realise the girls must have been rescued by a passing boat. Then it would be simple to check maritime records and . . .

  Pan jumped out of her seat and grabbed the captain by the arm. He flinched instinctively and backed away, but Pan maintained her grip.

  ‘You need to get us on shore,’ said Pan. ‘Now. Please. Please. It’s an emergency. Drop us at the nearest port, wherever you can. Better still, give us a boat – the boat you used to rescue us. We’ll take our chances . . .’

  Jen slid between Pan and the man. She took Pan’s hand and gently loosened her grip.

  ‘Pandora,’ she said. ‘Take it easy. He has no idea what you’re talking about and you’re frightening the guy. Hell, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And you’re frightening me. Just take it easy. Breathe.’

  But Pan paid no attention. She had become . . . detached. A part of her recognised the feeling. She had experienced it before, when she had flown with the falcon over bleak and barren mountains coated with snow, when she had seen a group of men on an island and known they’d meant them harm, when she had looked through the eyes of a man she had never met and seen Nate connected to a machine. She knew.

  ‘It’s too late, Jen,’ she said, but her voice was low and didn’t carry. ‘They’re coming. They’re coming now.’

  For possibly ten or twenty seconds, silence greeted her words. The men watched her, puzzled by a conversation they couldn’t decipher. Jen’s brows were furrowed, worry and concern etched on her features. Far off in the distance there was the low susurration of the sea, but it was muted, tamed by the barrier of the tanker’s skin and the faint ticking of a clock. Pan glanced from face to face and no one moved.

  Then, rising from the comparative silence, there was a thudding of blades. The sound swelled, at first an almost imperceptible background vibration, but growing to a rising roar. The men were the first to react. The captain turned towards the window at the front of the bridge. His crewmate joined him. Jen stayed with Pan, her eyes never leaving her face. The men talked, thei
r words unknown, but concern apparent in their tone. Pan saw a dark shape loom up to her right, then a second to the left. She gasped, and Jen turned.

  Two black helicopters were approaching the tanker, one from each side. Ropes hung from open doors. On the end of the ropes, men in black uniforms dangled. Silhouetted against the sky was the unmistakable shape of their guns.

  ‘Run, Jen,’ yelled Pan. ‘Run and hide.’

  As they left the bridge, the last thing Pan saw was the captain speaking into a radio. They don’t want you, thought Pan. They want us. The roar of the helicopters’ engines were louder now and the downdraught from the blades made their hair whip across their eyes. They stood for a moment on the top of the short flight of steps, brushing hair from their faces and scanning the boat, which lay spread before them.

  The tanker was huge. There had to be many places they could hide, endless corridors, sleeping quarters, cargo holds. But that would only buy them time. They were on a ship. They couldn’t get off, unless they launched a lifeboat, and they’d be seen immediately, even assuming they could physically do it. Where would they go? But hiding, maybe in the ducts, would only postpone the inevitable. Sooner or later they would be found.

  A quick glance over her shoulder, and Pan saw the first men approaching off to her right, dangling only a few metres from the deck.

  ‘Let’s go,’ yelled Jen, and the girls clattered down the steps and raced towards the nearest entrance to the main bulk of the ship. Pan couldn’t remember if it was the same one they had used when they had come up from the sick bay. They pulled open the metal door, slammed it behind them and ran along the corridor, Jen leading by a few metres. Pan’s dizziness and sense of disorientation had abated, and she felt flushed with adrenaline again. They had to put distance between themselves and the men who must by now have landed on the tanker and be spreading out in search.