Miss Kingston took them on an extended run around The School. The instructor pointed out that the running track had been fine for building up general levels of fitness, but stamina was going to be the focus for the next series of sessions. Pan was glad, although the soles of her feet were still painful and the prospect of a ten-kilometre run made her uneasy. It was what pain barriers were for, she reminded herself. To push through them. Just to make sure, she filled the pockets of her pants with stones. Jen watched her do it and smiled.
‘From wimp to Wonder Woman,’ she said. ‘I feel privileged I was here to witness it. They should make a movie about you, Pandora.’
‘Shove it, Jen,’ said Pan, but she smiled as well.
She surprised herself when she came in second, only fifty metres behind the winner. Jen, naturally. Miss Kingston pulled her to one side after the session.
‘You have come a long way, Miss Jones,’ she said. ‘But there is still more to do. In particular we need to work on your upper body strength. Come and see me tomorrow and I’ll give you a personalised program.’
At four-thirty, Pan climbed the Infirmary steps for her personal development session with Dr Morgan. She had to sign in at the entrance, which was guarded by the same huge boy from the SRC she had encountered before. Pan scribbled her name on a sheet of paper and the boy entered the time. Pan assumed he would check her name off when she left, and enter the time again. The School had obviously decided it needed to heighten security to protect its secrets.
As it was, Pan left the session early, pleading a headache and the inability to concentrate. Sure enough, the boy glanced at her as she passed through the front doors and entered something on his clipboard. No one could get into the Infirmary without raising the alarm, especially since the steps appeared to be guarded twenty-four/seven. But it didn’t matter. Pan didn’t intend to be at The School for much longer.
Jen was waiting for her outside Hut 21, as arranged. It was six-twenty. They were early in case Sam’s tutor decided to let the class out ahead of time. Obviously, she hadn’t.
Jen curled her hand into a fist and cocked her thumb towards the hut’s window.
‘Weaving,’ she said. ‘If you do well, do ya reckon they move you on to advanced flower arranging?’
‘You shouldn’t be so sarcastic.’
Jen grinned. ‘Ah, brave new world,’ she said. ‘Taming the wild frontiers with guts, determination and origami.’
‘Jen . . .’
‘Don’t worry. I’m cool. Actually—’
The door to the hut opened and a group of students spilled out. Most of them, to Pan’s slight disappointment, were girls, though there were a few boys. Karl was one. He and Sam came out the door at the same time, engaged in earnest conversation, and Jen stepped forward to intercept them.
‘Hey, guys,’ she said. ‘Stimulating session?’
Sam raised her eyebrows and started to frame a reply, then she closed her mouth and said nothing.
‘You said you’d point out this Janine Abbott to us,’ Jen continued.
‘Oh, yes.’ Sam gazed around. ‘There she is.’ She pointed to a group of students who were wandering towards the distant canteen. ‘Hey, Janine,’ she called.
One girl stopped and turned. She was small, with long dark hair. Probably no more than thirteen years old. Fourteen, tops.
Jen hitched her pants and smiled. ‘Hi, Janine,’ she said. ‘Can we have a word?’
The girl didn’t say anything, nor did she smile. She cast an anxious glance at her friends. Jen smiled more broadly, but that didn’t appear to make Janine feel any more at ease. Jen’s intimidating, Pan thought. Even when she’s trying to be friendly. Especially when she’s trying to be friendly.
They walked over to the girl, who looked down at her boots.
‘Hi, I’m Jen. And this is my friend, Pandora.’
Janine looked from one to the other. ‘Pandora Jones?’ she said.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jen. ‘She’s not as crazy as everyone says, are you, Pandora?’
‘Not quite,’ said Pan.
‘We wondered if you’d mind answering a few questions,’ Jen continued.
Janine lowered her eyes. ‘About what?’ she muttered.
‘What does AIS mean?’ asked Pan. ‘Or it could be ALS.’
Janine shifted from one foot to another. ‘It’s the Australian International School,’ she said. ‘In Singapore. Where I went to school, before . . . you know.’
‘Okay,’ said Jen. ‘That makes sense.’
‘Can I go now?’ said Janine.
‘It’s okay,’ said Pan. ‘Seriously. We’re not forcing you to do anything, but we think you can help us out. You won’t get in trouble.’
Janine said nothing, but Pan’s words didn’t appear to provide much comfort.
‘This might sound weird,’ Jen continued, ‘but we want to ask you about a dress you used to wear. A summer dress. Short. Just above your knees. Don’t know what colour it was, but it had small flowers all over it.’
‘It was blue,’ said Janine. She had a hint of a smile on her face now, as if finding solace in memories. ‘I got it in Sydney. Used to wear it all the time.’
‘Do you remember a photo of you wearing that dress?’ asked Pan. ‘You were eating an ice cream.’
Janine’s smile faded.
‘How do you know about that photograph?’ she said.
Pan and Jen exchanged glances. They hadn’t discussed how to respond to that particular question. How would they know about that photo?
‘Please,’ said Pan. ‘If you don’t remember, then it doesn’t matter, does it? If you do, then I promise I’ll explain.’
‘My dad took it. In Sydney, just after I bought it. He’d taken me to the zoo.’ She smiled again. ‘I was ten and Dad would take me places when it was his turn to have me for a weekend. It was Dad who gave me the money to buy the dress.’
‘One more question,’ said Jen. ‘Were you wearing that dress when you were rescued? You know, after the virus.’
Janine’s brow creased and for a moment her eyes filled with pain. Then she almost imperceptibly shook her head as if wiping away unwelcome thoughts.
‘I hadn’t worn that dress for two years,’ she said. ‘It was way too small for me. I think Mum gave it to the Salvos.’
‘Were you carrying that photo when you were rescued?’
‘I thought you said one more question.’
‘Please?’
‘No, of course I wasn’t carrying the photo. I’d almost forgotten it entirely until you mentioned it.’ Janine put her hands on her hips. ‘So why did you mention it?’
‘We saw the photo in a file,’ said Pan. She couldn’t think of a reason to lie. ‘In the Infirmary.’ The School knew she had been the one to break in. There seemed little point in hiding it.
‘The Infirmary?’ said Janine. ‘Why would they have that photo in the Infirmary?’
‘Ah,’ said Jen. ‘That’s a helluva good question.’
Wei-Lin introduced the new boy at dinner. He sat bolt upright, eyes darting everywhere, shovelling food into his mouth as quickly as he could. Pan remembered that when she first arrived she couldn’t bear to even look at the food. Obviously, this boy was made of different stuff.
‘This is Eric,’ Wei-Lin said. ‘The newest member of our group.’ She introduced everyone and the boy lifted a hand at each one in turn. Pan remembered him from the Infirmary, but he seemed subtly different now. His hair was still a vibrant red and his skin colour appeared to have improved. And he was animated. He was alive.
Pan thought back to the conversation she’d overheard while hiding under the boy’s bed. Why now? thought Pan. What are the reasons behind waking him and allowing him to join The School now? She believed, more than ever, that standard medical concerns played no part in the time students spent in the Infirmary. Other factors were at work.
‘If it’s okay with you guys,’ said Wei-Lin, ‘I’ll give Eric his orientation privately. I think he needs . . . time to fully understand our new situation. But Sanjit, I’d appreciate it if you showed Eric the dormitory and talked him through the shower arrangements. You know the drill.’
Sanjit nodded. ‘Do you have any specific talent, Eric?’ he asked. Then blushed. ‘Sorry, Wei-Lin,’ he said. ‘That was probably something you were going to go over in orientation.’
Wei-Lin smiled. ‘No worries, Sanjit.’ She turned to the new boy. ‘We’re encouraged here at The School to develop any talents we might possess. Is there anything you are especially good at?’
Eric stopped chewing and smiled.
‘Me?’ he said. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m really good at two things.’
‘Yes?’ said Wei-Lin.
‘Blowing things up.’ Eric loaded up another spoonful of stew, brought it to his lips and paused. ‘I’m something of an expert at that.’
There was silence.
‘And the other thing?’ said Sanjit.
Eric smiled. ‘Setting shit on fire.’ He put the food into his mouth. ‘I’m a pyromaniac. A good one, according to the prosecutor in my last case.’
No one said anything. Wei-Lin toyed with a piece of bread. She seemed unsure how to respond to this information.
Jen came to her rescue. ‘That’s great, Eric,’ she said. ‘Just what we need at The School. A certifiable lunatic.’
Eric grinned.
‘Hey, Sam,’ Jen continued, pointing her spoon across the table. ‘I’m thinking of signing up for that course you’re doing. You know. The weaving thing.’
Sam put down her spoon and fixed Jen with a hard stare.
‘Okay, Jen,’ she said. ‘And?’
Jen spread her arms. ‘What?’
‘I’m waiting for the punchline.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Jen. ‘Yeah, okay, I might have been taking the piss a little before . . .’
‘A little?’ said Sam.
‘. . . but I’ve been thinking about it. How we need to develop new skills to pass on to future generations. And you’re right. I mean, I’ve no idea how electricity works, for example. I just flick a switch and there it is . . . well, there it was would be more accurate.’ Jen wiped the inside of her bowl with the remainder of her bread. ‘And that’s true of almost everything in the old world. Food? Go to a fast food joint. Clothes? Go to a shopping centre. Information? Go online. But now all those things are gone, and I realise I took ’em for granted. I don’t know how they worked. I wouldn’t have a clue how to recreate them. So, yeah. I’m serious. I think it’d be cool to make something creative with my own hands.’
Sam relaxed a little, but she was wary.
‘I thought you were into martial arts,’ she said.
‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to do that all the time,’ Jen replied. ‘I mean, I do metalwork. Why shouldn’t I find some time to do weaving? I’m guessing you develop other skills as well?’
‘Like?’
‘I dunno.’ Jen stroked her chin. ‘You probably do things like sewing, don’t you? Learn to weave, sure, but material still has to be made into clothes.’
‘Yes,’ said Karl. He was animated as he took over from Sam. ‘We have sewing machines. Not electric, of course. But Miss Potter – she’s our tutor – well, she has these old machines that operate with a foot pedal. And she’s teaching us how to use them.’
Pan could see that Jen was on the verge of laughter, and she was probably the only one who could tell how much it was costing Jen to keep it under control. But keep it under control she did.
‘Fascinating,’ said Jen.
Pan coughed and turned her head away from the table.
‘And I guess there’s plenty of material to practise with?’
Sam took over from Karl.
‘I don’t know about plenty, but there are bolts of cloth that we can use.’
‘Different types of cloth?’ asked Jen.
‘Sure,’ said Karl. ‘I’ve been into the store cupboard. There’s actually a lot of material in there. Denim, cotton, polyester.’
‘Excellent,’ said Jen. ‘I’m gonna check it out tomorrow.
Miss Potter, you said?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Brilliant. If the course is no good, I’ll get Eric here to blow up the building. Or set fire to it.’
Eric smiled and raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Immediately after dinner, Pan sought out Jen. ‘You’re going to steal fabric from Miss Potter’s stores? For the hang-glider?’
Jen twisted her mouth.
‘You could call it stealing, but I prefer to call it borrowing.’ She grinned. ‘I’m really good at borrowing, Pandora. It’s what got me into juvie in the first place. Tellya one thing, though. I might have a chequered past, but I reckon I might be a rank amateur compared to our new friend Eric.’
‘Yeah,’ said Pan. She sighed. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t blow us all up before we get out of here.’
The next week passed uneventfully. Pan concentrated on her fitness and tried to put thoughts of hang-gliding out of her mind. She wanted Jen to teach her about techniques, at least give her a basic idea how to stay in the air, and steer, but as soon as she thought about jumping off the cliff, she was too terrified to ask. Jen would tell her when the time was right.
But as time went on, she began to think that Jen had pushed back the date. She wouldn’t really expect Pan to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, would she? In some ways it was a relief as each day passed and Jen said nothing more about their escape. It meant the day of truth couldn’t be imminent.
In the meantime, she built up her upper body strength by doing exercises under the guidance of Miss Kingston. Her times over the running distances had improved considerably and she could feel and see the muscle development in her thighs and shoulders. True, she was still a long way from Jen’s physique, but she could live with that.
It was difficult to get any further handle on the new boy. He was unnaturally cheerful, as if the news of the world’s death didn’t bother him at all. Or didn’t come as a surprise, thought Pan. When she asked Wei-Lin, she simply shook her head and said he’d suffered emotional and psychological damage, that maybe in time he would show more normal reactions to things. Pan avoided Eric whenever she could. There was something disturbing about him.
During the long nights she would sometimes think about Nate. Whenever she did, her heart would race as she remembered the way he used to look at her, the smile that would play on his lips, his little mannerisms. That he had betrayed her was a distinct possibility, but those memories were too painful and she shut them out.
Trust me.
The new boy might also not be what he appeared, though pretending to be a pyromaniac seemed extreme. Maybe The School had planted him in their group to destabilise it further. I need to get out of here. And soon, she thought.
So, the days passed and she found comfort in routine. She rarely had nightmares anymore, though occasionally the image of the policeman with the gold tooth would intrude. More and more, she became convinced that what had seemed like dreams at first were actually true memories. If she managed to escape The School, then those questions would be resolved once and for all.
Then, one night, Pan was awoken by a hand on her arm. She was alert instantly, having drifted only into a shallow sleep. She sat up in bed and stifled a cry. Immediately she made out Jen’s face in the darkness.
‘It’s time,’ Jen whispered.
‘Time for what?’ croaked Pan.
Even in the dark, she could make out the whiteness of Jen’s smile.
‘Time to fly, Pandora.’