Titanic 2020 Read online

  Annotation

  Everyone said the original Titanic was unsinkable. Shows how much they knew.

  Everyone says the new Titanic is unsinkable. But there are worse things than drowning as stowaway Jimmy Armstrong and rich girl Claire quickly find out.

  With a mysterious, incurable disease rapidly infecting the population, being at sea seems the safest place to be. . .

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  Titanic 2020

  Prologue

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  notes1

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  Titanic 2020

  by

  Colin Bateman

  for Matthew

  To save a lot of time, right here at the start, let's be sure of our facts:

  1. In this year, 2020, as the new Titanic prepares to set sail on its maiden voyage, nobody can doubt it is the finest, most luxurious cruise ship in all the world. It's unsinkable.

  2. The original Titanic was built in Jimmy's home town of Belfast. It sank in the early hours of April 15, 1912.

  3. Jimmy's great-grandfather helped build the first Titanic. Jimmy's great-grandfather was useless at building things — no wonder it sank.

  4. Everyone said that Titanic was 'unsinkable' as well. 1,500 passengers and crew died when the Titanic went down. Moral of the story — don't listen to what people say. And learn to swim.

  5. History is dead boring. If you really want to learn about the old Titanic, go rent the movie.

  6. Can't think of a 6, but I'm sure something will come to me.

  7. Nope, still nothing.

  Prologue

  This is the bit before the story really gets going — i.e. before The End of Civilization As We Know It — which kind of goes some way towards explaining what Lucky Jimmy Armstrong was doing stowing away on the new Titanic in the first place. It's sort of exciting, although not as exciting as the rest of it — what with the plague and the mutiny and the flesh eating dogs — but it's worth bearing with it so that you understand that he wasn't really there out of choice, that he was just trying to do something right for a change.

  ***

  The year was 2020, and not much different. Sometimes Lucky Jimmy Armstrong was sick to death of hearing about the Titanic. You would think he had actually sailed on it or something, instead of some mouldy old ancestor who'd gone down with the flimsy pile of junk. But, like it or not, Lucky Jimmy Armstrong was doomed to have the Titanic figure largely in his life. His granddad was always talking about it, his parents were always talking about it, and since they'd started building a new Titanic just down the road from his school — and you could see it taking shape, day in, day out, because it was the size of a city — all of his teachers and most of his fellow pupils were always talking about it as well.

  Now, as an extra-special treat, they were about to get a tour of this new Titanic[1].

  There were thirty-eight boys and girls from East Belfast High on board a bus designed for half that number. They were crammed into seats and standing in the aisle, pushing, shoving, yelling, pinching, punching and swearing as they baked in the heat of a sweltering June morning. They wanted off, but the driver, the rotund Mr Carmichael, wouldn't let them until the teacher in charge, Mr McDowell, gave the all-clear, and he didn't seem to be in the slightest hurry — possibly because he was already standing on the dock, enjoying the cool sea breeze as he discussed the tour with the guide provided by White Star International, the owners of the Titanic.

  Eventually the doors slid open and Mr McDowell's appearance was greeted with a sarcastic round of applause. 'All right, all right,' he said. 'Keep it down. If you'll all just get off in an orderly fashion and form yourselves into two neat lines . . .'

  In the stampede that followed Mr McDowell was almost crushed. He yelled for order, but was completely ignored. The White Star guide looked at them apprehensively — it had been his idea to invite pupils from the local school. He had thought it would be good publicity, but now he wasn't so sure.

  Mr McDowell waved his hands in the air. 'All right . . . settle down now . . .'

  Jimmy was slapped from behind. 'Aaoow!'

  'Armstrong!' Mr McDowell snapped. 'Stop that right now!'

  'It wasn't me, sir!'

  'Just be quiet!'

  Jimmy glared back at his mate Gary, who sniggered.

  'OK, now. Mr Webster here has very kindly agreed to act as our guide—'

  'Aaoow!' Jimmy spun. 'You quit it now or I swear to God I'll—'

  'Armstrong! I won't speak to you again!'

  'Sir, he—'

  'Armstrong, I'm warning you. Another word and you'll go right back on that bus.'

  Out of the corner of his mouth, Jimmy hissed, 'I'll get you for this . . .'

  Mr Webster, a red-faced man with thinning hair, held up a hand as the pupils began to edge towards the gangplank. 'Now, while it is our great pleasure to have you on board, I have to warn you that we are just adding the finishing touches, so the ship is still classified as a building site. I can't emphasis enough the importance of staying with the group, not wandering off, not—'

  'Aaoow!'

  This time Jimmy couldn't help himself. He twisted round and thumped Gary hard. Gary yelled in pain. His hand shot to his nose in a vain attempt to stop the blood that was already flowing.

  'I warned you!' Jimmy spat. 'Don't say I didn't . . .' But before he could finish his blazer was grabbed from behind and he was yanked out in front of his classmates.

  Mr McDowell towered over him, his face flushed. 'Armstrong — I've had it up to here with you!'

  'It wasn't me, sir!'

  'You didn't punch Higgins?'

  'Yes sir, but he was hitting me!'

  'It's always someone else with you, isn't it, Armstrong?'

  'No, sir . . . yes, sir, but he was. . .'

  'You're a troublemaker, Armstrong. You always have been and you always will be . . . Now get back on the bus.'

  'Sir?'

  'Get back on the bus! I'm not having you spoiling today for everyone! You've already let your classmates and the school down. If I let you on here you'll probably sink the boat on us! Now get on the bus!'

  Jimmy seethed. He hated Gary Higgins, he hated Mr McDowell, he hated Mr Webster and now that he thought about it, he hated the Titanic as well.

  ***

  There was still no sign of his classmates an hour later. The bus driver, Mr Carmichael, took pity on him, climbed out from behind the wheel and eased his considerable bulk down the aisle.

  'Thought you might want some company,' he said, squeezing into the seat opposite.

  Jimmy looked him up and down. 'No thanks.'

  Carmichael ignored him. 'Did you see this?' He had a colour brochure in his hand, with a picture of the new Titanic on the front. 'They left this for me to read. It has all the facts and figures. I get to go to a hundred different places with schools like yours every year, but all I ever get is the brochure. Got to stay on the bus.' He began to flick through the pages. 'Still, thought you might be interested.'
<
br />   'Nope.'

  'Like how much that big bucket cost — says here, six hundred million dollars.'

  'Not interested.'

  'It weighs one hundred and forty-two thousand tonnes.'

  'Don't care.'

  'It has a helicopter pad and an ice rink and a cinema.'

  'Boring.'

  'It has fifteen decks.'

  'Yawn . . .'

  'Thirteen hundred crew . . .'

  'Nearly asleep now.'

  '. . . and they come from sixty-five different countries. Two thousand passengers will join the ship when it arrives in Miami—'

  'Could you just be quiet?' Jimmy snapped suddenly. 'Please.'

  'Then there's all the food. The passengers will get through twenty-eight thousand eggs a week. Imagine that.'

  'I don't care! Please, just shut your big, fat cake hole.'

  Carmichael blinked at him for several moments. Then he said, 'And they'll eat eighteen thousand slices of pizza. Plus twelve thousand pounds of chicken . . .'

  'God almighty!'

  Jimmy jumped out of his seat and charged down the aisle. Carmichael, taken by surprise, took several moments to lever himself up out of his own seat and follow him.

  Jimmy stared down at the bus's instrument panel, trying to decide which button controlled the doors. He just wanted to sit on the edge of the dock and breathe in some nice, cool sea air. But the bus was old and decrepit, and whatever symbols the buttons and levers and switches had once possessed had long since been worn away.

  'Step away from the controls!' Carmichael shouted as he trundled down the aisle. 'Don't touch that . . .!'

  But he was too late. Instead of gambling on one button, Jimmy pressed them all. He spun around, confident that the doors would open, freeing him to jump from the bus.

  ***

  Jimmy Armstrong was not known as 'Lucky' Jimmy Armstrong by the teaching staff of East Belfast High. He was more commonly referred to as 'that damn boy', 'that idiot boy Armstrong', or simply as 'Trouble'. As in, 'Here comes Trouble.'

  But sometimes it was a two-way thing. For instance, this time, as Jimmy saw the swing doors at the far end of the corridor open, the headmaster come through, flanked by two police officers and followed by Carmichael the bus driver and his teacher, McDowell, he was able to think to himself, Here comes trouble. The driver was soaked to the skin. McDowell's face was so pale he looked like he'd been raised from the dead. There was smoke coming out of the headmaster's ears. The omens were not good.

  The headmaster, Mr McCartney, rapped on the smoked-glass panel in the wall above Jimmy's head. It slid open immediately and Mrs James, his chubby- cheeked secretary, peered out.

  'Were his parents called?' the headmaster asked.

  'Yes, Mr McCartney, but they're refusing to come. They've had enough.'

  The headmaster looked down at Jimmy. 'Right — inside with you!'

  Mr McCartney grabbed his arm and led him into his office. He pushed Jimmy towards a chair then turned to his companions and said, 'Five minutes, gentlemen, please.' He rolled his eyes, then closed the door on them and crossed to his desk. He sat glaring at Jimmy for nearly a minute, drumming his fingers on the desk the whole time. Finally he said, 'What are we going to do with you?'

  Jimmy shrugged.

  'Shrugging isn't good enough any more, Jimmy.'

  Jimmy shrugged again.

  The headmaster sighed. 'Just to be absolutely clear, Jimmy, as to the sequence of events — and please, correct me if there are any inaccuracies. First of all, on arrival at the dock, you were warned to keep quiet several times by Mr McDowell. Then you gave young Higgins a bloody nose. As a result of this you were sent back to the bus. When Mr Carmichael tried to engage you in conversation you told him to "shut his big fat cake hole". After this you ran up the bus and pushed a button which released the handbrake, causing the bus to roll backwards and almost fall into the water. Mr Carmichael managed to stop it just in time. Shaken and upset, he pursued you outside. You deliberately stepped out of his way, causing Mr Carmichael to stumble over a mooring rope, as a result of which he fell over the edge of the dock some ten metres into the water below. Luckily for you, he was immediately spotted by Harbour Police and rescued.' The headmaster cleared his throat. 'Now, Jimmy, would you say that that was a fair and accurate summary of what you achieved today?'

  'I was just trying to get the doors open.'

  'Did anyone give you permission to do that?'

  'No, but what was I—'

  'ENOUGH!' Mr McCartney banged his fist down hard on the desk. 'In all my years of teaching I have never, ever come across such blatant indiscipline, such disrespect, such . . .'

  Mr McCartney stood abruptly and crossed to a window. He studied the flowers and bushes in the school garden. His left leg seemed to be vibrating uncontrollably. His lips moved silently, as if he was counting. He turned to face Jimmy again, but remained by the window. 'Tell me, Jimmy, what would you do in my situation? Faced with this kind of behaviour.' Jimmy stared at the ground. 'Come on, Jimmy, I'd really like to know.'

  'Well, I'm sure you could get another job.'

  Mr McCartney shook his head sadly. 'Always something funny to say, isn't there? As long as there's a laugh you don't care whether someone has a broken nose or is nearly drowned or whether you almost lost us a school bus worth tens of thousands of pounds! As long as you can come out with some smart-aleck comment! Well how about this for a great laugh, Jimmy — you're expelled! Get out of my office! I never want to see your face again!'

  ***

  Jimmy wandered around the city centre, browsing in the shops, but as the day wore on he was gradually drawn closer and closer to home, until, at just after seven that evening, he found himself perched on a small hill in an overgrown stretch of wasteland just behind his house, trying to work himself up to facing his family's fury. He had hoped that his parents would go out to the pub, as usual, but by nine o'clock it was clear they weren't going anywhere. They were waiting for him. It was dark now and he was starving. He was beginning to contemplate eating flowers and weeds or licking a rusty Coke can when a voice suddenly came out of the darkness.

  'Hey — Jimmy . . .' Jimmy shot to his feet and was already halfway down the other side of the hill when it sounded again. 'Jimmy . . . Jimmy — it's only me.'

  Jimmy peered back up the hill. He could just make out the outline of a slightly stooped figure standing where he had been just moments before. 'Granda?'

  'Who else? Jimmy lad, you've been sitting up here for hours.'

  'What? You've seen me?'

  'Jimmy, we've all seen you. When are you coming down?'

  Jimmy shook his head, but now felt confident enough to join his grandfather on the brow of the hill.

  'You 're just like your dad,' Granda said. 'Stubborn.'

  Jimmy shrugged.

  'Well, if you're going to stay out here, maybe you could make yourself useful.'

  Granda removed a small brown envelope from his back pocket. 'The other day I was up rooting around in our roof space amongst all the old stuff my dad left behind when he died. And guess what I found.'

  'A lot of unpaid bills, with our luck.'

  'No, Jimmy. Look.' He upended the envelope and a single copper coin fell into his palm. 'I think this is Lucky Jimmy's lucky penny.'

  'His what?'

  Jimmy squinted at it. It was about five times bigger than a normal penny, and though it may well have been made of copper, it had long since lost its shine.

  'I thought it went down with him on the Titanic,' Granda said. 'Believe it or not, lad, there was a time when everything went right for the Armstrongs. The first Lucky Jimmy was given this as a child, and he grew up to get a job on the Titanic, and free passage to America. In those days it was like winning the Lottery. Anyway, I'm thinking maybe that the first Lucky Jimmy decided he'd had all the good luck a man needs, so before he left he passed it on to his little brother, so that he could have good luck as well.'


  'And then he went out and drowned.'

  'Perhaps he thought he was doing the right thing.'

  Jimmy, who was barely acquainted with the concept of doing the right thing, shook his head. 'He shouldn't have bothered. I mean, look at our family. If they made a documentary about us it would be called The Armstrongs: One Hundred Years of Disaster and Catastrophe.'

  Granda flipped the coin up into the air and caught it. 'What if the coin was good luck, but somehow by giving it away too soon, the first Lucky Jimmy turned it to bad luck? If the coin's been in our roof space ever since, maybe that's what's been keeping us back. Maybe it's been responsible for everything that's gone wrong.'

  Jimmy shrugged.

  'Well, lad, if you're not coming home yet anyway, how about doing an old man a favour?' He flicked the coin towards his grandson and Jimmy's hand instinctively snapped out and caught it. 'If it has brought us all this bad luck over the years, then why don't you take it down to the water and chuck it in? Maybe it'll make its own way back to where it belongs, in old Jimmy's pocket, and maybe that'll turn our fortunes around. What do you think?'

  'I think you're barking mad,' said Jimmy.

  'I'll give you money for chips.'

  'Deal,' said Jimmy.

  ***

  And that was how it really started, doing something stupid for his old granddad, just to put off getting yelled at by his parents. Little did Jimmy know, there and then, trudging through the darkened streets towards the seafront, that he would never see any of them again.

  1

  The New Titanic

  Ten minutes after leaving his granda, Jimmy was standing on the shore, coin in hand, preparing to skim it out over the calm water. As he pulled his arm back to throw it the moon made one of its occasional appearances from behind a cloud, throwing its pale light over the shore and illuminating, less than a mile away along the coast, the massive outline of the Titanic. Jimmy stopped. That bloody ship. It represented everything that had gone wrong for him that day. The punch, the bus, the near-drowning, the expulsion — he could trace them all back to the Titanic.