Titanic 2020: Cannibal City t2-2 Read online

  'Well?' Mohican demanded. 'Anything to say, Armstrong?'

  The words felt thick and unwieldy in his swollen mouth. 'Yes . . . sir. I just wanted to say . . . that the pie . . . was really, really . . . nice . . .'

  Mohican thumped his boot hard into Jimmy's back. Jimmy couldn't stifle the cry of pain.

  'Five charges, Private Armstrong, and I find you guilty on all counts. Once again the punishment applies to this entire troop. You will learn your lesson, Private Armstrong! No breakfast for anyone!'

  There was no reaction. They had expected it. They stood silently. Only one emotion filled the air.

  Pure hatred.

  'OK,' Mohican snapped, 'six o'clock start tomorrow morning, so lights out in ten minutes. We begin with a boxing competition. Private Armstrong will be first in the ring. He will have both hands tied behind his back. Now I need someone willing to punch his stupid head off. Any volunteers?'

  Every single hand was raised without hesitation.

  18

  Arrival

  There were, of course, some people on the Titanic who simply weren't interested. Hard-bitten crew who'd seen everything before; passengers who'd lost interest in pretty much everything since the plague had struck — or who might just have been like that anyway. But virtually everyone on board was outside, lining the rails, for the mighty ship's arrival in New York.

  It had limped along so slowly over the past few days, and with daybreak the coast had been swathed in mist, so nobody outside of the captain and his officers on the bridge really had a firm idea of how close they were — but then the mist had lifted and there she was, the Statue of Liberty, torch aloft. There was something magical about seeing her. She still spoke of hope and welcome, even though the people looking at her from every deck now knew not to expect anything. Claire was on the top deck, surrounded by her team, all genuinely excited, chatting away and pointing. She was looking at Lady Liberty through her telescopic lens — the only one amongst them who could actually pick out the weeds snaking up the green statue and the birds' nests lining her crown. She supposed in the good old days someone would have been employed to stop the old lady looking like she was homeless. But Claire said nothing. Instead she trained her lens on the harbour, before moving it up and across a skyline familiar from a thousand movies. She wished Jimmy was with her. They would have had a grand adventure on the streets of Manhattan.

  Though they were busting to get ashore, Captain Smith, as ever, was taking no chances. It had been a battle just to get the ship this far, so no detailed planning had yet been made as far as shore visits were concerned. He would not be rushed. The Titanic dropped anchor just off Liberty Island. The captain, showing how much he respected what the news team were doing, chose to address the passengers and crew alike through a special edition of the paper instead of addressing them over the PA or just printing off his own message. Claire was quite proud of that. She devoted the whole of the front page to his statement. And even rewrote part of it, because it was dead boring.

  His main point was — millions of people had died in New York. It was probably rife with disease. If there were survivors, they were probably rife with disease. If you got ashore and became infected with anything, you might not be allowed back on. The safety of the ship was paramount. Teams would go ashore to ascertain conditions in the city and secure the vital part required to fix the engines, which was the primary reason for coming to New York. Then the Titanic would continue its voyage.

  One of the reporters, Andy, stood beside Claire, looking wistfully at the city. 'Do you think FAO Schwarz qualifies as essential supplies?'

  'FAO Schwarz?'

  'Toy store. They say it's the biggest in the world. There's lots of young kids on board, we could do with getting a load more toys. You know, the latest electronic games, loads of cool stuff.'

  'Would this be for you, Andy, or the kids?'

  'Oh the kids, definitely. But you know, if you want someone to go and check it out, well, I'm happy to volunteer.'

  'You'd put your life on the line for some computer games?'

  Andy thought about it for a few moments. 'For the kids, definitely.'

  'You're very brave,' said Claire. 'And misguided, if you think the captain is going to let you off to go shopping for toys.'

  Andy grinned at her. 'Talking of misguided, how did Alan's interview with that minister turn out?'

  'You mean Brian's?' she asked. Andy shrugged. 'I don't know, haven't seen it yet.'

  'Probably still working on it,' said Andy. 'Are you sure he has an IQ of 140?'

  'I'm not sure of anything.'

  'If he's so smart, how come he can't make a better cup of tea?'

  'Wait'll you see,' said Claire. 'He'll surprise us. The interview will be brilliant.'

  'I'd prefer better tea.'

  ***

  Everyone on the Times was feeling upbeat about the arrival in New York, despite the captain's warnings. Certainly they would have to scramble later on to have their reports from the city in time for publication, but that was part and parcel of being a journalist. Deadlines! But there were a number of mundane tasks to be completed prior to going ashore — Claire wanted to run a series of features about passengers who'd been with the ship right from the start but were now going to leave its relative safety and take their chances onshore. A number of these interviews had been carried out already, but her journalists hadn't quite gotten round to writing them up. Now that they were needed it was proving difficult to get her staff focused on the task. All they were really interested in was New York.

  Ty was finding it particularly hard to settle. He had no idea what he would find if and when he made it as far as New Jersey — or if he would return to the ship. Since his parents had died the people on board had become his family. But if he found survivors of his real family out there he would find himself torn. Blood was thicker than water. Now, every time he tried to continue with his article, he only managed a few words before sitting back and sighing.

  'This is impossible,' he said. 'And now there isn't even anyone to make the tea.'

  'Make it yourself,' said Debs.

  'Where is Wonder Boy anyway?'

  'Give him a break, would you?'

  Ty made a face. Debs made one back.

  'Ty,' said Claire, 'if you really can't work, go to Brian's cabin and find out how long he's going to be.'

  'Me? Do I look like a messenger boy?'

  'YES!'

  From everyone in the office.

  Ty pretended to huff off.

  ***

  Three inflatables were to make the initial approach to New York. The first ashore would carry First Officer Jeffers, Dr Hill, Jonas Jones, Mr Benson — relieved to finally be off farmyard duty — and half a dozen other armed crewmen. Their job would be to secure a base at Battery Park and establish a perimeter before cautiously probing further into the city to try and establish what the conditions there were. Claire had tried her best to be allowed on to this first boat, but had been refused. If Jeffers decided it was safe, then she would be permitted to land with the second and third boats, which would contain additional armed crewmen and the passengers who wished to disembark. After that the plan was that vehicles would be commandeered and a convoy would make its way through the city towards the factory in New Jersey where Jonas Jones hoped to secure the part that would allow the Titanic to continue on its voyage. Along the way, passengers leaving the ship would be dropped off to begin their journeys home. If they chose to return to the ship they would be picked up on the way back at prearranged pick-up points. While all of this was happening the inflatables would bring more crew ashore to search for oil and supplies, which would be ferried back to Titanic using larger vessels abandoned at the docks.

  Claire couldn't wait to get ashore. Yes, of course it would be dangerous, but she desperately wanted to know what had happened in New York. She had a reporter's insatiable curiosity. Standing on the lower deck, with the waves lapping softly against the migh
ty ship and the even mightier city laid out in front of her, she was gripped with excitement.

  'First boat — away!' cried First Officer Jeffers, and the inflatable began to speed towards shore. The other two inflatables continued to fill with passengers.

  'If you're going ashore, now's the time to get on board, ma'am.'

  Claire nodded at the coxswain and glanced anxiously along the deck — Ty had not yet reappeared after going to check on Brian.

  'Just a few more minutes,' said Claire.

  The coxswain nodded reluctantly. Claire glanced down at the inflatables, which were set slightly below her and waiting to be winched down to the water. One was completely full, the other had just the two places left. Her eyes settled on a familiar, wide-brimmed black hat. At that very moment the Reverend Calvin Cleaver raised his head and their eyes met. A shiver ran through her and she looked quickly away, but not before she registered the look he was giving her: cold hatred.

  A hand came down on her shoulder and she jumped.

  'Claire . . . sorry!' It was Ty. Andy and Debs were with him. 'We were looking everywhere for Brian, but nobody's seen him. His parents are frantic, we've been everywhere we can think of. . .'

  Claire had a knot in her stomach. She looked back down at the minister. She could only see the top of his hat. 'OK, Ty, climb in. Andy, Debs — keep looking. Have him paged over the PA. Find him — and keep me posted.'

  Claire stepped into the inflatable and took her seat beside Ty. A few moments later the craft was lowered into the water. With the noise of the engine it was impossible to be sure, but Claire thought she could hear someone humming a familiar tune as the inflatable began to speed towards New York.

  19

  Pain and Laughter

  Jimmy's nose was definitely broken, but he was refusing to have it reset — partly because he wanted something to remind him not to be such an idiot in the future, to keep his big mouth shut, but mostly because he knew it would be extremely painful to have it physically snapped back into place. Anyone who had seen him climb repeatedly from the floor of the makeshift boxing ring would not have dreamed of saying that he was scared of pain, but everyone has their limits. They had all seen him knocked down for the sixth time. Much as they hated him, they could not help but be both sympathetic and impressed. Even though his eyes were swollen almost shut; his nose broken, his lips thicker and bloodier than they had ever been before and he was weaving around the ring like a drunk, he had kept coming back for more. Even the boys who hated Jimmy the most were beginning to rebel against Mohican's screamed instructions to hit him again, and harder. One, who'd acquired the nickname Thumper from somewhere, simply refused to hit Jimmy again; at which point Mohican jumped into the ring, hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxing gloves and flattened Thumper. Then he laid Jimmy out cold.

  ***

  Jimmy lay flat out on his back in the dirt of the yard outside the barracks. The rest of his troop stood looking down at him, not sure what to do. Then Mohican appeared with a bucket of freezing water and threw it over him. The shock of it forced his eyes open as wide as they could go, which wasn't very wide at all. He coughed and spluttered and coughed up blood.

  'OK!' Mohican cried. 'All of you have worked hard. Go eat!'

  Jimmy lay where he was while the others ran towards the mess hall. They hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, largely thanks to him. Mohican crouched down beside him. Jimmy tensed up, expecting a dig in the ribs or a poke in the eye.

  'You did well, son.'

  Jimmy grunted.

  'Brave. Now listen to me. In a war you have to be able to depend on the man next to you. You have to work as a team. Disciplined. Follow orders. We don't need mavericks. Mavericks get killed, and cause others to get killed. You understand?'

  Jimmy nodded. It hurt.

  'Now get over to First Aid, get yourself cleaned up.'

  Mohican stood up and walked away. Jimmy lay where he was. He was a little groggy still, and a lot confused. Mohican had sounded almost human.

  No, I was probably mistaken. Perhaps I have brain damage.

  Jimmy lay where he was for another five minutes before forcing himself up on to his knees. He was groggy. He stood. Dizzy. He began to stagger along towards the First Aid hut. His route took him past the mess hall. The food smells almost made him throw up. He was aware of being watched as he passed the open doors. He looked straight ahead. It took all of his strength to walk in a straight line and upright.

  When he reached the First Aid hut the nurse who'd scolded him previously took one look at him, then quickly guided him to a bed and made him lie down. She fetched a sponge and a basin of water and began to wash the worst of the mud and blood from him. He thought he heard her mutter, 'He's a monster,' under her breath. She definitely said, 'I will need Dr Moore to come and reset that nose.'

  That's when he told her no, to leave it as it was.

  'It'll set crooked,' she said.

  'Fine,' said Jimmy.

  'Up to you.' She gave him some painkillers and told him to try and sleep for a while until they took effect.

  'Don't need to,' Jimmy whispered. She turned to pick up some ointment for his lips. When she turned back he was fast asleep.

  ***

  It was late evening when Jimmy woke, stiff and sore. His nose was thick with dried blood and his head ached. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, inadequate for the size of the room and leaving a third of it in shadow. The other beds were empty, the nurse's station deserted and, when he checked, the doctor's small office at the far end was locked. But he heard the scrape of a chair from outside, and when he peered out he saw that the wild-looking girl he'd previously stolen food from was back, sitting in exactly the same place and position — or perhaps she'd never left. He didn't remember her being there earlier but, truth be told, he remembered very little from earlier — besides the fact that he'd taken a beating.

  Jimmy opened the First Aid hut's door and stepped on to the wooden surround. He shuffled along to where the girl was sitting at the white plastic picnic table. She had an identical tray of food before her, again untouched.

  'It's OK,' said Jimmy, 'I'll not be stealing your food tonight, not with these lips — unless you mash it up and blow it into my mouth through a straw.'

  She continued to stare into the distance.

  'Do you mind if I sit down?'

  There was no reaction. Jimmy pulled out a chair and sat. It was a pleasant, warm evening, with a light breeze. The girl was wearing a plain white nightdress. Her hair was still as dank as before.

  'So, what's your problem? A wee touch of the plague? No?' Nothing. 'Ah well, sometimes silence is best.'

  He looked out across the camp. The floodlights were on. The barracks huts were shut up for the night. The plain beyond the perimeter fence was dark and uninviting, except for when the spotlights swept across it, when it became bright and uninviting. How was he ever going to be able to escape? And if he did attempt it, what would they do if they spotted him — drag him back into the fort, or shoot him as he fled?

  He smiled across at the girl. 'Maybe the two of us could dig a tunnel? Or I could send you out first, then when they're busy shooting you I could slip away? No? You don't say much, do you? They looking after you OK? You know — you're quite pretty, aren't you? I wouldn't normally say something like that in a million years to a girl I'd never met before, but seeing as how you seem to have all the brain activity of a plank of wood, I don't see how it can do any harm. Of course you'd probably need to comb your hair. And wash the dried-on drool off your face. But look at me — what an oil painting I am, eh? Hey relax, seriously. I have a girlfriend. She's just not aware of it yet.' Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table and stared into the distance. 'In fact, chances are she's dead. Still, that's no big thing these days, is it? Everyone's dead. Mum, Dad, family, friends. Yours as well, do you think? No — you don't have to tell me. Claire, that's her name. We hated each other at first, then we liked each other, then I put my two
big feet in it and she hated me again, and then we got split up and...'

  He pictured her lying in the woods, helpless, bleeding to death. He imagined the minister finding her, raising his gun, finishing her off.

  '. . . I think it may have been my fault.'

  A few hundred metres away the guards were just climbing down from one of the watchtowers, and their replacements were waiting to go up. If all of the towers changed at the same time, that might have given him an opportunity to dash across the plain unnoticed. But they weren't that stupid. The changeovers were staggered five minutes apart so that the surveillance was never interrupted. Jimmy sighed.

  He studied the girl again.

  'You know something? I bet I could make you smile.'

  Nothing.

  'I'll bet you a kiss I can make you smile.'

  Nothing.

  'I know one of the worst jokes in the history of the world, but I bet you won't be able to resist it. OK — if you smile, I get a kiss, deal?'

  She stared ahead.

  'Right, if you say nothing, I'll take that as a yes. If you shake your head, it's a no. So, do we have a deal?'

  There was no reaction.

  'OK, excellent. You're a challenge, I'll give you that — but I reckon I'm up to it. Here we go, are you ready?' Jimmy moved his chair slightly and leaned forward until he was so close that she could look nowhere else but straight into his eyes. 'Anyone ever tell you you've got nice eyes? Well, one of them anyway. The other's a bit crossed. Only joking. Can you have one crossed eye? All right — here we go. What did the big chimney say to the little chimney?' He waited. Ten seconds. Nothing.' You 're too young to be smoking!'