Titanic 2020: Cannibal City t2-2 Read online

  Nothing.

  'OK,' said Jimmy. 'A tougher nut to crack than I thought. I'm going to have to wheel out the big gun. This joke — this joke makes the other joke look really pathetic. This joke saves lives. Are you ready? I'm warning you — you may die laughing.'

  Nada.

  'OK. Did you hear about the fella went to the doctor's and said he thought he was turning into a pair of curtains? Doctor told him to pull himself together!'

  Jimmy examined her pale face right up close. Not a flicker. In fact, she didn't even appear to be breathing. He might well have been talking to a corpse.

  'Soldier!'

  Jimmy jumped. The nurse was hurrying towards them.'What're you doing? Leave the poor girl alone!'

  'I wasn't doing anything, I was only—'

  'Leave her alone and go back to bed now — or if you think you're well enough, return to barracks.'

  Jimmy wasn't ready to face his fellow soldiers just yet. He pushed his chair back and stood up as the nurse mounted the steps and approached the table.

  'Sorry,' he said. 'I didn't mean any harm.'

  The nurse took the girl by the hand and gently pulled her up. The girl didn't blink.

  'I'll, uh, go and have a lie-down, then,' said Jimmy. 'What's wrong with her anyway?'

  'She was picked up in the woods just like this, traumatised. God knows we've tried everything to bring her out of it.'

  Jimmy nodded sympathetically.

  'Have you tried a good slap in the face?' he asked.

  The nurse scowled at him and began to turn the girl. But as she moved slowly past him, Jimmy was certain that he saw a little flicker of movement at the sides of her mouth, the merest sliver of a hint of a suggestion of a possibility of a smile. It was gone as soon as it appeared, and it might just as easily have been a spasm of pain, or wind. She allowed herself to be slowly walked along the wooden surround, and back into the hut.

  Jimmy followed them in. The girl stood immobile beside her bed while the nurse turned back the sheets, guided her down, lay her back and lifted her legs up on to the mattress. She then pulled the covers up and tucked her in. The girl lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  Jimmy lay on his own bed at the far side of the room as the nurse turned for the door, then glanced back at him.

  'I won't turn the light out,' she said. 'She's frightened of the dark.'

  'How can you tell?' Jimmy asked.

  The nurse just shook her head. 'Rest while you can, soldier. You'll be back at training tomorrow.'

  She closed the door behind her.

  Jimmy stared at the girl for a long time. She did not turn restlessly. Or yawn. Her eyes did not flicker. But eventually, his did. He began to drift. He had already slept for most of the afternoon and evening, but his body needed time to recover from the pounding it had taken, both in the ring and over the past few days. Soon Jimmy was in a deep sleep. So deep, in fact, that he was not aware of the girl pushing back her covers. He did not know that she climbed out of bed and padded across the floor to his bed. He would never know that she bent over him and kissed him on the forehead.

  20

  Battery Park

  It became clear within minutes of landing at Battery Park that they wouldn't be forming a convoy to take them anywhere.

  The inflatables tied up between two Circle Line ferries that had once ploughed back and forth to Liberty and Ellis Islands packed with tourists, but which now creaked and rattled and rusted at the foot of a short jetty. As Claire climbed up on to it she immediately detected an unease amongst the first landing party. First Officer Jeffers was pacing back and forth, a radio clamped to his ear, in urgent discussion with Captain Smith. The armed sailors had set up a perimeter at the entrance to the park and appeared jumpy and nervous. Then there was the smell — not the stench of death she had expected, but something that reminded her of... a barbecue. Yet there was nothing reassuring about it. The remains of fires were dotted across the park and some of them were still smouldering. Hundreds of what appeared to be recent footprints scarred the grass. But it was deadly quiet.

  So if there were people here recently, where are they now?

  If there are survivors, why aren't they making themselves known the way the inhabitants of other settlements always do as soon as the Titanic appears?

  Claire spotted Benson standing near the entrance, supervising two sailors as they pushed the metal gates closed.

  'What's the problem?' she asked, nodding at the gates.

  'Nothing — just a little extra insurance.'

  'Against what?'

  'Not sure,' said Benson. 'We thought we saw people here on the way in, but they've gone.'

  Claire scanned the open space beyond, which continued for several hundred slightly elevated metres to the foot of Broadway, the famous avenue which ran all the way up the island of Manhattan. She knew immediately that the convoy idea would have to be rethought — the road ahead was thick with abandoned vehicles, and was for as far as she could see.

  Jeffers was still talking to the ship; as he paced, his every step was repeated by Jonas Jones. The passengers who'd disembarked were milling around, anxious to be on their way. Calvin Cleaver stood off to one side, his bony white hands clutching a small Bible, which he was studying intently. Dr Hill had crouched by one of the smouldering fires. He had picked up a stick and was poking around with it.

  Ty came up beside her. 'It's so quiet,' he said. They gazed up towards the city — although now that they were so close they could no longer see the epic skyline they'd been enthralled by on the way in. 'Every Saturday, my dad used to take me downtown — we'd go catch a movie, play in Central Park. It was my special time with him. It was never quiet, always this buzz, always cabs blasting their horns, it was just noisy . . . not like this...' He shook his head. 'Not like this.'

  'You know, Ty, you don't have to come with us. If your family are all . . .'

  She didn't finish.

  Ty sighed. 'Yes. Yes I do.'

  And then, almost as if God or someone equally important had been listening, they heard it — a distant, echoing call, something utterly strange in the circumstances but also instantly recognisable.

  'That was an elephant,' said Claire.

  'Yes it was,' agreed Ty.

  The passengers and crew gathered together, alert, as if half expecting to see the mighty creature lumber into view. But nothing moved.

  'You know what this means?' Ty whispered. Claire shook her head. 'It means the elephants have taken over the city. They've enslaved the survivors. We have entered the Kingdom of the Elephants.'

  'Did anyone ever tell you you're a complete idiot?'

  'Many people,' said Ty.

  'It probably just escaped from the zoo.'

  Ty nodded. 'That makes sense. Elephants have never enslaved anyone. If any creatures have taken over the city and enslaved the humans and set up their own kingdom, it's probably the monkeys. They have thumbs.'

  'Right,' said Claire. 'Excuse me.'

  She had spotted that Jeffers was off the radio and crouching down by one of the old barbecues, conferring with Dr Hill. She hurried up.

  'So, what's the plan?' she asked, sinking to her knees and looking eagerly from one to the other. Dr Hill was turning a charred lump of wood over in his hands.

  An exasperated expression swept across the first officer's face. He had never been happy with either Jimmy or Claire tagging along on what were occasionally dangerous missions.

  'Well, Claire,' he said, 'if it was up to me, I'd pack you back to the ship.'

  'Why, what's happened?'

  He took a deep breath. He lowered his voice. 'Well, for one thing, we're going to have to walk most of the way to Newark — that's where this damn factory is — because the roads are impassable to vehicular traffic.'

  'That's cars,' said Dr Hill, helpfully.

  Jeffers gave him a brief look. 'What it means is that we're going to be here a lot longer than we expected.'

&nbs
p; 'So what's the problem with that?'

  'It means crossing the city. And I don't think it's safe.'

  'Why?'

  Jeffers' eyes flitted back to Dr Hill. The doctor looked away.

  'It's just not,' said Jeffers. 'Not for a large party like this. If we were mobile, if there was just a few of us, we could zip in and out — but some of these guys are old, most of them aren't fit . . . we'll be too slow, we'll be . . .' He looked at Dr Hill again. 'It's just dangerous.'

  Claire looked from one to the other. 'I work for the Times, it's the paper of record, it's my responsibility to report what's going on, if you know, you should tell—'

  'Enough!' snapped Jeffers. 'I don't want to hear the speech again, Claire. I know why you're here, and I know the captain thinks it's important that you are kept informed. I don't agree, I won't ever agree, but I have no choice.'

  'So?'

  Dr Hill spoke before Jeffers could respond. 'I think one word will probably cover it, Claire.'

  He held up the piece of charred wood, except that now that she looked at it up close it no longer looked like wood.

  'Cannibals,' said Dr Hill.

  21

  Ham

  Jimmy entered the mess hall with his head up, shoulders back, eyes front. Though he looked battered, he was determined to show everyone that he was not beaten. But, in fact, 'everyone' was not that interested. The hall was packed with hungry soldiers intent on filling their faces with as much food as they could before another hard day of training. They weren't bothered about one soldier's miserable experience. Many of them had their own hard-luck stories. The din of plates and cutlery was deafening, the chatter incessant. It seemed to be one of the only places in the fort where they were free to let their hair down. Nobody paid him any attention as he joined the queue for food.

  He may not have been beaten, but he had changed. Or, at least, he thought he'd changed. He had decided it wasn't fair on his fellow troopers to keep getting into trouble — otherwise they'd all starve to death. And, if he didn't keep his mouth zipped, then attention would remain focused on him, which would make it much more difficult to escape from the fort.

  He needed to quieten down, blend in more.

  With his plate piled high Jimmy found a space at one of the long trestle tables that filled the hall. The soldiers around him weren't any older, but they had clearly been at the fort for a lot longer; they looked lean and fit and had something of a confident swagger about them. Maybe the training regime here wasn't all bad. Or perhaps they hadn't been trained by Mohican.

  As he tucked into eggs and ham, another boy he recognised from his own troop sat down opposite him — clearly by mistake, to judge from the surprised expression on his face when he noticed Jimmy. His immediate response was to look around for somewhere else to sit. But there wasn't anywhere close by, so he decided to make the best of it. He kept his eyes on his food.

  'So how's it going?' Jimmy asked.

  The boy, with short black hair and round, black glasses, looked up. 'OK,' he said, rather flatly. His eyes darted about to see if anyone was watching.

  'What do they call you?'

  'Harry Potter.'

  'Seriously?'

  'My real name's Christopher Carter. But they started calling me . . .' He shrugged. 'Stuck with it now.'

  'I'm Jimmy Armstrong.'

  'I know that.' He took a mouthful of food and chewed it methodically. When he'd swallowed and allowed ten seconds for digestion, he glanced up at Jimmy. 'Your face — must hurt.'

  'A bit.'

  'You kept getting up.'

  'Stubborn, I suppose.'

  'When it was my turn, I got hit once and stayed down. Hit by a girl. She's half my size. Mohican says that if we go to war, I can carry the First Aid kit.'

  'It's important to have First Aid,' said Jimmy.

  'I faint at the sight of blood,' said Harry.

  'Well, maybe we won't go to war.'

  Harry blinked at him. 'Then why build an army?'

  It was a good point.

  An officer stood up at the far end of the hall and blew a whistle. There was an immediate scramble to finish off, deposit the empty plates and get back to barracks. Jimmy, his mouth full of ham, had intended to return with his new friend, but Harry magically lost him in the crush.

  This time, when he walked in, all eyes were immediately upon him. They were already getting changed into the training kits they'd been issued with, but all movement stopped.

  Jimmy stood in the doorway.

  'I'm back,' he said.

  He held his hands up in what he hoped looked like an apologetic gesture.

  A big guy called Gomez walked up to him. 'Here,' he said, and thrust a fresh set of T-shirt and shorts into his hands. 'You'll need these.'

  'Cheers,' said Jimmy.

  'You take a good punch,' said Gomez. He nodded once and returned to the side of his bed to continue changing.

  'Mohican was mad as hell!' someone shouted from the other end of the hut.

  'You just wouldn't stay down!' someone else called.

  Jimmy smiled crookedly. 'Next time I will,' he said. Laughter rolled around the barracks.

  'There won't be a next time.' It was Rain Man. The lightness evaporated immediately. 'We all went hungry because of you.'

  'Yeah, well,' said Jimmy.

  He moved to his bed and began to get changed. He could feel Rain Man's eyes on him.

  'Give Frankie a break,' someone shouted.

  'Yeah — Frankie took his punishment, and now he's back, so give him a break.'

  Jimmy looked up. 'Cheers,' he said, 'but the name's Jimmy.'

  'Have you looked in the mirror lately, Frankie?' Gomez asked.

  The penny dropped. Frankie for Frankenstein. His face was so battered he looked like a monster. Claire, who was well-read, could have pointed out that Frankenstein was actually the name of the guy who built the legendary monster out of body parts and not the monster itself. Jimmy was none the wiser. And it didn't matter.

  He laughed. 'Frankie,' he repeated. 'Frankie.'

  ***

  Training didn't get any easier. In the morning, and then again in the afternoon, Mohican worked them like dogs over an assault course built at the northern tip of the fort. They climbed mock cliff-faces, swung on ropes across imaginary gorges, balanced on narrow beams and crawled through mud while being screamed at to keep their heads down to avoid invisible bullets. Jimmy threw himself into it all enthusiastically. He helped out the slow and the lame and the exhausted and, in turn, when he faltered he was helped out by his comrades. They were learning not just to help themselves, but to help each other. They were becoming a team, a troop, a well-oiled machine.

  When the sun finally began to dip Mohican ordered them back to the barracks for a shower. They were all exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. They'd all come through a tough day. When they crossed to the mess hall it was as one big group. On the way there it was all, 'Frankie this,' and 'Frankie that'. His sins had been forgiven, if not forgotten. Only Rain Man stayed clear of him.

  Just as Jimmy finished eating, Mohican appeared at his shoulder and said he was wanted over at the White House. Jimmy made a surprised face at his comrades and rose. They marched over together, silently. This time, instead of being shown into the President's office, he was led along a corridor and told to wait outside while Mohican went on in. As he stood he studied a series of framed photographs hanging on the wall. The President featured in all of them — there he was raising his right hand and taking the oath of office; there he was helping to build Fort Hope; another showed him standing with young recruits, overseeing their training; yet another pictured him with his senior officers — Mohican standing proudly on one side and . . . another somehow familiar face on the other . . . Jimmy knew it, he definitely knew it, but he just couldn't place . . . and then a shiver of recognition coursed through him. It was the Minister . . . the man who had so recently tried to kill him . . . even though he had o
nly observed him at a distance, there was something so striking about him that Jimmy was absolutely certain that this was the same man, the same murderer. Except that here he was wearing an army uniform . . . he wasn't a man of the cloth, he was a soldier. But what on earth had he been doing then, dressed as . . . ? Jimmy jumped as the door opened suddenly behind him and Mohican was back, clicking his fingers at him to enter. Jimmy, his thoughts still jumbled, stepped into a large, bright room. Each of its walls was covered in maps; different coloured pins were stuck in them. He had seen rooms like this in movies.

  It's a war room.

  They're planning a battle or an invasion or . . .

  'Ah, Private Armstrong.' The President, who was standing with several of his officers before a street map of New York City, indicated for Jimmy to walk with him. He led him to a large-scale map showing the eastern United States. The President's officers stood behind Jimmy 'I'd like you to show me, if you could,' said the President, 'the ports that the Titanic has stopped at in the past few weeks.'

  Jimmy stepped calmly forward and pretended to examine the map, but his mind was racing. He already knew that the President planned to seize the ship, but he would have to find it first. Jimmy was determined not to give anything away that might help him track it down, but he had to do it in such a way that he appeared to be trying to help. If he was cooperative then he could continue to plan his escape; defiance would only land him in more trouble and place him under even more intense scrutiny.

  He shook his head slowly. 'I'm sorry, but most of the places we stopped at, they're new settlements, they're not on any map.'

  'You must have a rough idea,' said one of the officers.

  'Not really. Last one we stopped at was Tucker's Hole.' He waved vaguely at the map. He wasn't giving anything away — that was where he'd first encountered the President, and the President knew it. 'I'm not even sure where it is . . .'

  The President jabbed a finger at the map. 'Here.'

  'A ship that size,' said one of the officers, 'is going to need hundreds of thousands of gallons of oil to refuel. You don't pick those up at the settlements. What cities has the ship stopped at?'