Titanic 2020: Cannibal City t2-2 Page 2

  ... a woman, her hair dank and bedraggled, her clothes torn, being dragged out of a metal cage mounted on a trailer. She had what looked like a dog's collar around her neck, attached to a chain which was being pulled by a burly, heavily muscled man wearing . . . a wolf's head! He gave the chain a hard yank and the woman stumbled down a slanted wooden walkway on to the grass and fell to her knees. The wolf-headed man stood behind her and drew out a long, jagged knife from a sheath on his belt.

  The crowd began to chant: 'Kill! Kill! Kill!'

  Ronni knew she should have screamed at them to stop. But she couldn't do anything. As she looked around the faces of the people watching she saw a kind of madness in their eyes. They weren't happy survivors of a desperate plague — they were frightened people driven crazy by it. Ronni was suddenly more scared than she ever had been in her life. She began to back away through the crowd as the chanting continued to grow in intensity all around her. 'Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!'

  Ronni emerged by one of the bonfires, which was being tended by a solitary old man, slowly rotating a crackling animal on a spit. But then as the creature's head turned towards her she saw with total and absolute horror that it wasn't an animal at all.

  It was a human being.

  Ronni screamed. She couldn't help it. She screamed hogh and loud and piercing.

  The chanting faded.

  All eyes turned towards her.

  She wasn't one of them.

  Ronni ran for her life.

  And then so did they.

  The chase was on!

  1

  Pig

  It all started with Babe the pig.

  If Lucky Jimmy Armstrong and Claire Stanford hadn't been fighting over her, then they wouldn't have become separated, and if they hadn't become separated then the nightmare that followed — you know, with the Cannibals, the President's Train, the Quest and the Murdering Minister — well, it probably wouldn't have happened.

  So, really, it was the pig's fault.

  Pigs are like that. Always causing trouble.

  Never trust a pig. Pigs have no sense of humour, and they can't juggle.

  Yet the way Claire talked about Babe, you'd think Babe could tell a joke while keeping six balls in the air with her mucky little hooves.

  Or trotters.

  It started after they left Reunion Gap.

  ***

  You won't find Reunion Gap on any map. Suffice to say it was one of hundreds of settlements that had sprung up along the eastern seaboard since the Red Death had struck. It was little more than a gathering place for survivors, a crossroads where two RVs had stopped and set up camp one night, and by next morning there were half a dozen other vehicles parked right beside them. Then there were twenty, then eighty six, then several hundreds of them, all shapes and sizes. Some had just a solitary driver; others were packed with family members or complete strangers, all intent on exchanging news, swapping or bartering food, drinking beer and wailing about the state of this new world. You've heard of that old saying — safety in numbers? This is what people thought: that if they all got together, they'd be OK. But it wasn't strictly true. People were frightened by what had happened, they were scared, horrified, panicky so little communities like Reunion Gap were really quite dangerous places. People were short tempered, and although they craved other human company, they also armed themselves with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on in case they didn't like that company. In communities like Reunion Gap violence exploded quite regularly

  The Titanic's Captain Smith, First Officer Jeffers, and the rest of the crew — and at least some of the passengers — were aware that they had a good, secure, modern home, and while there were occasional shortages of food, and lapses in power, and outbreaks of disease, and short rebellions and noisy protests, they had it better than most. Partly because of this, and partly because it was his duty, Captain Smith endeavoured to lend assistance to people in settlements like Reunion Gap. The ship would drop anchor up to a mile off shore and Dr Hill would land with a team of nurses to set up a clinic, treating those that he could there and then, and ferrying more serious cases back to the ship for surgery. First Officer Jeffers would escort ashore those who wished to leave the ship to search for relatives; and then he would vet those who sought to join the Titanic for transportation further up the coast (as most roads were still blocked, and those that were open were invariably dangerous). Chief Engineer Jonas Jones' task was to search for those with particular skills who might wish to join up as crewmen; the Titanic was a huge ship and had been left shorthanded both by the plague and the recent mutiny.[1] Jimmy and Claire usually went ashore as reporter and photographer, recording the (usually) sad stories of the survivors. There was also a pressing need for a regular supply of fresh food on board, which meant that often on their return journeys the speedboats and motor launches which served the ship were packed with livestock. The pig that would shortly become known as Babe came on board at Reunion Gap in the company of twelve other pigs, sixteen cows and perhaps a hundred chickens.

  First Officer Jeffers, overseeing their importation — the mooing, grunting, snorting, stinking lot of them sometimes couldn't quite believe what was happening to his beloved ship.

  'I don't know if this is the bloody Titanic any more,' he wearily observed as he watched the latest arrivals trot nervously on board,' or Noah's bloody Ark.'

  It was, in fact, Lucky Jimmy Armstrong, standing right beside him, who first noticed the pig who would become known as Babe. She was smaller than the others, leaner. Where the others were content to play follow my leader, turning obediently off to the left as they came on board, this one defiantly turned right and charged forward, completely unconcerned that she was heading directly for a solid wall. She duly cracked off it, let out a high pitched squeal, looked briefly in the direction ot her brothers and sisters, then turned around and fired herself at the wall again. There was another squeal. One of Jeffers' team, who professed some knowledge of farmyard animals, attempted to steer her in the right direction and got butted and stamped on for his trouble. The pig made another attempt on the wall.

  'That pig,' Jeffers pointed out needlessly, 'is stupid.'

  As the squealing continued — in fact, grew louder — they were joined by Claire, hurrying up to show Jimmy the photos she'd taken at Reunion Gap. The latest edition of the Titanic Times was due to go to press later that evening, and they still had to select the front page photo. As Jimmy looked through the pictures, Claire studied the pig as she made her fourth attempt on the wall.

  'Aw, isn't she cute?'

  Without looking up Jimmy said: 'No, it's a pig.'

  'She's lovely.' Claire raised the camera slung around her neck and fired off a series of shots. 'Aow!' The pig had bounced off the wall again. 'That had to hurt.'

  Jeffers ordered a second crewman forward, and this time they were able to steer the witless creature in the right direction, although not before she had left them all a nice big present. Jimmy held his nose. Claire laughed.

  'Jimmy, have you never been on a farm?'

  'No, and I've no wish to.'

  'It's the most natural smell in the world.'

  'It reminds me of something . . .' Jimmy clicked his fingers several times as he made a show of struggling to remember. 'Oh yes — it's your perfume.'

  Claire made a face. 'Very funny. As a matter of fact, I don't wear perfume.'

  'Maybe you should.' Jimmy smiled triumphantly and turned away. As he did, he held up the photos. 'I'll see if I can rescue something from this lot.'

  Claire stood fuming. She glanced up at First Officer Jeffers. 'What're you smiling at?' she snapped.

  ' You.' Jeffers ruffled her hair — like she was a child — then turned to follow the animals. He could no longer see them, but they had left an unmistakable trail for him to follow. 'Noah's bloody Ark,' he muttered as he stepped carefully along the deck.

  2

  Babe

  Over the next few days, as the Titani
c continued its slow progress up the eastern seaboard, Claire became increasingly obsessed with the pig. Jimmy thought she was off her rocker.

  They had a hard enough job as it was producing a daily edition of the Times, without Claire slipping off every half an hour to coo over the dirty, foul smelling porker. As far as Jimmy could see it had no redeeming features at all. Even the cows were more interesting. And they were dead boring. Several times he had to leave the newspaper office in the capable hands of their chief reporter, Ty Warner, and the rest of their news team (which had grown over the past few months to five reporters, two photographers, an IT expert and an idiot who made the tea) to make the arduous trip to Deck 3 to drag her back up to work.

  Deck 3 looked as much like a farmyard as any part of a ship can look like a farmyard. Petty Officer Benson had been put in charge as punishment for his latest breach of discipline, and he clearly wasn't enjoying himself at all. 'What do I know about chickens?' he complained when Jimmy arrived, looking for Claire. 'I grew up in London. Never been on a farm. Only been to a petting zoo once. I got bitten by a goat.' He sighed before pointing Jimmy in the right direction. 'She's still in there. I think she's in love.'

  Jimmy rolled his eyes, then continued along the deck to where Benson had helped construct a sty for the pigs. Six of the filthy beasts had their noses buried in a trough, hungrily gorging themselves on waste food from the Titanic kitchens. Claire's pig was off to one side, having her snout stroked by the Times' chief photographer.

  'Claire.'

  'Shhhhh! She's almost asleep . . .'

  'Claire, I don't care!' Jimmy clapped his hands together with a loud smack, but the pig paid no attention. Deaf and stupid, Jimmy decided. 'We've work to do, Claire. What is it with you and the pig anyway?'

  'She's just. . . cute.'

  Jimmy snorted.

  'She is,' Claire insisted. 'The rest of them, they just want to eat all the time. Babe's more interested in being pampered and having a chat.'

  Jimmy wasn't sure which of these ridiculous pieces of information to tackle first. 'Babe? You've given it a name?'

  'Sure. Babe. You've heard of Babe, right? The book? The movie? The sheep-pig?' Jimmy shook his head. 'Jimmy, it's really famous!'

  'Not in my neck of the woods.'

  'Well, take my word for it. Babe was a really clever talking pig who thought he was a sheepdog, and this Babe is just as smart. She's always getting into mischief, and anyone who gives Benson as hard a time as she does has to be doing something right.' Claire gave Babe's snout another delicate stroke. 'We have great little chats, don't we. Babe?'

  Jimmy gave it a few moments, just in case by some miracle the pig suddenly winked at him and said, 'We certainly do, young man, now pass me a sandwich,' before asking Claire if she had mistakenly swallowed some mind-bending drugs.

  Claire smiled. 'I know it's silly, but there's something about her. She's got such a nice personality.'

  Jimmy shook his head. 'That's what they say about girls who aren't very pretty. She's got a nice personality.'

  Claire tutted. 'And what would you know about girls, Jimmy Armstrong?'

  Jimmy shrugged. 'I know about you.'

  'And what is it you think you know about me?'

  'I know you've got a nice personality.'

  Claire bit her tongue. He was always trying to wind her up. She fought a constant battle not to respond in kind, or to punch him. She continued to pet Babe.

  Jimmy looked at Claire with a very small measure of regret. 'Claire, look — I know you like it—'

  'Her. She. Babe.'

  'I know you like her-she-Babe — but maybe it's best not to get too close.'

  'Why not? I get a better conversation out of her than I do with you.'

  'Because, you know, in case something happens to her.'

  Claire snorted. 'What's going to happen to her? She's perfectly safe here.'

  Jimmy sighed. 'Claire.' He pointed along the deck to where the cows were lazily grazing from their own trough. 'Look, we have the cows on board for milk, right?'

  'It doesn't take a rocket scientist to work that out, Jimmy.'

  'OK, and those chickens running about all over the bloody place like . . . chickens. They're on board for . . .'

  'Eggs, Jimmy. Eggs'.

  'So, following that logic, the pigs are on board for . . . ?'

  Claire was about to give another rapid-fire response — only she couldn't immediately think of one. She was thinking: cows — milk: chickens — eggs: pigs . . .; cows — milk: chickens — eggs: pigs . . . Her mouth dropped open a little. Her eyes met Jimmy's.

  'No... ?'

  Jimmy nodded. 'Unless you've worked out how to milk a pig. It's pork.'

  'No!'

  'Fraid so.'

  'They wouldn't.'

  'I think they would.'

  'Not my Babe!'

  Jimmy raised his eyebrows. Then a thought struck him. 'Unless . . .'

  Claire looked suddenly hopeful. 'Unless what, Jimmy?'

  'Unless . . .

  'Jimmy!'

  'Unless she really can talk — then we could retrain her as a radio operator!'

  Jimmy spun on his heel and strode away before Claire could attack him.

  'I hate you, Jimmy Armstrong!' she yelled furiously after him. But as soon as he was gone she allowed the tears that had been welling up to spring from her eyes. She stroked Babe some more. How could anyone . . . ?

  No!

  It wasn't going to happen. Her dad owned the Titanic, he was the boss, even over Captain Smith, and she was her daddy's little girl. He would do whatever she demanded. Nobody was going to impose a death sentence on her friend Babe. NOBODY!

  3

  The Speech

  It's all very well, of course, stamping your feet and saying, 'NOBODY!' when all you've got is pigs for company. They'd agree with anything as long as you kept their trough full of disgusting swill. It was quite different when it came to making the people in charge see sense. For a start, her father absolutely refused to intervene.

  'I'm sorry Claire, but no. The pigs are on board for one reason and one reason alone. If we are going to get through this we need a good, healthy, balanced diet, and that means fresh meat whenever possible.'

  'But she's my pet, she's my friend! Would you really eat one of my friends?'

  'It's a pig, Claire.'

  'Please, Daddy! My ponies were taken away from me, don't take Babe as well!'

  'Claire, operational control of the Titanic rests with Captain Smith. I have promised not to intervene.'

  'But what am I supposed to do?'

  Her mother appeared in the bedroom doorway, swathed in a luxurious dressing gown and with her hair hidden beneath a towel. 'What about becoming a vegetarian?' she asked.

  'HOW WOULD THAT HELP?' Claire yelled.

  'Watch your tone, young lady!' her father immediately snapped out.

  Claire stormed out of the suite. Her next stop was the bridge, where Captain Smith was seated before a computer screen, examining charts. She stood before him, breathing hard, and waited for him to notice her. And waited. And waited.

  Eventually, without looking up, he asked her what she wanted.

  Claire rubbed the back of her hand across her damp cheek. 'Have I ever asked you for anything before?'

  'Yes, you have.'

  'I mean, something really, really important?'

  'What is it, Claire?' His eyes remained fixed on the screen.

  'If you had the chance to save someone's life — someone who has never done anything wrong, who has never harmed anyone on purpose, who might get into trouble occasionally, but really has a heart of gold, and if I really, really begged you — would you do it, would you do it for me?'

  Captain Smith typed something on his keyboard. Still without looking up he said: 'Claire, don't worry. We've already decided to keep Jimmy alive.'

  'Not Jimmy!'

  She could see now that his mouth was tightly shut but turned up slightl
y at the sides, as if he was struggling to keep himself from laughing.

  He already knows — and he's laughing at me!

  'It's not funny! Babe is my pig! You're not having her!'

  Captain Smith finally looked up. 'Claire, I understand that you've become attached to the creature, but I'm afraid that I agree with your father. We live in difficult times and discipline is important. The pigs were brought aboard for food. I'm sorry, but when the time comes, and I believe that will be within the next few days, the pigs will be slaughtered. All of them.'

  'No!' Claire glared down at him. 'You are a cruel, horrible man and I will not allow you to do this!'

  She stormed away from the bridge.

  She was an expert at storming.

  She'd had a lot of practice.

  ***

  The deadline for the next edition of the Titanic Times was fast approaching and the newspaper office, deep in the bowels of the ship, was a hive of activity when Claire came — yes, storming — in.

  Jimmy looked up from his desk, recognised the look on her face, and sighed wearily. 'What is it now?' he asked.

  'They're going to murder Babe!'

  All around the office, work stopped.

  'Ladies and gentlemen,' Jimmy said quickly, 'relax. Babe is a pig. Claire, you cannot murder a pig. Unless it's done by another pig. And even then I'm not—'

  'Be quiet!' She looked deadly serious. Jimmy cleared his throat and signalled for her to continue. She looked around the room. 'I'm not stupid,' she said. 'I know the pigs were brought on board to provide us with fresh meat. That's fair enough. OK, so I've become attached to one of them. Babe's my friend. She's cute, she's lovely. But yes — she's still just a pig.' She nodded around the company. 'Captain Smith has said that all the pigs have to die. That no exceptions can be made — but what I'm asking is, why not?' Everyone, with the possible exception of Jimmy, was listening intently. 'Look,' she continued, 'our whole world has been turned upside down in the past few months. We've all lost relatives and friends. My father and Captain Smith are right when they say that to survive we must have order and discipline — but I know my history. When times are hard and people are weak, that's when dictators come along, like Hitler, like Stalin, and they take control and before you know it you have no freedom left at all, no right to make your own decisions, you're not individuals any more, you're numbers, you're slaves. Well I say — it stops here. We show them that we will not be ruled with an iron fist. We show them by refusing to allow Babe to be slaughtered. Babe must live!'