Titanic 2020 t2-1 Read online

  'I knelt on him. It was an accident.'

  'Oh. Well you may not have the opportunity to kneel on Pedroza.'

  'So we still need a plan.'

  'Yes we do.'

  ***

  Jonas Jones was the first to see Jimmy as he came running into the fuel depot ninety minutes later, his face flushed, barely able to grab his breath.

  'Jimmy, lad, where did you spring from?'

  Jeffers was overseeing the pumping, while Dolphin Arm and Pedroza kept guard. Before Jimmy could respond Pedroza strode angrily across, grabbed him and threw him to the ground.

  'How'd you get out of that cabin, you little rat?'

  He took his gun out and pointed it down at him.

  'Easy now!' said Jeffers.

  Pedroza immediately swung his gun around to point at the First Officer. 'Get on with your work!'

  'Just . . .just . . . take it easy, then . . .'

  Jeffers turned reluctantly back to his labour. Pedroza snarled down at Jimmy.

  'Where's the girl?' he snapped.

  'She stayed with it. . .'

  'With what?'

  'The gold!'

  Pedroza's eyes narrowed. 'Gold? What gold?'

  'Please,' said Jimmy. 'I'm sorry . . . we were bored. It was easy to get out of our cabin . . . But listen, please, we came to tell you what we found! You won't believe it . . . incredible — an entire room, just full of it . . . gold bars . . . thousands of them!'

  ***

  They had guessed, correctly, that Pedroza's face would light up at the thought of a room full of gold. He already had one potential fortune on his hands with Mamma Joss's medicine, but gold was something else entirely — paper money might now be worthless, but gold never loses its value. He had seized power on the Titanic and had grand plans to take the Olympic back to port. But it still meant that he would have two ships guzzling enormous amounts of fuel. In a broken world, where oil would be jealously guarded by the few survivors, gold would become the means by which such commodities could be bought. Civilizations come and go. But gold remains constant. Through all of history it has been prized above all other metals. It is, was and always will be completely irresistible.

  All of these thoughts were whirring through Pedroza's brain as he marched Jimmy towards the eleventh floor. The chef's eyes were wide with excitement, the pulse in the side of his forehead was visibly thumping away and his breaths were coming fast and furious.

  Jimmy egged him on the whole way.

  'I've never seen anything like it! Bricks made from gold! From floor to ceiling! Claire thinks her dad put all his money in gold and hid it on the Olympic when he realized how bad the plague was! That's why he was so miserable when he lost contact with his fleet! But now it's all ours! We'll be the richest pirates on the high seas!'

  Pedroza thumped him hard in the back with the butt of his gun. 'I'm not a pirate! And shut up!'

  'Sorry! Sorry! But you should see it! It's incredible! It's . . .'

  Completely made up.

  Their plan was based on their assumption that:

  a) Pedroza would completely fall for their story, and rush up to see the gold for himself.

  b) Claire had the ability to jump out from behind the door and stab him with a syringe.

  They had both seen Dr Hill administer a certain drug to plague sufferers in the Titanic's hospital. They'd been thrashing about in agony one minute, and fast asleep the next. It was a simple matter of breaking into the Olympics medical supplies room and identifying the correct drug. Jimmy, being a good reporter, had previously noted its name.

  They thought it was better that Jimmy, rather than Claire, lure Pedroza into the trap. Or, to put it another way, Claire refused to go, on the grounds that Pedroza might elect to hurl her overboard on the way up. The fact that he might do the same to Jimmy did not seem to unduly worry her.

  Jimmy, having had experience with Mamma Joss's medicine, filled up a test syringe then showed Claire how to inject it, using an over-ripe orange they found in the doctor's office. Claire was a little bit hesitant at first, barely pricking the skin and looking away squeamishly. Jimmy showed her again. Her next effort was little better.

  'Claire,' Jimmy said finally, 'it's an orange. You can't hurt it.'

  'I know that. It's just . . .' She made a face.

  'Forget it's an orange. It's Pedroza. If you don't get this into him, he will kill you, and, more importantly — me. Now do it again. Stab him. Stab Pedroza.'

  Claire held the syringe tightly, with her thumb over the plunger, raised it, then brought it back down with such force that the orange collapsed flat down on the desk, spraying juice across the room.

  'I think you've killed it,' said Jimmy. 'You're officially lethal against fruits. Now let's try the real thing.'

  They chose a windowless store room on the fourth level. Jimmy removed three light bulbs so that Pedroza would not immediately realize that the shelves were filled with bed linen as opposed to gold. Claire, meanwhile, had tracked down the Olympic's own newspaper office and found a camera.

  Their plan was this:

  1. Jimmy warns Claire that he's about to arrive with Pedroza by talking loudly and generally making a racket.

  2. Jimmy opens door, pretends to feel for light switch.

  3. Pedroza enters darkened room.

  4. Claire sets off camera flash, temporarily blinding Pedroza.

  5. Jimmy trips him up.

  6. Claire plunges syringe into Pedroza.

  7. They flee room, lock door, allow 30 seconds for drug to work.

  8. Re-enter room, find Pedroza asleep, remove his gun, lock room.

  9. Return to fuel depot, hold gun on Dolphin Arm, disarm.

  10. Return to Titanic, disarm mutineers.

  11. Live happily ever after.

  It was a good plan. All good plans remain good plans up until the point where they don't work, and then they suddenly look like bad plans. All good plans usually work up until the point where you add humans, at which point the difference between complete success and utter catastrophe is a very small one.

  You cannot blame what happened on the plan, or on Jimmy's or Claire's or even Pedroza's part in it.

  If any plan went like clockwork, it was this one.

  Jimmy hurried along the corridor in front of Pedroza. As he approached the door he clapped his hands happily together and waved the mutineer forward. 'In here! In here! You should see it! It's fantastic! Gold! Gold! Gold!'

  Jimmy pulled the door open and stepped inside. 'I'll get the lights . . .'

  Pedroza stepped into the room.

  Claire set off the flash.

  Pedroza automatically closed his eyes . . . but too late! He was blinded!

  Jimmy kicked at the back of his legs, causing him to fall forward.

  They jumped on him as he tried to get up, forcing him down again.

  Claire rammed the syringe into his leg and pressed the plunger down flat, forcing its entire contents into his body.

  They leaped off him, charged out of the door, slammed it shut behind them and locked it before collapsing down.

  'We did it,' said Jimmy, breathing hard.

  'We did it!'

  They were just in the act of giving each other high fives when the door was suddenly thumped, causing them both to jump. The handle was rattled. Then again — but with slightly less power. Then for a third time, weaker still.

  They held their breath.

  Finally . . . complete . . . silence.

  'We have done it . . .'Jimmy whispered.

  'We really have . . .'

  'How long should we give it?'

  'It took half a minute in the hospital — and we probably gave him three times the dose.'

  'But still. . .'

  'I know . . .'

  'Three minutes then . . .'

  'Five . . .'

  'To be safe.'

  It was probably the longest five minutes of their lives. The Olympic was rolling beneath them, ma
king them feel queasy, but they were determined to let nothing spoil their moment of triumph. They had outwitted and overthrown Pedroza, and they were going to enjoy every moment of it. No throwing up over the side of the ship for them. They were conquering heroes. They would fling open the door of the storage room and sweep in to retrieve Pedroza's gun. They would shake their heads over the fallen pirate and say, 'Let that be a lesson to you, evildoer.'

  When the five minutes were up, Claire said, 'You first.'

  'Ladies first,' said Jimmy.

  'Age before beauty,' said Claire.

  They smiled at each other.

  'Together,' they said together.

  Jimmy turned the lock. They both gripped the door handle. They silently counted off one-two-three and pulled open the door.

  Pedroza stood in front of them, his gun raised and pointing, the syringe still sticking out of his leg. 'Get in here now!' he growled.

  'Oh crap! murmured Jimmy.

  36

  Death

  Pedroza made them stand against the back wall of the storage room.

  'No gold,' he said.

  'No gold,' agreed Jimmy.

  Claire just looked at him. Her bottom lip quivered.

  'Plenty of bedding,' said Pedroza, nodding at the shelves.' Useful for muffling the sound of a gun.' Jimmy swallowed. 'You think you're very clever, don't you? Your great plan! Jab me with a needle, kill me, eh?'

  'No,' said Jimmy, 'just put you to sleep.'

  'So you say. Yet for some reason, the drugs don't work. Why do you think?'

  'I don't know,' said Jimmy.

  Pedroza reached down and plucked the syringe out of his left leg, then hurled it suddenly towards them. Claire let out a scream as it embedded itself in the wall just by her left ear.

  Pedroza laughed. 'I'll show you.' He closed his free hand into a fist and punched himself in the leg. It sounded — hard, yet hollow. 'This leg is wooden. Lost it when I was a boy.' He moved to the other leg and kcnocked it as well. He pulled his trousers up a fraction to show a couple of centimetres of swarthy skin. 'This leg is flesh and bone. You picked the wrong leg, little children. So now I must kill you.'

  'Why?' Jimmy asked weakly.

  'Because you are my enemy. And because of you I killed fifteen people.'

  'Me?'

  'Both of you.'

  'I don't under—' Jimmy began, but Claire cut him off sharply.

  'The people in the freezer.'

  Pedroza nodded. 'I was smuggling them to a new life in America. Their relatives were to pay me once I delivered them safely, but then you two stuck your noses in. If the Captain found them then I'd lose my job and go to prison — but they'd still get to America. That wasn't fair, was it?'

  'What did you do to them?' Claire asked.

  'I told them I'd managed to get them cabins, but that I had to take them one by one to avoid being discovered. So I threw them overboard, one at a time. Not pleasant, but essential.'

  'You are . . . evil . . .' Claire whispered.

  'All your fault.'

  'No,' said Claire, 'no . . .'

  'And now that I've told you, it is time for you to die as well.'

  Pedroza raised his gun.

  'Would it help if we said sorry?' Jimmy asked.

  'No!'

  'Is there anything we can do?'

  'No!'

  Jimmy had a sudden, desperate, last thought. 'Please — just wait a minute . . . It's important . . . listen to me . . . My granda used to tell me this story . . .'

  Pedroza s brow furrowed. 'I do not wish to—'

  But Jimmy continued right on, '. . . about this gang leader who caught two of his enemies. He was going to shoot them both, but then he realized that if he did that, there'd be no one to spread the word about what he'd done. So he just killed one of them . . . and let the other one go, and he told everyone he knew about how tough and ruthless this gang leader was, and nobody ever dared tell on him or challenge him again.'

  Claire was staring at him, wide-eyed and incredulous. 'Is that supposed to help?'

  'Well, I just thought, if one of us survives it's better than neither of us sur—'

  'Quiet!' They both looked back to Pedroza. 'It's a good story. And wise. Fortunately I am already feared by everyone on the Titanic, and once we have refuelled I will kill everyone who does not support me. You two have been particularly troublesome, so I'm giving you the privilege of being killed first. So . . . which of you would like to die first?'

  Claire glared at him. 'You are a cruel and horrible man. I hope you burn in hell.'

  Jimmy knew what she was doing — she wanted to be killed first, as if it might somehow give him a better chance.

  He wasn't having that. He nodded at Pedroza. 'You're not only cruel and horrible, you've got one leg missing, and the other one looks pretty crap.'

  Claire wasn't going to be beaten. 'You're a violent, vicious, ugly little man and your children will be vicious and ugly . . .'

  Jimmy cut in with: 'Your scrambled eggs taste like shit and everyone laughs at your cooking behind your—'

  'ENOUGH!'

  They fell silent.

  'You die!' He pointed the gun at Claire and squeezed the trigger.

  Without really knowing why, Jimmy hurled himself at Claire, shoving her out of the way just as the gun exploded. The bullet thumped into his chest. There wasn't time to register pain, hear Claire scream or even to have a final thought about McDonald's. Everything just went black.

  37

  The Afterlife

  Darkness.

  Complete and absolute.

  Jimmy couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not, or even if he had any eyes. He might just be a formless shape, floating in the universe. But no . . . he had hands — he felt his left with his right, and vice versa. He had legs.

  Or maybe I just think I have them.

  He had read about people who lost their legs in road accidents, but could still feel them. Something to do with nerve endings.

  I'm in a bed. I can feel the pillow, sheets.

  Or I'm imagining them.

  I am dead.

  I know I am dead.

  I have to be dead.

  He remembered very clearly: pushing Claire out of the way of Pedroza's shot, feeling a dreadful pain in his chest and then . . . nothing.

  OK — I was shot in the chest. If by some miracle I'm alive, there'll be bandages, tubes . . .

  Jimmy moved his hand up his chest and felt — skin. No wound, no bandages, just his normal self.

  That's it. I'm dead. I'm not in a bed. I'm not anywhere. I'm just . . . a thought. Or a soul on my way to heaven or hell. Or maybe there's nothing, and I'll just exist in this darkness for ever.

  He didn't like that thought at all.

  He squeezed his imaginary eyes shut.

  ***

  'Jimmy.'

  Claire's voice.

  No, she was dead. 'Jimmy.'

  How mad would I have to be to start talking to a ghost? 'Jimmy — for goodness' sake, I can see you moving. Will you come out from under your blankets and talk to me?'

  No. Once I start talking to imaginary creatures then I'll be lost for ever.

  'Can you not give him some sort of an injection?' Claire said.

  Then another familiar voice — Dr Hill's. 'No, Claire. He's still in shock, he'll come out of it in his own time.'

  Jimmy felt for the corner of the blanket, then cautiously raised his eyes above it. The light was so harsh that he was half blinded and could only see two vague, shimmering outlines.

  Lost souls like his own, or real live human beings? 'Ah, the sleeper awakes,' said Dr Hill.

  'Only because you mentioned injections,' said Claire. 'He's a scaredy cat.'

  Slowly, slowly, they came into focus.

  It was them. It was Claire. She was alive! Which meant . . . he was alive!

  He was in the hospital wing. The Titanic's hospital wing.

  When he tried to speak his voice was
ragged. 'I . . . don't . . . I was . . . Pedroza . . . what the . . . hell . . . is going on?'

  Claire beamed down at him. Dr Hill took hold of his wrist and checked his pulse. Satisfied, he smiled at Claire and said, 'I'll leave you to fill in the details.'

  As he left the wing, Claire sat on the edge of Jimmy's bed. 'What do you remember?' she asked.

  'I . . . don't really . . . I . . . was . . . shot. . .'

  'You don't remember the aliens coming down and encasing you in a bubble of ectoplasm?'

  Jimmy stared at her.' What?'

  Claire cackled. 'Only joking. Jimmy, you saved my life. You threw me out of the way. You took the bullet that was meant for me.'

  'I must have tripped.' He wasn't sure he liked the way she was beaming down at him. 'But . . . if I was shot I . . .' His hand felt about his chest, but it was still as wound-free as before. 'I don't understand.'

  'Well, perhaps this will help.'

  Claire delved into her trouser pocket and produced a small piece of twisted metal.

  'Is that . . . the bullet?'

  'No, Jimmy, it's the coin.'

  'Coin?'

  'Your lucky penny, Jimmy! Don't you see? Pedroza shot you in the chest, but the bullet struck the lucky penny in your pocket. The force of it knocked you out — but the bullet ricocheted right back at Pedroza and went straight through his forehead and killed him stone dead.'

  'It what?'

  'He's dead, we're alive, we beat the hurricanes, the ship's back in the Captain's hands, the—'

  'Hold on! Too much information! Just . . . slow . . . down . . .' Jimmy took a deep breath. He put his hand out and Claire dropped the battered coin into his palm. 'So it was lucky, after all . . .'

  'Or you were. Or Pedroza was unlucky. Anyway, something worked. It knocked you out, and it killed Pedroza. It was horrible . . . but kind of fantastic at the same time. I got his gun and took it downstairs and slipped it to Jeffers when Dolphin wasn't looking, and then he put it against Dolphin's head and advised him to give up. And he did.'

  'But . . . but . . . there were still all the other mutineers?'

  'Yeah, but there was only about half a dozen of them who really, really wanted to follow Pedroza: most of them just wanted to get back to Miami as quickly as possible. They all have families, relatives, you know? So they didn't put up much of a fight, and now everything's back to normal. We've outrun the hurricanes, and we'll be back in Miami this afternoon.'