Claire might have had a rich father and judo lessons from an expensive coach, but Jimmy was an amusement arcade veteran. When he wasn't in school he virtually lived in one. He rarely had money to play the machines, but he hustled it by challenging other kids. He rarely lost. There was no official competition or title, but if you asked anyone in Jimmy's school, they would have confirmed that he deserved to be crowned the Air Hockey Champion of East Belfast.
They agreed it would be best of five games. He let her win the first one, just to see the cocky, condescending look on her face. He let her win the second, and he loved the way she gloated over every victorious stroke.
And then he let her have it.
He whipped her ass.
Her face coloured up, sweat rolled down her brow, her mouth tightened in anger and as the final, winning goal shot in she let out a yell of frustration.
'That's not fair!' she shouted.
'That's not fair!' mimicked Jimmy.
'You've played this before!'
'You've played this before!'
Jimmy raised his hands in mock apology.
'You — you — you — you . . .'
'Won,' said Jimmy. 'And now I'm off — free as a bird.' He gave a little bird whistle as he sauntered past. But then he stopped and extended his hand. 'Listen, no hard feelings, eh?'
It was an unexpectedly civilized thing to do, and much more in keeping with the circles Claire usually moved in. She might have been spoiled, but she was well brought up. So, albeit reluctantly, she clasped his hand.
Jimmy smiled in a friendly manner, then suddenly twisted her arm and spun her round before giving her a hefty shove in the bum with his left foot. Claire shot across the arcade, crashed into the Star Wars game and crumpled to the floor.
'Sucker,' laughed Jimmy. He jogged happily out of the arcade.
***
He was exhilarated: first the air hockey, then the humiliating coup de grace. It was in both his nature and nurture to extract victory by either fair means or foul and he saw nothing wrong with it. Whether it was on the tough streets of his city or in the more luxurious surroundings of the Titanic, it was all about survival. Attack was the best form of defence, and if God sees fit to give you an advantage, you grab it with both hands.
In hindsight, he should perhaps have chosen to lie low for a while, but Jimmy still had a mountain to climb. Or at least a climbing wall. He rode up to the top deck and began to work his way up the artificial cliff face. It was growing dark now and a cool breeze was blowing hard against him. Usually crew members provided safety harnesses for passengers attempting the wall, but even if there'd been one available, Jimmy wouldn't have needed it. In just a few minutes he was straddling the top of the the wall, barely out of breath. He stared out to sea. America was somewhere ahead of him. While trawling for news on the Internet earlier on he had done a little research into how long a ship might take to cross the Atlantic, and while it depended on speed and size, he reckoned that they were now approaching the halfway mark. By tomorrow there would be no turning back.
Jimmy thrust his hands into his overall pockets — and found the lucky penny. He held on to the wall with one arm, then pulled his other arm back to throw it . . .
'YOU BOY!'
Jimmy peered down. Captain Smith and three other officers were looking up at him.
'GET DOWN HERE NOW!'
Jimmy looked about him, then back down. 'Are you talking to me?'
'GET DOWN HERE!'
Jimmy took a deep breath. Unless he suddenly developed the ability to fly, or to swim huge distances, there was no escape this time. He slipped the lucky penny into his pocket, then began to climb down.
When he finally reached the deck, having taken his time, he was grabbed, held in a tight arm-lock and quickly marched away. As he moved along the deck Claire Stanford stepped out of the shadows. 'Who's the sucker now?' she hissed. Then, following on behind the prisoner and his escort she added, 'As a matter of fact I don't have a pony. I have three.'
8
Captain Smith
He wasn't on trial, but it felt like it.
Jimmy was hauled into Captain Smith's quarters on Deck Twelve and ordered to stand in the middle of the floor while the Captain and First Officer Simon Jeffers sat looking at him from behind a desk. After a few moments Mr Stanford — designer of the ship and owner of the cruise company — also joined them. Claire Stanford sat behind him. Each time Jimmy scowled at her an annoying smirk appeared on her face.
'Well?' the Captain asked.
'Well as can be expected,' said Jimmy
The Captain's eyes flashed angrily. 'I mean, well, what have you got to say for yourself?'
Jimmy shrugged.
'Have you any idea of the trouble you have caused?'
'Sort of, yeah.'
'And?'
'And what?'
'Have you anything to say?'
Jimmy thought about it for a moment. 'Nice ship.'
Mr Stanford jumped to his feet. 'How dare you!' he shouted. 'Do you think this is funny?'
Jimmy shrugged.
'Have you any idea of the worry you have caused at home? The man-hours we have had to devote to finding you? The expense we will incur if we have to return to port? Have you?'
'Sort of.'
'Again, what have you got to say for yourself?'
Jimmy looked across at the three men. Two were in uniform, one was in a grey suit. They all looked extremely angry.
Jimmy shrugged.
Mr Stanford's fist hit the table. 'I've a good mind to toss him overboard!' He sighed loudly, then sat down again.
First Officer Jeffers leaned towards the ship's owner and spoke in a quiet, controlled voice. 'Actually, Mr Stanford, we haven't yet reported to Belfast that he's been found. We could throw him overboard, and no one would be any the wiser.'
Captain Smith nodded as he lit his pipe. 'Good point,' he said. 'We are the only witnesses. Apart from Claire, of course. What do you say, Claire? Chuck him overboard?'
'Absolutely,' said Claire.
Jimmy swallowed. He knew they wouldn't throw him overboard. Or he thought he knew. But he'd also heard that strange things happened at sea. He also still had his lucky penny in his pocket, which was like a kiss of death. Still . . . still . . . even though he knew there was only an infinitesimal possibility of him being thrown into the sea, he thought a little backtracking might be in order. A little fake humility.
'Sorry,' Jimmy mumbled.
'What was that?' asked the Captain.
'Sorry.'
'For what?'
'For whatever I've done wrong.'
'Do you know what you've done wrong?'
'Yes.'
'Why don't you tell us, then?' asked Mr Stanford.
Jimmy shook his head.
'So you don't know?'
Jimmy took a deep breath. Now he was trying to hold on to his temper. Stanford was just like McCartney. He always had to keep pushing. Jimmy had never really apologized for anything in his life, but now that he'd made the effort apparently it wasn't good enough — Stanford was intent on making him spell out every last detail of his supposed indiscretions. 'Look,' he said, 'I'm sorry, all right? I sneaked on to the boat and I shouldn't have. I fell asleep. I didn't mean to stow away or whatever you call it. I don't want to be here . . .'
'Then why didn't you give yourself up as soon as you realized?'
'Well would you?' Jimmy snapped.
First Officer Jeffers almost laughed at that. A vague hint of a smile appeared on Smith's face. But Stanford's eyes blazed.
The Captain puffed on his pipe. 'Well,' he said, 'there's nothing can be done now. And much as we would like to throw you to the sharks we would only end up getting ourselves in trouble, and we can't have that. Now, thanks to the astonishing speed at which we are travelling — and you can thank Mr Stanford for that, she really is an amazing ship — we will very shortly reach the halfway point in our voyage to Miami, which I'm afraid ma
kes it impractical for us to turn back to Belfast. So you will have to continue with us until we reach port. There you will be handed over to the authorities and they will do with you as they see fit. However, Master Armstrong, that doesn't mean you get free passage. You will be put to work.'
'What sort of work?' Jimmy asked.
'Whatever we decide!' Mr Stanford exploded.
Captain Smith raised a calming hand, then nodded across the cabin. 'Claire, if you could ask Scoop to step— roll into the room?'
Claire slipped out. A few moments later Scoop, who'd obviously been waiting outside, appeared in the doorway. He didn't look at Jimmy as he manoeuvred through the opening and pulled up beside him.
'Captain,' he said. 'Mr Stanford.' He nodded at Jeffers.
'Scoop — you've asked to have the boy work for you on the paper.'
'Yes, Captain. I gather he's supposed to be at school. Well I've a hundred and one things I could have him doing. I'll work him into the ground.'
Captain Smith nodded at Jimmy. 'Well? Can I trust you to work on the paper and not get into any more bother?'
Jimmy sighed. Then he nodded.
'Very well. And Claire?' Claire had retaken her seat, but now the Captain waved her forward. She stood on Scoop's other side. 'We should thank you for leading us to our young stowaway.' Claire beamed widely. 'However, you may not be aware that your encounter with young Mr Armstrong in the amusement arcade was actually caught on camera.'
The smile faltered. 'What do you mean— ?'
'Be quiet, Claire, and listen,' her father snapped.
'Daddy, don't speak to—'
'Claire!'
She fell silent.
The Captain nodded at Mr Stanford before continuing. 'Yes, Claire. Obviously with an amusement arcade it's important for us to monitor what goes on there. Parents like to know that their children aren't getting up to any mischief or that they're not being bullied. First Officer Jeffers here happened to spot your little altercation with Jimmy, didn't you, Jeffers?'
'Yes, sir. Just caught the end of it.' He smiled at Claire. 'The judo lessons seem to be paying off.'
Claire couldn't manage a smile this time.
'In fact,' said the Captain, 'once alerted to the situation, we all came and watched. We all listened. Yes, Claire, it's a state-of-the-art system and we could hear every word. So you will understand that we were a little distressed to hear you promise to let the lad go if he beat you at air hockey, and then immediately renege on the deal by following him to the climbing wall and informing us.'
'Because he kicked me!' Claire exploded.
'And that's not to be condoned; but nevertheless, a deal is a deal. It's a terrible thing not to be able to trust someone.'
Claire looked hopefully to her father. 'Daddy . . .'
'The Captain's right, Claire. I was very disappointed. And more than that, your mother and I have both been very upset by your behaviour recently.'
'What?
'You've been bad tempered, disobedient, you never have a pleasant word . . .'
'Daddy please, not in front of— !'
'. . . for anyone, you sulk all day and you do nothing . . .'
'Daddy!'
'No, Claire, we've had quite enough of your behaviour. The reason we bring it up now is that the Captain has a solution.'
'He what?'
'Claire, you were allowed to come on this trip because it was important to me to have my family with me; it was supposed to be a very special time for us. But you've come very close to ruining the voyage for all of us.'
'I—'
'Be quiet!' Tears sprang into his daughter's eyes. 'Now — Captain?'
'Claire — your birthday was just last week, wasn't it?'
'What?' She was now looking very confused.
'Tell me, what did your parents get you?'
She started to shrug, but then blurted out: 'A camera.'
'What sort of a camera?'
'I don't know.'
'That's because it's still sitting in its box,' said Mr Stanford. 'It's a state-of-the-art digital camera. Professional photographers would give their.....for one, and I don't have to tell you it cost a small fortune. But she hardly looked at it.'
'I didn't ask for a camera,' Claire snapped.
Stanford shook his head sadly, then looked at the Captain and raised an eyebrow. 'You see what I'm up against?'
Captain Smith nodded. 'Claire — your parents have decided that you need to learn a thing or two, not just about honesty, but to appreciate what a very privileged life you lead. They've come to the end of their tether with you, quite frankly, and at least as far as the remainder of this trip is concerned, they are prepared to hand matters of discipline over to me.'
'Discipline?' She looked in disbelief at her father, who was now sitting back in his chair, arms folded. 'You can't do that. . .!'
'Well he has, Claire. And what I've decided . . .'
'You can't do that!' Claire repeated, only louder.
'Be quiet, Claire!' her father ordered.
Claire stood shaking her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
'. . . what I've decided is that you take your new camera, you work out how to use it, and you work alongside Scoop and Jimmy on the newspaper. Isn't that right, Scoop?'
Scoop nodded. 'It'll be a great help.'
Jimmy looked aghast.
'Well, Claire?' asked the Captain.
'I won't do it. You can't make me.'
'Very well.' The Captain turned and nodded at Mr Stanford, who shook his head regretfully.
Claire followed this exchange. 'What . . . what?'
'Claire, if you can't do this simple thing we're asking then we'll have no alternative. I know how much you were looking forward to shopping in Miami and touring the Caribbean with us, but I'm afraid you'll be catching the first plane back to school instead.'
Claire looked horrified. 'You can't do that — I'm your daughter!'
'Sometimes I wonder,' said Mr Stanford.
In the end she agreed. She had no choice. Scoop rolled out of the cabin first, with Jimmy and Claire following behind.
'I hate you,' Claire hissed at Jimmy.
'Not as much as I hate you,' Jimmy hissed back.
'And I hate the both of you,' hissed Scoop, 'but I still have to work with you. Now shut your pie holes and get a move on.'
9
Fighting and Dying
Jimmy and Claire fought and bickered and swore and hurled insults, names and anything that wasn't tied down at each other on the way to Scoop's office. They went on and on and on and . . . eventually Scoop's wheelchair screeched to a halt. He spun around and yelled: 'ENOUGH!'
Jimmy let go of Claire's hair.
Claire released Jimmy's foot.
'There's no need to shout,' said Jimmy.
'I'm not deaf,' said Claire.
'Well then just . . . stop it. Please.' He opened the door and led them in. 'You'll be working together whether you like each other or not, so get used to it. But believe you me, it'll be an awful lot easier if you just learn to get on. All right?'
Jimmy shrugged. Claire looked at her nails.
'OK. Now, Jimmy, I want you to explain to Claire about the who, what, where, when, how . . .'
'The what?' Claire demanded.
'How to write a story,' said Jimmy.
Claire snorted. 'I know how to write a story.'
'This is different, Claire,' said Scoop. 'It's journalism.'
'Not fairytales about your little ponies,' said Jimmy.
'Shut your trap!'
'Kids, please!'
'I was editor of the school newspaper,' said Claire.
'I was editor of the school newspaper,' mimicked Jimmy. 'What was it, the Pony Express?'
They continued with the bickering until gradually they became aware that Scoop was just sitting there, watching, not bothering to tell them off. After a few more exchanges, they fell silent.
'All right,' Scoop said quie
tly, 'we're clearly not going to get anywhere with this tonight. And I've had enough of it. I want you to go to your rooms, and I want you both to have a long think. Captain Smith has spelled out to each of you what will happen if you don't work with me on this. So either come in bright and fresh and friendly in the morning, or don't come in at all and deal with the consequences.'
Jimmy shrugged. Claire examined her nails again.
'Right. Off with you then.'
They walked out together. They moved up the corridor side by side, in silence. When they came to the elevators at the end, they both stepped in. Claire pressed for the fourteenth floor. Jimmy pressed for the ninth. They travelled upwards without speaking or looking at each other.
When the doors opened Jimmy stepped out.
'Brain dead,' said Claire.
The doors began to close.
'Fat arse,' said Jimmy.
***
As they lay sleeping that night, lost in their own dreams and nightmares, the virus was spreading rapidly through the city of San Diego. TV news programmes were calling it 'The Plague' or 'The Red Death'. In St Mary's Hospital, where the two dying boys had been brought, the doctors were utterly unable to identify the cause of their illness, and weren't even aware that they themselves had been infected. By the time a well-practised quarantine procedure was finally introduced it was far too late. The virus was too strong. Thousands were falling ill. First there was a high fever, then came huge pulsating sores. Finally lungs filled with yellow poison, drowning the victims.
The city was dying — the state, the country, and the entire world was under a death sentence.
***
'We can use this, can't we?' Jimmy asked the next morning, nodding at a news story he'd pulled up on his computer screen. Scoop rolled up alongside and studied it. The Governor of California had declared a state of emergency in San Diego, and was being urged to do the same in Los Angeles. All flights to and from those cities had been grounded, and the roads closed. Scientists were battling to identify the source of the outbreak and to produce a cure. High doses of antibiotics were being administered to patients but with little success. The President said his prayers were with the people of California. The first case was reported in Washington DC shortly after the President issued his statement.
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