'Cool!' said Ty. 'Do you think if I offered him a peanut he'd take it?'
'Of course he would,' said Claire, 'along with your arm, your neck and your head.'
First Officer Jeffers urged them on — although he practically had to drag Claire, who was busy taking photos, and Ty, who just liked elephants.
He kept them moving all morning, every one of them aware, despite the distraction of the elephant, that they were being watched and followed. It wasn't that they caught many actual glimpses of their pursuers — though they did occasionally see shadowy figures ducking down behind abandoned vehicles, or moving back from overlooking windows — it was a feeling, an intense awareness that they weren't alone, that someone, somewhere, meant them harm: had already struck once and would strike again.
Jeffers led them up Broadway as far as 42nd Street and the entrance to the Grand Central Terminal. It was, as far as Claire knew, the largest railway station in the world. Over half a million passengers and tourists had once passed through it every day, but now it was empty of everything but skeletons and birds. Their footsteps echoed around like gunshots on the marbled floors. The main concourse, huge and cavernous, was dominated by a massive American flag, which drooped down, tattered. As they walked along, Ty nudged Claire's elbow and pointed up at the ceiling: it was completely covered in an elaborately decorated depiction of the night sky, an astronomical guide to the stars. 'Though it's completely wrong,' said Ty. 'It's based on some medieval map, and they didn't know anything back then.'
'You've been here before?'
'All the time, with my pa. Loved it. You couldn't move, it was so alive! Man, we'd buy hot dogs and just sit over there and watch . . .'
He stopped. There were tears in his eyes. Claire didn't know what to say. They'd all run out of the right words months ago.
Jeffers waved them forward, down a ramp on to the lower concourse and gathered them in a food court. Some of the tables were still occupied by people who would never finish their meals. A small amount of food had been brought from the ship, and they were able to supplement this with sealed items recovered from some of the many fast food outlets dotted around and about. They drank warm Coke and snacked on potato chips. But they didn't have much of an appetite. The whole area stank of rotting food. Guards were posted at the top of the ramp while Jeffers, Jonas and Dr Hill spread out a free tourist map of the station, one of hundreds lying scattered about, and debated their next move. When they'd come to a decision Jeffers took two crewmen with him and returned to the upper concourse, and from there back outside, trying to get the best radio signal he could in order to inform Captain Smith of his next move.
Claire kept an eye on Cleaver, sitting at a table by himself, the brim of his hat pulled down to leave the top half of his face hidden so that she couldn't tell whether he was reading the small Bible open before him or sleeping. As she watched, the man in the Hawaiian shirt, whose wife had disappeared earlier that morning, sat down opposite him. The minister's head scarcely moved up as the man began to speak. Within a few moments he abruptly jumped back up and stomped away. Cleaver's head remained bowed.
Claire slipped out of her seat and approached the Hawaiian man where he was leaning against a pillar on the far side of the food court. His cheeks were flushed and he kept firing angry glances towards the minister's table.
'Is everything OK?' Claire asked.
'What do you think?' the man snapped. He glared at her for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. 'Sorry. It's just — I asked that. . . that reverend to say a prayer for my wife, and he just refused . . . he just said if she was gone it was the will of the Lord! You imagine that?'
Claire was trying her best to calm the man down when there was a sudden commotion as Jeffers reappeared with his gun out and one of his crewmen supporting the other, who now had a rough bandage around his arm. His white shirt was ripped and soaked in blood. Dr Hill hurried up to examine him as Jeffers helped ease the injured man on to the floor.
'He's been shot,' said Jeffers. 'There's a lot of people moving out there, coming this way.'
'Why're they shooting at us?' one of the passengers asked in panic.
Jeffers glanced at Dr Hill, but didn't immediately respond.
'Maybe they don't realise that we can help them,' said another passenger. 'If we just try and talk to them maybe—'
'No,'Jeffers said firmly, climbing back to his feet. 'It's not safe.'
'We have to at least try,' continued the passenger.
Jeffers took off his cap and wiped his brow. He looked around the passengers. 'Listen to me, all of you. Whatever survivors there are out there, they're not friendly. Whatever happened in this city after the plague has reduced them to cannibalism.'
He let it sit in the air. Claire already knew, but she still felt a shiver run through her.
'You're not serious...' said one of the passengers.
'Deadly serious. Dr Hill and I have both seen the evidence. We're not safe out there — which is why we're not going back out.' This set off a flurry of questions, but Jeffers quickly held his hand up for silence. 'Folks — you are here out of your own choice. We are here because we need to retrieve a vital part for the Titanic. If you wish to travel on to your homes in different parts of the city or beyond, if you wish to try and track down relatives, then I believe this station provides you with your best chance — perhaps your only chance of getting to your preferred destination safely. I'm going to split you up into small groups. You will use the underground rail tracks to traverse the city; we have a detailed map here, we have a supply of flashlights, and I am prepared to assign two armed guards to each group to get you as far as possible. But they may not be able to take you all of the way. After a while you're going to be on your own. That's a decision you have to make. What I will say is this — it's going to take us a full day to get to our objective and back. I plan to be at this exact location twenty-four hours from now. If you decide to return to the Titanic for whatever reason, I would suggest that you do your best to make it here for this time tomorrow and then we can escort you to the ship. But we're not going to hang around. Now, any questions?'
As with any large group of diverse people, there were loads of questions, some stupid, some bright. Jeffers answered them all as well as he could, but he was honest enough to answer, 'I don't know,' to many of them. There was a crushing lack of information about what the rest of the city was like — this cannibalism might well be confined to one small section, or there might be thousands of them. Yes, the railway tunnels could also be teaming with cannibals.
Eventually Jeffers called a halt to the discussion and gathered the passengers around a map of the station which showed the platforms and tunnels and routes, and then split them into groups according to their destinations and assigned guards to each. There were six groups in all — the smallest with four passengers, requiring only one guard: the largest with ten, which included Jeffers himself, Jonas Jones, Dr Hill, Claire, Ty, a husband and wife, the Robinsons, an elderly man on a walking stick called Morgan, the man with the Hawaiian shirt, whose name was Rodriguez — and the Rev. Calvin Cleaver. The three remaining crewmen, including Mr Benson and the wounded man, joined this group.
When they were all ready to set off, Jeffers addressed them all. 'On behalf of Captain Smith and myself,' he said, 'I want to wish you the best of luck with your journey. I hope you find what you're looking for, be it family or friends, or perhaps just a little bit of closure. Remember, you have twenty-four hours to make your minds up about returning to the Titanic.'
The groups began to move out. As they passed each other, they shook hands solemnly. Only Cleaver failed to partake. He sat by himself, waiting.
Ty nudged Claire. 'Looks like he's with us.'
'In a dark tunnel,' said Claire, shuddering.
'I'll watch your back,' said Ty, 'you watch mine.'
'I think I'd rather be caught by the cannibals than be stuck with him,' said Claire.
'Don't say
that,' said Ty.
Jeffers came up to her. 'Claire — I don't want you wandering off to take photographs, OK?'
'I know,' said Claire, rolling her eyes.
Jeffers smiled, and was just about to move on when he suddenly remembered something. 'Oh, and Claire — when I was on the line with Captain Smith, I also spoke to your newspaper office . . .'
Claire immediately looked towards Cleaver. 'Have they found Brian?'
'Brian? No, it wasn't about that. As you know, the communications centre monitors radio traffic, and it seems they picked up some Morse code they thought might be of interest to you.'
Her brow furrowed. 'Morse . . . ? Why would—'
'Just two words — Babe lives, with an exclamation mark. Mean anything to you?'
25
The Plan
They were found clinging to a rock two miles downriver, frozen, unable to move, on the verge of passing out and slipping back in, two almost-drowned rats. They could not feel their arms or legs. They were hauled out by their comrades, with Mohican yelling commands, and then rushed away in an ambulance. In the back, drifting between lucidity and coma, Rain Man whispered, 'You saved my life. Why did you do that?'
'Because I'm stupid,' Jimmy whispered back.
He blacked out.
***
For a long time he wasn't sure where he was. Or if he was alive or dead. He kept thinking he was awake and he was talking coherently to Claire, but then she vanished, or grew trotters. And then he realised he was asleep — but if you realise you're asleep, are you really asleep? — that puzzled him, while he slept. When he did wake, he ached. He felt as if a dwarf with a very small sledge-hammer had whacked every single bone in his body. He didn't want to ever move again, but then the nurse brought in a tray of bacon and eggs and toast and he immediately sat up and ate everything.
Rain Man was asleep in the bed opposite. There was an IV tube inserted in his arm. The girl with the constant stare was awake — but constantly staring at some far-off imaginary planet.
The nurse beamed down at him. 'Our hero,' she said. She nodded beyond him and he turned to find that some kind of a medal had been pinned to the wall. 'The President himself came by last night and presented it to you. He was going to wait until this morning, but thought it was better to do it immediately in case you died.'
Jimmy swallowed. 'Was that likely?'
'Likely? It was probable — but you didn't.'
'What about him?' Jimmy nodded towards Rain Man.
'You both surprised us. You're made of strong stuff.'
Jimmy glowed, just a little bit. And then he remembered: that's how they operate. They praise you, they promote you, it's how they win your loyalty.
Escape — you have to escape.
But he was going nowhere just yet. When the nurse left he tried to stand — his legs were like jelly. He sat on the edge of the bed instead, slowly flexing his muscles, forcing the blood to flow back. He graduated to standing upright, then shuffling along. It was exhausting, but he knew he had to do it. He had to escape. But how? The river had been his best opportunity and he'd blown that by . . . doing something good. He would try and avoid being good in future. He'd had a lifetime of practice.
As the morning wore on Jimmy found himself being drawn again to the girl. There were crumbs on her top sheet and an empty plate on her locker, so she was now clearly capable of movement, but she appeared as lost as ever. Jimmy sat in a chair beside her bed and just looked at her.
Eventually he said: 'I talked to you a while back about escaping. Just wondering if you'd had any further thoughts, or if you've managed to dig that tunnel while I've been out saving lives. I have a medal, you know? I'm pretty great. But I need help. I have to get out of here. I have to get back to Titanic. You'd love it there. Biggest cruise ship ever built. Everything on board, a real luxury liner. And we have chickens and pigs. Well, we had some pigs . . .'
He told her about Babe. He couldn't help but laugh when he started in on the anxious wait for Babe's execution and how he'd returned to the newsroom with a bag of sausages. 'They weren't really made out of Babe, you know? But if you'd seen her face . . .' He sighed. The laughter was gone. 'I just need to get back there. It's the only home I have. The newspaper is . . . everything. Can you understand that?' He looked for some response. Nothing. He sighed again. 'Oh, what's the bloody point?'
Jimmy stood to go, but as he reached the end of her bed, the girl said very quietly: 'Take me with you.'
Jimmy stopped, stunned, as her eyes flitted towards him, just for a second, before returning to the ceiling.
Jimmy stepped right back up to her. 'You can . . . ?'
She nodded slowly.
'The whole time you could . . . ?'
She nodded again.
'So you've listened to all my crap and never said a . . . ?' She nodded once more. 'But why?'
She smiled. 'Do you think I want to become a soldier either?'
***
It was a show of bravado. She had been very seriously ill and badly traumatised when she'd been found wandering in the forest six weeks previously. And she clearly wasn't completely right yet. When Jimmy pulled his chair closer to the bed and asked her how she'd come to be lost in the forest she just shrugged.
'Well, where were you before that?'
She shrugged again.
'Can't remember, or don't want to talk about it?'
'Both. Either.'
Jimmy had interviewed enough people for the Times — kids and adults alike — to know that many of them had been through such horrific experiences that they literally couldn't talk about them, without seriously jeopardising both their mental and physical wellbeing. They built protective walls around those memories, sometimes so tall and strong that even they could no longer access them.
'So, anyway, you were sick when you came here, but then you got better — but you never let on because . . . ?'
'. . . because it's all about fighting and conquering and . . . stuff. I like the sound of the Titanic!
'You have a name?'
'Ronni. Two ns, one i.'
'Ronni. What's that short for?'
'It's not short for anything.'
Jimmy nodded. 'Ronni,' he said. 'Ronni. OK, Ronni. Do you really want to escape with me?'
'Yes. Definitely.'
'OK then. All we need now is a plan. And an opportunity. And some luck.' They heard footsteps outside. Ronni's head fell back on her pillow and her eyes glazed over. 'Start thinking,' whispered Jimmy, and stood just as the nurse re-entered, carrying a large pile of fresh linen. She looked surprised to see him up.
'Jimmy, should you—'
'I'm confused,' he said quickly, nodding down at Ronni's bed. 'She never moves a muscle, yet her plate's always empty. I think we have mice. Big ones.'
The nurse smiled indulgently. 'Jimmy, she eats. But only in the dark, in the middle of the night. She's getting better, but it's going to be a long, slow process.'
Jimmy shook his head. 'If you ask me, she's faking.'
He turned for his bed.
'Jimmy!' scolded the nurse.
***
One thing he was pretty sure of, he needed to stay in the First Aid hut for as long as possible. If he returned to the troop there would be less opportunity to plan or execute the escape. So in the midst of more verbal sparring with the nurse he faked a dizzy spell and collapsed down on to his bed. She rushed across, pulled the covers up over him, took his temperature and tutted. In fact he was feeling rather hot, but he played it up. Later in the afternoon, several of his comrade troopers visited, but he pretended to be asleep. They cooed over his medal and talked about his heroics and remarked on how ill he looked.
'He's definitely not going to be fit for tomorrow,' said Torres.
One of the girls said, '1 can't imagine going into battle without him.'
Through all of this Rain Man continued to sleep.
After five minutes the nurse shooed them away. Then she went off
for dinner, allowing Jimmy to climb back out of bed. Ronni stood with him by the window while they tried to puzzle out a way to escape. She was slightly more practically minded than he was.
'We'll need food, clothes and medicine,' she said. 'We'll need a tent and pots and—'
'We're not going camping,' said Jimmy. 'We just need to get out. There's a whole world full of stuff out there that nobody needs any more — we can pick it up as we go.'
'And what if we wander around lost in the woods, what if we're wet and hungry and—'
'We won't be. Or if we are, we'll figure out what to do. But none of it matters anyway, because there's no way out.'
Jimmy stared through the glass at the wire fence thirty metres away. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the search beams were already crisscrossing the plain beyond. Trucks filled with supplies rumbled back and forth; soldiers sat in little groups, taking their guns apart and putting them back together, checking and rechecking. Some alredy had camouflage painted on their faces.
What did they say earlier? 'He's definitely not going to be fit for tomorrow.' 'I can't imagine going into battle without him.'
They were preparing for war.
Jimmy drummed his fingers on the window.
We haven't even trained with guns yet. What kind of a crazy war is that? If we're fighting another army, we're going to get slaughtered!
Not 'we'!
They. They'll get slaughtered.
It has nothing to do with me.
I have to get out of here! There must be a way.
And it has to be tonight.
'There must be a way! There must be a bloody—'
'There is a way.'
It wasn't Ronni.
It was Rain Man, sitting up in bed.
Jimmy gave him a hard look. 'I thought you were sleeping.'
'How can I with you two plotting your escape?'
'You weren't supposed to hear that. And there's no plotting going on. And if you squeal on us I swear to God I'll—'
Titanic 2020: Cannibal City t2-2 Page 15
