Guilt sat heavily on Jimmy’s shoulders. He had more or less given up hope of ever returning to the Titanic. If he did see it again, it would most probably be as part of an army sent to capture it. He cursed himself for being such a big mouth. He must learn to keep his trap shut. He seethed inside. He would not be responsible for the Titanic falling into enemy hands – he would have to do something.
Jimmy stared at the perimeter fence. The chances of scaling it, cutting through it or digging under it without attracting the attention of the guards were minuscule. He had watched movies about prisoners of war escaping from camps like this – but such daring feats were always undertaken by large groups of inmates working in highly organised teams. Any individuals who tried to escape were usually discovered very quickly – and invariably shot.
But there had to be a way to escape.
Or to warn the Titanic.
In trying to keep as far away as possible from the delicious smells emanating from the mess hall, Jimmy found himself on the far side of the camp and outside a hut with a red cross marked on both sides of a slanting roof. As he wandered past it he could see through the open doors a dozen beds inside, with half of them filled. There was a nurse standing by one of the beds, and someone he supposed was a doctor sitting at a table, studying charts. As he moved around the back of the hut he saw that something like a picnic table had been set up in the fresh air. A girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen was sitting there, with a tray of food in front of her. She wasn’t eating, just staring into thin air.
Jimmy wandered casually over. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.
The girl continued to focus on something invisible and far away.
Jimmy sat opposite her, directly in her line of sight. She stared straight through him. He might as well not have been there.
‘I’m Jimmy,’ he said.
She was very pale. Her eyes were green, but they were set in a face that looked sunken and starved. Her blond hair sat dank and tangled. Jimmy had often seen this vacant look in the settlements; it spoke of unseen horrors and tragic loss. Jimmy wasn’t unsympathetic, his focus was just elsewhere.
‘Jimmy Armstrong,’ he said. ‘Only arrived last night. You here long? What do you think of this place? What’s wrong with you? Are you not eating your pie?’
His mouth was watering. It was a great big hunk of something pie. He didn’t care what it was. There were potatoes and vegetables and a dessert bowl with custard swimming over a sponge cake. There was a can of Coke.
‘Do you mind if I take a nibble? Just a teeny bit of crust? Been training all day and I’m absolutely . . .’
The girl didn’t react at all.
Jimmy liberated a generous handful of pie and crammed it into his mouth. It was delicious. That said, he was so hungry that cardboard with gravy would also have qualified as delicious. The girl continued to stare right through him.
‘What’s that?’ he said, playfully cupping a hand to his ear.‘Help yourself to some more? Don’t mind if I do.’
He was just reaching across for a second helping when he saw the nurse glance out of the window behind her, then do a double take.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
Jimmy choked down his mouthful of food.‘Nothing – she said I could help myself.’
The nurse’s eyes narrowed. ‘That poor girl hasn’t spoken since she arrived here.’
‘In that case,’ said Jimmy, ‘I’m lying.’
He grabbed the tray and took off.
Mohican stood in the middle of the barracks, resting his foot on Jimmy’s back and glaring around the gaunt, starving, exhausted troop.
‘Charge one – stealing food from a starving child. Charge two – refusing to halt when ordered to do so by a superior officer. Charge three – resisting arrest. Charge four – bleeding on an officer’s boot without permission. Charge five – possession of a smart mouth. Have you anything to say in your own defence, Private Armstrong?’
Jimmy knew exactly what Mohican was doing. He was willing Jimmy to say something sarcastic, something defiant, to just open his bloody lips – he’d put up a bit of a fight when they’d eventually cornered him – and come out with something to make matters even worse. Jimmy knew it, and he also knew he couldn’t resist, he couldn’t help himself. He was Lucky Jimmy Armstrong, guaranteed to make a bad situation even worse.
‘Well?’ Mohican demanded. ‘Anything to say, Armstrong?’
The words felt thick and unwieldy in his swollen mouth. ‘Yes . . . sir. I just wanted to say . . . that the pie . . . was really, really . . . nice . . .’
Mohican thumped his boot hard into Jimmy’s back. Jimmy couldn’t stifle the cry of pain.
‘Five charges, Private Armstrong, and I find you guilty on all counts. Once again the punishment applies to this entire troop. You will learn your lesson, Private Armstrong! No breakfast for anyone!’
There was no reaction. They had expected it. They stood silently. Only one emotion filled the air.
Pure hatred.
‘OK,’ Mohican snapped, ‘six o’clock start tomorrow morning, so lights out in ten minutes. We begin with a boxing competition. Private Armstrong will be first in the ring. He will have both hands tied behind his back. Now I need someone willing to punch his stupid head off. Any volunteers?’
Every single hand was raised without hesitation.
18
Arrival
There were, of course, some people on the Titanic who simply weren’t interested. Hard-bitten crew who’d seen everything before; passengers who’d lost interest in pretty much everything since the plague had struck – or who might just have been like that anyway. But virtually everyone on board was outside, lining the rails, for the mighty ship’s arrival in New York.
It had limped along so slowly over the past few days, and with daybreak the coast had been swathed in mist, so nobody outside of the captain and his officers on the bridge really had a firm idea of how close they were – but then the mist had lifted and there she was, the Statue of Liberty, torch aloft. There was something magical about seeing her. She still spoke of hope and welcome, even though the people looking at her from every deck now knew not to expect anything. Claire was on the top deck, surrounded by her team, all genuinely excited, chatting away and pointing. She was looking at Lady Liberty through her telescopic lens – the only one amongst them who could actually pick out the weeds snaking up the green statue and the birds’ nests lining her crown. She supposed in the good old days someone would have been employed to stop the old lady looking like she was homeless. But Claire said nothing. Instead she trained her lens on the harbour, before moving it up and across a skyline familiar from a thousand movies. She wished Jimmy was with her. They would have had a grand adventure on the streets of Manhattan.
Though they were busting to get ashore, Captain Smith, as ever, was taking no chances. It had been a battle just to get the ship this far, so no detailed planning had yet been made as far as shore visits were concerned. He would not be rushed. The Titanic dropped anchor just off Liberty Island. The captain, showing how much he respected what the news team were doing, chose to address the passengers and crew alike through a special edition of the paper instead of addressing them over the PA or just printing off his own message. Claire was quite proud of that. She devoted the whole of the front page to his statement. And even rewrote part of it, because it was dead boring.
His main point was – millions of people had died in New York. It was probably rife with disease. If there were survivors, they were probably rife with disease. If you got ashore and became infected with anything, you might not be allowed back on. The safety of the ship was paramount. Teams would go ashore to ascertain conditions in the city and secure the vital part required to fix the engines, which was the primary reason for coming to New York. Then the Titanic would continue its voyage.
One of the reporters, Andy, stood beside Claire, looking wistfully at the city. ‘Do you think FAO Schwarz qualifies
as essential supplies?’
‘FAO Schwarz?’
‘Toy store. They say it’s the biggest in the world. There’s lots of young kids on board, we could do with getting a load more toys. You know, the latest electronic games, loads of cool stuff.’
‘Would this be for you, Andy, or the kids?’
‘Oh the kids, definitely. But you know, if you want someone to go and check it out, well, I’m happy to volunteer.’
‘You’d put your life on the line for some computer games?’
Andy thought about it for a few moments. ‘For the kids, definitely.’
‘You’re very brave,’ said Claire. ‘And misguided, if you think the captain is going to let you off to go shopping for toys.’
Andy grinned at her.‘Talking of misguided, how did Alan’s interview with that minister turn out?’
‘You mean Brian’s?’ she asked. Andy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, haven’t seen it yet.’
‘Probably still working on it,’ said Andy. ‘Are you sure he has an IQ of 140?’
‘I’m not sure of anything.’
‘If he’s so smart, how come he can’t make a better cup of tea?’
‘Wait’ll you see,’ said Claire. ‘He’ll surprise us. The interview will be brilliant.’
‘I’d prefer better tea.’
Everyone on the Times was feeling upbeat about the arrival in New York, despite the captain’s warnings. Certainly they would have to scramble later on to have their reports from the city in time for publication, but that was part and parcel of being a journalist. Deadlines! But there were a number of mundane tasks to be completed prior to going ashore – Claire wanted to run a series of features about passengers who’d been with the ship right from the start but were now going to leave its relative safety and take their chances onshore. A number of these interviews had been carried out already, but her journalists hadn’t quite gotten round to writing them up. Now that they were needed it was proving difficult to get her staff focused on the task. All they were really interested in was New York.
Ty was finding it particularly hard to settle. He had no idea what he would find if and when he made it as far as New Jersey – or if he would return to the ship. Since his parents had died the people on board had become his family. But if he found survivors of his real family out there he would find himself torn. Blood was thicker than water. Now, every time he tried to continue with his article, he only managed a few words before sitting back and sighing.
‘This is impossible,’ he said. ‘And now there isn’t even anyone to make the tea.’
‘Make it yourself,’ said Debs.
‘Where is Wonder Boy anyway?’
‘Give him a break, would you?’
Ty made a face. Debs made one back.
‘Ty,’ said Claire, ‘if you really can’t work, go to Brian’s cabin and find out how long he’s going to be.’
‘Me? Do I look like a messenger boy?’
‘YES!’
From everyone in the office.
Ty pretended to huff off.
Three inflatables were to make the initial approach to New York. The first ashore would carry First Officer Jeffers, Dr Hill, Jonas Jones, Mr Benson – relieved to finally be off farmyard duty – and half a dozen other armed crewmen. Their job would be to secure a base at Battery Park and establish a perimeter before cautiously probing further into the city to try and establish what the conditions there were. Claire had tried her best to be allowed on to this first boat, but had been refused. If Jeffers decided it was safe, then she would be permitted to land with the second and third boats, which would contain additional armed crewmen and the passengers who wished to disembark. After that the plan was that vehicles would be commandeered and a convoy would make its way through the city towards the factory in New Jersey where Jonas Jones hoped to secure the part that would allow the Titanic to continue on its voyage. Along the way, passengers leaving the ship would be dropped off to begin their journeys home. If they chose to return to the ship they would be picked up on the way back at prearranged pick-up points. While all of this was happening the inflatables would bring more crew ashore to search for oil and supplies, which would be ferried back to Titanic using larger vessels abandoned at the docks.
Claire couldn’t wait to get ashore. Yes, of course it would be dangerous, but she desperately wanted to know what had happened in New York. She had a reporter’s insatiable curiosity. Standing on the lower deck, with the waves lapping softly against the mighty ship and the even mightier city laid out in front of her, she was gripped with excitement.
‘First boat – away!’ cried First Officer Jeffers, and the inflatable began to speed towards shore. The other two inflatables continued to fill with passengers.
‘If you’re going ashore, now’s the time to get on board, ma’am.’
Claire nodded at the coxswain and glanced anxiously along the deck – Ty had not yet reappeared after going to check on Brian.
‘Just a few more minutes,’ said Claire.
The coxswain nodded reluctantly. Claire glanced down at the inflatables, which were set slightly below her and waiting to be winched down to the water. One was completely full, the other had just the two places left. Her eyes settled on a familiar, wide-brimmed black hat. At that very moment the Reverend Calvin Cleaver raised his head and their eyes met. A shiver ran through her and she looked quickly away, but not before she registered the look he was giving her: cold hatred.
A hand came down on her shoulder and she jumped.
‘Claire . . . sorry!’ It was Ty. Andy and Debs were with him. ‘We were looking everywhere for Brian, but nobody’s seen him. His parents are frantic, we’ve been everywhere we can think of . . .’
Claire had a knot in her stomach. She looked back down at the minister. She could only see the top of his hat. ‘OK, Ty, climb in. Andy, Debs – keep looking. Have him paged over the PA. Find him – and keep me posted.’
Claire stepped into the inflatable and took her seat beside Ty. A few moments later the craft was lowered into the water. With the noise of the engine it was impossible to be sure, but Claire thought she could hear someone humming a familiar tune as the inflatable began to speed towards New York.
19
Pain and Laughter
Jimmy’s nose was definitely broken, but he was refusing to have it reset – partly because he wanted something to remind him not to be such an idiot in the future, to keep his big mouth shut, but mostly because he knew it would be extremely painful to have it physically snapped back into place. Anyone who had seen him climb repeatedly from the floor of the makeshift boxing ring would not have dreamed of saying that he was scared of pain, but everyone has their limits. They had all seen him knocked down for the sixth time. Much as they hated him, they could not help but be both sympathetic and impressed. Even though his eyes were swollen almost shut; his nose broken, his lips thicker and bloodier than they had ever been before and he was weaving around the ring like a drunk, he had kept coming back for more. Even the boys who hated Jimmy the most were beginning to rebel against Mohican’s screamed instructions to hit him again, and harder. One, who’d acquired the nickname Thumper from somewhere, simply refused to hit Jimmy again; at which point Mohican jumped into the ring, hurriedly pulled on a pair of boxing gloves and flattened Thumper. Then he laid Jimmy out cold.
Jimmy lay flat out on his back in the dirt of the yard outside the barracks. The rest of his troop stood looking down at him, not sure what to do. Then Mohican appeared with a bucket of freezing water and threw it over him. The shock of it forced his eyes open as wide as they could go, which wasn’t very wide at all. He coughed and spluttered and coughed up blood.
‘OK!’ Mohican cried. ‘All of you have worked hard. Go eat!’
Jimmy lay where he was while the others ran towards the mess hall. They hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, largely thanks to him. Mohican crouched down beside him. Jimmy tensed up, expecting a dig in the ribs or a poke in the eye.
‘You did well, son.’
Jimmy grunted.
‘Brave. Now listen to me. In a war you have to be able to depend on the man next to you. You have to work as a team. Disciplined. Follow orders. We don’t need mavericks. Mavericks get killed, and cause others to get killed. You understand?’
Jimmy nodded. It hurt.
‘Now get over to First Aid, get yourself cleaned up.’
Mohican stood up and walked away. Jimmy lay where he was. He was a little groggy still, and a lot confused. Mohican had sounded almost human.
No, I was probably mistaken. Perhaps I have brain damage.
Jimmy lay where he was for another five minutes before forcing himself up on to his knees. He was groggy. He stood. Dizzy. He began to stagger along towards the First Aid hut. His route took him past the mess hall. The food smells almost made him throw up. He was aware of being watched as he passed the open doors. He looked straight ahead. It took all of his strength to walk in a straight line and upright.
When he reached the First Aid hut the nurse who’d scolded him previously took one look at him, then quickly guided him to a bed and made him lie down. She fetched a sponge and a basin of water and began to wash the worst of the mud and blood from him. He thought he heard her mutter, ‘He’s a monster,’ under her breath. She definitely said, ‘I will need Dr Moore to come and reset that nose.’
That’s when he told her no, to leave it as it was.
‘It’ll set crooked,’ she said.
‘Fine,’ said Jimmy.
‘Up to you.’ She gave him some painkillers and told him to try and sleep for a while until they took effect.
‘Don’t need to,’ Jimmy whispered. She turned to pick up some ointment for his lips. When she turned back he was fast asleep.
It was late evening when Jimmy woke, stiff and sore. His nose was thick with dried blood and his head ached. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling, inadequate for the size of the room and leaving a third of it in shadow. The other beds were empty, the nurse’s station deserted and, when he checked, the doctor’s small office at the far end was locked. But he heard the scrape of a chair from outside, and when he peered out he saw that the wild-looking girl he’d previously stolen food from was back, sitting in exactly the same place and position – or perhaps she’d never left. He didn’t remember her being there earlier but, truth be told, he remembered very little from earlier – besides the fact that he’d taken a beating.
Titanic 2020: Cannibal City Page 11
