Titanic 2020 t2-1 (9 page)

T
he next few days should have been triumphant. The
Titanic
was the greatest cruise liner ever built and its arrival at the Port of Miami to undertake its first proper voyage should have been accompanied by brass bands and ticker tape and the excited commentary of television reporters. Instead hardly anyone noticed.

The President was missing, and his country was descending into chaos.

Jimmy, who had followed the spread of the Red Death right from the start, had not really been affected by the mounting death toll. It was all happening somewhere else. He was safe on the
Titanic.
Just reading about it somehow kept it unreal. But with the President missing, probably dead, it brought home just how frightening and dangerous this plague was. The President
ought
to have been safe. He had repeatedly gone on national TV to reassure people that everything would be all right; he had such power, so many weapons and scientists and experts, so many people to look after him and defend him . . . but they'd still managed to lose him.

***

Scoop finally reappeared as the ship docked in Miami, smiling and joking and saying what a bad flu he'd had but predicting that the beautiful Florida sun would soon sort him out. If he had noticed that two editions of the
Titanic Times
had been produced in his absence, he didn't mention it. Many of the crew not directly involved in the docking were lining the deck, and Jimmy and Claire, who now felt very much as if they belonged to that crew, were right there with them. That's where Scoop found them. He rolled up behind them, clapped his hands together and said, 'Hey kids, how's it going?' They turned. 'Hey — look at the long faces. We made it, didn't we? Gonna catch me some rays!'

Jimmy, who had his overalls unbuttoned nearly to the waist because of the morning heat, removed a folded copy of their most recent
Times
from his inside pocket and handed it to the veteran reporter.

Scoop opened it up and examined the front page with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. The headline said it all —
President Missing — Hope Fades.
'I . . . I don't remember . . . did I write this? Must have . . . Anyway, life goes on.' He handed it back. 'My pension's in the bank, and I'm all set for a new life on the beach! Could life
be
any better?'

'You're going ashore?' Jimmy asked.

'Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?'

'Because people are dying,' said Claire.

'Ah, sure people are always dying.'

'The President is missing!'

'Well, they'll find him. And if they don't, they'll elect a new one, they always do.'

'But thousands of other people are dying as well,' said Jimmy. 'Look at the paper, Scoop, it's happening everywhere.'

Scoop laughed. 'God, you're awful serious, aren't you? Look — I was a foreign correspondent before I lost these old pins . . .'

'You told me you lost your legs
before
you became a foreign correspondent. Running for a taxi.'

'Ah, I just made that up to make you feel better. Truth is, Jimmy, Claire, I've seen massive wars, famines, plagues, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis — you name it, I've been there, and they're awful things, truly awful, but people recover, they rebuild. Sometimes it takes years, sometimes just a few days, but they survive, they always do. I know this Red Death thingy is bad. But it will pass.' He clapped his hands together. 'So, I'm going to find a nice little hotel along the beach, I'm going to sit by the pool, have a nice cocktail, and wait until this nonsense fades away to nothing.' He held his hand out to each of them. 'Thanks for your help. I couldn't have put the paper together without you.'

They shook, then watched him roll happily down the gangplank.

'He has no idea,' said Jimmy. 'About the paper . . . or the plague.'

"Completely clueless,' agreed Claire.

With their hectic work on the paper over the past few days, Jimmy had not really given much thought to what would happen once the ship docked in Miami. He was thinking about plagues and presidents, not his own immediate future, so it came as a shock when First Officer Jeffers told him arrangements had been made for him to go ashore in the next hour, in order to catch a flight back to Ireland.

Jimmy just said, 'Oh.'

'We've spoken to the port authorities and they've agreed to make sure you catch your plane.'

Claire, standing beside him, was momentarily lost for words. They'd had lots of fights and bickered endlessly, but they'd also laughed a lot. They had forged a good partnership in producing their
Titanic Times.

'You can't just let him go . . .' she began. 'People are . . .
dying
out there . . .'

Jeffers nodded. 'Yes, Claire, there's a few cases — but the authorities tell me it's reasonably safe. We're starting to board passengers for the cruise shortly, Jimmy, so I think it's important to get you on shore before we get too busy, eh?'

Jimmy shrugged.

'That's a good lad. I'll give you ten minutes to say your goodbyes, then I expect to see you at the portside gangplank on Deck Three, all right?'

'All right.'

First Officer Jeffers nodded at them both and turned away.

Jimmy looked at the ground. 'Well,' he said.

Claire tutted. 'It isn't fair. You're much safer on board.'

'Not much I can do.'

They wandered in a desultory fashion towards Deck Three. They stopped by the gangplank and looked over the rails at the dock below. A queue of passengers waiting to board snaked back for several hundred metres. They were making slow progress. Dr Hill and a team of medical experts employed by White Star Line were examining everyone — including new crewmen — for indications of plague. Those allowed on board were being issued with antibiotics and painkillers, even though nothing had yet been proved to affect the onslaught of the virus.

'You should be taking photos of this,' Jimmy said.

'What's the point?'

'Aren't you going to keep working on the paper?'

'It was good fun with the two of us. Not with some new guy.'

Claire pointed suddenly to her right. Scoop was rolling away along the dock. A porter pushing a trolley piled high with cases was struggling to keep up. 'Look at him go!'

'He's happy to get his legs on dry land,' said Jimmy.

Claire looked at him, then they both burst out laughing.

It faded quickly. Claire looked thoughtful. 'If you could stay — would you?'

'The point is I
can't.'

'But if you could? Are you that desperate to go home?'

Jimmy shrugged. He had been a
little
homesick. But these past few days had been such fun.

'Right. Then this isn't over yet. Come with me.'

***

They found Mrs Stanford on the top deck, in a bikini, lying on a sunbed. 'I thought I'd stake my claim to one now,' she said as her daughter approached. 'Once the passengers are on board there's a strict policy against reserving sunbeds. I quite agree with it of course,
generally
speaking — but we do
own
the ship, so I ought to have first choice of. . .'

'Mother.'

Mrs Stanford peered over the top of her sunglasses. 'What is it, dear?'

'I want Jimmy to stay.'

'What? Who?' Claire shifted her position so that her mother could see Jimmy, standing some way back. 'Oh.
Him.
Well I'm sorry, Claire, you can't keep him. Puppies and stowaways aren't just for Christmas, you know. I know what you're like, he'll be your best friend for five minutes and then you'll lose interest and it'll be me — or one of the servants — who has to do all the cleaning up after him.'

Claire sat down on the sunbed beside her. She clasped her hands together. 'I want you to tell Daddy that it's not safe to put Jimmy off the ship when there's so much sickness around.'

'Nonsense. He'll be perfectly fine. This Red Death nonsense is just a . . . hiccup.'

'Mum — people are dropping like flies!'

Mrs Stanford laughed. 'Do you really think your father would allow all these people on board if there was any danger involved? It's like any illness, dear, it affects the old first, and those who are already unwell, but if you're fit and well you can shrug it off. I'm not the slightest bit worried about it.'

'Mum, I've read the news reports. That's not what's happening.'

Mrs Stanford sighed. She lifted a wide-rimmed cocktail glass and happily sucked her drink up through a straw. 'No, Claire, the answer is no. No, no, no, no, no.'

'Then I'm going to tell Daddy about Uncle Winston.'

Mrs Stanford almost choked. She set the glass down so suddenly that the blue liquid within splashed up and over the edge. 'Excuse me?'

'Five years ago I saw you kissing Uncle Winston. Tongues and all.'

'Claire! I did
not—'

'I saw you!'

'You were mistaken. Uncle Winston is a very good friend of your father's and . . .'

'You were having an affair.'

'We were
not
having—'

'Fine, then it won't matter if I tell Daddy . . .'

Claire stood up and began to walk away. 'Come on, Jimmy,' she said.

They'd gone about twenty metres when Mrs Stanford shouted after them. 'Claire — come back here.'

Claire stopped. She winked at Jimmy, then crossed back to her mother and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

'This . . . nonsense about Uncle Winston, that's exactly what it is. Nonsense. But we are very good friends, and up to a certain point I can understand how it might look to a very young child. While I have nothing to hide, your father
is
under a lot of pressure at the moment and he really doesn't need some dreadful domestic hoo-haa right in the middle of it. And although I'm sure this . . . sickness . . . will fade just as quickly as it started, the boy
is
in our custody and I see now that it wouldn't be right to just set him on shore and expose him to . . . well, you know what I mean. So if you want me to put a word in with your father . . .'

Claire nodded.

'Just give me another hour or two in this wonderful sun and then I'll. . .'

'No, mother, it has to be now.'

'Now? But I've only just—'

'
Now.'

Mrs Stanford gave her daughter a despairing look, then sighed and reached for her robe. She glanced sadly up at the sun, slipped into her sandals, then indicated for Claire and Jimmy to follow her. As she passed Claire she hissed: 'This is blackmail, you know.'

'I know,' said Claire.

***

However, their hopes were quickly dashed. Although Claire and Jimmy waited outside Mr Stanford's office, they were able to listen through an open window. They strained at first to pick up the words but very soon they had no trouble hearing at all.

'And I'm telling you absolutely no way, Catherine!'

'But it's not safe out there, George!'

'Don't you think I've enough to worry about? Dear God, Catherine, I'm missing nearly a thousand passengers, sick or dead or stuck in some godforsaken airport trying to get here! And they'll sue me if I leave without them! And I've fifteen hundred passengers coming on board, and Lord knows how many of them are infected! And they'll sue me if this ship doesn't sail on time! A third of my crew hasn't shown up, food and supplies are arriving in dribs and drabs and even Frankie Savoy, who I am personally paying one hundred thousand dollars to entertain the guests on this maiden voyage is missing four members of his band and is refusing to perform unless I double his salary and find him a trumpet player! Do you think I have time to worry about this damned stowaway of yours?'

'Exactly darling — you shouldn't have to worry. So let him stay on board and forget about him!'

'I can't! There's a court order demanding his immediate return! There are two Port of Miami police waiting to take him into custody! If I let him sail I'll be charged with taking a minor across international borders and I'll be thrown in prison! The answer is no. No! No! No! No!'

Mrs Stanford emerged a couple of minutes later. 'He's thinking about it,' she said.

Claire folded her arms. 'Mother — we heard.'

'Well — if there's a chance of him losing money, your father's first instinct is always to say no. If you heard, then you'll know I've done my best. And if you still choose to tell him about Uncle Winston, well that's your choice, but quite frankly, Claire, if you told him right now that I'd had an affair with every single member of the Vienna Male Voice Choir, I don't think he'd bat an eyelid. He's just got too much on his mind. So if you don't mind I'm going right back to my sunbathing.' She nodded once at Jimmy and sashayed away towards a set of sliding doors. As she passed through them, First Officer Jeffers stepped out. He did not look happy.

Jimmy turned to Claire. 'What'll we do now?'

'Run!'

C
laire reported in shortly before lunch. 'There's a massive row going on down there. The cops are telling my dad he can't sail without handing you over and my dad's saying they've already delayed sailing by an hour and he'll have a mutiny on his hands if he doesn't get underway. They're telling him they have a court order and he's telling them he will sue the Port Authority for twenty million dollars if they don't release the ship. Jonas Jones came down and threatened to punch one of them because we're burning up fuel and going nowhere. The only thing everyone agrees on is that they hate you.'

'Even you?'

'Especially
me.'

'Why would you hate me?'

'Because you're upsetting my dad.' Jimmy looked at her. Then they both burst into laughter. 'Do you get on with yours?'

Jimmy shrugged. 'I suppose. He's just kind of there. I suppose he—'

His words were suddenly drowned out by an ear- splitting blast of noise from the funnel behind them. A moment later the whole ship began to vibrate.

Claire punched him on the arm. 'We're moving!'

Jimmy punched her back.

***

So they were off. He was a stowaway again, but this time it was deliberate. It also felt quite different. Even though a third of the passengers and crew hadn't turned up, there were still people everywhere. The cabins that weren't occupied already were kept firmly locked. Crew members patrolled constantly. It no longer felt like it was
his
ship. The
Titanic
had been a big, empty shell with a barely adequate skeleton crew. Now passengers filled the hallways and corridors, children screamed happily as they dived into the pool and old folks piled their plates high in the self-service restaurants. It was a living, breathing entity, ploughing through the waters of the Caribbean like a mighty behemoth.

He pointed this out to Claire. 'It's like a mighty behemoth.'

'A mighty what?'

'Behemoth. It's a—'

'You're mental,' said Claire. 'Now try these on.'

It was no longer safe for Jimmy to traverse the ship in his stolen overalls. He needed to blend in more. So she'd raided one of the family cabins and stolen a suitcase full of clothes. From this she'd selected half a dozen T-shirts and three pairs of shorts. She looked away while he struggled out of his overalls.

'Was there nothing . . . better?'

'Beggars can't be choosers.'

'OK, you can look now.'

She gave a sarcastic wolf whistle.

'Ha-ha,' he said.

***

They messed around the upper decks for a couple of hours. They ate in the buffet restaurant, stuffing themselves until they could hardly move. Jimmy had a New York Yankees baseball cap which he kept on at all times. No one paid any attention to them. The passengers were too busy enjoying themselves, and the crew were too busy looking after the passengers. There were a hundred and one things for Jimmy and Claire to do on the
Titanic
but somehow, after a while, they found themselves to be extremely bored.

They returned to the sundeck on the top level. Claire scored some Cokes at the bar, then they sat looking down one level to the swimming pool and the kids screaming down the slide and the grannies standing up to their waist exchanging gossip.

'They're way too happy,' Jimmy said.

'I know,' said Claire. 'Why aren't they worried about the plague? It's probably on board already.'

'Maybe the hospital's full. Maybe there's bodies everywhere.'

Claire nodded. 'And what about Pedroza's mysterious stowaways? I didn't see them get off. Where could he be hiding them now?'

Jimmy sighed and changed the subject. 'I enjoyed the paper.'

'I know. It was fun.'

'Hard.'

'But fun.'

They'd been run ragged. It had been exciting and thrilling and scary.

'I wonder what the new guy's like?' said Claire. 'I'll bet he's making a real mess of our paper.'

'I'll bet Scoop showed him nothing, he was so keen to get off. He'll be floundering around, clueless.'

This time Claire sighed. 'I wish we could go and see what he's doing . . .'

'Well we can't.'

'Or —
you
can't. You'd get caught, for sure; but there's nothing to stop me going down. Maybe I can volunteer to help, then you can help me in secret.'

Jimmy shook his head. 'It won't work. I'd get caught. And I'm not working as your damn helper anyway.'

'It wouldn't be like that, Jimmy.'

Jimmy shrugged. He stared down at the pool again. He was a little annoyed at the notion of Claire being able to work on the paper again. As he looked down he became aware of a tall, thin black boy staring up at him from the shallow end. Jimmy stared right back. After a few moments the boy slipped under the water and began to swim towards the far end. Jimmy watched him for a few more seconds, then turned back to Claire. He knew he was being stupid about the paper. 'All right,' he said, 'you go down and check it out.'

'Are you sure? He'll probably chase me away.'

'Go on.'

Claire smiled hesitantly at him and turned away.

She hadn't gone more than a few metres, however, before Jimmy called after her. 'Big arse!'

'Brain dead!'

The only difference was that this time, they were both grinning.

***

Jimmy sat in the movie theatre on Deck Four. It was some Disney effort that had been around for years, but the auditorium was cool and dark and a good place to hide. He'd had enough after about half an hour however. When he got up to leave he noticed that the boy who'd been watching him from the pool was seated three rows behind him.

As Jimmy pushed through the doors, the boy got up to follow. As Jimmy reached the elevator just down the corridor and stepped into it, the boy hurried forwards to join him. As the doors began to close the boy broke into a run. Jimmy could have held them, but he didn't.

He got out one floor short of his ultimate destination and hid himself behind an extravagant floral display which nevertheless gave him a good view of the elevator doors.

If he is following me, he'll have waited below to see what floor my elevator stopped at.

Sure enough, just a few moments later, the next elevator arrived, the doors opened, and the boy stepped out and peered cautiously about him. Failing to spot Jimmy immediately, he then hurried past the floral display towards a customer services lounge where passengers were already busy booking their
next
cruises.

Jimmy used the stairs to return to the top deck. He wondered if he should chance going for a swim. The water looked so inviting and cool — but it would be very difficult to escape from it if he was spotted. As he leaned on the rail, thinking about it, he noticed that his skin was getting sunburned. He was going to have to liberate some sunscreen from . . .

He was poked in the back.

The black kid.

Up close he was a full head taller than him. He poked Jimmy in the chest.

'You.'

'You
what?

'You.'

With the third poke, Jimmy poked him right back.

The boy grabbed a handful of Jimmy's T-shirt. 'I've been following you.'

'I know,' said Jimmy. 'Are you gay?'

'You're wearing my T-shirt.'

'Yeah,
sure,'
said Jimmy then gave him a hard shove in the chest. Caught off guard, the boy stumbled backwards. Jimmy took off. The boy came right after him.

Jimmy had never done a day's training in his life, but he was naturally pretty quick.

This other kid was faster.

Jimmy just managed to keep ahead of him by leaping over sunbeds and ducking under umbrellas and pulling ice buckets and ashtray stands over in his wake. He charged inside and took the carpeted stairs six at a time, using the polished rails for support.

They moved down through four decks like that, Jimmy never more than a dozen steps ahead of his pursuer. They pushed through elderly couples. Toddlers were pulled hastily out of their way. Then the boy made his move, diving from the top of a flight of stairs and just catching Jimmy around the neck. They landed in a heap, with the other boy on top, his weight forcing the wind out of Jimmy. The boy straddled him and grabbed him by the throat.

'My T-shirt!'

'Get off me, you big fruit!'

'That's my T-shirt, now get it off!'

'Kiss my arse!'

The boy punched him. It hurt. He tasted blood and saw distant stars.

'Get it off!' He raised his fist again, quite ready to inflict more damage.

Jimmy, to give himself time to come up with an alternative escape plan, pretended to cave in. 'OK . . . all right! Relax, would you?'

'Get it off. . . !'

'There's obviously been some kind of misunderstanding . . .'

'Get it off!'

'All right . . . Just, there's thousands of T-shirts like this one . . . Honestly, you think they make just one T-shirt like this?' It was red, with the letters
APNJ
across the top with the picture of an eagle below. 'I swear to God! I got this in Belfast, where'd you get yours?'

The boy barely hesitated. As he spat out the words, he poked each of the letters on Jimmy's chest. 'Asbury . . . Park . . . New . . . Jersey.'

'See? They sell them all over the world!'

'This is my school T-shirt! I go to school in Asbury Park, New Jersey! The eagle represents my school team! My name is sewn into the inside of the collar!' He grabbed the neck of the shirt and twisted it round. 'See? Ty Warner! That's my name! Ty Warner! You stole it from my room! Now take it off or I will kill you.'

Jimmy blinked up at him, then suddenly wailed:
'I can't!'

Ty Warner looked surprised. 'Why not?'

Tears formed up in the corner of Jimmy's eyes. 'Because it's the only T-shirt I have! I'm
sorry.
I didn't mean to steal it. Just to borrow it. Please! I'm a stowaway. I don't have any other clothes.' Tears rolled down his cheeks. '
Please
don't hit me again.'

Jimmy was an expert at crying to order. When violence and trickery didn't work, tears were often used as a last resort. He wasn't particularly proud of it, but he
was
particularly good at it.

Ty's voice softened. 'What do you mean, you're a stowaway?'

'I snuck on board. I'd nowhere else to go. My parents died of the Red Death.'

This more than anything caused Ty to scurry backwards off Jimmy.

'It's OK, I'm probably not infected.' The boy kept his distance. Jimmy sat up, then faked a sneeze. He wiped his nose on the arm of the T-shirt. 'You can have it back if you really . . .'

The boy held his hands up. 'No . . . you keep it. . .'

Jimmy wiped at his eyes. 'Are you sure?'

'Sure I'm sure. Just . . . keep your distance. And . . . uh . . . sorry about hitting you . . .'

Jimmy got to his feet. 'Thanks, mate,' he said, then tramped slowly back up the flight of stairs. He stopped when he reached the landing and looked back down at the boy, who was still watching him with a look of genuine horror. 'Oh . . . Ty, is it?' The boy nodded. 'Ty . . . I just wanted to say — SUCKER!'

Jimmy laughed, and fled. This time there was no catching him.