Titanic 2020: Cannibal City Page 12

  Jimmy opened the First Aid hut’s door and stepped on to the wooden surround. He shuffled along to where the girl was sitting at the white plastic picnic table. She had an identical tray of food before her, again untouched.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Jimmy, ‘I’ll not be stealing your food tonight, not with these lips – unless you mash it up and blow it into my mouth through a straw.’

  She continued to stare into the distance.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

  There was no reaction. Jimmy pulled out a chair and sat. It was a pleasant, warm evening, with a light breeze. The girl was wearing a plain white nightdress. Her hair was still as dank as before.

  ‘So, what’s your problem? A wee touch of the plague? No?’ Nothing. ‘Ah well, sometimes silence is best.’

  He looked out across the camp. The floodlights were on. The barracks huts were shut up for the night. The plain beyond the perimeter fence was dark and uninviting, except for when the spotlights swept across it, when it became bright and uninviting. How was he ever going to be able to escape? And if he did attempt it, what would they do if they spotted him – drag him back into the fort, or shoot him as he fled?

  He smiled across at the girl. ‘Maybe the two of us could dig a tunnel? Or I could send you out first, then when they’re busy shooting you I could slip away? No? You don’t say much, do you? They looking after you OK? You know – you’re quite pretty, aren’t you? I wouldn’t normally say something like that in a million years to a girl I’d never met before, but seeing as how you seem to have all the brain activity of a plank of wood, I don’t see how it can do any harm. Of course you’d probably need to comb your hair. And wash the dried-on drool off your face. But look at me – what an oil painting I am, eh? Hey relax, seriously I have a girlfriend. She’s just not aware of it yet.’ Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table and stared into the distance. ‘In fact, chances are she’s dead. Still, that’s no big thing these days, is it? Everyone’s dead. Mum, Dad, family, friends. Yours as well, do you think? No – you don’t have to tell me. Claire, that’s her name. We hated each other at first, then we liked each other, then I put my two big feet in it and she hated me again, and then we got split up and . . .’

  He pictured her lying in the woods, helpless, bleeding to death. He imagined the minister finding her, raising his gun, finishing her off.

  ‘. . . I think it may have been my fault.’

  A few hundred metres away the guards were just climbing down from one of the watchtowers, and their replacements were waiting to go up. If all of the towers changed at the same time, that might have given him an opportunity to dash across the plain unnoticed. But they weren’t that stupid. The changeovers were staggered five minutes apart so that the surveillance was never interrupted. Jimmy sighed.

  He studied the girl again.

  ‘You know something? I bet I could make you smile.’

  Nothing.

  ‘I’ll bet you a kiss I can make you smile.’

  Nothing.

  ‘I know one of the worst jokes in the history of the world, but I bet you won’t be able to resist it. OK – if you smile, I get a kiss, deal?’

  She stared ahead.

  ‘Right, if you say nothing, I’ll take that as a yes. If you shake your head, it’s a no. So, do we have a deal?’

  There was no reaction.

  ‘OK, excellent. You’re a challenge, I’ll give you that – but I reckon I’m up to it. Here we go, are you ready?’ Jimmy moved his chair slightly and leaned forward until he was so close that she could look nowhere else but straight into his eyes. ‘Anyone ever tell you you’ve got nice eyes? Well, one of them anyway. The other’s a bit crossed. Only joking. Can you have one crossed eye? All right – here we go. What did the big chimney say to the little chimney?’ He waited. Ten seconds. Nothing. ‘You’re too young to be smoking!’

  Nothing.

  ‘OK,’ said Jimmy. ‘A tougher nut to crack than I thought. I’m going to have to wheel out the big gun. This joke – this joke makes the other joke look really pathetic. This joke saves lives. Are you ready? I’m warning you – you may die laughing.’

  Nada.

  ‘OK. Did you hear about the fella went to the doctor’s and said he thought he was turning into a pair of curtains? Doctor told him to pull himself together!’

  Jimmy examined her pale face right up close. Not a flicker. In fact, she didn’t even appear to be breathing. He might well have been talking to a corpse.

  ‘Soldier!’

  Jimmy jumped. The nurse was hurrying towards them.‘What’re you doing? Leave the poor girl alone!’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything, I was only—’

  ‘Leave her alone and go back to bed now – or if you think you’re well enough, return to barracks.’

  Jimmy wasn’t ready to face his fellow soldiers just yet. He pushed his chair back and stood up as the nurse mounted the steps and approached the table.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’

  The nurse took the girl by the hand and gently pulled her up. The girl didn’t blink.

  ‘I’ll, uh, go and have a lie-down, then,’ said Jimmy. ‘What’s wrong with her anyway?’

  ‘She was picked up in the woods just like this, traumatised. God knows we’ve tried everything to bring her out of it.’

  Jimmy nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Have you tried a good slap in the face?’ he asked.

  The nurse scowled at him and began to turn the girl. But as she moved slowly past him, Jimmy was certain that he saw a little flicker of movement at the sides of her mouth, the merest sliver of a hint of a suggestion of a possibility of a smile. It was gone as soon as it appeared, and it might just as easily have been a spasm of pain, or wind. She allowed herself to be slowly walked along the wooden surround, and back into the hut.

  Jimmy followed them in. The girl stood immobile beside her bed while the nurse turned back the sheets, guided her down, lay her back and lifted her legs up on to the mattress. She then pulled the covers up and tucked her in. The girl lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  Jimmy lay on his own bed at the far side of the room as the nurse turned for the door, then glanced back at him.

  ‘I won’t turn the light out,’ she said.‘She’s frightened of the dark.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ Jimmy asked.

  The nurse just shook her head. ‘Rest while you can, soldier. You’ll be back at training tomorrow.’

  She closed the door behind her.

  Jimmy stared at the girl for a long time. She did not turn restlessly. Or yawn. Her eyes did not flicker. But eventually, his did. He began to drift. He had already slept for most of the afternoon and evening, but his body needed time to recover from the pounding it had taken, both in the ring and over the past few days. Soon Jimmy was in a deep sleep. So deep, in fact, that he was not aware of the girl pushing back her covers. He did not know that she climbed out of bed and padded across the floor to his bed. He would never know that she bent over him and kissed him on the forehead.

  20

  Battery Park

  It became clear within minutes of landing at Battery Park that they wouldn’t be forming a convoy to take them anywhere.

  The inflatables tied up between two Circle Line ferries that had once ploughed back and forth to Liberty and Ellis Islands packed with tourists, but which now creaked and rattled and rusted at the foot of a short jetty. As Claire climbed up on to it she immediately detected an unease amongst the first landing party. First Officer Jeffers was pacing back and forth, a radio clamped to his ear, in urgent discussion with Captain Smith. The armed sailors had set up a perimeter at the entrance to the park and appeared jumpy and nervous. Then there was the smell – not the stench of death she had expected, but something that reminded her of . . . a barbecue. Yet there was nothing reassuring about it. The remains of fires were dotted across the park and some of them were still smouldering. Hundreds of what appeared to
be recent footprints scarred the grass. But it was deadly quiet.

  So if there were people here recently, where are they now?

  If there are survivors, why aren’t they making themselves known the way the inhabitants of other settlements always do as soon as the Titanic appears?

  Claire spotted Benson standing near the entrance, supervising two sailors as they pushed the metal gates closed.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked, nodding at the gates.

  ‘Nothing – just a little extra insurance.’

  ‘Against what?’

  ‘Not sure,’ said Benson. ‘We thought we saw people here on the way in, but they’ve gone.’

  Claire scanned the open space beyond, which continued for several hundred slightly elevated metres to the foot of Broadway, the famous avenue which ran all the way up the island of Manhattan. She knew immediately that the convoy idea would have to be rethought – the road ahead was thick with abandoned vehicles, and was for as far as she could see.

  Jeffers was still talking to the ship; as he paced, his every step was repeated by Jonas Jones. The passengers who’d disembarked were milling around, anxious to be on their way. Calvin Cleaver stood off to one side, his bony white hands clutching a small Bible, which he was studying intently. Dr Hill had crouched by one of the smouldering fires. He had picked up a stick and was poking around with it.

  Ty came up beside her. ‘It’s so quiet,’ he said. They gazed up towards the city – although now that they were so close they could no longer see the epic skyline they’d been enthralled by on the way in. ‘Every Saturday, my dad used to take me downtown – we’d go catch a movie, play in Central Park. It was my special time with him. It was never quiet, always this buzz, always cabs blasting their horns, it was just noisy . . . not like this . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Not like this.’

  ‘You know, Ty, you don’t have to come with us. If your family are all . . .’

  She didn’t finish.

  Ty sighed. ‘Yes. Yes I do.’

  And then, almost as if God or someone equally important had been listening, they heard it – a distant, echoing call, something utterly strange in the circumstances but also instantly recognisable.

  ‘That was an elephant,’ said Claire.

  ‘Yes it was,’ agreed Ty.

  The passengers and crew gathered together, alert, as if half expecting to see the mighty creature lumber into view. But nothing moved.

  ‘You know what this means?’ Ty whispered. Claire shook her head. ‘It means the elephants have taken over the city. They’ve enslaved the survivors. We have entered the Kingdom of the Elephants.’

  ‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re a complete idiot?’

  ‘Many people,’ said Ty.

  ‘It probably just escaped from the zoo.’

  Ty nodded. ‘That makes sense. Elephants have never enslaved anyone. If any creatures have taken over the city and enslaved the humans and set up their own kingdom, it’s probably the monkeys. They have thumbs.’

  ‘Right,’ said Claire. ‘Excuse me.’

  She had spotted that Jeffers was off the radio and crouching down by one of the old barbecues, conferring with Dr Hill. She hurried up.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ she asked, sinking to her knees and looking eagerly from one to the other. Dr Hill was turning a charred lump of wood over in his hands.

  An exasperated expression swept across the first officer’s face. He had never been happy with either Jimmy or Claire tagging along on what were occasionally dangerous missions.

  ‘Well, Claire,’ he said, ‘if it was up to me, I’d pack you back to the ship.’

  ‘Why, what’s happened?’

  He took a deep breath. He lowered his voice. ‘Well, for one thing, we’re going to have to walk most of the way to Newark – that’s where this damn factory is – because the roads are impassable to vehicular traffic.’

  ‘That’s cars,’ said Dr Hill, helpfully.

  Jeffers gave him a brief look. ‘What it means is that we’re going to be here a lot longer than we expected.’

  ‘So what’s the problem with that?’

  ‘It means crossing the city. And I don’t think it’s safe.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jeffers’ eyes flitted back to Dr Hill. The doctor looked away.

  ‘It’s just not,’ said Jeffers. ‘Not for a large party like this. If we were mobile, if there was just a few of us, we could zip in and out – but some of these guys are old, most of them aren’t fit . . . we’ll be too slow, we’ll be . . .’ He looked at Dr Hill again. ‘It’s just dangerous.’

  Claire looked from one to the other. ‘I work for the Times, it’s the paper of record, it’s my responsibility to report what’s going on, if you know, you should tell—’

  ‘Enough!’ snapped Jeffers. ‘I don’t want to hear the speech again, Claire. I know why you’re here, and I know the captain thinks it’s important that you are kept informed. I don’t agree, I won’t ever agree, but I have no choice.’

  ‘So?’

  Dr Hill spoke before Jeffers could respond. ‘I think one word will probably cover it, Claire.’

  He held up the piece of charred wood, except that now that she looked at it up close it no longer looked like wood.

  ‘Cannibals,’ said Dr Hill.

  21

  Ham

  Jimmy entered the mess hall with his head up, shoulders back, eyes front. Though he looked battered, he was determined to show everyone that he was not beaten. But, in fact, ‘everyone’ was not that interested. The hall was packed with hungry soldiers intent on filling their faces with as much food as they could before another hard day of training. They weren’t bothered about one soldier’s miserable experience. Many of them had their own hard-luck stories. The din of plates and cutlery was deafening, the chatter incessant. It seemed to be one of the only places in the fort where they were free to let their hair down. Nobody paid him any attention as he joined the queue for food.

  He may not have been beaten, but he had changed. Or, at least, he thought he’d changed. He had decided it wasn’t fair on his fellow troopers to keep getting into trouble – otherwise they’d all starve to death. And, if he didn’t keep his mouth zipped, then attention would remain focused on him, which would make it much more difficult to escape from the fort. He needed to quieten down, blend in more.

  With his plate piled high Jimmy found a space at one of the long trestle tables that filled the hall. The soldiers around him weren’t any older, but they had clearly been at the fort for a lot longer; they looked lean and fit and had something of a confident swagger about them. Maybe the training regime here wasn’t all bad. Or perhaps they hadn’t been trained by Mohican.

  As he tucked into eggs and ham, another boy he recognised from his own troop sat down opposite him – clearly by mistake, to judge from the surprised expression on his face when he noticed Jimmy. His immediate response was to look around for somewhere else to sit. But there wasn’t anywhere close by, so he decided to make the best of it. He kept his eyes on his food.

  ‘So how’s it going?’ Jimmy asked.

  The boy, with short black hair and round, black glasses, looked up. ‘OK,’ he said, rather flatly. His eyes darted about to see if anyone was watching.

  ‘What do they call you?’

  ‘Harry Potter.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘My real name’s Christopher Carter. But they started calling me . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Stuck with it now.’

  ‘I’m Jimmy Armstrong.’

  ‘I know that.’ He took a mouthful of food and chewed it methodically. When he’d swallowed and allowed ten seconds for digestion, he glanced up at Jimmy. ‘Your face – must hurt.’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘You kept getting up.’

  ‘Stubborn, I suppose.’

  ‘When it was my turn, I got hit once and stayed down. Hit by a girl. She’s half my size. Mohican says that if we go to war, I can carry the Fi
rst Aid kit.’

  ‘It’s important to have First Aid,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘I faint at the sight of blood,’ said Harry.

  Well, maybe we won’t go to war.’

  Harry blinked at him. ‘Then why build an army?’

  It was a good point.

  An officer stood up at the far end of the hall and blew a whistle. There was an immediate scramble to finish off, deposit the empty plates and get back to barracks. Jimmy, his mouth full of ham, had intended to return with his new friend, but Harry magically lost him in the crush.

  This time, when he walked in, all eyes were immediately upon him. They were already getting changed into the training kits they’d been issued with, but all movement stopped.

  Jimmy stood in the doorway.

  ‘I’m back,’ he said.

  He held his hands up in what he hoped looked like an apologetic gesture.

  A big guy called Gomez walked up to him. ‘Here,’ he said, and thrust a fresh set of T-shirt and shorts into his hands. ‘You’ll need these.’

  ‘Cheers,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘You take a good punch,’ said Gomez. He nodded once and returned to the side of his bed to continue changing.

  ‘Mohican was mad as hell!’ someone shouted from the other end of the hut.

  ‘You just wouldn’t stay down!’ someone else called.

  Jimmy smiled crookedly. ‘Next time I will,’ he said. Laughter rolled around the barracks.

  ‘There won’t be a next time.’ It was Rain Man. The lightness evaporated immediately. ‘We all went hungry because of you.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Jimmy.

  He moved to his bed and began to get changed. He could feel Rain Man’s eyes on him.

  ‘Give Frankie a break,’ someone shouted.