Titanic 2020 t2-1 (11 page)

D
r Hill was wrong about the possibility of there being a hundred cases of the Red Death by morning.

There were one hundred and fifty.

Seven people were dead, all of them over the age of sixty.

Captain Smith declared that Level Five, on which the small hospital was situated, be quarantined. Passengers who had cabins on that level had to move.

Jimmy and Claire managed just a few hours' sleep — it had taken longer than they thought to distribute the papers, despite hiring six kids from the amusement arcade — and it was past two in the morning before they were finished. Then they had to be up early again to start work on the next edition. They didn't mind.

They met for breakfast in the buffet restaurant on Level Eleven, and it was there that Ty Warner found them. He stood rather sheepishly facing Jimmy. He unfolded a copy of the
Times
from a pocket on the leg of his shorts.

'You didn't call me gay,' he said.

'Nope,' said Jimmy.

'The photo turned out good.' Claire smiled round at him. He went on, 'About twenty people have said hello to me this morning. They all know I'm
Passenger of the Day.
My momma collected up all the copies she could find, she's gonna take them home to show the rest of the family. If she gets better. She has that thing. The bug.' Claire made room for him to sit down. 'Last night she was fine, but woke up early this morning real sick, throwing up, big red smudges on her arm. They took her upstairs. Won't let me see her. Won't let anyone up. Say the whole place is in quarantine. I'm real worried about her.'

They sat quietly for a little bit. Then Jimmy said, 'If you think I'm giving you your T-shirt back because I feel sorry for you, you've another thing coming.'

Ty looked a little confused. 'I didn't mention the T-shirt. You can keep the T-shirt.'

Claire put a hand on his arm. 'Don't worry about him, it's just his sense of humour. Besides, it doesn't need giving back, it needs a wash.'

'It's all I have,' Jimmy protested, sniffing at himself. 'And it's not that bad.'

Claire raised an eyebrow. 'Oh yeah?'

'I want to see my momma,' Ty said. 'I don't think putting all the sick people in one place is going to stop this thing spreading. Sure we all been mixing since we got on this boat.'

'It's not a boat,' said Jimmy

'What?' asked Ty.

'It's a ship. Scoop says a boat's what you get on to when your ship is sinking.'

'Don't see that it matters,' said Ty. 'All I want to do is go see my momma.'

Claire gave his arm a squeeze. 'It's too dangerous.'

Ty shook his head. 'If I was going to get it, I would have it right now. I was with my momma all night, we breath in the same air, don't we? And I'm sitting here with you, so if I have it, maybe you have it, maybe we all have it, just some it hits, some it don't. I don't want her lying on some bed, nobody looking after her.'

'What about your dad?'

'He says he isn't going near her. They fight a lot. He says if she sees him she'll surely breathe all over him out of badness. So there's only me.'

Claire looked at Jimmy. 'He has a point, you know. We all breathe the same air. If we're going to get it, we're going to get it — nothing can be done. We should help him get to see his mum.'

'We?'

'This is my dad's ship, I know where all the service elevators are. We could possibly bypass whatever security they have on the main elevators. I'd like to try. And you stole his T-shirt, so you owe him.'

'You think that's equal to going up there? That's mental! They're all dying!' He suddenly realized what he'd said and looked apologetically across at Ty. 'I mean — I'm sure your mum will be fine . . . but still, you know what I mean. And anyway, we've a newspaper to run, and even if we found out anything useful up there, we wouldn't be allowed to use it, so what's the point?'

'You're just chicken,' said Claire.

'Absolutely,' said Jimmy.

***

They left him sitting there. He finished his bacon and got some more. He ate sausages and pancakes covered in maple syrup.

Chicken!

After what I've done?

He walked out of the restaurant and along to the newspaper office. But when he tried to go on-line to survey the morning's news the computer kept telling him that the line was busy. So he left that for a while and rifled through a large box of pamphlets and brochures Scoop had left behind, looking for some information on the
Titanic's
first port of call, the city of San Juan in Puerto Rico, which would have to be profiled in detail in that night's edition of the paper.

He found it quickly enough, then sat at his computer and began trying to compose an article.

Chicken!

Who did she think she was? What had
she
ever done that was brave? She hadn't stowed away —
twice.
Or outwitted all those search parties. And who came up with the idea of e-mailing a photo from her camera, thus saving their lives? And she was calling
him
chicken? All she'd ever done in her spoiled little life was huff.

Jimmy tried to concentrate on Puerto Rico. He wrote about it being discovered five hundred years ago by Christopher Columbus. How it became a Spanish colony, with the local Indian tribes either being wiped out or decimated. In the nineteenth century it had struggled for independence as its population grew and agriculture flourished, with the coffee bean becoming its most important product. After the Spanish American War and the Treaty of Paris was signed the island was ceded to the United States, with Puerto Ricans being granted American citizenship.

It was
extremely
boring.

Chicken!

Right — that was it. He wasn't prepared to just be a desk jockey. He was sure she wasn't the slightest bit concerned about Ty, she was just nosey. She always wanted precisely what she wasn't allowed. And it didn't matter if that meant putting her life and Ty's in danger by smuggling him into the plague zone. Jimmy pushed back from the desk. He was going to yank Claire out of there and tell her exactly how much of a fool she was being.

***

The smell got him first.

Jimmy had with him a small flannel soaked in water, which he held over his nose and mouth, but it didn't do much good. He had never seen a dead body, or smelled one, for that matter. But somehow he knew what the stench was.

It was . . . revolting.

The cabins on either side of the corridor were packed full of the sick and dying. Nurses were doing their best to cope, but it was clear that there were just too many. The hundred and fifty cases Ty had mentioned at breakfast seemed to have quadrupled.

'Jimmy!'

Dr Hill's hair was plastered to his head and his white doctor's coat was heavily stained.

'What're you doing here, Jimmy? It isn't safe!'

'Looking for Claire.'

Dr Hill rubbed at his brow, then looked about him. He appeared to be a little confused. 'She
was
here . . . with another boy — his mum died. And then his dad did as well.'

'His. . .?'

'Had some sort of convulsion. Don't know if it was the Red Death or not. Not sure where they went . . .' He shook his head and sighed. 'We don't know anything about this damn virus, Jimmy, I don't know whether I'm doing any good at all up here.'

Jimmy looked back along the corridor. 'How many are there?'

'I don't know. I don't even want to think about it. All I know is, it's getting worse, every hour. Now for goodness' sake, get out of here before you catch it as well.'

Jimmy didn't need to be told twice.

***

He found them on the fifteenth. Ty was leaning against the rail, staring out to sea. Claire sat on a sunbed behind him. She had tears in her eyes. 'Jimmy . . .

'I heard.'

She glanced up at Ty, then lowered her voice. 'He came on a cruise with his mum and dad, and two days later they're both dead.'

'It's horrible,' said Jimmy, 'but what can we do?'

'Adopt him,' said Claire.

T
hey gave Ty a job on the paper, thinking that if they kept him busy he wouldn't think about his parents so much. But when they got back to the office there was still no Internet access, so they immediately marched right up to the bridge to find out why. They were kept waiting at the door for ten minutes until a stressed- looking First Officer Jeffers finally appeared. He led them across to the rail so that he could get the maximum benefit of the breeze.

'Sorry,' he said, 'things are a bit hectic. We haven't been able to get a coherent response from the port authorities in San Juan. One minute they say everything is fine, come ahead, the next they're screaming down the phone. I think things are pretty bad there as well.' Then he nodded across at Ty, who was hanging well back. 'Who's your friend?' They told him quickly. 'That's incredibly sad,' said Jeffers, shaking his head.

'So are we still actually going to San Juan?' Jimmy asked.

'Have to. We need to top up our fuel and . . .' He glanced towards Ty, then lowered his voice. 'We'll have to take the bodies off.'

Claire made a face. 'What's my daddy even thinking, allowing the cruise to continue when so many people are unwell? We should just turn around and go home.'

'Things are even worse at home, Claire.'

'We haven't been able to keep track,' said Jimmy. 'Our Internet connection is down. That's why we're here, is there—'

'Captain Smith has switched it off.'

'Why?'Jimmy asked. 'We promised not to use all the gory stuff in the paper.'

'I know that, but it's not just about your access, Jimmy, it's the entire ship. Captain Smith believes that if the passengers hear how bad things are getting there could be complete chaos. If fifteen hundred people make their minds up to do something, we'll be helpless. You have to play your part with the paper. We don't want people to panic. All right?'

Claire nodded. Jimmy looked at the ground.

'Jimmy?'

He gave a little shrug. 'It just doesn't seem right. People know there's a plague out there, and they know people are dying on this ship. Why can't we just tell them the truth? People don't like being lied to.'

'Because those are the Captain's orders.'

'And do you think he's right?'

Jeffers' eyes locked with Jimmy's. 'Those are the Captain's orders,' he repeated.

'What's wrong with you?' Claire asked. 'You're usually so enthusiastic.'

Jimmy shrugged. They were back in the office, working. His heart wasn't in it. He loved the paper, but he didn't like what he was writing. 'I just think it's wrong. Look at this — I'm writing about the fortress of San Cristobal and how wonderful it would be to visit and all the jewellery shops and . . . what's the point? There aren't going to be any tours of the island.'

'You don't know that, Jimmy.'

'Claire — the hospital is full of dead bodies; the Captain won't let us look at the Internet because it might be too horrific and they don't seem to be able to get any sense out of anyone in San Juan. Do you really think anyone at all is going to be interested in going sightseeing? Ty — have you any interest at all in visiting an old fort or buying cheap jewellery?'

Ty, who was replenishing paper supplies for the printer, nodded across. 'Yes, please,' he said.

Claire smiled.

'It can't be any worse than being here,' said Ty.

'Can't it? We're on a nice ship, we have lots of food, but who knows what it's like on the island? We don't know anything about this virus! For all we know anyone who dies from it turns into a blood-sucking zombie!' Jimmy cleared his throat. 'Although obviously your parents won't have . . .' Jimmy sighed. 'Look, my point is, we shouldn't be writing this crap. We should be writing the truth. We shouldn't be hiding things from people. We should be recording what's actually happening, not ignoring it or hiding it.'

'Like a proper newspaper,' said Claire.

'Exactly. We should have photographs of the conditions in the hospital, we should have interviews with the doctors, we should have reports from every city every passenger comes from. We should . . . tell the truth.'

'Captain Smith would never approve it. He'd just tear it up again.'

'Then we make two papers — one for him and one for the rest of the ship.'

Claire's eyes narrowed. '
What?'

'Why not? We have all the equipment here. We can write it, print it up and distribute it around the ship, and hopefully enough passengers will get to read it before he catches on.'

'Jimmy — Mr Jeffers was worried about the
passengers
staging a mutiny. But
this
is a mutiny. And what if the passengers mutiny
because
of what we write?'

They debated it back and forth. One moment Claire was keen, the next she was frightened, then she felt disloyal, then she felt indignant that they were being made to mislead people.

'Look Jimmy, it's all right for you, you've nothing to lose. But this is my dad's ship! I can't—'

'Do anything in case he doesn't buy you another pony?'

'That's not fair!'

'But true. I wouldn't worry about it, Claire, the ponies're probably all dead anyway.'

'Jimmy!'

'Oh yeah. Lying in a field just rotting away . . .'

Claire jumped to her feet. 'You . . . you . . . you're just
evil,
Jimmy Armstrong!'

She stormed out of the office.

Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table.

'That wasn't very clever,' said Ty.

Jimmy had a long history of annoying people. He wanted to say something smart and cutting back to Ty, but nothing smart and cutting would come. So he just said, 'Shut your cake hole,' and went after Claire.

***

He guessed right. She was going to see her parents. There is no accounting for the way the human mind works the world was in the grip of a deadly plague, but tor the moment she was more concerned about her ponies.

Jimmy caught up with her just as she was approaching their cabin.

'Claire!' She stopped and glared back at him. He came right up. 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Claire snapped back.

'For saying that.'

'For saying what?'

'Whatever I said.'

'You don't even know what you said.'

'Yes I do.'

'What, then?'

'All that stuff. Look, does it matter, I'm apologizing!'

Claire took a deep breath. She looked at the carpet. 'I'm sorry for running off. I'm just scared.'

'I'm sure the ponies are fine.'

'It's not just them. It's . . . everything.'

'I know. I'm the same. I'm too scared to even try and contact my parents in case I hear something I don't want to hear.'

'You
should
call them.' Claire turned to the door, but before she opened it she looked back at him. 'Come with me.'

'Are you sure?'

'Sure. If I start acting stupid, give me a kick.'

'With pleasure.'

Claire smiled and opened the door. She had the briefest glimpse of her father lying on the bed, fully clothed, his eyes wide and staring, before her mother hurried across and pushed her back out. Then she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.

'Is Daddy . . . is he . . . does he have the . . .?'

'No . . . of course not, Claire, he's just . . . resting.' She looked tearful. 'Walk with me, dear.'

If she even noticed Jimmy, she didn't say. He fell in behind them as they moved along the corridor.

'What's wrong, Mummy?' Claire asked.

'Daddy's worried about the fleet, that's all.'

Claire had patiently explained to Jimmy that her family didn't just own the
Titanic,
but a fleet of nine cruise ships, all of which operated out of Miami.

'Why, what's happened?'

Mrs Stanford refused to answer until they'd arrived at the champagne bar on Level Twelve. She ordered the most expensive bottle they had left. The waiter told them that passengers had been going mad for it. 'They're spending all their money in case . . . you know . . .' He trailed off when he saw Mrs Stanford's frosty look. He poured her a glass and brought it on a tray with the bottle and an ice bucket over to the only free table. Jimmy had been in bars before, either with his dad or trying to get his dad out of one, but this was the quietest one he'd ever been in. People were drunk, but miserable and silent.

Claire's mother took a long drink. 'Well,' she said, 'that's better. Life always seems better with a little glass of champagne.'

'Mum — the fleet.'

'The fleet. Well, Claire, as you know, the company decided to continue with the cruise schedule despite this . . . flu . . . in the hope that it would soon pass and everything would get back to normal. Six of the nine ships put to sea, but unfortunately we seem to have lost contact with four of them.'

'What do you mean, lost contact?'

'What I say, dear. They're gone. Disappeared. There are still three in port, of course — although one of them is on fire. Your father saw it on a news report on his computer. He's quite devastated. He says we're ruined. I prefer to look on it as a little hiccup.' She took another long sip of her champagne, draining the glass. She set it down. 'We're Stanfords, after all, we always bounce back.' She stood up, then lifted the champagne bottle out of the bucket. 'I'll just take this back to share with your father — the room service is so dreadfully slow.'

She started to walk away. She gave Jimmy a rather frosty smile as she passed.

'Mum!'

Mrs Stanford stopped. Claire came running up and gave her a hug.

'Oh! Dear, what was that for?'

'Just.'

'Well — that's nice.'

'Mum, can I ask you something?'

'Of course, dear.'

'If there's bad news, do you think it's better to tell someone straight, or to keep it from them so they won't feel miserable?'

'Well — I think you should always tell the truth. When you start to tell fibs it invariably makes matters worse. Why do you ask?'

'Oh — no reason. Love you, Mum.'

Mrs Stanford smiled. She started to turn again, then paused. 'That reminds me. I did tell you about the ponies, didn't I?'

'Mum?'

'There's just been so much going on. We had an e-mail to say they've escaped from the farm. I'm sure they're perfectly fine and they'll turn up soon enough, but I just thought you should know. See you later, darling.'

Mrs Stanford hurried away.

Claire returned to the table and sat down heavily. 'Don't you
dare
smile.'

'I'm not.' Although he was, he couldn't help it. He quickly changed the subject. 'So what are we going to do about the paper?'

Claire took a deep breath. 'All my life my parents have been trying to get me to behave in exactly the way they want. Well now I'm going to. If they say I should tell the truth, then I'm going to tell it. Let's do our newspaper. Let's do it properly.'

'Is this just because of the ponies?'

'No! It's because it's the right thing to do.'

'I agree. And I'm sure they'll turn up.'

Claire nodded.

'Unless someone eats them,' said Jimmy.