Колин Бейтман - Titanic 2020 - Cannibal City

'What happened to him?'

'His head was cut off by a passing train.'

'That's probably not a true story,' said Jimmy.

They walked on, their way lit by a torch one of the passengers had left on the rail tracks and which Jonas had recovered. It showed them the way ahead, but it also showed them thousands of rats.

'Better rats than cannibals,' was Ronni's opinion.

Jimmy wasn't so sure. Every time he kicked one, another tried to bite him. The ones on the ground weren't so bad, it was when they unexpectedly fell off the ceiling and landed on his head that they really got to him.

'And swearing at them isn't going to help,' said Ronni.

'It helps me ,' said Jimmy.

They came to Penn Station and continued on their underground path towards Grand Central. In another ten minutes they came to Times Square.

Jimmy stopped. 'If we continue on from here, next stop we'll be in Grand Central.'

Ronni nodded and looked on down the line. 'So . . . ?'

'So if we arrive in Grand Central we're going to be kicking our heels all night until the rendezvous time.'

'So . . .'

'So I, could quite easily take a wander upstairs here, see what's happening. You could wait down here, if you want.'

'With the rats?'

'Better rats than cannibals, you said.'

'Jimmy — your friend ordered us to keep going.'

'Yes he did. But I'm only talking about taking a look. I mean, they're probably all dead or in a pie. What harm can it do?'

'We could end up in a pie, that's what. I almost did already.'

'Not if we're careful. You told me yourself, the only reason they knew you weren't one of them was because you screamed. If you just, like, zip it, we'll be fine.'

'Jimmy — please, it's NOT SAFE. We're not going and that's final.'

Ten minutes later they walked out of the subway station and joined the crowds milling along the overgrown sidewalk, all moving in one direction — towards Times Square. They looked so normal, at least compared to the folks he'd encountered in the new settlements. They always looked permanently lost and deprived — this lot looked together. And they looked well fed.

All around him there were happy, jaunty people. Jimmy was pretty good at blending in; Ronni not so much. She walked stiffly, her eyes almost out on stalks, hardly daring to breathe.

He told her to relax.

'I can't ,' she hissed. 'I keep thinking one of them is going to turn round and bite me.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' whispered Jimmy. 'They'd want to cook you first.'

'That's . . . not . . . funny!'

But she smiled a little bit, and it helped. She didn't look quite so robotic — at least until they saw and smelled where the crowds were leading them. Ronni searched instinctively for Jimmy's hand as they saw the flames licking up from three massive bonfires burning in the middle of the street outside the New Amsterdam Theatre. Spits had been placed across them, surely ready to receive whoever the cannibals had captured.

Claire.

What can I do even if I find her? I have no weapon — and there's hundreds of them, I'll be torn to shreds if I try anything.

They had expected the cannibals to gather around the bonfires, but instead they were entering the theatre itself, which was the only building in the entire imposing square which was lit up. Jimmy stared up at the glowing neon sign above the theatre.

The Jungle King.

'What do we do?' Ronni whispered.

'We follow them in.'

'But we don't have . . .'

'Tickets?' It sounded ridiculous. 'If they ask just keep smiling and act dumb. That shouldn't be hard. Let me do the talking.'

They stepped into the theatre foyer.

Box office straight ahead.

Concession stand to the right.

The smell of popcorn.

Young ladies in smart uniforms giving out programmes.

No tickets required.

Everyone giddy with excitement.

Up red-carpeted steps and into an auditorium.

What is this? What's going on?

How can it be so normal?

They're cannibals!

An announcement came over the PA — 'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please take your seats for the wildest show on earth!'

They could hear the pounding music coming from the stage above, but it was distorted by distance and echo and stone floors and wooden beams so that it sounded like a remote signal from another world. It was just about discernible as 'Food Chain', a song, Claire thought, about the survival of the fittest.

That's what we are.

We're going to pull through this.

Jeffers is a class act: he's turned the tables, he's in command.

There was still, however, just a nagging doubt caused by the fact that they were still imprisoned in the bowels of the theatre; that upstairs was heaving with people who believed they were cannibals; and that they were all still obliged to go through with a bizarre charade to ensure that they made it out alive.

What could possibly go wrong?

King Slash and his cronies — the Royal Butchers, the Wolf Men and the other members of the cast of the Broadway production of The Jungle King — had wanted to bargain. They wanted out of New York. Their position was that those hundreds of people who thought they were cannibals, who had resigned themselves to it and accepted the terrible guilt of what they'd done, would not take kindly to suddenly being told that they'd been suckered into believing it all, that they'd been eating rats and obeying the sometimes brutal and often arbitrary commands of a bunch of actors. Although they might be relieved to discover that they weren't as bad as they thought, they were bound to react angrily and seek vengeance on those who had hoodwinked them.

Slash was still in a strong bargaining position. He remained the king, and one royal command could result in Jeffers and Claire and all of the other prisoners really being eaten. Slash was quite blunt — if that was the only way to save their own skins, then that's what he would order.

So the plan was this: the prisoners would be paraded on stage at the climax of that evening's performance of The Jungle King. They would then be taken away to be killed by the Royal Butchers and prepared for the barbecues outside. (Claire, rather stupidly, asked why they weren't killed on stage. One of the Butchers replied, 'Because we're cannibals, not barbarians!') While the crowds partied around the bonfires, awaiting the arrival of the 'meat', the prisoners, together with Slash and the members of the theatre group, would sneak into the sewers beneath the building and escape. They would make their way to Titanic where they would be offered safe passage to a port of their choice.

Jeffers had agreed to this — but had insisted that the detail of it was kept secret from the other passengers and crew. 'They're too fragile,' he told Claire, if they blab it out, if they act differently, they could jeopardise the whole escape. I'll only tell them what I have to — that we have a way out but that it absolutely depends on them following orders.'

Claire agreed, though she didn't envy Jeffers having to tell them.

Naturally, when he did, they demanded to know.

Rodriguez was the most vocal. 'You've sold us down the river! You're saving your own skin! That's why you want us to be quiet, that's why you want us to—'

One of the crewmen stuck a finger in Rodriguez's face and snapped: 'Shut up, or I'll eat you myself and save them the trouble!'

Rodriguez went quiet.

'I think we should trust him.'