Колин Бейтман - Titanic 2020 - Cannibal City

As Jimmy turned a corner the acoustics of the twisting alley became more concentrated and defined, leading him towards a much larger, windowless construction that was crammed with men drinking and partying. One was playing an accordion, another a tin whistle, both were banging their feet on the floor in time to their music. Onlookers clapped and sang along. Jimmy listened for a few minutes before pressing through the throng until he found himself in a short corridor which led to an even larger room beyond. This was just as crowded, but it was actually quieter — they were all listening intently to a grizzled looking old man perched on a bar stool on a slightly raised area in the centre of the room. His voice was raspy, his eyes red-rimmed from the wood smoke which hung around the ceiling, and he sat hunched over, as if he had the weight of the world on his bony shoulders. As Jimmy squirrelled his way forward the old man was shuffling crumpled sheets of paper.

'Here we are — here we are . . . This one's from Jacob's Hollow, 'bout fifty miles east of here. Says they have the malaria now — ain't been malaria in these parts for two hundred years, but they say they have it.'

Another man spoke up. 'My wife's right — we're all goin' to hell in a handcart.'

There was a murmur of agreement from the audience. The old man nodded grimly as he looked down at the sheet of paper. 'Have the names here of people who've showed up at Jacob's Hollow. Gonna read them out. You recognise any, you speak to me later, I'll see if I have any news of them. When I'm done up here, I'll take a list of your names with me to the next settlement along. Good to know if your loved ones are OK — but I tell you this, don't go trying to visit. Roads are impassable, bandits out there, shootin' and killin'. Not gonna harm an old fella like me, but you stay safe here in Tucker's Hole.'

When he'd finished reading the names from Jacob's Hollow, he pulled up another sheet, this time from a settlement called Miller's Crossing, and repeated the process. He read two more after that and was about to start on a third when he hesitated and glanced up at the audience. His mouth opened, then closed. He appeared to be debating with himself whether to say something.

'What is it?' someone shouted. 'We don't need any more bad news!'

'No — no, it's not — it's just . . .' He sighed. 'Well, don't see what harm it can do. Just — I heard this story. These days there's lots of stories, but the people I heard it from swore to God it was true.' An anxious hush fell on the audience. As Jimmy looked around he caught a glimpse of Claire on the far side of the room. The old man rubbed at his heavily stubbled jaw. 'Well, there were these couple of guys went hunting in the woods outside of Miller's Crossing, just ordinary folks like you and me. They were tracking this deer down through the trees, came out on the old railway track — ain't been a train through there since the early days of the plague — but this day, there was a train sitting about a hundred metres up from where they were, engine running and American flags flying front and back. Now our guys were a bit wary, you know how things are these days, deciding whether it was a good idea to approach — when these Marines jumped out of nowhere, surrounded them, took their guns off of them, wanting to know what they were doing sneakin' up on the President's train . . .'

At this an excited flurry of whispers swept through the crowd.

'Yep — that's what they said. Anyways they were marched to the train . . . and you know what? The President himself got off and walked right up to them and shook their hands and asked how they was doing!'

Another wave of excitement.

'Yep — it was the President all right, sure as I'm sitting here. And that's not all. He asked them what they did in their old life — one was a fireman, other in computers. He said he was looking for good people. He'd established his own settlement couple of hundred miles north — had its own schools, electricity, good food, television — said he was rebuilding civilisation. President said he was looking for people to help and did they want to come. Well of course, they both wanted to go, and one of them climbed right on board, was given a cold beer. The other, he said he had a wife and family back in the settlement and could he go fetch them, but the President said he couldn't wait, there were bandits in the woods and all about and it wasn't safe. But he said he'd be back, and that people shouldn't give up hope, that the good times were coming again, and to have faith in him, and have faith in God.'

The old man nodded. 'Faith in him,' he repeated, 'faith in God.'

Questions were immediately shouted from the floor.

'When was this?'

'You sure it was him?'

'What they call this place?'

'They have television?'

'Were those guys drunk?'

There were a dozen more questions. Eventually the old man held his hand up. 'Told you all I know. This was about three weeks back, and I tell you, that guy's been down at those tracks with his family every day since. All I can say is, if I see that train, I'd be getting right on board too.'

He smiled then and there was scattered applause. He pushed himself wearily off his bar stool. At that exact moment a camera flash went off. The old man spun to one side with surprising speed and vigour as he sought out the culprit. Jimmy saw Claire pushing her way back through the crush of bodies. She had her photograph, and he had his story. They were a great team, even if they weren't speaking to each other.

Jimmy was as excited as everyone else by the old man's account of the President's train. Partly because he was a newsman with a good scoop, but also because of the way it had affected the audience — for the first time on any of his settlement visits he had seen genuine hope in their eyes, the first inkling that there might be a real possibility of escape from their squalid existence. Electricity! Television! As he made his way back through the tangle of huts Jimmy could hear snatches of 'The Star Spangled Banner' being sung.

It was a pleasant relief to emerge back into the fresh air. Jimmy looked across to where Dr Hill was now getting towards the end of his line of patients. Three sorry-looking children lay on stretchers, ready for transportation back to the Titanic. Since he'd been gone a second boat had arrived from the ship. First Officer Jeffers and several crewmen had set up a folding table and chair and were now interviewing locals who wished to board the Titanic. There weren't very many of them; they stood lethargically and answered Jeffers' questions as if they didn't care one way or another if they were successful.

As there was still clearly some time to kill, Jimmy decided to do a little more exploring. He began to circle around the outside of the settlement. Several dogs snapped at him. Soot-faced women stared at him as he passed their homes. He stepped over another drunk. When he had landed he had wanted to ask as many of these people as possible for their personal stories of what had happened to them during and since the plague, but since hearing about the Presidential train he could no longer summon the enthusiasm — he wanted to write something positive for a change, he'd had enough of death and disaster.

When he was about halfway around the settlement there was a scream from up ahead. His view was obscured by a jutting wall — yet he immediately knew who it was.

Claire!

Jimmy charged around the corner and saw her lying on the rubbish-strewn ground about a hundred metres ahead. A boy of roughly his own age was standing over her.

'Hey! ' Jimmy yelled.

The boy looked startled, then reached down and grabbed Claire's camera. She held on to the strap and pulled back, but the boy punched at her face and she let out a cry of pain. The boy ripped the strap from her grasp and darted back into the maze of interconnected sheds that made up Tucker's Hole.