Jimmy's cabin on Level Ten was a mess. Stolen clothes and plates of half-eaten food littered the floor, sweet wrappers and half-full cans of soda covered every surface. Every morning a cleaner knocked on the door asking to come in, and every morning Jimmy told her to go away. This morning, she didn't knock. It might have been an oversight or she might have given up. But he suspected it was more than that. It was the Times. It was out there.
He was proud of what he'd done, but it wasn't in his nature to go and face the music. It was in his nature to hide. Or run away. Or to let someone else take the blame. Claire, in fact.
Jimmy phoned the Stanford suite, all ready to ask for Claire in an American accent in case her father answered, but it was Claire herself who picked up. 'What have you heard?' he asked.
'Mr Jeffers came to the door at about five this morning. I'm presuming he showed my dad the paper. I heard Daddy swear, then he told Mummy he had to go out. He hasn't been back since. Mummy spoke to him on the phone — they're all having a meeting in Captain Smith's quarters.'
'They're going to feed us to the sharks. Did your mum read it as well?'
'She did. She said, that's dreadful, I didn't realize, those poor people, there must be something we can do to help. Then she went to get her nails done.'
They were still discussing what to do when they were interrupted by an announcement over the PA. Jimmy recognized First Officer Jeffers' voice calling all passengers and crew to a public meeting in the theatre on Level Three in thirty minutes' time.
'Oh God,' said Claire. 'This is it then.'
***
It was a one-thousand-seat theatre which normally hosted celebrity guest speakers during the day and cabaretet show, at night, but this morning there were well over two thousand people packed into it — mostly passengers but also a large number of crew. It was usually a place of laughter and music, but there was now an almost tangible air of fear and anger. As Jimmy squeezed through to the front row he noted that many people were clutching copies of the Titanic Times.
Claire hadn't managed to claim a seat, but instead sat cross-legged on the floor. Jimmy knelt down beside her. The stage was still clear, but there was a microphone set up with six chairs lined up behind it. From somewhere towards the back of the theatre a slow, impatient hand clapping began and then quickly spread until the entire place reverberated to the sound of thousands of sweaty palms coming together.
Less than a minute later Captain Smith appeared at the side of the stage, then walked slowly across it, followed by Mr Stanford, First Officer Jeffers, Chief Engineer Jonas Jones and Dr Hill. They were greeted with a chorus of boos. Captain Smith stood before the microphone and waited for the hubbub to subside, but it went on and on as questions were yelled along with insults.
Eventually, eventually the noise receded enough for Captain Smith to be heard. He began by thanking everyone for coming — and this was greeted with another chorus of boos.
'I'm here to apologize.' This surprised them. The noise subsided again. 'As you know, when we set sail, it was with the intention of making sure that you enjoyed a marvellous vacation. That is what you paid for. We set sail with the full expectation that this virus would quickly run its course both in America and around the world and that we would return you safely to a country that was already well on the way to recovery. However, as we continued to monitor the situation it became clear that — well, that nothing was clear. All the news we were getting from home was contradictory, misleading and confusing. For this reason I took the decision to limit the amount of news that you had access to. I didn't want to cause unrest or panic. We all have loved ones waiting for us and we are all naturally anxious to know what's going on. I accept now that this was wrong. I also knew it was inevitable that we would have some cases of this . . . Red Death . . . on board, but I have been truly shocked by the speed with which it has spread. The extent of this was also kept from you, and I apologize for this as well. Reviewing the situation last night, and taking on board advice from Mr Stanford and my senior crew, I decided that you all — passengers and crew alike — should be made aware of the true situation, both here on the ship and at home. I decided that the best way to do it would be through our ship newspaper so that you would have all the facts right in front of you . . .'
Jimmy looked at Claire in disbelief. 'He . . .'
' . . and so that you could take the time to properly digest these facts before I summoned you to this meeting. They have been presented in the newspaper by my staff, who have exhausted every possible avenue to ensure their accuracy. I think you will find it is a fair depiction of the state of our two worlds at this moment in time — here, on the ship and, well, everywhere else.'
Captain Smith gave Jimmy and Claire the tiniest nod.
'Ladies and gentlemen, these are not good times. Forty passengers have now passed away . . .' the audience were stunned into silence by this, '. . . and three hundred more are infected. We have established a quarantine area on the hospital deck, but the truth is we just don't know how to stop the virus. Nobody does. Dr Hill . . .' he turned slightly and raised a hand towards him, '. . . and his staff have been working flat out. Two of his nurses died during the night.'
A man in a Hawaiian shirt stood up. 'Captain, sir, that's very sad, and we certainly appreciate everything the doctor and his staff are doing, but doesn't it make sense to turn the ship around now, and return to port?' This was greeted with applause from the audience. 'We all have people we're worried about, and we'd be really happy to go home and see them. Don't see the sense of staying cooped up on board with this Red Death running rampant. At least at home we might get the chance to outrun it.'
There was more applause and some cheering.
Captain Smith raised a hand for calm. 'Sir, we'd all like to go home, but the fact of the matter is that until we can establish exactly what's going on back there we're safer staying where we are.'
The man in the Hawaiian shirt gave a little laugh. 'Well why don't you just phone 'em up and ask?'
That brought a wave of laughter.
'Sir, at six o'clock this morning we lost contact with our home port of Miami. We have to assume that it is no longer functioning. Communication with anywhere is becoming very, very difficult.'
Another man shouted from the back. 'Just sail in, tie up and let us off!'
'Sir, in my opinion it is simply not safe to return to port right now. Until we can establish that it is safe it is my intention to continue with the cruise . . .'
Howls of protest erupted. Those who had seats jumped up and waved their fists and yelled and threw copies of the Titanic Times towards the stage. It took several minutes for them to calm down.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' Captain Smith eventually continued, 'we have no way of knowing exactly what the situation is at home, but certainly there has been rioting, and looting, and shortages of food. At least here on board we have supplies to see us through the remainder of the cruise; plus, at each of our three scheduled stops — later this morning at San Juan, then at the island of St Thomas and Cozumel in Mexico — we have dedicated fuel supplies. We are safe on the Titanic, and we will look after you.'
Most of the passengers were desperate to go home, but at least some of them were also beginning to see the sense of not going home.
An old woman spoke from halfway down the aisle. Jimmy glanced around and saw that it was Kitty Calhoon. She waved a walking stick towards the Captain as she spoke.
'Captain Smith! Do you think it might be all right, given the circumstances, for Franklin to come out of hiding now?'
The Captain looked genuinely perplexed. 'Franklin?' First Officer Jeffers stepped forward and quietly spoke in his ear. The Captain sighed. 'Mrs Calhoon, I think that will be fine.'
She smiled happily and sat. Another man just to her right, with his shirt open to his navel and a V of sunburned skin got to his feet.
'Captain Smith,' he said,'we've paid good money for this trip and if it's going to be disrupted by this illness, if we're going to be unable to go on the excursions we were promised, then we're going to be entitled to some compensation.'
This brought applause. Captain Smith sighed again and turned to Mr Stanford. 'Perhaps, Mr Stanford . . .?'
Claire's dad got stiffly to his feet. He looked gaunt and pale as he approached the microphone. 'We — ah, at White Star . . . we pride ourselves on always . . . putting . . . our customers. . . first. But perhaps this . . . isn't the time to . . .'
'I didn't pay five grand for a cruise on a plague ship!'
More applause.
'We'll sue you for a million bucks!' an elderly man shouted.
'Please — there's no need for . . .'
'We want a full refund, we want compensation, we want—'
'Stop it!' Mr Stanford shouted suddenly, his eyes blazing. 'Don't you understand? Everything is going to hell out there! Money doesn't matter any more! It's all over . . .!'
Captain Smith quickly returned to the microphone and gently nudged his employer to one side. 'If you can, I'd like you all just to go back upstairs and to do your best to enjoy the ship and all its facilities. Hopefully the news from home will start to—'
'Captain Smith!'
Jimmy turned to his left and saw that the chef Pedroza was standing in the aisle, with about twenty of his colleagues grouped around him.
'Yes, Mr Pedroza?'
Many of the passengers had already begun to vacate their seats, but they stopped now; it was something in the way Pedroza spoke, and the resignation in Captain Smith's voice in response.
'Captain Smith — what the boss says about the money, not mattering any more. Is he right?'
'I'm not sure what you mean, Mr Pedroza.'
'If everythings is crazy out there, then money — it has no value, right?'
'What's your point, sir?'
'If money's worth nothing what are we working for? Why should we do what you say?'
His colleagues murmured their support.
Captain Smith fixed Pedroza with a hard look. 'You will do what I say because you signed a contract agreeing to work! Any man who refuses to obey an order will be arrested and charged with mutin— !'
He stopped as Mr Stanford, who had been standing beside him, suddenly collapsed forward, just missing the audience below and landing in a crumpled heap at the very edge of the stage. Dr Hill and Jonas Jones rushed to help him and a moment later Claire climbed up to join them.
Dr Hill removed Mr Stanford's tie and was just unbuttoning his shirt to give him some air and to check his heart when Claire dropped to her knees beside her father.
'Please . . . is he . . .?' But then she saw what Dr Hill had already spotted.
Red blotches across her father's chest.
'Oh no . . .!' she cried. 'Please no . . .!'