Jimmy and Ronni, caught up in the surge forward and now picking themselves up, might have been the only ones in the entire theatre who realised what was happening.
Artillery.
A familiar sound from Fort Hope.
The theatre was under attack by the President's army.
The war had begun!
Panic gripped everyone as more shells began to land.
A hole was blown in the ceiling and when the smoke cleared the night sky was clearly visible.
They heard an urgent rat-tat-tat of gunfire. People were running everywhere — some towards the exits, others swarming across the stage looking for a way out.
Only Jimmy seemed to know exactly where he was going — he kept his eyes firmly fixed on where Claire had disappeared backstage and charged after her, dragging Ronni along with him. They ducked as the theatre was struck again and scenery crashed to the floor all around them. Jimmy would not be stopped, but there was a moment of confusion when he got backstage and he couldn't see Claire any more. Then he caught just a glimpse of Jeffers' baseball cap as he disappeared down a set of stairs on the far side. With people running everywhere it took them a while to get across, but soon they were on the stairs and taking them four and five at a time, sliding down using the hand rail for support.
Another explosion — and the lights went out. There were screams of pain and shouts of confusion. Jimmy kept a tight grip on the rail and just kept going.
'Jimmy — please . . .' cried Ronni. 'We'll kill ourselves!'
He said nothing. He pressed ahead. Ronni kept a tight hold of his T-shirt and allowed herself to be dragged along. Then — dead ahead, a flashlight beam. He focused in on that.
Down another two sets of stairs and along a corridor, the air thick with dust.
A metallic clank — and then the flash beam disappeared.
'Hey!' Jimmy called. 'Hey!'
But another shell had struck, an alarm had finally gone off, and there was too much noise for him to be heard. They hurried blindly forward. They tripped and fell and righted themselves. They came to what was their best estimation of where the light had suddenly disappeared. Jimmy began to feel his way forward, his foot out in front, his arms stretched left and right, anxious not to miss the avenue of escape. It was the stench that made him stop, then the choking, fetid air. Somewhere below . . .
He foot-skimmed the floor until it came to a hole, then felt around with his hands to detect the circumference. Yes, wide enough. And there, a ladder.
'Jimmy . . . ?'
'Down here.'
He lowered himself into the hole, then began a rapid descent, no thought for what might be below.
'Jimmy — wait for me!'
'Come on!'
As they disappeared below ground level the whump and crump of the explosions faded, to be replaced by the sound of gushing water. The stink of sewage and rats. They came suddenly to the dank, slippery floor and stood in the complete and utter darkness. For the first time, Jimmy was actually lost — there were only two ways to go, but it was impossible to be sure which way was right. He was almost overwhelmed with the despair of realising that he had come so close, but was now on the brink of failure.
There was nothing for it but to yell.
'Claire!'
'Shhhh!' cried Ronni. 'What if—'
'Claire! Claire!'
They heard it echo along the sewage tunnel.
'Jimmy . . .'
'Shhhhh listen . . .'
Then there was nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Until, from a distance of not more than a metre, a torch blinked on and they were blinded. As they shielded their faces and prepared for the worst a familiar voice said,' What?'
35
Encounter
It was not exactly as Jimmy had imagined it, this reunion, deep in the sewers beneath a theatre which was being reduced to rubble by a man who had deluded himself into thinking he was the President of the United States. Claire stood in the back-glow from the torch, bedraggled, thin, pale, angry. Jimmy didn't have the faintest clue what to say. He wanted to hug her, but could not bring himself to. He wanted to apologise for what he'd done, for letting her down, for allowing her to be shot, for betraying the Titanic.
But all he could manage was: 'Bad hair day, is it?' The torch flashed from Jimmy to Ronni. 'Who's she?'
'Ronni,' said Ronni.
'She's my friend,' said Jimmy.
'Bad luck you,' said Claire to Ronni.
From away along the tunnel Dr Hill yelled: 'Claire! Come on!'
Claire looked at them. 'Well if you're coming, let's go.'
She spun away. They didn't see her wipe a tear from her eye.
Jimmy, obviously, didn't wipe a tear of his own away. That would have been ridiculous. Absolutely not. No way.
Ronni said, 'Are you OK?' as they quickly followed after Claire.
'Yes, of course I'm OK. Why wouldn't I be OK?'
'I thought she was your best friend?'
'I never said that,' said Jimmy.
After a while they stopped, gathering in a wider section of the sewer tunnel where it branched out in several directions. Jimmy was surprised to see how many of them there were — not just Claire and Jeffers and Dr Hill, but various crew and passengers he recognised, plus an odd assortment of men and women in animal masks which they were only now beginning to discard — wolf heads and cheetah heads tossed into the river of sewage and drifting away.
While Jeffers and Dr Hill conferred at the crossroads, Jimmy sat on the damp floor. He said nothing, he asked no questions. Ty had given him a big hug and tried to engage him in conversation, but as soon as he established the extent of the frostiness between Jimmy and Claire he decided to leave them to it. He winked at Ronni, then drifted off. Claire sat with her back against the wall, looking wherever Jimmy didn't.
Ronni crouched beside her. 'Aren't they cannibals?' she whispered, nodding towards the group still partially attired in animal costumes.
'No,' said Claire, 'they're actors.'
'But they're cannibals as well! They all are!'
'No,' said Claire, 'it was a trick. Everyone thought they were eating human flesh, but it was rats. Rat stew, mostly.'
'That's . . . not possible — I saw them . . .'
'You thought you did. You didn't. Is he your boyfriend?'
'Who, Jimmy? No. I thought he was yours.'
Claire snorted. 'I don't think so. So how come you two hooked up?'
'We were both at Fort Hope.' Claire's brow furrowed in the torchlight. 'Fort Hope — it's like the President's . . . where he keeps his army . . .'
'The President? The President President?'
'No,' said Jimmy, finally approaching, talking to Claire but not looking at her. 'He just thinks he is. He used to be a senator or something. That's his army up there, attacking New York, saving it from cannibals.'
'Well, what are we doing down here, then?' Claire asked Jimmy, although she was looking at at Ronni. 'Shouldn't we be up there supporting him? Telling him they're not cannibals?'
'No,' said Jimmy, 'we shouldn't, for the simple reason that the second part of his master plan is to sieze the Titanic.'