Titanic 2020

The President was missing, and his country was descending into chaos.

Jimmy, who had followed the spread of the Red Death right from the start, had not really been affected by the mounting death toll. It was all happening somewhere else. He was safe on the Titanic. Just reading about it somehow kept it unreal. But with the President missing, probably dead, it brought home just how frightening and dangerous this plague was. The President ought to have been safe. He had repeatedly gone on national TV to reassure people that everything would be all right; he had such power, so many weapons and scientists and experts, so many people to look after him and defend him . . . but they'd still managed to lose him.

***

Scoop finally reappeared as the ship docked in Miami, smiling and joking and saying what a bad flu he'd had but predicting that the beautiful Florida sun would soon sort him out. If he had noticed that two editions of the Titanic Times had been produced in his absence, he didn't mention it. Many of the crew not directly involved in the docking were lining the deck, and Jimmy and Claire, who now felt very much as if they belonged to that crew, were right there with them. That's where Scoop found them. He rolled up behind them, clapped his hands together and said, 'Hey kids, how's it going?' They turned. 'Hey — look at the long faces. We made it, didn't we? Gonna catch me some rays!'

Jimmy, who had his overalls unbuttoned nearly to the waist because of the morning heat, removed a folded copy of their most recent Times from his inside pocket and handed it to the veteran reporter.

Scoop opened it up and examined the front page with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. The headline said it all — President Missing — Hope Fades. 'I . . . I don't remember . . . did I write this? Must have . . . Anyway, life goes on.' He handed it back. 'My pension's in the bank, and I'm all set for a new life on the beach! Could life be any better?'

'You're going ashore?' Jimmy asked.

'Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?'

'Because people are dying,' said Claire.

'Ah, sure people are always dying.'

'The President is missing!'

'Well, they'll find him. And if they don't, they'll elect a new one, they always do.'

'But thousands of other people are dying as well,' said Jimmy. 'Look at the paper, Scoop, it's happening everywhere.'

Scoop laughed. 'God, you're awful serious, aren't you? Look — I was a foreign correspondent before I lost these old pins . . .'

'You told me you lost your legs before you became a foreign correspondent. Running for a taxi.'

'Ah, I just made that up to make you feel better. Truth is, Jimmy, Claire, I've seen massive wars, famines, plagues, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis — you name it, I've been there, and they're awful things, truly awful, but people recover, they rebuild. Sometimes it takes years, sometimes just a few days, but they survive, they always do. I know this Red Death thingy is bad. But it will pass.' He clapped his hands together. 'So, I'm going to find a nice little hotel along the beach, I'm going to sit by the pool, have a nice cocktail, and wait until this nonsense fades away to nothing.' He held his hand out to each of them. 'Thanks for your help. I couldn't have put the paper together without you.'

They shook, then watched him roll happily down the gangplank.

'He has no idea,' said Jimmy. 'About the paper . . . or the plague.'

"Completely clueless,' agreed Claire.

With their hectic work on the paper over the past few days, Jimmy had not really given much thought to what would happen once the ship docked in Miami. He was thinking about plagues and presidents, not his own immediate future, so it came as a shock when First Officer Jeffers told him arrangements had been made for him to go ashore in the next hour, in order to catch a flight back to Ireland.

Jimmy just said, 'Oh.'

'We've spoken to the port authorities and they've agreed to make sure you catch your plane.'

Claire, standing beside him, was momentarily lost for words. They'd had lots of fights and bickered endlessly, but they'd also laughed a lot. They had forged a good partnership in producing their Titanic Times.

'You can't just let him go . . .' she began. 'People are . . . dying out there . . .'

Jeffers nodded. 'Yes, Claire, there's a few cases — but the authorities tell me it's reasonably safe. We're starting to board passengers for the cruise shortly, Jimmy, so I think it's important to get you on shore before we get too busy, eh?'

Jimmy shrugged.

'That's a good lad. I'll give you ten minutes to say your goodbyes, then I expect to see you at the portside gangplank on Deck Three, all right?'

'All right.'

First Officer Jeffers nodded at them both and turned away.

Jimmy looked at the ground. 'Well,' he said.

Claire tutted. 'It isn't fair. You're much safer on board.'

'Not much I can do.'

They wandered in a desultory fashion towards Deck Three. They stopped by the gangplank and looked over the rails at the dock below. A queue of passengers waiting to board snaked back for several hundred metres. They were making slow progress. Dr Hill and a team of medical experts employed by White Star Line were examining everyone — including new crewmen — for indications of plague. Those allowed on board were being issued with antibiotics and painkillers, even though nothing had yet been proved to affect the onslaught of the virus.

'You should be taking photos of this,' Jimmy said.

'What's the point?'

'Aren't you going to keep working on the paper?'

'It was good fun with the two of us. Not with some new guy.'

Claire pointed suddenly to her right. Scoop was rolling away along the dock. A porter pushing a trolley piled high with cases was struggling to keep up. 'Look at him go!'

'He's happy to get his legs on dry land,' said Jimmy.

Claire looked at him, then they both burst out laughing.

It faded quickly. Claire looked thoughtful. 'If you could stay — would you?'

'The point is I can't.'

'But if you could? Are you that desperate to go home?'

Jimmy shrugged. He had been a little homesick. But these past few days had been such fun.

'Right. Then this isn't over yet. Come with me.'

***

They found Mrs Stanford on the top deck, in a bikini, lying on a sunbed. 'I thought I'd stake my claim to one now,' she said as her daughter approached. 'Once the passengers are on board there's a strict policy against reserving sunbeds. I quite agree with it of course, generally speaking — but we do own the ship, so I ought to have first choice of. . .'

'Mother.'

Mrs Stanford peered over the top of her sunglasses. 'What is it, dear?'

'I want Jimmy to stay.'

'What? Who?' Claire shifted her position so that her mother could see Jimmy, standing some way back. 'Oh. Him. Well I'm sorry, Claire, you can't keep him. Puppies and stowaways aren't just for Christmas, you know. I know what you're like, he'll be your best friend for five minutes and then you'll lose interest and it'll be me — or one of the servants — who has to do all the cleaning up after him.'

Claire sat down on the sunbed beside her. She clasped her hands together. 'I want you to tell Daddy that it's not safe to put Jimmy off the ship when there's so much sickness around.'

'Nonsense. He'll be perfectly fine. This Red Death nonsense is just a . . . hiccup.'

'Mum — people are dropping like flies!'