Ride the Titanic! (48 page)

Human voices.

‘Hello! Up here! Somebody help!’

The chorus of voices grows more familiar as I run ahead, bang my hip on a projecting stanchion, curse, but keep going until the milky-green emergency lights outline the shape of a EMV sitting motionless on the ride track, and Geena’s voice shouting, ‘Mike, help us!’

According to the computer, all the EMV’s have ejected into the ride basin. But my wife and Xia’s frightened faces and the others tell a different story. Geena looks over my shoulder at the approaching crowd of ride technicians.

‘Where’s Pop and Adam?’ she says.

‘What?’

Fiona says, ‘We tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen.’ She stands up and scans the faces of my team, as if somehow that will make them appear.

‘When the ride stopped, Pop got out to look for you. Couldn’t keep him here, so I sent Adam along with him. You didn’t see them?’

I turn to Lewis, ‘See if the RFID is still working.’

‘Doubt it.’ He keys in the commands, the program starts, but then freezes.’ Ride bridge definitely gone for good.’

Geena’s face tenses with a new understanding. ‘We’re sinking?’

I take a deep breath. ‘For real.’

‘Grab hands and make a chain,’ I shout.

The down-angle has steepened and walking becomes more treacherous as our group, now including the lifeboat riders, moves aft along the ride track toward the stern, while I desperately try to figure out where Joe and Adam have gone. But first things first; get these people out safely, then head back.

Lewis catches up with me. ‘Why the hell didn’t their boat show up on the RFID scan?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Need to fix that glitch.’

‘Among other things.’

‘Hope the other boats got off okay.’

The nightmare image of stalled lifeboats and screaming VIP riders flashes before my eyes. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’

Like coming out of a subway tunnel into a station-stop, the narrow, tunnel-like passage opens up to the
Boat Deck
scene, complete with railings, davits, funnels and neatly-coiled lines. The blank HD video screens, minus the projection of a night sky filled with stars and soaring distress rockets, are a perfect reflection of my mind; stupefied at the chain of events growing longer and more complicated with every twist and turn in the dark passageways.

I lead the group past the rail switch, but instead of heading to retail, we climb up the sloping tunnel leading to the aft egress hatch. And whenever the disaster demons scream in my head, I desperately counter with the thought that instead of a catastrophe, this is going to end up being an exciting ‘I was there’ yarn to tell astonished friends over dinner and drinks.

At least I hope so.

Less than two minutes later, after a frantic climb up the slippery maintenance walkway, I lead the group onto the EMV ejection platform and feel a rush of giddy relief: empty guide rails mean only one thing: all the lifeboats are down in the ride basin, bobbing away, awaiting the
Titanic
’s final plunge.

I swipe my security card through the reader on the emergency control panel and to my relief, the panel slides open with satisfying ‘hiss.’ The display panel’s status lights indicate backup batteries still working.

I turn to Lewis. ‘Hope you know the sequence because I sure as hell don’t.’

He nudges me aside. ‘Wrote it myself.’

He keys in the code, waits for the green light, then flips a switch. A satisfying CLUNK and WHOOSH as the outer egress hatch slides open. A lightweight carbon fiber version of the steel plates covering the ship’s hull, it serves as a mask for the enormous pressurized hatch behind it.

‘One up, one to go,’ Lewis says.

‘D’ja get that?’ Cameron says to Bobbie and Mattie.

‘Golden, boss.’

‘Wide and tight.’

‘Roger-dodger.’

‘Stand clear,’ Lewis says. He flips another switch and another ‘CLUNK’ sounds as the inner hatch, a massive, multi-ton, slab measuring ten by twelve feet, swings outward with velvet ease.

‘
Perfetto
,’ Max’s voice breaks in relief.

Down in the ride basin, lifeboats filled with famous faces gaze up expectantly as they drift somewhat aimlessly. Swooping searchlights add their thrill to the ‘opening night’ atmosphere, while along the water’s edge an infinity of phone cameras flashes sparkle like fireflies as the crowd watches the ship and gossips about the movie stars.

I say to Lewis. ‘Take charge, and get the rest of these folks the hell out of here.’

‘What about Joe and the boy scout?’

‘I’ll find them. Get moving.’

‘Let me try the RFID one more time.’

‘It’s dead.’

‘Never say die.’

He pulls out his scanner and keys in the detection sweep code. The program miraculously boots up and a sparkling cluster representing the riders’ wristbands appears instantly.

‘It’s alive, it’s alive!’ Lewis croons in his Dr. Frankenstein voice.

‘Thought you said the Ride Bridge’s flooded.’

‘It is. This must be coming from a relay station.’

‘Expand the sweep before it craps out for good.’

While he searches for Joe and Adam’s RFID signatures, I open the storage cabinet and pull out a stack of safety harnesses used by our maintenance team. I give the world’s fastest demo on how to secure the webbing around their waists, how to slide the carabineer clip down the ladder rails as they descend, and NOT to look down but straight ahead, and everything will work out just fine.

I order Max to lead the exodus with Elena. He resists, but has no choice. A pregnant wife has a gravitational pull all her own. He fastens her harness, then takes both my hands, his eyes tortured and stares at me. ‘For this disaster I am truly sorry, my friend. It could have been such a beautiful ship. If only. . .’

‘See you topside.’

Lewis whoops. ‘Found ‘em! Aft of the
Carpathia.’

I hug Geena. ‘I’ll get them out.’

‘I’m going to kill that kid – after I kill Pop.’

I race back down the maintenance walkway. Just as I arrive at the junction point leading to the
Carpathia
scene, clattering footsteps behind me. Without turning I shout, ‘Lewis, you dumb shit, what’d I just say?’

‘Hold your fire, captain, it’s the A team.’ Cameron turns to Bobby and Matt. ‘How’s the light, guys?’

The cameramen exchange dubious looks.

Bobby says, ‘Sucks.’

‘Jack up your ISO’s.’

‘Topped out.’

‘Blacks crushed?’

‘Like a pancake.’

‘You know, Mr. Cameron,’ Xia’s voice rings out as she elbows her way through the knot of men. ‘If you stay here, you’ll miss all the action when she goes down.’

Lewis is behind her, smiling like he’s at a party.

I regard the ever-growing group with amazement. ‘What the hell is this? I ordered abandon ship.’

Xia says, ‘Present company excepted, as I am co-captain of this vessel.’

Lewis adds, ‘Rest easy, cap. Geena and Fiona and the others got off just fine.’

Cameron says with longing, ‘Sure wish I could figure out how to be in two places at once.’ His face lights up. ‘Bobby, you interested in hanging tight here, while Mattie and I cover the dive basin?’

‘What if we don’t make it out?’

‘Of course you will. Captain Sullivan here is a clever man. He’ll find those two missing passengers and have you topside in no time.’

‘Or not,’ I say evenly, which is the tipping point for Bobby, who turns and heads for the egress hatch without looking back. Mattie follows suit, despite Cameron’s appeal. He sighs in surrender and punches me lightly on the shoulder. ‘Damned good idea you had. Too bad it didn’t work out.’

‘Another time.’

‘That’s the spirit. Don’t give up the ship.’

‘I won’t.’

He turns to go.

I stop him. ‘Thanks for saving Max and me back there, and good luck with your shoot.’

‘My pleasure. And keep your luck. You’ll need it.’

He lopes off, chatting up Mattie like a prom date, while Bobby brings his camera to bear like a big game hunter in search of unsuspecting prey ahead.

I say to Xia, ‘Please go with them. No telling what’s going to happen when. . .’

‘Michael, please.’ Her upraised hand and determined face silences me. ‘We started this together and we’re ending it together.’ She sticks out her hand. ‘Deal?’

I take it. Her eyes close, her voice sounds more weary and worn than the Great Wall of China as she whispers, ‘Let’s go find those jerks.’

It takes traversing a two-hundred foot-long slippery ride track, and the equivalent of climbing up the side of a two-story building to reach the deserted
Carpathia Rescue
scene, where the RIFD sweep indicate Joe and Adam’s location.

What we find instead is a kid’s backpack.

I shout their names but hear nothing but distant hissing and the occasional THUMP of something either coming loose or falling over. By now the down-angle has increased to almost forty degrees, which means every step we take in our ever-steepening world could be our last.

I say to Lewis, ‘Any joy from the RIFDs?’

He tries another sweep, but this time the program doesn’t even boot up. ‘Dead in the water.’

Xia shouts a Chinese curse and it echoes against the curved projection walls.  As it dies away, a faint voice comes from behind the
Carpathia’s
railing. I scramble up the slanting deck and peer over the edge into the darkness.

‘Joe? You down there?’

‘Where the hell else would I be? God-damned kid.’

‘Adam?’

From the same darkness comes a faint, ‘Here, sir,’

‘Mr. Eagle Scout gets the bright idea to cut across the deck to reach the ride bridge, then takes a header. So I’m grabbing him, and he’s grabbing me and BANG we hit the railing, it breaks loose and BOOM down we go and here we are.’

I root around until I find a coiled rope used as a prop in the rescue scene. ‘Found a line.’

‘Throw a half-hitch on a stanchion to take the load and toss it down.’

‘A half-what? You’re the navy guy, not me.’

‘I taught you that a thousand times.’

‘I forgot it a thousand times.’

While he grumbles and curses in Italian, Xia pays the line down into the narrow space, while I lash it to the stanchion with a bunch of granny knots that look like clenched fists, but will hold their weight. Moments later, Adam shinnies up hand-over-hand like an escaping monkey. But at Joe’s age, his upper body strength can’t match a fourteen year-old’s, so he surrenders to the four of us unceremoniously hauling him up to safety.

I hand Adam his backpack. ‘How come you stowed your bracelet in the bag?’

‘Sir.’ Adam shifts into full ‘airline captain’ mode. ‘There’s scientific evidence suggesting that RIFD frequency emissions can harm the brain.’

Joe says, ‘You got no worries in that department because you ain’t got one.’

‘Roger that,’ I say, but smile at Adam. ‘You did good, kid, thanks.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As we hurry back to the egress hatch, I brief Joe about the sinking ship. He listens to every dismal fact, and when I finish he says, ‘Well,
paisan,
at least we got our health – present company excepted.’

‘What’s so funny?’ Xia asks when she hears us laughing.

‘Putting top spin on our downturn,’ Joe says.

Another CREAK and the maintenance walkway shivers beneath our feet.

I say softly, ‘How long can she take it?’

‘You mean sinking? Subs are born to do it.’

‘Not from the inside. This ship was a watertight thermos surrounded by water. Now her bottom’s cracked open and filling fast. Can we handle the down angle without breaking in two?’

‘Sure she can, which makes salvage a lot easier.’

‘Forget it. She’s gone for good.’

‘What are you talking? I saw plenty of Navy ships sunk and salvaged. And when the shit’s done hitting the fan we can fix up her up too.’

‘For a man who’s half-dead, you’re pretty damn forward-thinking.’

‘Life’s a hard habit to break.’

After slipping and sliding and eventually forming a human-chain, we make it up to the EMV ejection platform. Something feels strange, and then I realize there’s no light coming in from the outside. When we left Geena and the others earlier, the glow from the Vegas strip and the searchlights suffused the space with a soft, golden glow. Now the grim, cold light from the emergency lights show us why: for some reason the egress hatch has almost completely closed. When I press my face to the narrow, foot-wide opening, I can see that the carbon fiber outer hatch is still open to the scene below.

The flashing blue emergency lights and endless sparkle of cellphone photos can only mean that the 911 call must have gone out the moment the crowd spotted Geena, Fiona, and the others climbing down the ejection ramp ladder like two-legged rats deserting a sinking ship. Festive turned frantic and is getting louder, with the wail and warble of more and more emergency vehicles screaming down the Strip to join their own kind for a ringside seat to a real disaster in the making.

I think I spot Geena and the others clustered together near the party tent, but from this distance human faces are like the bright, upturned dots in one of Joe’s concept paintings. If the ride bridge’s computer system were still functioning, the celebrity-filled lifeboats would be floating at their pre-arranged mooring spots, awaiting the Main Event. Instead, the
Titanic
is dead in the water, sinking fast, while her lifeboats float aimlessly across the ride basin like so maple leaves blown free in an October storm. Two fire department inflatable boats dart here and there, trying to attach lines to the drifting craft and tow them clear.