"Throw the grenade, Blink!"
"I can't-"
"Throw the fucking grenade!"
They'd been happy before, when they sold papers in New York. Life was easier then. No boundaries, no rules, just pure freedom. So when they discovered that they had to grow up, it shattered them. Most of them knew of the jobs available. The limited low salary factory jobs. None of them wanted a career that would get them no where. Maybe that's why they made the decision that would ruin their lives…Not that they knew it would.
"Oh God, he's dead, Jack!"
"He isn't dead, Boots!"
"Snipeshooter's dead!"
They were tough kids. Buffered up by sleeping in alleys, stealing, and abuse. They knew what struggling to live was like. Maybe that was why they made their choice, because they thought they had the endurance. Also, as kids, they'd been exposed to death. It was almost like a routine. One day they'd wake up and find out that someone had died in a riot. Sometimes it was a severe illness. Occasionally, there was a gang issue. But no one had been shot to death. No. Maybe that's why that even though they were exposed, they weren't immune.
"Breathe, David, breathe!"
"I-I-"
"Stop having a fucking panic attack! Breathe!"
"Oh sh-shi-shit…"
They'd been in plenty dangerous situations before. They'd been in rebellions, rallies, riots, and strikes. They'd been beaten, battered, and bruised. But they'd never been in a battle. None of them had ever been in a war.
"They shot Mush!"
"Is he alive!"
"Yeah, but he needs help!"
None of them had been in a war.
Until 1914.
World War I.
Most people considered them to be adults by then. They were all in their 20's and 30's.
But they were still kids. Still young, still scared.
They were still boys.
They weren't men.
They were still newsies.
They weren't soldiers.
"Shhhh…"
"I'm scared shitless, Les!"
"Shut up, they'll hear ya! Ya wanna be killed?"
No. They weren't ready.
They never would be.