Race stood outside the lodging house, on the verge of a breakdown. On the other side of this door, Crutchie was sitting on a bed healing from his injuries at the Refuge. Injuries he wouldn't have if they hadn't left him behind. Davey had tried to tell him that it would be fine, but Race wasn't in the habit of listening to him. He tried to work up the courage to open the door, but everytime he reached out, something made him retract his hand. Instead, he opted for standing in the cold with tears spilling out of his eyes. He tried one last time, but he stopped himself only inches from the door handle.
Then the door swung open and there was Crutchie, looking a bit thin and leaning heavily on his crutch but otherwise appeared to be okay. The two boys just stared at each other before Crutchie dropped his crutch to the floor and dashed forwards. He wrapped his small arms around Race.
"Race!" he shouted. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, buddy. Ya doin' okay?" Race asked, and Crutchie nodded quickly.
"Snyder didn't touch me after Jack came. He tried once, but Jack stopped him."
"H-how is Jack?" Race asked, hesitantly.
"You saw him before. He didn't get better. He wouldn't wake up one day and Snyder tried to take me. Jack finally woke up and he stopped Snyder. But Snyder whipped him and kept yellin' at him. He said that I was the only reason that Jack was there. He asked why Jack was protecting me and Jack said it was 'cause I is a crip." He paused then and there were tears in his eyes. Race picked his crutch back up and led him over to a bed. Once they were sitting, he continued.
"Snyder bro- he broke Jack's leg. It… It looked really bad." Crutchie was sobbing by the time he was done and Race's hand curled into a fist. They had to get Jack out now. "You promised that you would get both of us out! How could you leave Jack behind?" Crutchie started screaming all of a sudden and beating his fist into Race's chest. Race caught his fist and held it until the younger boy stopped struggling.
"Why don't you rest a little?" He said to Crutchie as calmly as possible. He moved off the bed so the other boy could lay down. He walked over to where Spot was leaning up against a wall.
"I assume you heard most a' that?" Race asked, and Spot nodded. He tried to remain nonchalaunt, but Race could see where his fist was wrapped too tightly around his suspender and his teeth were clenched. "We hafta get him out," Race continued, expecting reluctance from the Brooklyn king.
"Jackie is gonna owe me forever afta' this," Spot said.
He didn't mean to, but Race couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Thanks, Spot. I'll make it up to you. Tomorrow we'll make a plan."
"I'll see you in the mornin'," Spot said, and stuck his hands in his pockets as he march towards the door.
"It's late, Spot," Race said. "Stay here tonight." The other boy didn't hear him though and continued out of the room, the door slamming the door behind him.
"R-Race," he heard behind him. Race turned around and Crutchie was sitting up.
"Hey, Crutchie. What are ya doin' up?"
He shrugged and Race went to sit by him. "We'se gonna get Jack out. Soon. He's gonna be okay." Race words sounded hollow even to him.
In the morning, Spot was waiting outside. "Come on, Spot. Let's get inside," Race said and led Spot out of the cool, morning wind. It was several hours of planning and fighting before they came up with an idea. Calling it a plan was giving it too much credit.
"Are we doin' this now?" Elmer asked.
"No," Spot replied, "we'se gotta wait 'til night." It took too long for night to arrive. But finally the sun went down, and Spot, Race, and Specs proceed into the lit streets. As they got closer to the Refuge, there were less and less lights. The Refuge was bathed in black and the air seemed to get progressively colder.
The rescue was going to be a process. It would take two days at least. Tonight they would find Jack. The trio would split up and go from window to window. Race listened for a whistle that signalled one of them had found their leader. But the whistle never came and, hours later, Race rejoined Spot and Specs.
"Find anything?" he asked, fearing the answer. Both Spot and Specs hesitantly shook their heads. Race groaned. The next day wasn't any better. Once, Race talked with the boy who had been with Crutchie the day he visited, but the boy said he hadn't seen Jack since Crutchie left.
They couldn't find him, but there were several rooms on the inside that had no windows. They had to get inside the Refuge now and that meant getting Snyder out. In the middle of the night, Elmer and Romeo would sit outside, singing, until Snyder came out. The first day it worked, but Snyder returned before they found Jack. The next two days, Snyder didn't even leave the door way.
Finally, though, just when Race was giving up hope, Snyder left, chasing Elmer and Romeo through the streets yelling obscenities. Spot grabbed a small, metal pipe before venturing inside.
"Ya never know what'll happen," he justified himself. Race nodded, a faint smile evident on his face as the trio stealthily ran through the halls. They checked every room until the stopped outside the last door in the hallway. Race knew enough to know this was the basement. The door was locked, but he stepped aside and let Spot at it. In half a minute, the door was open and Race started cautiously down the stairs. He faintly heard the Spot tell Specs to wait at the top, but he didn't pay attention.
A body was lying just at the end of the stairs. Race's breathing quickened and Spot's hand suddenly appearing on his shoulder was the only thing stopping him from hyperventilating. It was Jack.
He looked even worse than Crutchie had described. Blood, dirt, and bruises covered his skin. His leg was crooked and his foot stuck out in the wrong direction. His shirt was missing— No, not missing. It was wrapped around his torso, soaked with blood, a pathetic excuse for a bandage.
"Snyder's coming back!" Specs whispered from the top of the stairs. Spot grabbed Race and pulled him away from Jack. Race slapped his hand away.
"I ain't leavin' Jack," he said.
"We hafta get out now!" Specs yelled. Spot tried again to grab Race.
"Race, ya ain't gonna be any help to him if you'se stuck in here too," he said, trying to appeal to his rational side. But Race wasn't listening. He shoved Spot away. Spot looked at him with death in his eyes. He pressed his weapon into the younger boy's hand and he ran up the stairs. The door slowly closed and Race watched as the last bit of light left the room. The two boys, one spry and heathy and the other knocking on death's door, were left alone in the dark.
"I don't care, Spot," Race whispered into the blackness. "I ain't leavin' Jack behind." Then the door opened again and Race almost yelled at Spot. But the footfalls were too heavy to be Spot's or any of the newsies. Race dashed underneath the stairs where the light didn't reach. Just in time too because Snyder reached the bottom of the stairs. He started kicking Jack in the side until Jack groaned and his eyes fluttered open.
"Oh, Spider" he said, his voice weak but defiant, "you'se back." Race smiled. Leave it to Jack to be half-dead and still trying to piss off everyone. Snyder laughed and it echoed throughout the small room. He reached down and stuck his hand into the wound on Jack's leg. Jack's agonizing scream pierced Race's ears and he was seconds from screaming himself.
"Find somethin' new, Snyder," Jack gasped, and Race could hear the pain seeping into his voice. "You must be gettin' bored…" his voice trailed off as Snyder removed his hand and blood flowed freely. Then, he reached under Jack's makeshift bandage and pressed against whatever wound he had created underneath. A painful groan was all he received in reaction.
"That's smart," he said, "trying to bandage the wound." Jack cried out as the pressure increased. Race's fist clenched around the pipe. Any inkling of rational thought left him and he rushed towards the madman, desperate to save his brother. He slammed the pipe into the man's head until he fell to the ground, blood pooling from his mouth. The Spider wasn't dead. Race would know if killed somebody, right?
Race stood, frozen in shock, until he remembered Jack. He ripped the keys off of Snyder's belt then reached out for Jack. Jack immediately flinched and started begging. "Please don't hurt me! Please!"
"Jack," Race whispered, comfortingly, "it's just me. It's Race." Jack didn't listen and continued to whimper.
"Stay away from me. Don't touch me. Please."
"Jack, we hafta get outta here now." There was no response, and everytime Race got close, he tried to scramble away. "Sorry, Jack," he whispered and one punch across the leader's face was all it took to knock him out cold. After a couple attempts with different keys, the shackles unlocked and dropped to the ground. The skin underneath was bloody and deep cuts were on either side of his wrists and ankles. Race gently lifted Jack. It hadn't even been three weeks, but he was noticeably lighter. Race was glad the other boy was unconscious because his many cuts were painfully stretched. Race exited the Refuge swiftly, only stopping to unlock the doors. Once they were out, he fell to the ground, thanking God profusely for the lack of guards. He clasped his hands together and it was then when he noticed the blood that covered them. Then he felt a hand on the back of his shirt.
He was ripped off the ground, and a punch across the face sent him staggering backwards. "You fuckin' idiot," Spot growled, his fist clenched. "What if ya had gotten caught?"
"I didn't," Race replied, refusing to dwell on 'what ifs'. "And I got Jack out." It seemed that was the first time Spot had noticed Jack because his eyes widened and he stalked past Race. Jack's injuries were even more prominent in the light and Race knew that the dirt and grime probably hid many wounds. Soon, Specs seemed to appear out of nowhere and gently moved Spot away from Jack and lifted him off the ground. Race could tell from his expression that he knew that it should've taken more effort to lift a 17-year-old.
"Where da' we brin' him?" Specs asked. "We can't deal with this injuries at the lodging house, and Snyder's gonna be lookin' for 'im at the hospital."
"What about Miss Medda? She's likes Jack well enough, and she's helped before," Race offered to the older boy, and Specs nodded before taking off in the direction of her theater. The journey to Medda's was slow going as they often had to stop and try to stem the bleeding a little, and Specs was careful never to go so fast that it might jostle Jack's injuries.
It was only after they arrived that Race considered it was 3:00 in the morning and Medda had absolutely no reason to be in her theater so late at night. However, a minute after he knocked, Miss Medda opened the door.
"Hey, Racetrack, what brings—" Then she paused, noticing Jack's limp form in Specs' arms. She didn't bother to say anything and instead rushed forward and lifted the boy up. Jack groaned as he was shifted, but otherwise didn't react. Race had no doubt she had immediately taken notice of all his obvious injuries, and his thought was confirmed when she carefully laid him on his side on a table. She disappeared behind the stage, and returned moments later with a first-aid kit in hand. Already, Race could see blood stains forming on her sleeves. She carefully untied his shirt from his torso, and started to clean off his back. As soon as the wet cloth touched his back, he cried out, an agonizing scream that made Race turn away.
"Hey, Jack. Shh, let me do this," Medda said, and she continued to talk to him until he relaxed slightly. "It's okay, Jack. Calm down. I've got ya."
"What happened?" she asked, turning to Race.
"Pulitza' put 'im in the Refuge. Crutchie was with him and said Snyder beat Jack, whipped him, and broke his leg. Whatever happened on his chest happened after Crutchie left." Medda nodded then turned back to Jack. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened and she gasped. Race looked up and saw the look of horror on her face. He jumped up and ran over to his brother. With all the blood, it had been hard to tell what had happened to his chest, but now that it was clean, the cuts were beginning to form into obscure shapes. S-N-Y— Race forced himself to stifle a scream.
A/N: Yay! He's finally out. I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter.