Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Love youuu 💗
𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚
Chapter Text
MANHATTAN - JULY 1899
David hated this plan. It was a stupid plan. So incredibly improbable of success. But he went along with it because he'd never seen Sarah so insistent upon anything. And Jack swore no matter what happened, David would not be the one in trouble if they got caught.
While Sarah distracted the head matron of the orphanage – Mrs. Bellows – in her office with questions about adoption, Jack was to sneak through the second-floor window just off the fire escape and into Henry's dormitory.
They set the plan in the evening for the cover of darkness. David was to wait below in the driver's seat of a newspaper delivery wagon, pretending like he was supposed to be there.
Jack had to wake Henry up, immediately hushing the boy when he started to whimper and squirm away. When he saw it was Jack, his eyes lit up in curiosity. He started to ask Jack a million questions, but the newsie gently clasped a hand to his mouth, desperate not to wake up the other children.
Hastily, Jack explained he was taking Henry to see his real father, and that he had a new place for him to stay. Henry had apprehensively followed Jack to the window where he was helped onto the fire escape and quickly led down the stairs.
He looked anxiously from Jack to David, who frantically whispered from the driver's seat that at least two people had seen him. Jack picked up Henry and placed him in the back of the wagon next to a stack of newspapers.
"Um, one time, um…I saw a kitty cat when I looked out the window," Henry was saying casually to Jack as the older boy climbed into the passenger seat. "And it was orange. And it was sleeping on a big paper like this," he said, pointing to the newspaper.
"That's nice," Jack said absently, straining his eyes in the darkness for Sarah. She was supposed to only distract the matron for fifteen minutes. And it turned out getting Henry out of there had been easier than Jack thought. There really were no security measures whatsoever.
"A caterpillar!" Henry shrieked, picking up a tiny, green caterpillar from the other side of the wagon. He let it inch around on his finger, petting it gently, his mouth agape. "Aww," he cooed. "It's so cute!"
Jack scrunched his eyebrows, shaking his head. It was funny to hear a small child doing a baby voice for another small creature.
When Sarah finally appeared, she looked annoyed. But all that disappeared when she noticed Henry in the back. She climbed in beside the little boy, who proudly presented her with the green caterpillar, which she pretended to be fascinated by.
David gave the horses the signal and the wagon took off down the dark road at a steady pace.
Kloppman was in for a surprise guest.
Cards, Lion, and Shakespeare sat across from Jack, quietly sipping their pints of whiskey. They were at a corner table at Tibby's. It was late on Monday afternoon, the day before the city-wide strike was set to occur.
The second Jack read Denton's article about the conditions in the Refuge, condemning Snyder, and rekindling the McGurk and Krause case, he knew he could no longer face this alone. He was so afraid for Tide and Grim, even if he was still proud of them for doing what they did. It was honorable in its depravity. They had faced evil and destroyed it. Though Whalen's death had done nothing to alleviate Jack's pain, he was still glad he was dead. He was even happier Tide and Grim had been the ones to do it. But it was frustrating that Whalen would never be able to apologize or taken accountability for the things he'd done.
Police had eyewitnesses willing to testify – all of them guards. None of the inmates who were there could be trusted.
Grim and Tide had been held without bail ever since.
With the help of Denton's wealth – which he didn't like to use unless he absolutely had to – a new lawyer had been hired to represent both young men. He was well known for his ability to win, though there was little chance of that given where the public's sympathies lay with. Both Tide and Grim pleaded not guilty and admitted to nothing, not even to their new lawyer.
"Have you gone to visit them yet?" Cards asked, pounding back the last of his drink. It was the first time any of them had talked about what happened since they'd sat down.
"A week ago," Jack said, inspecting his beer. "For a little while. Snyder made me go."
"What did they say?" Lion asked.
"This and that," Jack said. "Not much. Not with Snyder standing nearby, anyway."
"What about Whalen?" Shakespeare asked. "They mention him?"
"No," Jack said. "Grim isn't all there, and Tide…well, he's talking a lot about nothing."
"How do they look?" Shakespeare asked.
"Pretty calm," Jack replied. "Especially for two guys facing the gallows."
"I hear they hired Clarence Darrow to defend them," Lion said sarcastically. "That true?"
"Some lawyer," Jack said. "I don't know his name. Stanfield? Denton got him."
"The papers covering it?" Shakespeare asked, lifting his whiskey glass.
"I wouldn't know."
"Any of your newsie pals know your history with Tide and Grim?" Cards asked.
"No. I never said we were friends. Just that they were inmates when I was there," Jack said.
"You actually going to drink that?" Lion asked, nodding to Jack's still full glass. "Looks like a waste."
"Promised Kloppman I'd stop with the laudanum," Jack replied, his hand shaking as he moved the glass toward Lion. "Alcohol sorta makes me want it more."
"You should've gotten sarsaparilla," Shakespeare said.
"I hate that stuff," Jack grimaced.
"Yeah, me too," Cards nodded, watching Lion down the rest of Jack's beer. He threw some coins on the table. "I've got a plan. And it's going to require a lot of cooperation."
"What plan?" Jack asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Tide and Grim ain't gonna walk free," Cards replied, shrugging. "They just ain't. That's the truth of it. So, it's up to us to get them out. And now's the perfect time, with your man Denton's article hitting the streets."
Jack was half an hour late. He'd told Sarah to meet him at the lodging house at half-past four, but he'd lost track of time at Tibby's. He walked out and saw Sarah across the street, leaning against the brick wall of a shop.
"Sorry, I didn't think I'd be this long," Jack said. "I was talking to a few of the fellas."
Sarah eyed Cards, Lion, and Shakespeare as they filed out of Tibby's and headed for midtown. "They're involved," she noted. "Are all the rest, too?"
"Almost."
"Kloppman's probably waiting," Sarah said. "Are you sure it's okay that I go in?"
Jack nodded. "You ain't going up to the bunkroom. That's all that really matters to him."
Kloppman sat in a lounger in his private office just off the front parlor. The office was wall-to-wall shelves full of books. He'd opened one of the windows, allowing for a cool breeze to filter through the stuffiness. He lit a cigarette and took a grave drag, letting the smoke out of his nose. He held a glass of water in his left hand.
Sarah sat opposite him, her ankles crossed, elbow on the armrest of her chair, chin in her palm.
Jack sat on a window seat in the back of the room that looked out to the alleyway, arms folded, his back touching gray drapes.
After some small talk about strike business, the conversation turned more somber.
"I've been superintendent for twenty-five years," Kloppman said tiredly, flicking cigarette ash into his empty glass. "Seen a lot of boys transition into manhood here. And I've also seen too many die or end up walking the prison yards for the rest of their adult lives. I've mourned the loss of each one of them. But Jack, your story has been the worst on me. And that of those you suffered with. I still keep them in my prayers."
Kloppman knew the streets hadn't darkened the hearts of Jack and Alexei and Grim and Tide and all the others. It wasn't about the drugs or alcohol or gangs. The vices of the city couldn't be helped. That stuff might've been inevitable. But Randall's Island's Refuge – that could've been helped.
"You've always been there for me, Kloppman," Jack said. "Saved me. I'd be locked up if it weren't for you."
"But I couldn't save all of you," Kloppman said.
"It ain't too late," Jack said, walking away from the window seat. "You can still save two more. Make things right."
"Will it put any of the boys here in danger?" Kloppman asked.
"No," Jack said. "Just me."
"Are the other Refuge boys in on it?"
"They're behind it," Jack said. "It's going to take some convincing for a couple of 'em, I'd expect."
"You're talking about breaking them out," Kloppman guessed, shaking his head. "And the little one you brought here, Henry? One of those two is his father?"
"Grim," Jack replied.
Kloppman sighed, wiping his eyes in exhaustion. "Now, I don't want you doing anything crazy, Jack. Nothing that gets you or her," he nodded to Sarah, "or the sweet little boy locked up. That would mean serious trouble, and I don't know how much I'll be able to do at that point."
"I'll be helping," Jack said, keeping his voice low. "But I won't be the one executing the escape itself."
"Who is?"
Jack exchanged a look with Sarah. "The least likely of us."
Puzzled but intrigued, Kloppman took a shaggy breath and shifted in his chair. "Pour a few glasses of brandy, Jack. In my cabinet there," he said, nodding to the wooden cabinet. "I'm not quite sure I can be party to this plan without some calming down."
Jack put everything on the table, pushing his fear of vulnerability aside. If Kloppman was going to house some Sing Sing fugitives, he should know the extent of all that had happened. If he refused, Jack knew none of the information he revealed would leave that office.
"This is madness," Kloppman said. "It's a fool's errand."
"It's all we've got," Jack said. "And I've got it all handled. From all sides."
Kloppman stood up and paced about the cluttered office, drumming his fingers together. "You really trust these guys, huh?"
"Yeah," Jack said, looking from Sarah to Kloppman. "They'd do the same for me."
"Are you sure?"
"Kloppman, I need your help now more than ever. And I know you've already done so much, but this is the last of it," Jack pleaded.
"Two murderers…" Kloppman mumbled.
"It was either them or him," Jack replied. "I don't think I would be here if they'd both died instead."
"Why's that, Jack?" Kloppman asked.
Jack sank down in the chair beside Sarah. He stared at the carpet, his half-full glass in his hand, struggling to conjure up repressed memories, craving laudanum as he thought about them.
Real-life monsters under the bed. The things Jack's nightmares were made of.
Jack sat there and poured his soul out for Sarah and Kloppman. It was the first he'd talked about what had really happened in the Refuge to anyone who wasn't there.
He talked for over an hour, his grief and frustration rising, disclosing things to Sarah and Kloppman he swore to himself he'd never tell. Kloppman looked completely gutted, emotionally wrecked as Jack spoke. Sarah seemed like her worst suspicions had been confirmed, but the details made her cry the more Jack revealed.
Jack told them every little damning secret Snyder didn't want released about the Refuge. Things that weren't in Denton's article. Things Denton's sister hadn't known.
He talked about the cruelty, the violence, the negligence. The deals between Snyder for drugs.
He talked about the sexual abuse.
He talked about a dormitory of eighteen scared and wounded boys whose prayers went unanswered night after night as they silently cried themselves to sleep. Jack talked about countless nights spent in solitary confinement, with nothing but darkness and rats, and the smack of a guard's club, and the familiar screams from different cells.
He spilled everything.
And after he stopped, Sarah said, softly, finally composing herself, "Kloppman, if you don't take them in, I know Mama and Papa will."
Kloppman said nothing, his eyes wet. He exhaled slowly and stared at a crack in the floor.
"It's well past my bedtime," he said after a beat. "And Sarah, I'm sure you'll be missed at home by now. Jack, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."
He rose from his seat and placed a steady hand on Jack's shoulder.
"We all need to rest up," Kloppman continued. "Because on the off chance I have to fill out a police report after you've broken your friends out of Ossining, I want to have a clear mind with which to improve the truth."