Carla's face crumpled. "Sam?"
No answer, and light feet darted across the debris-strewn floor faster than I could hope to match. She knelt to shake his shoulder, then put her hand in front of his mouth. Resigned grief lined her face when she found nothing, but she made no other reaction. The hand squeezed his shoulder in a gentle farewell before she hurried toward the far wall.
"Benny?"
Grief and blame crashed over me. Loss should not be such a normal occurrence. She should not be able to find her friend dead and simply move on. Just how much had they endured in this torture chamber?
"Benny, are you in there?"
Too much. Far too much, and everything ages too late to change, but a child's whimper forced me to stand. I would deal with my guilt later. While I could do nothing more for Sam, Benny may need help. Carla pulled her head out of a low hole when I limped closer, confirming that I stopped several feet away.
"It's alright, Benny. Fernsby's gone."
Rustling sounded in the wall. Carla noted my location once more, then crawled completely inside.
"Benny?" A slight pause. "Benny, what did he do to you?"
Another whimper drifted from the hiding place. "…hit…arm…blood…Sam?"
"He's gone, Benny. He protected you, didn't he?"
"…found us…distracted him…screaming?"
"Police broke in. They made Fernsby go away. We're leavin' this place, goin' to stay with a big group of kids."
Benny's reply dropped to an unintelligible mutter, which quieted Carla's as well. Several seconds passed before I heard them again.
"I told you not every grown-up acts like Fernsby. All the grown-ups out there attacked the clients and made them leave us alone, and he backed up when I jumped between him and Gracie. We're safe."
Silence answered her for a long moment, then something thumped the wall to change a quiet murmur to a yelp of pain.
"Easy, Benny. Let me help."
Rustling grew louder, then Carla's feet emerged. The rest of her gradually followed, one hand supporting a boy of about six. His swelling arm prevented him from reaching the blood on his side, but Benny planted his back against the wall not six inches from the hole, frightened eyes noting Sam's still form before concentrating on me.
"Hello, Benny," I said softly. "Those look painful. Will you let me treat them?"
He made no answer, glancing rapidly between me and the girl already peeling his shirt away from a bleeding cut. I crawled across the floor rather than risk scaring him by standing, and the fleeting looks started including the bag I dragged behind me.
"Benny?"
Slowly reaching for his arm produced only silence, though Carla pointedly stayed on his other side as I inspected the swelling. I fought to hide the anger that grew with every old injury I found beneath the new. However long Benny had been here, this was not his first broken bone. I counted it miraculous that he had not been left with some permanent disfigurement.
"Tha—" I cut myself off, changing my wording to maintain my calm tone. "You broke the ulna. This bone," I added with a light finger on the outside of his forearm. "It's down near the wrist, but I will need to put a splint on it to help it heal."
Wariness immediately colored Carla's question. "What's a splint?"
"This." Still keeping my movements predictable, I retrieved the braces and explained how they worked. "The splint makes sure that you don't reinjure it and that the bone doesn't move while it heals. It is uncomfortable, but some of the pain should go away."
The promise of less pain convinced Benny. He willingly held out his arm, and I needed only a couple of minutes to stabilize the break and bandage the cut on his side.
"Does anything else hurt?"
He shook his head, though one hand firmly gripped Carla's when I shifted positions. His fearful tension eased only when I crawled slightly backwards before standing. Carla should probably take him to the main group while I went to help the Irregulars.
"Carla, will—"
"What—Doctor! Watson! Agar! Somebody!"
Arthur. I lunged for the door, bag in hand, and my own limping run joined three other pairs of feet from different parts of the house, each of us fighting to trace the boy's cry. I barely noticed the two children following me.
"No." Quieter than the call for help, I reached the top of the stairs in time to see Arthur bow his head. "No, I'm too late." Tear-filled eyes looked up at my approaching footsteps. "I probably passed her at least twice, but she was half in the wall."
One of the missing girls lay crumpled in a tunnel entrance, covered only by Arthur's jacket. Multicolored bruises patterned her skin along with a variety of cuts, but the sheer volume of blood congealing on the floor announced what had killed her. We needed to find the other two.
"Mr. Holmes! Is she—"
Other one. Carla and Benny caught up as George's voice came from only a few rooms away, the unfinished question still clearly announcing what he had found. While I fought to keep my composure, Carla merely sighed behind me.
"Both of them, then. I wondered why they didn't answer me earlier."
My eyes involuntarily flicked toward the wall, as if I might see the other knot of loss as easily as I saw our own. "Carla?" That same battle-hardened sorrow she had displayed for Sam met my question. "Do you understand what her attacker did before he killed her?" She nodded once. "How often did that happen?"
One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. "I'm the oldest for a reason, Doctor. Even the boys don't survive the change. They wouldn't risk the possible results." A gesture indicated the girl at our feet. "I warned Olivia to hide tonight. She changed earlier than most, and after Fernsby's cook caught her last week, Dixon probably started hunting her as soon as he got here. I'm pretty sure he was next up."
Next up. Intense effort forced down my building anger. I had no wish to break this fragile trust, but that she saw nothing abnormal with—
"Do you know Dixon's full name?"
No, she answered wordlessly, adding, "Everyone always called him Dixon or Dix. He's shorter than you, thin, but strong. Even Eddy couldn't escape when his time came, and he almost beat Fernsby once." She scanned the shadowed hall. "Has Beth found Ada yet?"
I hoped so, prayed that one of these young ones would be found unhurt.
"Beth would have taken her to the group if so," I replied, "otherwise you and I will join the search." I started to turn away, but Arthur still stared at Olivia, the almost forlorn frown sparking a flicker of worry. A hand on his shoulder directed that sadness at me.
"I'll be alright, Doctor," he answered my silent question. "It's just—"
The sentence ended in a hard swallow, and he broke eye contact to look back at Olivia, fingering the jacket that covered her. I gently squeezed.
"I know. I will send a Yarder back for her. Leave your jacket."
We will get you a new one, that promised, and it will give her some dignity. He gained his feet, the silent nod proving he did not need me to voice the rest. Less about the jacket and more about how he had found her, several of our oldest Irregulars would probably need help processing such a case. I already expected this forsaken mansion to haunt my dreams for a while.
As evidenced by how close to me Arthur stood. "Was Sam with Benny?"
Benny tensed at the question, pressing against Carla as my murmured affirmative deepened the sorrow in Arthur's face. He said nothing else, however, and Carla and Benny trailed slightly behind all the way back to the main living space.
"Benny?"
An older boy lingered at the edge of the Haven's band. Covered in forming bruises and with one of Agar's splints on his ankle, he made a worrying sight, but that did nothing to diminish the escaping smile when he spotted us.
"Sit with me, Benny," he insisted, an eager wave announcing his evident relief. "I've been looking for you."
Benny gave me a wide berth on his way to the offered spot, but Carla paid them no mind, too busy scanning faces.
"There." The word emerged a heavy sigh. One finger indicated Beth sitting beside a dark-haired girl. "That's Ada, and…" The sentence trailed off as murmured names indicated a numberless roll call. "That's everyone," she finally breathed, a single step revealing her desire to join the others. Only another question held her back. "What—" Fear made the word falter. A deep breath steadied her voice to try again. "What happens now?"
Though I could not decipher it immediately, more clearly lay behind that question than the words suggested. I knelt to be on her level. "Now we get all of you away from this house of horrors," I answered quietly, "but that's not what you meant, is it?"
She shook her head. "We had almost four hands yesterday. Now we have just over three. Over three hands of kids with no parents. No parents means orphan, and the big one—Tim?—said we're going to live with a bunch of kids. Are we going to another orphanage?"
"No." The dread she valiantly battled declared which definition she referenced, and only gripping my own jacket hem prevented my hand from landing on her shoulder as it would have any of our other children. "No, you are not going to another orphanage, Carla. Arthur, George, Beth, and every other child you see tonight plus many more live together in a courtyard on the other side of town. That is the place Tim meant. You will be safe there, and we will start searching for your parents."
The beginnings of terror eased to be replaced with hope, along with a fair amount of confusion.
"You would…search?" she repeated. "For our parents?"
"I would, and we will." A thought struck. "Will you help me?"
Her bewilderment only deepened. "How?"
A small gesture indicated the silent huddle. "If no one will talk to us, finding families becomes exponentially harder. Anything you can tell me, from names to history, could provide the necessary clue to finding a mother or father. Being here the longest also means you will remember events the young ones cannot."
She stared at me for a long moment, a frown turning her mouth, then her gaze flicked between the other children and the unnaturally lit manor around us. "Do we have to do it here?"
I indicated a negative. "It can wait until everyone settles. Or tomorrow, if you wish."
That prompted a silent agreement, though another glance at the corner revealed a new thread of logic. The less information we had, the longer they would have to wait to hear word of family members. The hope of seeing her parents again brought a determination I had not expected to see yet. She would probably seek me out as soon as the others settled in the courtyard.
I would be ready—as would Holmes. Mending broken families mattered far more than a few hours of sleep.
Only one more chapter left. Don't forget to drop your thoughts, and thank you to those who have! :)