Spot arrived not long after Racetrack's words of summoning him. He had come with Sketch and Jade to visit, not knowing the tragedy that had befallen them. "Hey! Anybody gots some room fer Brooklyn?" He asked, peeking around the door. Bright Eyes stood up suddenly at his voice and Spot's merry face sobered as he saw her seriousness and utter helplessness. "Whassa matta Bright?" He asked softly. Racetrack stood up and walked up to Spot, giving him the spit-shake half-heartedly. "We's got trouble Spot." Racetrack said quietly. "Somebody's stole Fairy." Bright Eyes broke out in an anguished cry. Spot's eyes flashed fire as they gazed upon his childhood friends. "Who done it? I'll kill 'em." He whispered harshly.
Bright Eyes shook her head. "We don't know who did it Spot, dats da trouble. One minute she was here, da next she wasn't." Spot looked at her, then glanced behind him at his children. "Kids, you stay here wit' Grabs fer a minute. I gots ta tawk ta Race an' Bright." He said, taking the arms of the Higgins and taking them just outside the door. Sketch watched them go, then turned to Grabs. "I'll kill whoeva took Fairy! An' if dey hoit her, I'll make sure its as slow an' painful as kin be!" He said angrily, his eyes flashing. Grabs nodded and ducked his head. "Whassa matta? You wouldn't fight fer yer own sista? What kinda skunk are ya?" Sketch almost bellowed. "I ain't a skunk Conlon. Da guys who killed Archer have Fairy." He blurted out.
Sketch stared at him in amazed astonishment. "How do ya know dat?" He asked. "I jest do. Look at dis note. It hasta be dem. Dey want me, dats all." Grabs said, showing the slip of paper to the twins. They both looked at it then handed it back to Grabs. "So are ya gonna meet 'em?" Jade asked. Grabs dropped his head. "I dunno. I hafta, but I don't wanna. Ya know?" The twins nodded and looked at each other. "We hafta make a plan Higgins. We cain't jest let ya go in dere alone." Sketch insisted. "I hafta do it alone. It's all my fault." Grabs said misreably. "Now see here Higgins! We ain't gonna let ya do dat. Not when we've got a good chance of bustin' da rats who done dis. Now da three of us an' da rest of our friends is gonna team tegedda ta make a plan ta stop dese guys! Ya undastand?" Sketch said angrily. Grabs looked at him, then smiled. "Okay Conlon. Okay. We'll do it. Tell me yer ideas." The twins and Grabs sat down on the wall and began to whisper quietly, in case their parents should hear them.
Outside, Spot stood in the dark night with Racetrack and Bright Eyes. "Sure ya kin have Brooklyn. I don't care. I wanna find Fairy as much as you, but maybe we should ease off a little." Spot said casually. "Ease off! What da heck do ya mean? We's gots ta find my baby now!" Bright Eyes broke in. "Now cool it Bright. Dis ain't gonna help Fairy none. Now we don't wanna rush inta it because it'll be bad fer her. We might stumble on da kidnappas accidentally an' make 'em kill her. I don't wanna do dat." Bright Eyes shuddered and pressed herself against a still and silent Racetrack. "So whadday tink we should do Spot?" Racetrack asked quietly. "I dunno Higgins. It's rough. I mean, we don't even have any leads as ta who it is. But I mean, do ya tink dat it could be connected wit' Cowboy, den dat kid from Queens?" Spot asked, his brow furrowed.
"What if it does? Who is it dat has sometin' against us?" Bright Eyes asked. Spot shook his head. "I dunno. God, I wish dat Cowboy would snap outta it an' wake up. Da doctas don't know what dey're gonna do. Apparently, dere was two shots fired. One hit 'im in da shoulda, da udda skimmed his head. Cowboy didn't even know he'd been hit." Spot said, lighting a cigarette. "So, we hafta figure it out da hard way." Racetrack said. "Yup. Dat ain't da best way I know. But it's da only way till Jack snaps outta it." Spot said while he nodded. "Well, if dats da only way, ya kin count on Manhattan's help Spot." Bright Eyes said firmly. "I knew I could. We'll keep an eye an' ear open. But don't do anytin' widout consultin' me foist. We wanna keep Fairy alive rememba." Spot said firmly. Bright Eyes and Racetrack nodded. "But what if she ain't when we find her?" Racetrack asked quietly. "Den we look fer a guy ta kill instead of hoit." Spot said solemnly.
************************************************************************
Jack tossed and turned in his dreams, shapes and colors flying before his eyes. Times too it seemed. He relieved his painful childhood over and over again, then the strike, then his life up till now. Then it would start all over again. It was like it had been recorded and the player was broken. He tried to break through the fuzzy barrier that held him in this place, but he couldn't. He was too weak. But he did see people clearly. He tried to yell to them, tried to get their attention, but it was no use. They couldn't hear or see him. He pleaded with Spot to save him, begged Racetrack to turn away from the racehorses and pull him out of this hell-hole of pain, but all in vain. He saw little Cowboy's anguished face and the hard face of a killer, Oscar Delancy.
He knew that if he died Oscar would be responsible, but if only he could break out of his prison and tell the world. But it seemed impossible. All escape routes were blocked out from him and he was trapped. He finally stopped struggling and instead focused on saving his energy so that when the time came, he could break free.
When I git outta here, I'm gonna tell Race dat it was Osca. Den da bulls kin take care of him an' everytin' ll be alright. I want outta here! Somebody lemme out!
His brain cried out over an over as the story of his life started over and began to replay, regardless of his anguish.
************************************************************************
The next day Grabs was almost not let out on the street to sell his papers. It was only on the insistance of his father that he was allowed. He had let him go, but had placed his hand on Grabs shoulder. "You kin tell me anytin' Grabs. Ya know dat?" He had said softly. Grabs had nodded and had taken off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't buy very many papers, only twenty to the surprise of Fish, who had temporarily taken over the distribution office for Racetrack. He had half-heartedly called out the headlines and had sold the papers. He was so down-hearted and downright scared. He had refused help from all his friends and insisted on going to the Bronx alone. He didn't want them to get hurt and he told them all off. The Conlon twins had stared at him in disbelief but had followed their father out the door when he called them, surprise still evident in their eyes.
At twelve o'clock, Grabs swallowed hard and began to walk slowly to the Bronx. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there. He didn't have a weapon, save for his slingshot, but even that he wasn't very good at using and wouldn't be much protection. He felt misreable. He had kissed and hugged his siblings and parents extra close that morning, knowing in his heart that he would most likely never see them again. He had tried to help them for as long as he could and now he would give up his life for his sister's. He finally reached the Bronx and stood uneasily at the border. A sight in the shadows caught his eye, a single finger waved him into the alley. Grabs took a deep breath and began to follow, but when he reached the dark alley there was no one there.
He walked tentatively down the dirty alley. It was dark, colored only by a few splashes of insistant sunshine shining through the cracks. He stopped near the end, unsure of himself. Then his heart jumped to his mouth as the finger again stretched around the edge of the alley and beckoned him. He groaned silently and ran around the edge, hoping to catch the person. But he was gone. Whoever it was didn't want him to see him. So he walked down the alley. When he reached the end, the beckoning finger did not come around the corner. He walked tentatively ahead then stopped, peeking around the corner. He gasped as a cold hand slithered around his neck and an equally cold hand placed itself upon his parted lips. "Don't make a sound or the Mouse will send you to the cats." The young frosty voice whispered. Grabs didn't make a sound, but a breath of air came through his parted lips as he sank into the person's arms into a dead faint.
Bright Eyes shook her head. "We don't know who did it Spot, dats da trouble. One minute she was here, da next she wasn't." Spot looked at her, then glanced behind him at his children. "Kids, you stay here wit' Grabs fer a minute. I gots ta tawk ta Race an' Bright." He said, taking the arms of the Higgins and taking them just outside the door. Sketch watched them go, then turned to Grabs. "I'll kill whoeva took Fairy! An' if dey hoit her, I'll make sure its as slow an' painful as kin be!" He said angrily, his eyes flashing. Grabs nodded and ducked his head. "Whassa matta? You wouldn't fight fer yer own sista? What kinda skunk are ya?" Sketch almost bellowed. "I ain't a skunk Conlon. Da guys who killed Archer have Fairy." He blurted out.
Sketch stared at him in amazed astonishment. "How do ya know dat?" He asked. "I jest do. Look at dis note. It hasta be dem. Dey want me, dats all." Grabs said, showing the slip of paper to the twins. They both looked at it then handed it back to Grabs. "So are ya gonna meet 'em?" Jade asked. Grabs dropped his head. "I dunno. I hafta, but I don't wanna. Ya know?" The twins nodded and looked at each other. "We hafta make a plan Higgins. We cain't jest let ya go in dere alone." Sketch insisted. "I hafta do it alone. It's all my fault." Grabs said misreably. "Now see here Higgins! We ain't gonna let ya do dat. Not when we've got a good chance of bustin' da rats who done dis. Now da three of us an' da rest of our friends is gonna team tegedda ta make a plan ta stop dese guys! Ya undastand?" Sketch said angrily. Grabs looked at him, then smiled. "Okay Conlon. Okay. We'll do it. Tell me yer ideas." The twins and Grabs sat down on the wall and began to whisper quietly, in case their parents should hear them.
Outside, Spot stood in the dark night with Racetrack and Bright Eyes. "Sure ya kin have Brooklyn. I don't care. I wanna find Fairy as much as you, but maybe we should ease off a little." Spot said casually. "Ease off! What da heck do ya mean? We's gots ta find my baby now!" Bright Eyes broke in. "Now cool it Bright. Dis ain't gonna help Fairy none. Now we don't wanna rush inta it because it'll be bad fer her. We might stumble on da kidnappas accidentally an' make 'em kill her. I don't wanna do dat." Bright Eyes shuddered and pressed herself against a still and silent Racetrack. "So whadday tink we should do Spot?" Racetrack asked quietly. "I dunno Higgins. It's rough. I mean, we don't even have any leads as ta who it is. But I mean, do ya tink dat it could be connected wit' Cowboy, den dat kid from Queens?" Spot asked, his brow furrowed.
"What if it does? Who is it dat has sometin' against us?" Bright Eyes asked. Spot shook his head. "I dunno. God, I wish dat Cowboy would snap outta it an' wake up. Da doctas don't know what dey're gonna do. Apparently, dere was two shots fired. One hit 'im in da shoulda, da udda skimmed his head. Cowboy didn't even know he'd been hit." Spot said, lighting a cigarette. "So, we hafta figure it out da hard way." Racetrack said. "Yup. Dat ain't da best way I know. But it's da only way till Jack snaps outta it." Spot said while he nodded. "Well, if dats da only way, ya kin count on Manhattan's help Spot." Bright Eyes said firmly. "I knew I could. We'll keep an eye an' ear open. But don't do anytin' widout consultin' me foist. We wanna keep Fairy alive rememba." Spot said firmly. Bright Eyes and Racetrack nodded. "But what if she ain't when we find her?" Racetrack asked quietly. "Den we look fer a guy ta kill instead of hoit." Spot said solemnly.
************************************************************************
Jack tossed and turned in his dreams, shapes and colors flying before his eyes. Times too it seemed. He relieved his painful childhood over and over again, then the strike, then his life up till now. Then it would start all over again. It was like it had been recorded and the player was broken. He tried to break through the fuzzy barrier that held him in this place, but he couldn't. He was too weak. But he did see people clearly. He tried to yell to them, tried to get their attention, but it was no use. They couldn't hear or see him. He pleaded with Spot to save him, begged Racetrack to turn away from the racehorses and pull him out of this hell-hole of pain, but all in vain. He saw little Cowboy's anguished face and the hard face of a killer, Oscar Delancy.
He knew that if he died Oscar would be responsible, but if only he could break out of his prison and tell the world. But it seemed impossible. All escape routes were blocked out from him and he was trapped. He finally stopped struggling and instead focused on saving his energy so that when the time came, he could break free.
When I git outta here, I'm gonna tell Race dat it was Osca. Den da bulls kin take care of him an' everytin' ll be alright. I want outta here! Somebody lemme out!
His brain cried out over an over as the story of his life started over and began to replay, regardless of his anguish.
************************************************************************
The next day Grabs was almost not let out on the street to sell his papers. It was only on the insistance of his father that he was allowed. He had let him go, but had placed his hand on Grabs shoulder. "You kin tell me anytin' Grabs. Ya know dat?" He had said softly. Grabs had nodded and had taken off, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't buy very many papers, only twenty to the surprise of Fish, who had temporarily taken over the distribution office for Racetrack. He had half-heartedly called out the headlines and had sold the papers. He was so down-hearted and downright scared. He had refused help from all his friends and insisted on going to the Bronx alone. He didn't want them to get hurt and he told them all off. The Conlon twins had stared at him in disbelief but had followed their father out the door when he called them, surprise still evident in their eyes.
At twelve o'clock, Grabs swallowed hard and began to walk slowly to the Bronx. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there. He didn't have a weapon, save for his slingshot, but even that he wasn't very good at using and wouldn't be much protection. He felt misreable. He had kissed and hugged his siblings and parents extra close that morning, knowing in his heart that he would most likely never see them again. He had tried to help them for as long as he could and now he would give up his life for his sister's. He finally reached the Bronx and stood uneasily at the border. A sight in the shadows caught his eye, a single finger waved him into the alley. Grabs took a deep breath and began to follow, but when he reached the dark alley there was no one there.
He walked tentatively down the dirty alley. It was dark, colored only by a few splashes of insistant sunshine shining through the cracks. He stopped near the end, unsure of himself. Then his heart jumped to his mouth as the finger again stretched around the edge of the alley and beckoned him. He groaned silently and ran around the edge, hoping to catch the person. But he was gone. Whoever it was didn't want him to see him. So he walked down the alley. When he reached the end, the beckoning finger did not come around the corner. He walked tentatively ahead then stopped, peeking around the corner. He gasped as a cold hand slithered around his neck and an equally cold hand placed itself upon his parted lips. "Don't make a sound or the Mouse will send you to the cats." The young frosty voice whispered. Grabs didn't make a sound, but a breath of air came through his parted lips as he sank into the person's arms into a dead faint.