Hanami --- Chapter 4
Splinter pulled out a single sheet of paper and proceeded to read as his pupils prepared for the incoming sleet storm.
Dearest Splinter,
I find that I must ask that you and your incredible family to help me out of a life-threatening situation. Not directly mine; I'm quite safe. As you are reading this I will be on my way to a country in the southern hemisphere where US extradition laws do not apply. You see, TGRI has declared bankruptcy and all projects are to have been terminated. This includes my life's work, the fruition of nearly 2 decades of research.
In my desperation, I have committed a two-fold crime. The first: I falsified top-secret records: death certificates, so as to smuggle materials from my Laboratory at TGRI into the outside world: namely the specimens from my longest running experiment. The second: it took me close to 18 years to choose to do so. My hesitation has caused extreme suffering on the part of my test subjects, so much so that I am embarrassed beyond measure to drop this into your lap.
Though my cowardice has cost them years, the only thing I can do at this point is to give them their freedom and a push in the right direction. While it may seem that it comes at a high cost, I assure you that it's preferable to their death. I can only send them to where I know a loving family awaits.
Tell Donatello I'm sorry.
J. Perry
"Leonardo! Raphael! Michelangelo! Donatello!" The fear in Splinter's shout gathered the turtles in record time. With their weapons drawn, they surrounded their sensei, scanning for something to attack. "My sons, we must open these crates. Now."
Michelangelo already had one of Raphael's sais in hand. "Alright! It's Christmas! …Jingle bells/ Batman smells/ I hope I got a Porsche…"
Kneeling to open his crate, Raphael looked over to his sensei, "What's the rush? I thought we were getting ready for that storm?"
Splinter sighed deeply and raised his voice over the crates wooden protests. "Carefully my sons, these boxes contain living creatures."
Donatello turned, eyes wide open, crate forgotten with only one corner of the lid raised. "What?! But April said Dr. Perry shipped these on MONDAY. There aren't even any air holes! How can he expect the animals to show up healthy and, hell, even alive after 5 days? Even with heavy sedation, you'd need a pretty sophisticated IV system to prevent dehydration over that much time and –"
"Dudes, this is most un-cool." Mikey already had the lid off his crate.
The brothers and their sensei gathered around the open box. The stench was appalling. The packing straw at the bottom of the crate was sodden with waste. The turtle crouched head between its knees inside the crate. It looked young, its shell and shoulders were narrow, fragile looking, and most alarming of all, still. It was splashed with its own filth, probably from when the deliverymen had forgotten what side was up. Mikey felt his mouth go dry; he had shaken the crate less then a half hour ago hoping to guess its contents.
Who ever had put the child into the box hadn't given them quite enough room to lay down or turn over, but since the box was several inches wider then its occupant on all sides, it left enough room for the body to be jostled side to side as it knelt on the bottom. The widest parts of the shell were abraded and scratched as were the top of its head and the soles of its feet. Some of the older cuts had an unpleasant color from where they had begun to fester.
Splinter took a deep breath and silently cursed humans in general. He then began issuing commands. "Carry the boxes up to the bathroom gently. We will wash them one at a time and see which require medical care and which require burial."
His sons whispered, "Hai."
The boxes were lined up along a wall, the lids off, and their contents revealed. Four battered turtles doubled up in what looked like cheap caskets. Their vertebrae stood out from the backs of their necks, and their coloring had a grayish cast. Splinter paced across the cold tile floor and reached into the boxes, probing the clammy skin around the four turtles' necks.
"They all live." His sons let out the collective breath they had been holding. "However, my children, they are not conscious now, and if we do not act quickly, they may pass straight from their unconsciousness into death. We will proceed with the bathing. Leonardo, Donatello, we will need first aid supplies. Boil some sharp knives and needles, some of these wounds will need to be lanced."
Leonardo and Donatello fled from the room. In tight-lipped silence they gathered the supplies. "Will you listen to that hale. I didn't even notice when it started. Did you and Raph get enough firewood? I mean, tomorrow everything's gonna be too soggy to burn." Donatello knew he was babbling, but anything was better than his brother's silence. Silence would mean he'd have to think – he wasn't ready to do that yet. Leonardo let his brother ramble.