THE DEAD AND THE DYING

August 29, 1995

19 Hours, 12 Minutes

ANNA:

I sat on the fire escape, watching the rescue and recovery crews sift through the wreckage across the street. Thirty-two children were still missing. They had found several children alive in the wreckage, and one dead. Three had died at the hospital, and there was only one more who was likely to pass. It had now been more than twenty-one hours since the bomb had gone off. Time was running out for anyone who might still be alive among the pile of brick and debris. Rescue crews were trying to remain optimistic, but no one really believed they would find anyone else alive.

I leaned my head against the brick wall, and cried silent tears, watching the volunteers work diligently under the bright lights they'd set up. I would help them if they'd let me. But they had asked everyone to stay away from the wreckage. So I could only watch in the glowing light, and mourn as they found teddy bears and body parts. It made me sick to my stomach.

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. "I'm so sorry, Kaylie," I whispered.

Her body was gone. Enough of it had been found to identify her. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I considered that I may have been the one to look over her cold, lifeless face if the Mrs. Collins hadn't done it first. She'd been identified, and now she'd be buried. Many of those children would never be found. And who would mourn for them? They had no mothers or fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles. They had no one. Anger sparked in me. No one would ever miss them. Except for me.

"Who's Kaylie?"

I jumped and spun around, not entirely sure where the voice had come from. The flashlight rolled off the edge of the platform and shattered on the ground. "Who's there?" I demanded. "What do you want?"

"Over here."

My eyes darted to the speaker. He was sitting on the ledge of the wall that separated the two alley ways with his back against the wall. I recognized his figure almost immediately. "You!"

"Yes," he sighed. "You're not going to go running into the street screaming, are you?"

I considered that. "No," I finally answered. "I don't scare that easily."

"Good," he mumbled. He looked back to the working crews in the street, and said nothing.

He was quiet for a long time, watching the recovery efforts. Every so often, he raised a bottle of what looked like water to his lips. I watched him, not sure what to say, and looked back at the pile of rubble. He sighed deeply as he leaned his head back. It was as if I had suddenly disappeared.

"Why are you spying on me?" I finally asked.

"I'm not," he answered quietly. "I'm watching them." He pointed toward the recovery crews crawling over the mountain of bricks and god-knows-what-else.

"How long have you been there?"

"A few hours," he answered, as if it were no big deal to him.

Somehow, I was only slightly surprised. "So you've been there the entire time? Watching me?"

"Like I said, I wasn't watching you, Miss Anna."

The name brought a painful smile to my face. "You know my name," I observed. "I don't know yours."

He was quiet for a moment. His silence made me nervous. Had I said something wrong? "Do you have a name?" I asked, sincerely.

"Leonardo," he answered quietly.

The shadow of his head dropped and he stared down at the ground. My eyes had adjusted slightly, and I could see his feet and arm bandaged. "You can call me Anna," I whispered. "I figure we're on a first name basis, since you saved my life and all."

He didn't answer. He took another drink and looked out into the street. I followed his gaze, and listened to the sounds of the recovery effort. We said nothing for a long time. "You never answered my question," he reminded me, startling me for the second time.

"What question?" I asked, glancing back at him.

"Who's Kaylie?"

I swallowed hard. "A little girl," I whispered. "She... her body was found earlier."

There was a long pause. "I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the brick wall opposite Leonardo. "It isn't your fault."

"Was she orphaned? Or here as a foster child?"

"She had no one," I sighed. "Her mother was murdered right in front of her. Guess I kinda related to her on a strange sort of psychic scale. I don't remember how my mother died, but I've had dreams and... I don't know. I just felt for her." He didn't speak. "I wish I could remember her more clearly, you know? But I don't really remember much of anything before the orphanage, and I was already four by then. But I remember she used to bring me a white rose from the bush next to our house whenever I had a really bad day." I paused as tears filled my eyes. "I didn't have very many bad days back then but... this sure qualifies. I don't think I've ever missed her as much as I do right now." I wiped my cheeks roughlywith the back of my hand. "Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?"

There was another long silence. I doubted he was listening. It didn't matter to me. I wasn't really talking to him anyway. I was thinking out loud, more than anything. He turned and lay on his stomach on the ten foot high ledge, his head turned toward the street, looking past me. He seemed distant. I watched him for a moment. "Are you okay?" I finally asked. "I mean... are you hurt bad? Or any of your brothers? They are your brothers, right?"

"Not technically," he mumbled. "But close enough."

"Are they okay?"

He sighed deeply. "Michaelangelo's got a bad burn on his arm and Don's got a fracture," he whispered. "Other than that, it's just cuts and bruises. To say nothing of all the..."

He stopped. I looked toward him. "Of what?" I questioned.

He hesitated, then sighed. "Of knowing that thirty-some children died in there and there was nothing we could do about it."

"Thirty-eight," I whispered, closing my eyes as I considered the stories of each and every one of those lives. "Maybe. Assuming they don't find any more alive, and the one who's critical and bleeding internally..."

He sighed, and paused for a moment before continuing. "And I still don't understand who he was after or why," Leonardo mumbled, more to himself that to me.

I sat up, noting his words. "Who was after?" I demanded. "You know who did this?"

He didn't answer for a few seconds. "I know who was ultimately responsible, yes."

"Who?" I cried. "Who would do such a thing!" I didn't give him a chance to answer if he'd wanted to. "Have you told the police?"

"If the police could stop this man, they would've done it long ago," he sighed. "This isn't exactly the first time he's taken innocent lives. It's just the first time he's done it so... massively."

He finished the sentence with a growl of frustration where no words would fit. I watched him silently for a moment. "You sound like you know him well," I observed.

"That man is the bane of my existence," he answered coldly. I wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, so I said nothing. "And if Shredder didn't get whatever the hell it was he wanted, he'll be back."

He sat up, as if he were preparing to go. "Wait!" I called. He paused and turned to me. For a moment, I was speechless. "I want to thank you," I finally managed, willing to say anything to keep him from leaving. It was true, but it came out rushed. "Thank you for saving my life."

He said nothing, and dropped soundlessly to the ground on the other side of the wall. Just like that, he was gone.

MICHAELANGELO:

The knock on the door seemed distant. I stared at it for a minute. "Whadda you want?" I called.

The handle turned and the door cracked open. Leo poked his head in. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Fine," I answered coldly.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then come with me."

I stared at him for a minute, confused. "Why?"

"Just come on," he pleaded. "I want you to see something."

I stood reluctantly and walked to the door. He backed into the living room. "Where we goin'?" I asked. I didn't really care. Anywhere was better than here.

"You up to walking?" he asked. "Or should we take the...?"

He stopped as he remembered that the van had been crushed in the explosion. I sighed. "I can walk, Leo. I'm hurt but I'm not dead."

I followed him out of the lair and through the sewer tunnels in silence. We broke the surface in an alley, and I looked around. I wasn't entirely sure where we were, but I knew there was nothing here. "What're we doin' Leo?" I asked.

"Wait here a minute," he mumbled. "I gotta get something."

ANNA:

The firefighters couldn't possibly have known the effect that one stray kitten found alive and well at the wreckage would have on a room full of hurt, homeless children. But I saw it clearly enough.

"What should we call him?"

"We should name him after the Turtles."

"Yeah, they saved us."

"But we don't know any of their names."

Christina turned to me. "Miss Anna, do you know their names?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but didn't have a chance. "No, silly, no one knows their names," Angela answered.

"I know," I quiet voice choked. All eyes turned to the little girl on the bed who was stroking the kitten.

"How?"

"I know," she repeated. "He telled me."

"What is it?" Kristie asked eagerly.

The little girl smiled. I studied her carefully, wondering if she really did know. "He say his name Mike."

"Michaelangelo's got a bad burn on his arm..."

The girls laughed, disbelieving. "I thought they would have funny names," Christina giggled.

"Well, maybe 'Mike' is just a nickname," I suggested.

"What his real name, Miss Anna?" LeAnne asked.

"Maybe... Michaelangelo?" I suggested.

"I like that!"

"Me too!"

"Let's name him Michaelangelo!"

"Yeah!"

I smiled. Suddenly, something brushed my ankle. I looked down, and saw a small, white rose resting near my foot. Confused memories flooded instantly. "She used to bring me a white rose whenever I had a really bad day..." I stared at the flower for a moment, then looked around for where it might have come from. The obvious answer was the open window. I stared at it, but nothing moved. The girls continued to giggle and talk as I picked up the rose and walked around the curtain that separated them from the other half of the room, which was dark and vacant. I could still hear the children clearly as I approached the window and stuck my head outside. I saw nothing.

A hand on my shoulder caused me to nearly jump out of my skin. I resisted the urge to scream as I spun around and found myself face-to-face with the figure I assumed was Leonardo. He held his finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispered. He paused and we stared at each other for a minute. "Close the door."

Behind him, I saw a nearly identical figure sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me closely. Where had they come from? They weren't there when I'd walked across the room! I backed away slowly, still clutching the rose. He'd taken the thorns off, just like my mother used to do. How did he know that? "I didn't have very many bad days back then but... this sure qualifies."

I looked back at him one last time, then walked back to the other side of the room and closed the door. "Miss Anna?" Louise asked. "Is something wrong?"

I held my fnger to my lips. "Shh..."

I wasn't heard by half the crowd of sixteen girls. "Quiet!" Amy ordered. "Miss Anna wants to talk."

They all stopped and turned to me. "I want you all to be very, very quiet," I whispered. "There's someone here to see you."

They gasped and giggled and looked at each other. "Really? Who?"

LEONARDO:

Mike stared down at the floor as Anna gave instructions. "Leo, I don't wanna do this," he mumbled, looking up at me.

"You need to, Mikey," I answered him quietly. "There's someone here who really wants to meet you."

"I'm just not in the mood for public appearances right now."

I said nothing, and he stood up. I gripped his arm, well above the burn. "Don't leave, Mike," I ordered. "You stay for thirty seconds. Then if you don't wanna stay, you can go."

A mild uproar came from the other side of the curtain. I measured the distance between it and the window and determined that it would take about two and a half seconds to get back outside. "Shh!"

They all hushed each other. I tuned into the conversation. "Are they really here, Miss Anna?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "But you've gotta be really really quiet. They don't like loud noises. No talking above a whisper."

It got deathly silent. I squeezed Michaelangelo's arm and let him go as I walked to the curtain. He looked at me, then at the window, and followed me. I pulled the curtain aside slowly and there was a collective gasp as Anna and I both reminded the girls to stay quiet, our fingers to our lips. More than a dozen sets of wide eyes stared back at us. I glanced at my brother, and saw his stare locked with one child in particular: the little girl on the bed.

She stared back. "Orange," she pointed at his bandana. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible. "You Mike?"

Tears filled Michaelangelo's eyes, and a smile crept across his lips as he nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "I'm Mike."

"Michaelangelo?" another girl questioned in a hushed tone.

He nodded again, dumbstruck. One of the older girls, though she was no more than ten, walked over to the orange tabby kitten at the foot of the bed, and picked it up. "We named our kitty after you."

Mike laughed, and tears began streaming from his eyes.