A/N: Well, thanks to those who are reading my short little story here! I
know the chapters are not very lengthy, but oh well. =P I just have a few
quick SOs for my miniscule amount of reviews. *drops hint; proceeds to pick
it up* I'm sorry, I must have dropped that on my way to the SOs.
Snorts: Thanks for not telling me I suck! =D I heart your support, mate!
Fionn Mar: Thanks for the encouragement! I rather like killing newsies, myself. I'm excited to finish writing the story! =D
III.
Nightfall had come, and Jack and Itey walked the grooved cobblestone streets of Manhattan. Other newsies kept their eyes on the Manhattan borders to ensure safety. Jack strolled up to a fruit stand and began picking through a bushel of apples. "Say, Jack, did Jake evah come back from Brooklyn yet?"
Jack gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "No. We ain't hoid from 'im yet."
"I hope he's awlright."
"Jake'll be fine. He can handle 'isself. He prolly jist ain't back yet."
"I don't t'ink it'd take dat lawng ta walk back from Brooklyn. I hope 'e ain't-"
"Now now, let's not jump ta conclusions. We don' know nuttin' yet."
Jack's head lifted from the fruit stand as footsteps were heard from another section of the street. They grew louder and quickened. Jack put the apple he was holding down and prepared to run away, but he wasn't fast enough. A shot was fired. Two. Three. Four. His breath shortened as he sank to his knees. Five. Itey fumbled to pull out a pistol of his own out to shoot the silhouetted figures but dropped it to the ground. The culprits made their escape and split in two opposite directions. Itey's eyes filled with tears, and he fell to the ground next to Jack. "Jack," he said through short breaths. "Somebody help!"
* * * * *
A knock came at the Jacobs' door. Sarah wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved to the door to answer it. Her face brightened when she saw Race standing in her doorway. "Racetrack! What are you doing here? It's pretty late."
"Yeah, I know. Sarah, is Davey here?"
"Um, yes," Sarah answered, slightly confused at Race's serious and urgent tone of voice.
"Can ya get 'im fer me?"
"Sure," she replied. 'Is. . . everything alright?"
"I'll tell ya when ya get 'im," Race answered simply. At that, Sarah promptly went back into the small apartment and came back with Dave in her company.
"Hey, Race. What do you need?" Dave asked, shaking his hand free of spit.
"I need ta tell ya somethin'," he began. He took a deep breath and spoke again. "Guys, Jack's been hoit." Sarah gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. "He should be awlright. We think we know who it was. Sarah, ya can see 'im in da mornin' if ya want. Dave, we need ta speak ta ya back at da lodgin' house."
* * * * *
"Jack wouldn't 'a wanted Dave ta be dis involved," the voice of reason said. "We can't jist t'row 'im inta dis."
"Maybe it should be up ta him, Specs," Rebecca offered.
"Bec, will ya stay outta dis?" Skittery said coldly. Rebecca looked momentarily hurt but stopped talking nonetheless. Just then, Dave and Race walked in. "Any woid from Jake?"
"No," Race answered and took a seat. He motioned for Dave to do the same. "Jack's gonna be fine. 'E's still alive. Until den, Specs an' me gotta keep dis goin'."
"Yeah, da best fer da job," Blink agreed.
"Wait, wait. What's going on with Jake?" David asked. "I know he went to Brooklyn, but I thought he'd be back."
"We did too," said Race. He approached Rebecca in a chair towards the outside of the room. "Bec, maybe ya should. . . leave da room fer a bit." Rebecca nodded slowly and walked out of the room. Skittery hardly acknowledged her leaving, merely touching her hand as she walked past.
As soon as Rebecca left the room, Snoddy came in with a bundle of newspapers. "What's dis?" Specs asked as the package was placed on Race's lap. As he opened it, a look of disgust crossed his face. In the package was a dead fish with Jake's bowler cap on top of it.
"What da hell?" Race asked. Specs winced a bit.
"A message from Brooklyn. Jake sleeps wit da fishes tanight,"
Snorts: Thanks for not telling me I suck! =D I heart your support, mate!
Fionn Mar: Thanks for the encouragement! I rather like killing newsies, myself. I'm excited to finish writing the story! =D
III.
Nightfall had come, and Jack and Itey walked the grooved cobblestone streets of Manhattan. Other newsies kept their eyes on the Manhattan borders to ensure safety. Jack strolled up to a fruit stand and began picking through a bushel of apples. "Say, Jack, did Jake evah come back from Brooklyn yet?"
Jack gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. "No. We ain't hoid from 'im yet."
"I hope he's awlright."
"Jake'll be fine. He can handle 'isself. He prolly jist ain't back yet."
"I don't t'ink it'd take dat lawng ta walk back from Brooklyn. I hope 'e ain't-"
"Now now, let's not jump ta conclusions. We don' know nuttin' yet."
Jack's head lifted from the fruit stand as footsteps were heard from another section of the street. They grew louder and quickened. Jack put the apple he was holding down and prepared to run away, but he wasn't fast enough. A shot was fired. Two. Three. Four. His breath shortened as he sank to his knees. Five. Itey fumbled to pull out a pistol of his own out to shoot the silhouetted figures but dropped it to the ground. The culprits made their escape and split in two opposite directions. Itey's eyes filled with tears, and he fell to the ground next to Jack. "Jack," he said through short breaths. "Somebody help!"
* * * * *
A knock came at the Jacobs' door. Sarah wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved to the door to answer it. Her face brightened when she saw Race standing in her doorway. "Racetrack! What are you doing here? It's pretty late."
"Yeah, I know. Sarah, is Davey here?"
"Um, yes," Sarah answered, slightly confused at Race's serious and urgent tone of voice.
"Can ya get 'im fer me?"
"Sure," she replied. 'Is. . . everything alright?"
"I'll tell ya when ya get 'im," Race answered simply. At that, Sarah promptly went back into the small apartment and came back with Dave in her company.
"Hey, Race. What do you need?" Dave asked, shaking his hand free of spit.
"I need ta tell ya somethin'," he began. He took a deep breath and spoke again. "Guys, Jack's been hoit." Sarah gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. "He should be awlright. We think we know who it was. Sarah, ya can see 'im in da mornin' if ya want. Dave, we need ta speak ta ya back at da lodgin' house."
* * * * *
"Jack wouldn't 'a wanted Dave ta be dis involved," the voice of reason said. "We can't jist t'row 'im inta dis."
"Maybe it should be up ta him, Specs," Rebecca offered.
"Bec, will ya stay outta dis?" Skittery said coldly. Rebecca looked momentarily hurt but stopped talking nonetheless. Just then, Dave and Race walked in. "Any woid from Jake?"
"No," Race answered and took a seat. He motioned for Dave to do the same. "Jack's gonna be fine. 'E's still alive. Until den, Specs an' me gotta keep dis goin'."
"Yeah, da best fer da job," Blink agreed.
"Wait, wait. What's going on with Jake?" David asked. "I know he went to Brooklyn, but I thought he'd be back."
"We did too," said Race. He approached Rebecca in a chair towards the outside of the room. "Bec, maybe ya should. . . leave da room fer a bit." Rebecca nodded slowly and walked out of the room. Skittery hardly acknowledged her leaving, merely touching her hand as she walked past.
As soon as Rebecca left the room, Snoddy came in with a bundle of newspapers. "What's dis?" Specs asked as the package was placed on Race's lap. As he opened it, a look of disgust crossed his face. In the package was a dead fish with Jake's bowler cap on top of it.
"What da hell?" Race asked. Specs winced a bit.
"A message from Brooklyn. Jake sleeps wit da fishes tanight,"