Disclaimer: ibid
Chapter 11
"Wake up boys." Jack banged on the iron bars of the cells, waking the sleeping boys from their restless dreams. Blink sat up quickly and looked around. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, he realized something wasn't right.
"What's goin' on, Blink?" Mush asked groggily next to him.
Blink shrugged and then stood up to get dressed. "Somethin' ain't right."
Moments later, the boys, red eyed and sleepy were all gathered outside.
"What's the big idea, Jack?" Racetrack asked, already working the tobacco out of a cigar.
"We've dealt with this long enough. We're going after Loffstetter and his men tonight." There was a dull murmuring as the boys talked excitedly amongst themselves.
"What about Brooklyn?" Boots asked.
A voice from somewhere in the darkness surrounding them answered, "What about Brooklyn?"
Something about their presence made Blink feel hopeful. He watched as Spot emerged from the shadows, flanked by a dozen or so of his boys, all looking fierce and anxious for a fight. Blink noticed that most of them were carrying clubs, or some form of deadly looking weapon.
"Look, I ain't guaranteein' youse that this'll be an easy fight, or that none o' youse'll get hurt. But we gots to do this. We gots to do it so we can sleep peaceful at night, and sell papes without getting' jumped."
"We're with you, Jack," said Snoddy suddenly appearing beside Spot. Spot clapped him on the shoulder, but Snoddy looked solemn.
Blink wondered how much of what was going on they hadn't been told.
"Let's go," Jack said. "And keep it quiet."
Blink, with Mush at his side, ran to the front of the crowd as they started stealthily down the dark and deserted streets. "Jack. What's goin' on?" he asked quietly.
"I just told you Blink. We're endin' this. Now."
"How do you know where they are?"
"I just do. Don't worry about it, Blink. Just trust me, awright?" Jack put a hand on his shoulder, and the action comforted him.
They followed Jack and Spot through the dark streets for what seemed like hours, and then finally, the leaders halted. Jack signaled for them to hold still, and once the boys had made themselves invisible in the shadows, Jack led a few of them to the front of an old brick building.
The building was larger than the house Blink and Snoddy had gone to, but the condition was the same, if not worse. Blink was more afraid they would be crushed by the crumbling brick than by the people inside of the building.
"When Jacky boy gives the signal," Spot said, quietly, "we charge." Blink heard the Brooklynite's footsteps pass by them and then heard his voice somewhere down the line.
Waiting was agony.
Blink could barely make out Jack's silhouette as it approached the door followed by a half a dozen others. Suddenly there was loud bang and the door burst open. Jack and the others barreled inside.
Blink stood up; ready to attack when the signal came.
Then Jack emerged and not even bothering to lower his voice he announced, "They ain't here. They must o' known we was comin'."
He returned to Spot's side and the two leaders had a hushed conversation. Blink turned to Mush who looked confused, and a little frightened. Blink put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Mush grinned.
The boys began to talk quietly, some lamenting, some relieved, some so anxious to fight they were punching one another.
Blink looked around at the crowd, their faces illuminated by the bright moonlight.
As he scanned the crowd, his eyes fell upon a sight he hoped was his imagination. He grabbed Mush's arm and pointed to the man standing at the outer rim of the crowd. "He ain't a newsie," Blink said.
Mush's eyes grew wide as he pointed to another man less than a few feet from the first. "He ain't neither."
"Jack!" They shouted at the same time.
…
Jack looked up just as a fist nailed him square in the face. He reeled backwards and landed hard on the cold ground. He stood up immediately, but retaliation was difficult. HE couldn't see his opponent well through his watery eyes.
He swiped at his eyes with a sleeve, his senses suddenly aware that all around him, men were fighting with his boys. He watched Spot nail a man wearing a cloak hard in the stomach.
Jack noticed his own assailant just as he swung again. Jack ducked and aimed for the man's abdomen which he struck square on. The man leaned forward, but only for a second. A second was all Jack needed to swing a leg at the man's shin.
"Why you little—" Jack felt himself knocked flat onto his stomach. He winced as his chin hit the floor with a loud crack. The man was straddling his back, holding a bar tightly beneath his chin. Jack gasped for air and the man pulled harder.
"Get. Offa. Me!" Jack mustered as much strength as he could and threw the man off of him. The man landed beside him but wasn't fazed. Jack lunged at him, tacking him to the ground and the two rolled around, punching and hitting.
The man's hood fell off at one point, and even in the darkness, Jack caught a glimpse of his face. He wasn't much older than Jack, maybe in his early twenties with light hair and dark eyes, and an angular face. When he opened his mouth to spit at Jack's face, Jack noticed quite a few of the man's teeth were missing.
"Give up," the man hissed into his ear. Once again, Jack found himself on his stomach, this time, the man's foot was grinding into his skull, forcing his face into the dirt. Jack coughed as the dust entered his throat.
To the side of him, Jack watched Blink and Mush double-teaming a huge guy whose robe had been discarded completely. The man had just punched Mush in the side of his face, when Jack felt the pressure on his face release, and the man's foot was gone completely.
He stood up, noticed that the man was on the ground, Snitch grinning triumphantly over him. "I just saved your life," he said. "You owe me." Then he dashed away in search of his next victim.
Jack grinned at the man on the ground. "Maybe you guys are the ones who ought ta give up, eh?" Then he struck.
…
Skittery knew where Jacob would be. He wouldn't join the actual fighting, not when the risk of him getting injured was too high.
But Jacob relished a good fight, and there was no doubt he would be watching it.
Skittery entered the house quietly, surprised at how empty and quiet it was, wondering if maybe he had misheard the location.
Or else he had led Jack and the boys into a trap.
Pushing that thought aside, he crept up the stairs, stopping only once when a particular step creaked loudly.
Certain no one had heard him, he continued up until he was in the hallway, at the end of which was a room with a big window overlooking the empty street where the fight would surely take place.
He left a trail of footprints in the inch deep layer of dust that had gathered on the floor throughout its years of abandonment.
The door was shut.
Skittery reached for the knob quietly, turned it even more quietly and pushed the door open. It squealed loudly, alerting Jacob who stood by the window, his hands clasped anxiously behind his back. He seemed surprised to see Skittery, but the shock was temporary.
His open mouth turned up into a crooked smile. "I thought you were dead," he said.
"Well, I ain't." Skittery stepped toward him, ready to draw the small knife out of his pocket and strike down the old man.
But then he felt a hand over his mouth, and another hand grabbing him around the middle. He struggled against the unyielding grip, but his foe held tight.
"You're just in time for the show, I see." The man behind him whose face he had yet to see, pushed Skittery toward the window. Skittery reluctantly looked through it, but when he did, he watched in horror as Jack led the others into the street and motioned for them to stay put while he and a few others (It looked like Specs, Bumlets, Snitch and a few of the guys from Brooklyn) approached the door.
"Go back!" Skittery shouted, the sound muffled through the man's hand.
Skittery narrowed his eyes and tried his hardest to kick the man behind him.
He heard the loud boom of door below them being thrown open and Jack's threatening voice calling Loffstetter's name.
"I have you to thank for bringing them here, of course," Jacob said, never taking his eyes from the window.
Skittery watched in terror as Jack approached the crowd of boys, said something, unaware that dozens of Jacob's men were surrounding them from all sides.
"Go!" Skittery shouted.
Jacob laughed at his vain attempts to warn his friends. He turned away momentarily from the fight that had broken below and crossed the short distance between him and Skittery.
"I'm almost glad you didn't die," Jacob said. "Now I can have the pleasure of killing you myself." His eyes left Skittery's and focused on the man holding Skittery. "Peter, you may go."
Peter protested but left immediately when Jacob narrowed his eyes.
"Here we are, James. Grandfather and Grandson."
"Yeah, and some relative you turned out to be," Skittery mumbled.
Jacob smiled. "Am I really that disappointing? I only wanted what was best for you. Best for an orphan—"
"I'm only an orphan 'cause you made me one!"
"I can fix that right now, you know. Dead boys most certainly aren't orphans. Ready to join your parents, James?"
Skittery stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his teeth gritted, his breathing heavy. For a moment, running Jacob's words through his mind, he welcomed death.
He often wondered what death would be like. Wondered whether or not heaven was warm. Were his parents and brother there, waiting for him? Did they have warm blankets and hot food, and newspapers that didn't leave ink stains on your fingers?
But then there was the thought of revenge. Of what he could have had if his own grandfather hadn't been so full of hatred. Jacob had stolen his family, had deprived him of a mother and a father and home cooked meals, and an education.
It was that vein of thought that led him to the knife in his pocket, which he removed quickly and held up. The small amount of light in the room flickered off of the short blade menacingly.
Skittery glanced once more at the fight going on in the streets below them and then he looked Jacob in the eye.
"Lets end this."