Morning came and every newsboy in the Manhattan lodging house was up far earlier than usual. Hardly anyone went to the distribution center at all – the only ones that did were the younger newsies and those who desperately needed to make some money that day. Everyone else had been dispersed throughout the city by Jack and Spot, with a description of two particular young men fresh in their minds and revenge pumping coldly in their veins.

Every newsie in every borough had heard the news by now, thanks to swift messengers. And every newsie was angry, and ready to fight.

Skittery, Spot, and Crutchy trolled through Brooklyn, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears alert. Every sound was carefully listened to, analyzed, judged. Each face they saw was closely studied, glared at suspiciously as the boys passed.

"This is gonna take forever," Crutchy grumbled, as he eyed yet another dark-haired boy passing him by. His breath puffed out in little clouds of steam in front of him, yet he didn't notice the cold seeping through his thin clothing.

"We ain't gonna quit 'til it's over," Spot replied, stepping out of the way for a group of girls to pass. "We're gonna keep lookin' for 'em if it takes us the whole damn winter."

"God, it's winter," Crutchy shook his head. "What if they ain't got blankets or coats or nothin'?"

"Only been gone about a day. I think they can take care of themselves for now... but we gotta get to 'em soon." Spot pulled his jacket closer around himself, staring at the ground.

Skittery didn't say anything; he just walked and watched.

"I hear something. Footsteps." Elise pushed off from the door, which she'd had her ear pressed to. "Someone's coming. Get ready."

The girls stood over to the side of the door, waited until it opened. As Kenny walked in, they ran to him.

Penny jumped on his back, wrapping an arm around his neck and holding his head steady by the hair. Elise attacked from the front, where Kenny was swinging his fists in rage. She raked her nails swiftly across his face, over an eye, drawing bright red blood that trickled down his cheeks.

"Son of a bitch!" Kenny screamed, struggling and reaching for contact with those big, hard fists.

Elise's foot flew up and landed squarely in his groin, causing the young man to double over. He remained like that a few moments, with his face turning a faint blue from the pain and from Penny cutting off his oxygen. He reared back up after stabilizing himself, then suddenly pitched forward, throwing Penny off his back and roughly onto the floor. She lay there, limp, the wind and the light knocked out of her.

Elise screamed.

"You thought you'd be able to fight back and run, did you?" Kenny grinned maliciously, and then brought his fist up, swinging across and connecting hard with Elise's temple. She went down, and he stood for a moment, shaking his head. "Stupid, stupid girls," he muttered, and kicked Elise in the stomach. He relished the sharp release of wind and whimpering for a moment, then walked out, slamming the door.

"Miz Brown, what're we gonna do with him?" Sketch and Whim had stayed behind to help the caretaker's wife with Killian.

"Feed him, keep him warm," Mrs. Brown set Killian on her bed, wrapped him up in a blanket. "There's not much else we can do, girls."

"But how're we s'posed to feed him?" Whim sat down in a chair across from the baby, staring. "Elise, she feeds 'im with her... y'know..."

Mrs. Brown laughed a little, in spite of the situation. "I know, Whim. All we can give him is warm milk. It won't be anything close to what he needs, but at least it's something." She sighed, taking in the pathetic sight of the baby. "Sketch, go get the milk off the stoop. I'll heat some up."

It was much colder in the warehouse when Penny and Elise slowly regained consciousness. Penny came to first, but kept still and kept her eyes closed when she heard Kenny and Frankie inside the room, talking.

"They're still out. Ain't much use right now," Kenny mused.

"What the hell happened in here, anyway?"

"Dumb girls thought they could take me down and make a run for it," he laughed menacingly. "They were sorely mistaken."

"So what're we gonna do now?"

"Well, seein' as we aren't gonna get anything outta them tonight, we might as well go out and find something. Maybe check out the place Pop wanted us to send 'em to. See if they provide a, how shall I put this... a quality service."

Frankie snickered. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

They left, and Penny sat up. She slapped lightly at Elise's face until she stirred. "They're leaving," Penny whispered, helping Elise to sit up.

"To where? How long?"

"I don't know. They'll be gone for a little while, I expect." She stood up, shaking a little on her feet. She'd been out cold. "I'm going to try the door."

"They always lock it."

"They could've forgotten. I'm hoping for a little dumb luck."

Penny felt her way to the door, searching for a handle. When she found it, she tried it. It turned. "It's unlocked!"

Elise stood up and followed Penny. "This is impossible. What are the odds?"

Penny just laughed jubilantly and rushed out the door. Elise stayed close on Penny's heels, following her up a narrow staircase. There was a dull thud as Penny collided in the dark with another door. "What the..."

"Try that one. Maybe they forgot to lock it, too."

She turned the handle, her heart pounding nearly out of her chest with anticipation. She pushed on the door, only to find it blocked by something very large and very heavy. "No," Penny whispered, pushing harder at the door. "Dammit, no!"

Elise sighed and shook her head, dropping to the floor against the wall. She buried her face in her hands, trying not to cry.

Penny pounded on the door for a few minutes, screaming at it to no avail. Eventually, she fell against it, sobbing.

The day had turned up no results. The city had been searched up, down, and sideways, and there was still no sign of the McKennons or of Penny and Elise. Everyone had simply retired to bed in defeat; everyone but Skittery.

He wasn't going to sleep, so he might as well go to work.

He walked in a daze onto the docks, began dutifully loading crates from wagons onto ships and from ships onto wagons. The work was tedious and repetitive, but at least it kept his mind and body occupied.

His coworker, a boy about his age named James, approached him. "Hey," he said.

Skittery grunted in reply as he lifted a particularly heavy crate from a wagon.

"You know how you was sayin' you was lookin' for a place to live?" James helped him with the crate, though they both nearly dropped it as they placed it on the stack on the ship's deck.

"Yeah," Skittery said breathlessly, as he relaxed.

"Well, this ol' lady in my building just kicked off. No family or nothin', so the landlord's gonna sell most of her stuff but keep the main furniture there. He ain't told nobody about the place yet, except me, so I figured I'd tell you. Rent's pretty cheap," James offered with a smile.

"Um, thanks. I... I kinda got a lot on my mind right now, but I'll check it out soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"Hey, you two!" Their boss walked over to them, and the two boys straightened immediately. He looked at Skittery, seemed to search his brain. "Dammit, what is your name?"

"Skittery."

"That ain't a name."

"Sorry. Michaels, sir. Adam Michaels."

"Michaels," the man repeated. "You can drive a wagon, right?"

"Yes, sir," Skittery said.

"Good. You and Bartlett here," he said, nodding to James, "you gotta take a shipment out to Queens. There's a warehouse there, it looks pretty run down. Guy that owns it knows the shipment's comin', though. Just stick the crates on the loading dock in the back of the building and come back. Don't take too long, I ain't got enough workers here tonight for you two to waste any time, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Skittery and James said in unison. Their boss gave them directions, and they were on their way.

"So what's on your mind that's more important than findin' a place to live?" James asked as they were headed down the street toward Queens.

"Huh?" Skittery directed the horses, snapped the reins a little for them to pick up speed.

"You was sayin', when I told you about the place in my building, that you got a lot on your mind."

"Oh. It's... um, it's nothin'. I really rather not talk about it."

"Okay, man. But you gotta come check out this place soon. It's gonna go on the market an' be filled up in a flash."

"Yeah."

They were in Queens sooner than either of them expected. They pulled up in front of a dilapidated warehouse, examining the crumbling building.

"Don't see why this place is still runnin'," James mused. "If I owned this pile o' shit, I'd burn it to the ground."

"Ain't our job to judge," Skittery said with a shrug. He climbed down from the driver's seat and began unloading the crates from the back of the wagon. As he stacked them on the dock, he peered in the window. "Huh. Looks like we got a couple'a squatters in there."

James climbed up to the window to look in with Skittery. A lantern burned low on oil in the corner, but it lit up the room enough to see. There were a couple small piles of mens' clothing, and two cups, along with several crusts of bread. Skittery looked around at what he could see through the grimy window, his eyes falling on a door with several crates stacked in front of it.

An idea popped into his head.

"C'mon, man," James said, climbing back down. "We gotta finish unloadin' these crates and get back to work, or Mr. Hauser's gonna have a fit."

"Yeah." Skittery climbed down after his coworker, a plan hatching in his mind.