The air was gloomy and depressing on that Christmas Eve morning, and Jack was sure he'd never felt more miserable. None of the newsies felt much like celebrating and he couldn't say he blamed them. Sure, Spot could be a hard asshole sometimes, but he was still their leader and their friend. He always had a knack for brightening up a sour mood with a wise crack or snarky remark. He drove Jack crazy sometimes, but it's like he never realized how much he valued the Brooklyn boy's sass until it was gone.
Sighing, Jack rubbed his eyes as he looked about the room. With the day being Sunday and a holiday, all the newsies had the day off. Some, who had families, had gone home for the holidays. Jack considered them to be the lucky ones. The rest of the assembly was sitting restlessly about, not entirely sure what to do with themselves. Some of the younger boys were playing games or skipping about, oblivious to the forlorn atmosphere about them, but most of the newsies seemed downright depressed. Just when Jack thought the morning could get no worse, the thick, tense ambiance was suddenly broken.
"Jack!" Les Jacobs burst into the room, heaving with a look of urgency. Jack, Race, and a few other newsies immediately shot to their feet and turned to the younger boy.
"What is it, Kid? What's happened?" Jack inquired, wide-eyed.
"We found him! Jack, we found him! It's Spot!"
"What?!" Jack's heart began to beat rapidly as he placed a hand on Les's shoulder, praying it was true. "Where? Is he alright? When didja find him?"
"Me and Sarah," Les continued, finally catching his breath. "We were at the Brooklyn house and on the way back we heard this clanging, like, really quiet, but we did hear it— well I heard it anyway. Sarah would of just kept walking I think cause—"
"Hey, Kid," Race interrupted. "Stick tuh de point, will yuh? Where's ole Spotty at?"
Les's eyes grew wide as if he'd just remembered why he'd come and he began to shake slightly underneath Jack's hand. Jack furrowed his brow in worry and squeezed the boy's shoulder in comfort. Les stared back at him as tears threatened to flood his eyes.
Les gulped and continued. "He's real bad off, Jack. We found him in an old basement of this broken-down old house, an-and. He's real hurt. Sarah sent me to get you cause, the doors all locked, and, and we need help b-bad."
"Lead the way, Les," Jack said grimly as the feeling of dread of which he'd become familiar during the past week settled forebodingly in the pit of his stomach. He, Race, Kid Blink, and Mush followed the kid out of the house, with a few other newsies straggling behind. The morning was dreary and a light sleet had begun to shower the streets, creating a thin layer of dangerously slick ice. Les hadn't said another word about Spot's condition or about where exactly he was, but he didn't have to. They all knew that they only need to brace themselves for the worst.
His hands are so cold.
These were the only words going through Sarah's mind as she waited for Les to return with help. After he'd left, Spot had tried to talk, likely to explain what had happened, but his voice was hoarse and he seemed choked up and unable to speak a single word. So, instead, Sarah had simply reached a hand down and grasped his for comfort. He had latched onto her like a lifeline, and it was only then that she realized the trauma he had experienced.
His fingers were freezing to the touch and they shook with tremors that resonated down his entire body. Despite the way he held onto her like his life depended on it, his grip was weak and strained, and he seemed to be exerting every bit of effort just to reach up and hold her hand. His eyes met hers and she could see the pain there; the agony. The basement in which he resided was dark so she had no view of the state of the rest of his body, but what she saw wasn't good in the slightest. She didn't even want to think about the sickening stickiness she could feel between their palms and the lingering smell of iron that hung in the air.
As they waited, his condition slowly began to deteriorate. It began with his hold weakening, and his shaking increasing. His eyes became unfocused, and his brow was dotted with beads of sweat. Ever so slowly she began to feel him slipping away, panic gripping her heart as she watched his state worsen. Suddenly his complexion paled to a deathly white and his eyes rolled back into his skull.
"Spot!" Sarah yelled as tears deluged her eyes. She could only watch as his hand slipped through her fingers and he plunged back onto the hard concrete below, into the darkness, where he lay in an unnatural heap on the floor. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she felt so helpless, unable to help the boy whom she loved as he suffered alone in the hell below. Fear clutched her heart that the worst would occur. What if she lost him forever? Without ever being able to resolve the conflict between them? Without being able to tell him how she felt? She couldn't bear the thought.
Just as her thoughts began to fall into a pit of dismay, she heard voices and approaching footsteps.
Jack nearly tripped over Les's heels for the hundredth time as the boy finally came to a stop. He was having a hard time remaining calm as he followed the youngest Jacobs boy, and his breaths were coming out in rapid, short wheezes. The cold didn't help much, and the excessive traffic of the holiday season was causing panic to set in early.
Spot was his best friend. Whatever bouts or disagreements they may have had in the past didn't matter. All that mattered was that they found him, safe and sound, and brought him back to the lodging house so he could wise crack and holler about Christmas and all the "mushy goodness of the season," as he would put it. That's where he was supposed to be. Not in some run-down, old house in the middle of an abandoned neighborhood, injured and fighting for his life.
So when Jack came across Sarah, inconsolably weeping next to a broken windowpane with blood streaked across her palms and skirt, he nearly lost it. His limbs became frozen and the sounds around him were muffled as he tried to comprehend the severity of the situation. He vaguely noted Les running over to Sarah to comfort her and Race peering through the window as he began to spit out numerous expletives, but at that moment Jack would have rather rolled over and died than to have to lead his boys through the ordeal ahead of them.
The others who had followed behind were looking to him to tell them what to do, but Jack could hardly understand why. He'd never asked to lead the newsies, but leadership had been thrust upon him. Sure, he'd led the boys through the strike, but not without help. He'd had help from David, from Mr. Denton, and, most importantly, from Spot. Ever since the beginning, Spot had been at his side, giving him advice, guiding him, and encouraging his decisions. Who was Jack Kelly without Spot Conlon? This is what cemented his feet to the ground in that moment, and his mind was far from the situation at hand.
"Cowboy…" Jack blinked as he thought he heard something. "Cowboy, come-on, snap out of it!" Was someone touching him? He blinked again and raised a hand to grab the one that was shaking him. It must be Kloppman waking him up to start selling papes.
"JACK, YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING NOW!" Like a punch to the gut everything suddenly came rushing back to him. He realized where he was; he realized that his best friend was in trouble and needed his help; he realized that he was the leader and that he could do it on his own. He was Spot's only hope.
He nodded at Mush and released the boy's wrist, thankful that the usually soft-hearted newsie had stepped up and given him the motivation he needed to act. He turned to the attentive group beside him and began to take charge.
"Mush, you go around de house and check all de doawhs and windows tuh see if dere's a way in dat Les and Sarah ovuh-looked. Kid Blink, you and de rest of yuhs," he said while motioning to the remaining newsies in the group, "go around back and see if yuh can fawhce yuh way through, but make sure not tuh brin' too much attenshun tuh yawhselves, okay? We don't know who could be roamin' about dese parts. Yuh with me?" They nodded and each hurried to their respective tasks. Jack turned to Race who had his arm around a distraught Sarah and worried Les Jacobs who was still attempting to calm down his sister.
"Les, listen tuh me, alright?" The younger boy looked up at him with large, tear-filled eyes. Jack felt a twinge of deep-set sympathy for the kid having to experience so much trauma at such a young age, but he put his feelings aside for the moment. "Yuh did a great job comin' tuh find me at de lodgin' house, but now I need yuh tuh do it again, yuh hear me? I need yuh to go as fast as yuh can tuh de Brooklyn house and get Rusty. Tell him whatcha told me and de two of yuhs get an ambulance and brin' it here as fast as yuh can. Rusty will know what tuh do."
Les nodded slowly and sniffled as he wiped away a tear that trickled down his cheek. Jack could tell that the boy was trying to put on a brave face, but all that had happened was starting to be too much for his innocent mind to handle. That's why Jack knew that he had to remove the kid from the scene as quickly as possible and giving him a mission to complete away from that terror house was the perfect way to do that. Les, however, looked a bit hesitant as he reluctantly let go of his sister's waist and looked up at her uneasily, still clutching at the folds of her skirt.
"Don't go worryin' bout her none," Race said reassuringly as he followed the trail of Les's eyes. "Jack and I's gonna take real good care o'her, okay? And we's gonna take care of ole Spotty too, but we need your help tuh get Rusty and de ambulance. Can yuh do dat?"
Les took a deep breath and let a small smile pass across his face as he gave Race a salute. He finally released his grip on his sister and turning, he gave Jack a salute as well before scurrying off down the icy street. Jack made eye-contact with Race and said a silent thank you for his help in bolstering the boy. Race simply smirked at him and bowed jokingly.
"As foh us," Jack continued with a small chuckle. "We's gonna check out dat broken window and see if we can clear enough glass away tuh get trough."
The two of them made their way over to the window. Sarah followed behind numbly, a vacant expression in her glazed-over eyes. Jack felt his brow crease in concern for her condition; even though she'd stopped crying, her eyes were dead to look into. He knew they had to help Spot fast for her sake.
As they drew near to the window, Jack gasped in shock and stumbled back slightly. He was so used to seeing Spot saunter about with confidence and poise that he hadn't been prepared to see the King of Brooklyn in such a precarious and helpless position. Although the room was too dark to see the full extent of his injuries, Jack could visibly make out blood coating his best friends torn shirt and bruises scattered across his body. The way the boy lay on the ground was unnatural and disturbing, and it seemed as if they were looking at a scene from a horror story. Jack felt dread clutch his heart as the thought crossed his mind that the Brooklyn leader looked to have no life in him whatsoever. He made a sideways glance at Sarah, who was gazing down at Spot with a terrifyingly deadened expression and decided that he best keep that thought to himself.
Race cleared his throat and scratched his chin in thought. "Now, we could break de window in all de way, but de problem is dat de glass might hit Spot and hurt him. Dere's also de fact dat dis here window ain't all dat big, and I don't know if we can fit trough it. Had one too many beers, yuh know?" He winked and impishly elbowed Jack in the gut. "I'm betting dat—"
"Oh, would you stop looking at him like he's one of your damn poker deals?!" Both Jack and Spot jumped in surprise at Sarah's sudden outburst. "This isn't one of your stupid games, it's serious! Am I the only one that cares here? He could be dead down there, and you're out here cracking fat jokes!"
Sarah glared at them heatedly as angry tears filled her eyes. She was evidently rattled by the day's events and wasn't thinking clearly. Jack figured that she was frustrated and desolate about what had happened to Spot and was taking her feelings out on them because she wanted someone to blame. He was, after-all, an expert on reading people, but what he couldn't understand was why her emotions were coming off so strongly.
"Hey, woudja calm down a bit? Jack spluttered out before he could stop himself. "You don't know dat he's dead and yuh ain't tinking normally. Besides, yellin' ain't helpin' de situation none eithuh. Since when do yuh care so much about Spot anyway?"
Sarah took a step back as her cheeks flushed. Her eyes widened and she stared at him in surprise and speechlessness. Her mouth opened and closed, but not a single sound was divulged. Jack felt a little cruel for putting her on the spot when there were so many emotions running rampant in the situation, but before he could apologize and say they'd discuss it later, they were interrupted by a shout.
"Cowboy!" It was Mush, sprinting toward them as if the devil himself were chasing him. "I found anothuh way in!"
"Really? Where?" Jack replied hopefully.
"At de front, next tuh where I tinks dere used tuh be a poich. De window's all broken in, and it's easiuh tuh get trough den dis one. De only problem is dat it's a little high up, so yuh might need a boost tuh get in, but I tink it's worth a shot!"
"Good woik, Mush," Jack said as he turned back to Race and Sarah, the latter of which was raptly studying the ground and refusing to make eye contact. "Come on, Race, let's check it out. Lead de way, Mush."
As the two boys followed Mush to the other window, Jack felt slightly guilty for leaving Sarah behind. She had made no move to follow them, and Jack hadn't acknowledged her or asked her to come along. He couldn't help but still feel angry at her. Ever since she had rejected his embrace after the fight with Queens and Spot had given him that odd look, he had known that something was off, but hadn't wanted to deal with it. She had been so distant lately and hadn't seemed to want to be around him anymore. At first he'd thought that it was a result of being traumatized by what those Queens newsies had tried to do to her, but as time went on and she only became more reluctant to spend time with him and refused to say she loved him back, he knew that something else was going on. He was no idiot, and he also realized how close she and Spot had grown ever since they decided to play nice. Maybe they were starting to get just a little too friendly for Jack's comfort.
Jack shook his head and pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. There were more important things to deal with at the moment, and he could talk with Sarah later. After all, maybe it was all simply in his head… at least he hoped it was. He still loved her, and he wanted to know if he could trust her or not.
Sarah exhaled miserably as she rested her head in her hands. After Jack and the others had left she'd sat down on the remains of the decaying porch to wait for them. She felt sick to her stomach at the mess she'd made. She allowed herself to fall in love with a man who was not her boyfriend, and now she was paying the price for it. How could she have been so stupid?! Of course Jack would catch on eventually, he's smart and not at all oblivious. He knew when someone lied to him or was hiding something from him and lately it seemed like that's all she'd been doing. She dreaded the conversation they would likely have after all this was over, but she knew she had to stop denying her feelings for Spot.
Hearing frantic voices and the sounds of stomping feet, Sarah stood and brushed the snow off her lap as the first of the newsies emerged from the house. "I's gonna run meet Rusty and de ambulance," one of them declared as he rushed by. Sarah noted that his face was a sickly green and he looked like he might vomit at any moment. At first, she foolishly thought that he was perhaps simply feeling under the weather, but she would soon learn the truth.
Jack and Race came into view, Spot's arms slung around their shoulders as they supported his weight. Sarah gasped at the sight of them and brought her hand to her mouth in horror. Now that he was out in the daylight, she could fully view the magnitude of Spot's injuries. Most notably, his entire left arm sleeve was drenched with old and new blood, the stench of it coming off him in waves. There was a long gash along his forehead, and it seemed as if every inch of him were covered in cuts and bruises. Sarah could also see on the sides of his neck that the skin was a harsh red and blistering as if he had some sort of rash. Burns maybe? She didn't want to even think about what the rest of him must look like underneath his tattered shirt.
Tears threatened to once again flood her vision, but she forced them back. Instead she hurried to their side as Jack and Race gently lowered Spot to rest on the ground with his back against the side of the house.
"Spot!" she called as she dropped to her knees beside him and placed her hands on the sides of his face. He was conscious again but didn't seem to be aware of anything around him. He looked right through her and didn't give any indication of a reply.
"What's wrong with him?" Sarah asked as she began to caress her thumbs across his cheeks, hoping for any form of a response. She could feel Jack's eyes on her, but she ignored him, instead turning to Race inquiringly. "What happened in there? Why'd it take you so long?"
Race glanced sideways at Jack and shuffled nervously before clearing his throat and answering. "Took us a while tuh find de damn celluh, and den when we did dere was a padlock on it. Kid Blink had tuh bust it open. Den dere was de whole mattuh of gettin' him up de stairs and out of de house—
He was cut off as Spot suddenly slumped forward into Sarah's arms. His eyes once again rolled back into his skull and he began to convulse. Sarah screamed as the tears broke free and began to spill down her face. She cradled Spot's head in her lap as he continued to shake violently.
"Spot!" she sobbed. "Spot please, you can't do this to me! You have to get better; you can't leave me! Spot… Sean, please, I love you!"
The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. As they did it seemed as though time itself had stopped moving. She could feel each thud of her heart in her chest and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. At some point the ambulance arrived and Spot was taken from her arms to the waiting carriage. There was shouting and bustling all about her as she climbed to her feet, but everything seemed as if in slow motion. When she finally got her bearings about her everything seemed a blur except the one pair of eyes that stared back at her; heartbreaking hazel eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.
Those three simple words had just changed everything.
The plot thickens... Please review and leave favorites! I want to know how I'm doing and I love to hear your thoughts about what's happened so far!