Part I, Chapter XII

March 19, 1899

Brooklyn, New York

There never really is a right time to say goodbye. Spot Conlon knew that for a fact. Goodbyes are hard. They change a person's perspective and can be strong enough to change a person's life. Spot was never good at goodbyes; to a certain degree he never truly believed enough in something to have it slip through his grasp, and he never believed he could be changed from a goodbye. He thought he was stronger than that.

"Conlon, get up. Get some sleep."

Raising his head, Spot felt Bolt's hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"I'm fine. You can go if ya want, but I'm fine right heah."

Bolt stayed a moment longer and returned to his bunk to sleep. In fact, the entire bunkroom was sleeping. Even Chase was asleep right behind him. He checked his pocket watch: two-thirty in the morning. Spot couldn't sleep, at least not tonight. Standing up, he arched his back slowly, his spine cracking and popping from sitting in the same wooden chair for hours. He positioned his seat so his ankle crossed the other on top of the nightstand next to Oliver's bed.

The Brooklyn leader's chest rose up and down slowly. The bandages wrapped tightly around Oliver's body made him look like a mummy, at least from the neck down. His face was purple and bruised, beaten beyond recognition. A small, red bloodstain soaked through the bandages on his forehead where a knife had slit the base of his hairline making a deep, clean-cut incision.

Spot swallowed hard and looked away. He had been watching Oliver for too long that day to doubt any reality about what had happened the previous night. When he came back from Emma's, he was met with the entire bunkroom silently waiting in the lobby of the lodging house, and Chase was talking with the doctor upstairs. Oliver had been brutally attacked on his way from dropping Spot off at Emma's house, and he had been left at the lodging house door an hour before dawn.

It was scary how things could change so drastically in such a short amount of time. Oliver had been well when he was out with Spot; hours later, he was almost dead.

Glancing at Oliver from the corner of his eyes, Spot thought he saw his chest was still for too long. He felt his heart jump, pulsating, to his throat until Oliver's chest began moving again. Spot covered his hand over his eyes exhaustedly and clenched his jaw.

"You know who did it, don'tcha?"

Spot swallowed the lump in his throat again to answer Chase, who lay in the bunk to his left, "Yes."

Chase gradually sat up against his pillow. He folded his arms across his chest and stared ahead of him as he spoke. In fact, Chase and Spot made little eye contact for the entire conversation.

"Figures. Lord knows Oliver don't say a word ta me about nothin'," said Chase flatly.

"I mean, I'm positive I know who it is," added Spot, disregarding Chase's comment.

"Yeah? Who?"

"Thayer Street. Oliver was screwin' his sister."

Chase's shoulders fell to their haunches and his head dropped. He rubbed his forehead and temples vigorously, and placed his hand in his chin in thought.

"What're ya gonna do about it?" inquired Spot.

"Whadda ya mean? We'se gonna handle it, that's what we're gonna do. You an' I are gonna take care of it tomorrow night. We ain't tellin' no one what we're doin', we're just gonna do it. So don't go gabbin' 'bout it, a'right? I don't wanna make my last soakin' a big deal."

Spot hesitated, wondering if he had heard him correctly. "Last soakin'?"

"Yeah. Soakin', attack, whatevah ya wanna call it. I know a guy's gotta go out with a bang, er go down in a blaze 'a glory around heah, er some shit like that, but not me. My time's up heah. I got a train ticket fer next week."

"I'm sorry ta heah that."

Chase snorted and lay back down. "No, ya ain't, Conlon. If there's anythin' I like about you it's yer brute honesty."

Spot sighed. As Chase fell back asleep, Spot felt his eyelids weaken. He let his head fall to his shoulder. Taking a few seconds to make sure Oliver was still alive and breathing, he let his eyes flutter close and let his mind rest. According to Chase, he was going to need all the energy he could get tomorrow.