Spot Conlon 1882 to… 2009? Chapter 5, About as Funny as a Heart Attack
Spot's POV
July 2nd, 2009..?
Cold. Unnatural and deadly cold was what Spot felt before he woke up. He felt dead, although he had no idea if you could feel dead or not. It felt like his whole body had slowly been ripped into millions of pieces and tossed into a river of defeat, fear and hurt. The pain was unbearable and he just wanted to rip his head off just to get rid of it. He desperately tried to move his hands, but felt as if he were in a block of ice. His muscles refused and his bones threatened to break if he tried.
But that wasn't what hurt the most. He was only 17, and he was dead. He had had so much to look forward to… but that was a lie. Every day he got to look forward to work. He starved if he was unable to work. But even that didn't hurt the most; his newsies. The boys' that he loved like brothers, not to mention his one girl newsie, but what did it matter? One of them would take over his job and that would be the end of the Mighty and Unbreakable Spot Conlon.
No, not unbreakable. He lay here broken now; shattered into a million pieces.
But then he heard them; voices.
"There's a boy by the canal!" Was the first he heard. Spot had never been so happy to hear a living persons' voice. He wanted to move but knew he better not, so he lay there as he drifted in and out of a daze, all the while listening to the people who'd grown much closer.
Before anything was said, he felt a couple of pairs of hands grab the shoulders of his shirt and drag him further up a bank he was resting on.
His feet felt numb once he'd noticed why they'd pulled him up; his feet were in cool water. This sparked a flame in his stomach, making him warmer. Maybe someone had found him on the bank of the river?
But no… that wasn't possible. The environment was… different then Manhattan or Brooklyn, and he couldn't have floated that far down river, could he?
"Is he alive?" He heard a boy asked, hearing him approach.
Spot would have liked to glare up at him at the moment and tell him that he'd never die, but of course, thought better of it.
"Girls, I really have to get to work and then Ian has to get to the doctors; do you think you could take the boy home and take care of him? You're not too far away from the house."
He heard a woman talk next, and that was when he noticed their voices were different. Definitely not New York…
"'Course mom." The first voice he'd heard said quietly. He wanted to open his eyes and see who the soft voice belonged to; it was quite mesmerizing.
"Well we can't carry him, he's too big for that… Maybe we should try and wake him?" A different voice said.
He noticed that two pairs of foot steps walked off.
Spot wondered what to expect next when a light brush on his forehead jolted him awake. His eyes snapped open and his right hand grabbed the fingers that had touched him.
He looked around, surprised. First to the blond girls face, then the strawberry blondes face, their strange clothing, his surroundings and last, the body of water he suspected he came out of. He was soaking after all.
His face became fearful for a moment before he regained his composure and glared up at the blond, tightening his grip. He watched her flinch, but decided nothing of it.
"Where am I and why have you brought me here?" He asked as coldly as his voice would go.
"You're… in Fresno, California, and I didn't bring you here, we found you by the water." The girl said.
His eyes widened for a moment before he asked another question:
"What year is it? I mean… I haven't been out that long… it was the beginning of July, 1899… It's still July right?"
He didn't mean to sound so stupid, but he was confused and needed the answers now.
The blond and red head both gave each other wide expressions before the blond answered softly, "1899? Dude… this is July 2nd 2009…"
Spot stared up at the girls for a long time contemplating what to say next. He easily found the right expression and statement.
"The both of ya is 'bout as funny as a haht attack."
The blond pulled her wrist away from his hand.
"Excuse me?" She asked, glaring down at him, "You're the one dressed up like you're from some Renaissance Fair!"
The red head chuckled to herself, but was cut off by the blonds' glare.
"Wut?" Spot asked, trying to understand what she was saying.
"Nothing. Never mind. Now do you need help getting up?"
Spot raised an eyebrow before slowly sitting up.
He removed his left hand from his stomach, looking to see if he was still bleeding.
There was nothing there. No puncture wound… his clothes weren't even ripped, but he could have sworn that he'd been stabbed….
"Are you ok?" Delia asked, standing up and holding her hand out.
Spot stood with out her help.
"I really do't know…" He muttered, looking around. Everything was so different. No skyscrapers… no newsies. Just boring little houses and water.
"Ok… well I'm Delia, and this is my best friend Danielle." She said, motioning to herself and the red head.
"Weird names…" He muttered, "I'm Spot."
Danielle snorted.
"Oh yes, we have weird names. You're the one named after a dog!" She chuckled, crossing her pale white arms.
"Excuse me?" Spot asked, his eyes hard and cold, electrifying like they'd always been when someone made fun of him.
"Oh nothing…" Danielle sighed.
"Can you walk?" Delia asked, looking Spot over.
"Wut do you tink, Miss?" Spot snarled, trying to stand up.
He failed miserably, falling back and bumping his head on the hard packed dirt below him.
"I tink youse is screwed, Mista." Delia mimicked, a grin spreading across her face.
Spot glared up at her, his eyes menacing. But he knew he wouldn't be able to hurt her for multiple reasons; she was a girl, and Spot Conlon didn't soak girls. And… she had the upper hand. She could walk and move while he… sat there.
Delia stood, holding her hand out of him.
"You can take my help, or we can leave you here by yourself. Take your pick, Mr. Conlon." She told him, keeping her hand extended.
Spot looked at her hand for a long time until he knew going with her and Danielle was the best thing to do, so slowly, he lifted up his pale hand and took Delia's.
He slowly sat up before she pulled him to his feet.
Although he obviously was the oldest of the three, he only stood a couple of inches taller then them.
Spot slowly started to walk, but his knees gave way, his muscles and bones unprepared for the weight.
Delia was there in a flash, catching him by putting her hands up and catching him lightly.
"Need help walking?" She asked, a smirk across her face.
"Shuah…" Spot mumbled, putting his arm around her.
Delia grabbed the hand that hung over her shoulder and started the long shuffling walk home with her best friend and a strange guy named Spot.
X
They finally reached the street she lived on, Delia's breath coming out in short gasps. Although Spot was skinny, he still weighed a good amount, and with almost all his weight positioned on her, she had to fight to keep walking.
Delia desperately hoped that no one was watching, because that would be… weird.
Reaching her front lawn, Delia gently set Spot down on the green grass and walked up to the brick house.
Her house wasn't huge, but if it was big enough to hold four people, four cats, two dogs, two rats, a turtle and a fish tank, they were happy. It was single story, had old red bricks and a white garage.
Delia walked to the fence by the garage, opened it up and typed in a password on a remote and instantly, one of the garage doors opened.
Spot gaped as the door magically opened, his eyes widened in surprise.
This was obviously and completely insane…
Jogging back to Spot and Danielle, Delia helped him stand up and brought him into the garage. They went through the door that connected the garage to the house, opened it and entered the Teichman household.
Spot looked around, his eyes searching.
Everything here was new; there were cats running at his feet, dogs braking like mad in the back yard, a white thing churning and making loud groaning noises…
He hadn't noticed that they were moving down a hall way. They passed a bed room with strange screen thingy's a bed and seat then a bathroom until they reached the third door out of the four.
Delia pushed the tan door open to reveal her room; the walls were a creamy white and she had a tan carpet with a blue spot in the center of the room. To the left of the door was a built in closet and a wall covered in drawings of different animals. To the wall parallel to them was a white dresser and a large window hidden by a strange curtain, and then a book case in the corner. Next to that book case was another, only this one actually housed books. Next to that was a desk filled with empty water bottles, crumpled paper and who knows what. And last but not least was the bunk bed. The sheets on both the bottom and the top were messed up and a laptop set on the floor by it.
Spot, finding the need to lay down at the moment, broke from Delia and Danielle and flopped down on the lower bunk, his right hand over his eyes.
Danielle glanced at Delia before she muttered, "I think I'm going to go raid your fridge Dee…"
Watching as Danielle disappeared around the corner of the hallway, Delia walked into her room and flopped down onto the edge of her bed, staring at the silent Spot.
"So… is there a reason why we found you near a canal and dressed like you are?" She asked him, her right eyebrow raised.
Spot removed his hand from his face and looked at Delia questioningly.
"Youse said dis is Fresna, Califoinia, right? And dat dis is duh year 2009?" Spot asked, staring her straight in the eyes.
"Well… no, not exactly like that, but yes; this is Fresno, California and this is July 2nd 2009." Delia told him, leaning on the metal frame of her bunk bed.
"Yea? Well I'm from New Yoik, the yeah 1889." He told her, his face looking slightly dazed.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Delia asked, kicking her flip flops off and setting her feet up on the sheets.
"I nevah said dat, but yea. I tink ya shuld." He told her, sitting up on his elbows with a bit of pain.
Delia let out a long breath, her bangs flying up.
"And I think I do." She sighed, her lips pursed.
"Good…" Spot nodded.
"Well… you should probably rest. You look pretty ragged to me." Delia told him, chucking one of her green afghans at him.
He took it with a slight smirk.
"Tanks kid. Dunno what wuda happened if I wus found by sum cop of sumtin." Spot told her before he realized what he had said.
He'd actually thanked someone… Good thing none of the newsies were around…
Before Delia could answer, a fluffy black cat with piercing gold eyes and a tiny white dot on her chest pushed open her bed room door and leaped onto her bed.
Spot gave the cat a glance before he looked to Delia.
"This is my cat, Shadow, my shadow."
Spot raised an eyebrow.
"Her name's Shadow but she acts like one too, never leaving my side." Delia explained at the cat made her slow walk to Spot's side.
The cat moved as if she'd have the whole day to get to her destination. She had no cares and always took her time.
Spot reached out carefully and scratched her behind the ear, sending loud purrs throughout Delia's room.
Shadow curled up and his side, closing her eyes and purring.
"I think she like's you…" Delia said with a smirk, "Consider yourself accepted to the family, Spot. She doesn't usually take to strangers."
Spot nodded his head, a true smile finally appearing on his face.
"Tanks kid… I mean Dilya." Spot muttered before pulling the afghan over his shoulders and turning on his side, instantly falling into sleep's clutches.
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DID CHU LIKE IT?!!??! I did! I had to take my time describing my house and stuff… Shadow IS my shadow… and my friend, Emi, says I described my room perfectly, but I dunno… REVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEW!!!! PLEASE! Much thanks to purengrox, write24 and my best buddy, xXEmiShaeXx for reviewing on the first four chapters!