Ghosts of the Refuge - A Newsies Prequel

Chapter Seven

Spot froze when he heard the whistle from the street below. He tore down the fire escape with Racetrack trailing quickly behind him. Something was wrong. As he made his way down to the street, he saw Hawk and Sparrow running away from cops. Then he saw the cops turn around, uninterested in chasing the two boys, running in the opposite direction.

Spot took his slingshot out of his pocket and ran forward following the cops, and most likely Snyder. He snuck up a fire escape quietly, above the crowd of cops. Racetrack slowly walked up the metal stairs to his friend, feeling that he was to blame for the trouble Patch was in. If he hadn't been talking to Spot, Patch would've never been caught.

Suddenly, Spot saw her. As she was being led away in handcuffs, Patch's eyes showed vulnerability, but her face was masked in bravery. Spot leaned over the rail with slingshot in hand, a steely determination etched on his face. Racetrack, stood by his side, his own sling loaded and ready for action.

Spot cleared his throat trying to get some attention diverted from Patch. Snyder turned around, but the cops didn't appear to notice and forced her forward.

Spot pulled back the rubber on his slingshot and aimed towards the cops. Soon, the air rang with the distinctive sound of slings snapping as projectiles hurtled through the air, intended for the captors who dared to take away one of their own. Spot managed to land a few of his rocks directly on target, causing some of the cops and Snyder to flinch and curse, while Racetrack missed by mere inches, the projectiles whizzing past his intended marks.

Snyder glared at the boys, angry that he was again being pelted with rocks. He stood firm, trying not to show any pain. These boys would keep the rocks coming if he showed any sign of weakness.

Patch, meanwhile, tried to break free, fighting the cops that were leading her to their jail wagon. As she was pushed further away from the two newsies who were trying to save her, she prayed they would be safe from the wrath of the cops and her father.

"You two better stop if you know what's good for you." Snyder spat, as both boys started to put their weapons back in their pockets. "Anymore funny business, and the cops won't hesitate to throw you in the Refuge alongside your friend."

Spot felt a surge of anger boil within him, but he knew he had to keep his wits about him. He locked eyes with Racetrack, silently conveying his need for restraint. They couldn't risk their own freedom, not if they wanted to have any hope of rescuing Patch.

Snyder stepped closer to the pair. He stared menacingly at them, "You newsies think you're clever, working your little slingshots and causing trouble." He laughed to himself, "But mark my words, I'm always watching. Step out of line, and I'll make sure your precious friend faces more than a mere stint at the Refuge. Think very carefully about your next move."

With those chilling words lingering in the air, Spot and Racetrack watched as Snyder disappeared down the alley. They heard the helpless screams of Patch as they heard the wagon pull away.

"We'll find Jack." Racetrack declared, his voice brimming with purpose. "He'll help us."

Determined to rescue their friend, they exchanged a determined glance before breaking into a sprint towards Manhattan to find Jack Kelly.

.

Jack sat in the balcony of Medda's theater. She sang softly to a large crowd below him. Medda was a friend to him, ever since he had first runaway from the Refuge. She waved up at him, as he smiled and bobbed his head in tune with the song. After the song finished, he slumped back in his seat, and opened up his new Western Jim novel. He squinted at the words on the page as he waited for the next act.

As the band started to play again, he shut his book and leaned forward, focused on center stage. Maybe, he thought to himself, he could be a reporter. Sitting in theaters all day wouldn't be too bad. The ventriloquist act wasn't anything special, but he enjoyed it. It sure beat the crisp fall weather outside.

Jack applauded quietly, knowing Medda would be on again. He smiled in anticipation. She was more than a friend, she was like another mother. They had become closer after his sister, Florrie, died two years ago. As she was introduced, Jack felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned around to find Racetrack and Spot, far away from Brooklyn.

"Hey, Jack," Spot whispered, his voice filled with urgency. "We gotta talk."

Jack glanced up, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "Now?" He motioned towards the stage as Medda started singing another song.

"Come on, Cowboy," Racetrack told him, "it's important."

"More important than Medda?" Jack questioned, annoyed to be leaving her without saying goodbye.

When Racetrack and Spot both nodded, he stood and tipped his hat towards the stage, letting Medda know he was leaving. She blew him a kiss and the trio was soon on the street in front of the theater.

Jack lit a cigarette, and blew out smoke. "What's so important, Spot?"

Spot took a deep breath and explained the dire situation. "Snyder took Patch to the Refuge. We need to rescue her."

Jack crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He still carried the sting of the last conversation he had with Patch, where she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn't ignore the plea in Spot's eyes. Besides, a rescue didn't require him to be apart of their plan. They could do it themselves.

"She said she don't wanna see me again, Spot," Jack muttered, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Why do you need me?"

"Because, Jack," Racetrack started, "Patch is one of our own. We can't just abandon her." He knew why Jack didn't want to rescue her, but he had to help them somehow. Maybe it could help Patch talk to him again? Maybe this would be the thing that mended their broken fences?

Jack frowned, his eyes clouded with conflict. He rubbed his temple, "she told me she didn't want to see me again, and I promised I wouldn't. I can't just break my word."

Racetrack leaned in, his voice persuasive. "Jack, we all know you ain't one to break promises, but think about it. Patch is in trouble. We just can't abandon her now."

"Tell us where she is. You don't want to come with us if you don't have to," Spot told Jack, hoping that Jack would come with them anyway. Jack had to; he knew the most about Snyder's hold on the refuge.

Jack paused, remembering what had happened the last time he got caught by the Warden. "Her old man probably put her in solitary. It'll be hard to get to, it's on the third floor."

"So, you'll help us?" Racetrack asked.

"Sure," Jack relented, but he did have one condition. "But if Patch tells me that she doesn't want me around, I won't push it or try to rescue her ever again. I'll respect her wishes."

"Okay, Jack," Spot smiled, spit shaking his hand. "Let's get her outta there."