Now He's Gone

It was a normal morning for Armadillo. She woke up before the rest of the house, like always, made breakfast with whatever scraps of food they had, woke up the littles (with the help of Hotshot), ate a few bites, got her 50 papers, and started selling. She had only been selling for about an hour when she hears someone yelling her name. The voice sounded familiar. She turns around, seeing the outline of a tall, skinny, newsboy. Is that Race?

"Race?" She yells back, confused, "what are you doing here?" As the boy gets closer, she can more clearly make out his bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. When he finally catches up to her, sweaty and out of breath, she notices his lack of cigar.

"Where's your- did you fucking run here, you dumbass?" she asks incredulously, chuckling.

"Dil, it's Elmer," Race responds, more serious than Dil has heard him in a long time. Her face goes white, any and all semblance of humour gone.

"It's not good," he continues, "he got soaked and won't wake up and-" Dil doesn't give him a chance to finish, throwing down her papers and sprinting to the Manhattan Lodging house.

She makes it across the bridge in record time, expertly navigating to the lodging house, bursting through the door, effectively running into Specs, knocking the dark boy over, his glasses falling.

"Ow!" He exclaims, gathering himself and looking for his glasses. Dil finds and picks them up, returning them to Specs quickly,

Thanks, Ra-" he looks up, glasses back on his face, a cold expression replacing the previously grateful, "oh, it's you. What are you doing here? What, it takes Elmer on his deathbed for you to show back up?"

"I don't have time for this, Specs. Now let me see my brother." Her voice is firm and desperate, leaving no room for argument.

"Specs, move!" Dil hears Race say from behind her. Specs rolls his eyes and moves out of the way, allowing Dil to run upstairs. She makes it up, only tripping once, and bursts into the room Elmer is it. She gasps at the sight of him. There is her big brother, beaten to the point of unrecognizability, laying almost lifeless on the bed, Albert at his side. She rushes to the other side of the bed.

"What the fuck happened?" She asks, voice low.

"Rally gone wrong." Albert answers, through tears, "He got it the worst, second to Crutchie. It's just not fair, Dil. Why did it have to be him?" He whimpers, looking up at her. She spares him a glance, opening her mouth to speak, but shutting it quickly. She makes note of the pure love and adoration that fills his eyes when he's looking at Elmer, looking back to the sleeping figure in front of her.

She watches the shallow rise and fall of Elmer's chest for a few moments before falling into a chair. She grabs Elmer's free hand, gently.

As she sits there, she remembers the time when she was sick. She remembers how Elmer wouldn't leave her side for days. He sat there, sometimes telling Dil about something stupid Race did, or about Albert, sometimes just being there. It took Albert dragging him away, promising he could come back later, for him to get out and sell. As the memory fades, she realizes she started crying.

"He's goin' to be okay, though, right? He's going to make it?" She chokes out, looking up at Albert again. Another sob rips through Albert and he shrugs. She looks back at Elmer.

"I'm going to kill Spot. If he didn't have to be so fucking high and mighty all the time this never would've happened. We could've come and helped and stopped this from happening. God, I'm so sorry, El." By the time she's done talking, she's near sobbing, quickly wiping her eyes. At some point during her rant, Elmer's eyes fluttered open ever so slightly.