Trapped Where There Ain't No Future

14

"Right. Heah's how dis is gonna woik." Fox said, looking between us. "Yoah duties'll be cleanin', mendin', cookin', an' anythin' else I oah any o' me men need."

"You're gonna do wha' 'e says?" Spot looked at me, bemused.I looked him dead in the eye. "I've seen what Fox does to those he's angry wit'. And I don't want you gettin' hurt."

"We's gonna get out o' heah, Eva. Don' worry. Ise gonna get ya out o' heah."

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"Almost finished with the bunkroom, Spot?" I called from the nearly clean bathroom. Spot had originally begun with the bathroom, but upon seeing the rather large, hairy, eight-legged occupants that had taken up residence in the corner of the shower, had asked with an unusual show of foibility if we could switch. I had obliged, not minding spiders in the slightest. I had gotten used to my fair share of creepy crawlies during the time I had been in Queens; the city seemed to be rife with them, even though I had been in residence in a different building. Calico kept his elite close to him, and while the rest of the newsies were left in their own lodging house-the place Spot and I now found ourselves trapped- I, he, Patches, and a few others lived in another small end apartment chosen by Calico for good proximity to the various places of our... employment.

"Yeah." Spot responded from the other room. "Ise made da beds an' put away most o' da clothes an' t'ings."

I finished up the final touches of the bathroom's floor, scooting out the door into the bunkroom. "Righ', I'll help with this floor." I said, wiping my slightly sweaty forehead on my sleeve. The building was uncomfortably warm, and it wasn't made any better by the physical labor. There were some questionable stains in the bathroom that were pretty hard to remove. I didn't want to think about what had made them, but the fact remained that they were there, and I had had to get rid of them.

"Ya feelin' okay Eva?" Spot asked me, looking up from where he crouched on the floor, his hair framing his face. Despite our current predicament, Spot looked as pretty as usual.

"I'se fine." I said. "An' you're doing it wrong."

"Whaddaya mean?" Spot asked.

"You have ta start cleaning the floor in the corners, so that you don't trap yourself there surrounded by a clean floor." I said, lifting the buckets of water and sand to take them over to a corner. Spot took the buckets from me easily and brought them to the right area.

"Like this?" He asked, turning to look at me.

"Yeah." I nodded and began scrubbing again, Spot by my side.

We worked in silence, like we had for most of the day. There was something about our predicament that just demanded it.

When the floor was finally clean, Spot and I sat down together on one of the bottom bunks. Spot wrapped me in his arms and I leaned against him, taking comfort from the familiar smell of cigars and salt air. Spot always smelled like the docks; he was practically the personification of Brooklyn.

"So what's da plan?" Spot asked after a few minutes.

"Well, I was thinkin'-" I paused. "How'd ya know I had a plan?"

"I saw ya t'inkin' earlier, doll. When Fox said we was at da Queens Lodgin' House, ya lit up like a moonbeam on the rivah at midnight."

I smiled at his choice of words. Something told me Spot had spent many nights watching the river.

"Well, somebody from either 'Hatten or Brooklyn's gonna come 'round asking about us, right?" I said. "All we's gotta do is signal them when they get here."

Spot was quiet for a couple seconds. "Sounds good." he finally said.

I hummed in response and Spot began to play with my hair.

We sat together for a while. I could feel myself starting to drift off to sleep as I leaned against Spot's shoulder.

Eventually I ended up in that strange state where you're practically asleep but are still aware of everything going on around you. As such, I heard when Fox came back. He and Stone sauntered into the room and closed the door loudly behind themselves.

"It don't look half bad all cleaned up." Stone said, looking around the room.

"Whaddaya t'ink youse doin'?" Fox said, ignoring Stone, his gaze zeroing in on Spot and me.

"Be quiet, will ya?" Spot said. "She's sleepin'."

"Sleepin'?" Fox repeated. "What makes ya t'ink you'se allowed ta be sleepin'?"

"Don't see anythin' else fo' us t' be doin'." Spot said, shifting me so my head rested on his lap.

Fox snorted in disgust before pausing- realizing, perhaps, that he hadn't told us what to do after we cleaned. "Youse gonna make dinnah now." He said eventually. "Stone, take 'em ta da kitchen. Ya know what ta do."

Stone stepped towards me, but Spot shot him such a glare that he backed off immediately.

"Red." Spot said softly, gently shaking my shoulders. "Wake up."

I sat up slowly, my hair slightly mussed.

"Dinnah." Fox said again, before stretching lazily onto a bunk. Stone opened the door and Spot stood, taking my hand in his and lifting me to my feet. Hand and hand, we walked behind Stone down the hallway of the house. We moved silently, me because of the years of experience I had had with such matters and the familiarity of the Queens lodging house, and Spot... because he was Spot, I supposed.

Stone glanced back a couple times to make sure we were following, his gaze wary each time. Eventually, after a couple cycles of this, he moved behind us, prodding us forwards instead of risking having us walk behind him.

Soon we reached a small, dingy kitchen with chipped linoleum floor and dirty white cabinets surrounding an old, beat up gas stove.

"Food's in the cupboahds." Stone grunted, slinging himself into a wooden chair, stretching his legs out to block the doorway. Pulling a switchblade from his pocket, he began to clean his nails in an attemptingly menacing way, an effect that was cut slightly by his muffled curse when he accidentally stabbed his skin.

Spot rolled his eyes, opening one of the cupboard doors. He shuddered at the insects crawling out and quickly shut that door. The next held a hard loaf of bread and a small bag of flour.

I opened a long, tall cupboard that turned out to be an icebox. It held only a few bruised fruits and a package of meat that had been there who-knows-how-long and looked to be mostly fat.

"I have potatoes." Spot muttered softly.

"Stew it is then?" I replied, pulling out the meat.

"Stew it is then." Spot said, nodding. "Maybe they'll all get food poisoning and we can bust out that way."