Part Seven: Braving the Blizzard


Smokey snorted and tossed his head. Swifty tightened the saddle on Smokey’s back and led him out of the stall. Bringing him to the sled, he attached the sled to the saddle and mounted Smokey. Making sure Smokey could withstand the weight of the medicine, Swifty rode him to the doors.

He jumped off Smokey’s back and opened the doors. Smokey walked past, despite the snow blowing angrily in his face, and Swifty followed and shut the doors to the stable. Pulling his scarf and wrapping it around his face, Swifty mounted Smokey and the two braved the blizzard. But when they reached the hospital, Swifty stopped Smokey and dismounted him.

"Smokey, wait here." He told him. "I’ll be back in a jiffy."

Swifty rushed up the stairs and burst through the door to the hospital and ran up to the front desk.

"Thomas Carmichael." He said to the nurse behind the desk. "I need ta know about Thomas Carmichael."

The nurse looked down at her papers, and then looked up at Swifty. "I’m sorry," she said, "but Thomas Carmichael passed away last night."

Swifty froze. He was dead? His stepfather, dead?

"You should go home, boy." The nurse said. "That blizzard is getting worse."

"I am going home." Swifty said. "I’m going back to New York."

The nurse looked at him like he was a madman. "Are you insane? You’d die out there!"

"I don’t care!"

Swifty didn’t mean to be so rude to her, but he didn’t have the time to regret it. He whirled around and rushed out the doors. He mounted Smokey and tapped him with his heels.

"Let’s go!"

Smokey broke into a trot and they fought the fierce snow and wind blowing their faces. But as Swifty looked up, he saw a light ahead of them, glowing brightly. Swifty smiled when he saw it.

"Follow the light, Smokey." Swifty said. "That light’s our ticket back home."

* * *


Jeff walked down the stairs and was upset to see that the blizzard was still raging on. It looked like it was going to last for a few days, and Jeff felt sad, for he was beginning to loose hope for all those newsies back in New York.

Mrs. Hester served him a hot breakfast, and then Whittier came downstairs, followed by Stamblyr, Collins and Jones. After they had finished their breakfast, Jeff noticed that Swifty wasn’t there.

"Swifty ain’t up yet." He thought out loud.

"We should wake him up." Jones said.

"Stamblyr, would you go get him?" Jeff asked.

Stamblyr frowned. "Alright."

Pushing his chair back, Stamblyr walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. When he reached Swifty’s room, he pounded his fist against the door.

"Swifty, get yer lazy butt outa that bed and get up!"

No answer. After five minutes, Stamblyr opened the door and looked in. The bed was empty and the blankets were scattered all along the mattress, and Swifty’s sack of clothes was gone. Frowning with confusion, Stamblyr went downstairs and reported to Jeff.

"Where’s Swifty?" Jeff asked.

"He ain’t there." Stamblyr answered.

"That’s odd." Jones said. "Does anyone know where he is?"

"He might be at the hospital." Whittier said. "His stepfather was there."

"I don’t think so," Stamblyr said, "his bag was gone too."

Jeff’s eyes grew wide. "What?" he demanded.

Without waiting for an answer, Jeff broke into a run and rushed to his room. When he opened the door, he saw that the box of medicine was gone, as well as his sack of corn dodgers. Jeff swore vilely under his breath and left the room.

"Where’s Swifty?" Collins asked.

"He’s gone. He took the medicine with him."

"What?" the men all chorused.

"He went back to New York. His bag is gone, the medicine is gone, and my corn dodgers are gone. If those are gone, Smokey’s most likely gone if we go to the stable."

"That boy is crazy!" Jones exclaimed. "He’ll die out there, and so will the newsies!"

"We need to go after him!" Whittier cried.

"No, we can’t!" Stamblyr said. "If we did, we’d die too!"

Jeff pounded his fists against the table, shaking the dishes on the table. When he raised his head, he let out a deep, angry breath.

"I’m sending a telegraph to New York." He said. "They need to know that Swifty won’t be coming back."

* * *


Kloppman watched as Tweetheart lingered by the fireplace, fighting the tears that had been wanting to fall all day. Seven and Mush were unconscious, and he knew that more would be like them if the medicine didn’t come soon.

Kloppman looked up at the clock and saw that it was only a little bit past one. He looked down at the desk when the door opened and the young man who had delivered Tweetheart’s letter the day before. He was holding a paper in his hand, and he was looking at Kloppman.

"Are you in charge of the newsies here?" he asked.

Kloppman nodded. "Yes, I am."

The man handed him the paper. "Telegram."

The man left once again, and Kloppman looked at the paper. Every newsie that was downstairs at the time watched as a frightening look came to Kloppman’s face.

"Kloppman, what’s wrong?" Dutchy asked.

Kloppman inhaled deeply. "It’s a telegram from Clifton." He said. "Swifty and the other men arrived safely, but Swifty left early this morning with the medicine, and out in the blizzard."

Gasps were heard all around. Tweetheart immediately jumped to her feet and snatched the telegram out of Kloppman’s hands and read over it herself. Sure enough, he was telling the truth. She shook her head.

"No," she said, her voice choked up with tears.

"What does ‘e think ‘e’s doing?" Itey demanded. "He’ll die out there!"

"Won’t anyone go after him?" Bumlets asked.

"It’s too risky." Kloppman said. "If they send someone out there, they could get lost and freeze to death."

"What’re we gonna do?" Race asked.

"Just pray." Tweetheart said. "Pray that Swifty comes back alive, and in the nick of time."

* * *


"I can do all things through Christ who give me strength." Swifty repeated over and over again.

The blizzard raged on, and Swifty and Smokey were riding against it. As long as the light was in front of them, they were going to be okay. Swifty yawned, for he was exhausted, but he couldn’t fall asleep now.

He would stay up, no matter what cost. It was getting dark, and Swifty knew that it was going to get colder. Pulling on some extra layers of clothes, Swifty jumped off Smokey and grabbed the bit in Smokey’s mouth.

"I’m gonna lead for a little while." He said. "I gotta stay awake."

Swifty rubbed Smokey’s nose, for his breath was beginning to freeze around his nostrils, and if it grew thicker, it could suffocate him. When all the ice was cleared away, Swifty pulled on the harness and led Smokey through the blinding snow. The light was now growing brighter, and Swifty pressed on. He wasn’t going to let the newsies down; not now, not ever.

* * *


Tweetheart slept fitfully, only dreaming of Swifty in the snow, frozen to death in the snow with the medicine that had never reached the newsies in time. It frightened her so, and she tried to think of more pleasant things. But it was inevitable. Even when she slept, she had even more nightmares.

When she awoke the next morning, her blue-gray eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and her hair was a disaster. None of the newsies pointed it out though, for they knew what was wrong. After she had her breakfast, she sat down in the fire and combed her fingers through her short red hair.

She watched as the fire crackled in front of her and smelled the fire burning a piece of pine, sending the scent throughout the room. Race sat down next to Tweetheart and put his arm around her.

"I know how ya feel," he said. "We’s all scared, an’ not jus’ you."

Tweetheart looked at Race. "Race, you’s in charge of all the newsies since Dave an’ Spot can’t come, didja realize dat?"

Race’s eyes grew wide, and he shook his head. "No, I neva thought a dat before."

"Then you should do what Jack would do."

"An’ what’s dat?"

"Try ta keep da spirit up."

"I’m gonna need yer help."

Tweetheart shook her head. "I can’t." she whispered. "I’m loosing Jack and my sister. I don’t know what I’ll do without ‘em. Jus’ leave me alone an’ help de udder guys."

* * *


Swifty’s legs felt like they were about to fall off. Turning to Smokey, he rubbed the ice off his nose again.

"I’m gonna ride again." He told him.

Swifty held onto the reigns as he mounted Smokey. Smokey started and fought the wind, which was blowing harder now. Swifty looked back at the sled to see it covered in snow.

Pulling Smokey to a halt, he dismounted and pushed all the snow away from the box of medicine. He also grabbed the bag of corn dodgers and pulled one out. He munched on it and gave one to Smokey.

They got started again, and the blizzard was growing worse every few hours. Though Swifty was getting cold and tired quickly, he knew that he had to press on. He could remember his mother telling him when he was younger:

"Never give up. The strongest ones are the men who never give up."

Swifty smiled as he remembered his mother. He could also remember hearing someone tell him that if you had a dream, and you wanted it to come true, you needed to keep the dream alive to achieve it. Swifty then decided that his dream would be to get home and to stay with Seven for the rest of his life.

Just thinking of her made him smile. He then remembered the cold piece of jeweled gold in his pocket and decided that once he got home, he wasn’t going to hold back on what he had been meaning to ask Seven for so long.

"I’m almost home, Chase." He whispered. "Just hold on for a little longer, cuz I’ll be home soon."

* * *


Tweetheart sat by Seven’s bunk, holding her deathly cold hand in hers. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she stared at her sister’s face. She was so pale that she looked like a ghost on that bunk. Seven’s hair was scattered all along the pillow, and it looked like straw from malnutrition.

But through all the frightening features of what the virus did to her, the most frightening was the smile on her face. It was a smile that looked like she was in peace, and not suffering. It frightened Tweetheart so much because it made her think that she was not going to survive. Unfortunately, there was a greater chance that Seven wouldn’t survive than the odds of her surviving.

"Mariah," Tweetheart whispered, "if you can hear me, please wake up. I don’t know what I’ll do without you."

Seven didn’t respond, which didn’t surprise Tweetheart. She only watched as Seven’s chest slowly rose as her slow breathing just barely kept her alive. Never in Tweetheart’s life had she ever been so frightened. Now she knew how Seven felt when Swifty got sick last year.

As another tear fell down her face, Tweetheart let out a deep breath and looked around at the other newsies. When she looked up at Mush, he suddenly started coughing. Tweetheart sprang into action and rushed to his side. Mush continued to cough, and then his eyes opened. When he saw Tweetheart, he blinked to make sure it was really her.

"Tweetheart?" he asked.

Tweetheart nodded. "Yes, I’m here. You were unconscious for a while."

"Is Swifty back yet?"

Tweetheart’s small smile faded and she fell silent. Mush looked at her and could tell that something was wrong.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

Tweetheart looked at him and fought her tears. "Swifty’s out in that blizzard somewhere with the medicine."

"In the blizzard?" Mush asked.

"Yes. It’ll be a miracle if he makes it back alive."

Tweetheart sank down back to her chair and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to answer any more of Mush’s questions; someone else could. Removing her hands from her face, she took Seven’s hand again.

"Please Chase," she whispered, "Mush woke up, why won’t you? I can’t loose ya, yer my sister! If you die, who’ll I have left? If ya live, I promise never ta complain about anythin’ again. Please, jus’ wake up."

Seven still didn’t respond, and Tweetheart’s hope was draining like a tiny hole in a large bucket, draining the water slowly. If Seven didn’t come around soon, that water would drain completely and there would be nothing left.

* * *