Part Eight: No Place Like Home
Swifty got off of Smokey and rubbed the ice off his nose. Swifty was beyond exhausted now; he was sleepy, and his legs were killing him. If he rode, his legs would go crazy. If he walked, his legs would go crazy. He had to walk now, for he had been riding the last few miles.
Grabbing the harness, he tugged on it and pulled Smokey, who was obviously getting tired.
"Come on, Smokey," Swifty said, "don’t give up on me now! You can’t get tired now, not when we’re almost there!"
Smokey snorted and tossed his head. He didn’t want to go, but he had to. Swifty tugged even harder on his reigns and pulled.
"Come on, Smokey!" he exclaimed.
Smokey snorted again and started to trot through the deep snow. The snow was piling higher as the winds grew even more fierce. It was at least midnight, and Swifty hadn’t slept in almost two days. His sleepiness was slowly taking over his body, and he had to take deep, labored breaths to keep awake.
His shoes seemed to be getting heavier with every step he took, and the heavier they got, the more painful and more tiring it was to him. Even the snow seemed to be slashing at his skin like knives when they hit his skin.
Swifty and Smokey walked on for about a half hour before the tiredness of Swifty’s muscles was taking over his entire body. Swifty collapsed in the snow, but he lifted his head and got back up again.
"Keep going." He told himself. "Don’t give up! I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."
Swifty started to walk again, and when he looked back at the light guiding him to New York. The light was dimming, and Swifty had no idea why. Reaching his hand out as if to grab it and keep it from fading, he stumbled and fell again.
When he lifted his head, he saw that the light had stopped dimming. He had no idea why, but the next thing he knew, his eyes closed heavily. He found himself drowning in a sea of cold and darkness.
* * *
Tweetheart paced around the room as the doctor checked Snoddy over. Snoddy had also fallen victim to the unconsciousness that the virus brought, and Seven still hadn’t woken up.
Today was New Year’s Eve, one of the biggest partying days of the year. Everyone in Manhattan was going to be happy and enjoying the New Year tonight; everyone except the newsies.
No one had sold papers in days because of the weather and their sick friends. Tweetheart’s heart leapt wildly when the doctor came over to her and Kloppman and told them how the newsies were doing.
"They don’t have a lot of time left." The doctor said with a heavy sigh. "If the medicine doesn’t come in at least two days, it’ll be too late for all of them."
"What about Chase?" Tweetheart asked anxiously.
"I’m afraid she needs the medicine the most. It needs to come tomorrow for her since she has it the worst."
Tweetheart felt faint. Pushing past the doctor, she rushed to Jack’s bunk. His eyes were half open, and he was struggling to stay awake.
"Jack," Tweetheart whispered.
Jack looked at her and smiled faintly. "Hi Devin." He said quietly.
"Jack, are ya feelin’ okay?"
"Naw. I wanna go ta sleep."
"Then maybe that’s what you should do. I’m sure that once you wake up, Swifty’ll be here an’ you’ll be just fine."
Tweetheart felt a little bad saying that, for she was sure that Swifty was probably dead by now, and the medicine would never get here in time. She opened her mouth to say something more, but was interrupted when the doctor placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Excuse me, young lady," he said, "but they need their rest, and I don’t think you should be around them right now."
Tweetheart sighed and looked down at her sister on the bunk below Jack’s. "Okay." She whispered.
Tweetheart walked away from the sick newsies and sat down on a bunk on the other side of the room. Before she knew it, Race sat down next to her and put his arm around her.
"It’s okay, Tweetheart." He coaxed. "We’s all scared."
"I know. I just want Swifty to come back, but there’s no way that’s possible."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"He’s most likely dead by now!"
"What if he ain’t? Don’t give up yer hope now!"
Tweetheart cast her eyes downward. If Swifty didn’t return soon, all her hope would be squeezed dry like a worn out sponge.
* * *
Swifty’s eyelashes slowly fluttered and opened, and he reached up and rubbed the ice off them. He lifted his head and saw the light in front of him, but Swifty knew that it was over for him.
It was dark and deathly cold, and Swifty guessed that he had been asleep for almost twenty-four hours. He looked behind him and saw Smokey laying down in a small snow bank. He tossed his head when he saw that Swifty was awake, but Swifty set his head back down in the snow. He was done for.
Don’t give up, Derek. Get up and walk.
I can’t. Swifty prayed. I’m too tired, and it’s already too late. Chase and the newsies are gonna die and it’s all my fault.
Arise, my son, and walk.
I can’t.
Look ahead of you.
Swifty slowly raised his head and looked ahead. For the first time, he saw the clouds open and he saw the full moon letting its golden light shine through. Swifty then looked ahead and saw that the light was now gone.
He was about to loose his hope when he thought he saw something. He squinted his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly. What he saw was a tiny light; so tiny that he could hardly see it. As the snow subsided and the wind died down, Swifty could see another tiny light, and soon, there were a million tiny lights appearing. Swifty then realized what it was. It was New York!
Swifty felt a surge of adrenaline sweep throughout his entire body as he leapt to his feet. Tugging on Smokey’s reigns, Smokey got to his feet and was ready to go to the city. Climbing into the saddle, Swifty tapped Smokey with his heels and tugged on the reigns.
"Let’s go!" he shouted.
Smokey snorted and broke into a trot. As they got closer to the city, Swifty’s heart leapt with joy. He was coming home.
* * *
Tweetheart sat in the lodging house lobby, watching as Boots shot tin cans with his handmade slingshot. He loaded a green marble into his slingshot, pulled it back and released it. It hit the tin can and knocked it off the desk.
"Nice shootin’, Rex." Tweetheart complemented.
"Thanks." Boots said, half-heartedly.
Tweetheart looked up at the clock and saw that it was almost eleven o’clock. She looked at the ground again and then watched Boots as he started shooting tin cans again. When the door to the bunkroom door opened, everyone leapt. The doctor was coming downstairs.
"I have some bad news." He said. "Two more newsies have fallen unconscious."
"Oh God." Tweetheart breathed.
"This can’t go on like this." Race said. "If I could, I’d go out der an’ look fer Swifty ta bring da medicine back."
"Everyone wants ta, Race." Bumlets said. "No one likes what dey’s seein’ upstairs."
"Is there anything you can do for them, doctor?" Kloppman asked.
The doctor shook his head. "All I can do is have the other newsies keep the sick ones awake. If they fall asleep, they may not wake up."
"I haven’t stopped prayin’ fer Swifty all day." Boots said. "’E needs ta come home."
"He’s probably not gonna come home." Tweetheart absent-mindedly said. "He’s probably dead by now."
"Shut up, Tweetheart!" Race shouted. "I’m tired of all yer stupid remarks about ‘im bein’ dead! ‘E ain’t dead!"
"If he weren’t, he would be here by now."
"He WILL come home, Tweetheart! I know it!"
Just then, the door to the lodging house was thrown aside, and everyone jumped and looked toward the door. In the doorway stood a large, bulky figure. Kloppman pulled a shotgun out from under the desk and loaded it and raised it toward the intruder.
"Kloppman, don’t." Race said.
Kloppman lowered the shotgun and the man in the doorway started removing his scarf from his face. When he pulled his hat off, everyone stared in disbelief.
"SWIFTY!" Race shouted.
Swifty nodded. "I brought da medicine. It’s outside on da sled."
The doctor immediately rushed outside and returned in no time with the large box in his arms. He rushed up the stairs to get the medicine to the newsies. As Swifty sighed with relief, Tweetheart ran up to him and hugged him tightly.
"I thought you were dead!" she cried.
All the other newsies crowded around Swifty, and they mobbed him with questions as Tweetheart held onto him and cried.
"How’d ya survive out der all alone?"
"Was it a long trip?"
"What happened out der? Tell us all!"
Swifty pushed Tweetheart away. "I just kept goin’, guys." He looked down at Tweetheart. "How’s Chase?"
Everyone fell silent, and their facial expressions showed immense sadness. Swifty looked at everyone, and then back at Tweetheart.
"What’s wrong? How’s Chase an’ everyone else?"
Tweetheart drew in a deep breath. "Chase took a turn for the worst a few days ago. She’s been unconscious for almost three days, and Snoddy, Crutchy an’ Jake ‘ave been unconscious almost all day."
Swifty couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He pushed past all the newsies and rushed up the stairs to the bunkroom. When the newsies upstairs saw him, he was mobbed with questions, but he ignored all of them and rushed to the sick newsies. Upon seeing Seven, he felt faint.
"Oh, sweet Lord…" he whispered.
Swifty broke into a run and rushed to Seven’s side. Never had he seen a face so pale, so frightening…and yet so peaceful. She seemed to be in peace and not in pain. He grabbed her cold hand and held it to his face.
"Chase," he said, "Chase, I’m here. I’m home."
Swifty waited for a response, but none came. Swifty felt a tear roll down his face when he was under the impression that he was too late to save her. He sat down on her bunk, seized her and held her cold body up against his. Her arms hung down limply as if she were already dead. Swifty hid his face in her shoulder and did everything he could to keep his tears from falling.
"Mariah, don’t leave me! I got the medicine, so please wake up! If ya wake up, ya’ll be well, ya hear?"
There was still no response. Swifty pulled his face away from her shoulder and stared at Seven’s face. He ran his fingers along her cheek and tried to bring the color back to them.
The smile on her face made him even sadder, for she would leave him and not be sad. Swifty placed his hand against the back of her head and pulled it toward his neck. He gently rocked her and he leaned down toward her ear.
"Mariah," he whispered in her ear, "I love you. Don’t leave me."
Swifty continued to rock Seven when he thought he felt some things flop onto his back, and they locked around him. Swifty was about to look over his shoulder to see what it was, but then a soft, quiet voice spoke that made his heart stand still.
"I love you too."
Swifty looked down toward Seven’s face. Her eyelashes fluttered, and they finally opened. Her hazel eyes shined brightly when she saw the face in front of her.
"Mariah!" Swifty exclaimed, holding her tighter.
"You came back." Seven whispered; his voice like a gentle healing balm to her wounds, making her feel well again.
"I promised ya, didn’t I? It was me love for ya and my faith in God dat kept me goin’. And I’d never break any promise I made to ya."
"Oh Derek, I missed you so much."
"I couldn’t go one minute without thinkin’ about you."
Seven looked up at his face and smiled. "Will you kiss me?"
Swifty grinned. "Nothing in this entire world would keep me from kissin’ ya right now."
Swifty leaned down and kissed Seven gently. Seven hugged him tighter as their kiss went on longer. When they drew back, they could hear the newsies behind them cheering. Swifty smiled at Seven, and she smiled back. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes until the doctor came by and interrupted their intimacy.
"Excuse me," he said, "but Miss Chase needs her medicine now."
Seven nodded. "Okay, I’m ready."
The doctor pulled out a small, clear jar filled with a golden liquid and stuck a needle into the microscopic hole in the lid. Upon seeing the needle, a frightened look came to Seven’s face.
"Yer givin’ me a shot?" she asked.
"I’m afraid so. But if you don’t take it, you won’t get well." The doctor answered.
Swifty pulled Seven’s face toward him. "Don’t worry, ya don’t hafta look."
Seven hid her face in Swifty’s shoulder as the doctor drew the needle out of the jar. Swifty also turned his head, for he didn’t want to see what was going to happen.
He heard Seven draw in a gasp when the needle pricked the skin of her arm, and he could feel the muscles in her jaw tighten with pain. A second later, the doctor broke the silence between the two.
"All done." he said.
"That hurt." Seven whimpered.
"Aw Chase, quit bein’ a baby." Swifty joked.
"If I can recall right, you was the same way last year when I gave ya dat medicine when you was sick."
"I’se jus’ jokin’, Chase. You should know dat."
Seven chuckled a little bit. "I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Derek William Carmichael."
"Sometimes I even surprise myself."
"But that’s what I love about you."
Swifty smiled, and then he kissed Seven thoroughly, leaving her gasping for breath when they parted. But when they parted, Swifty knew that he needed to ask her what he had been meaning to ask her for so long. Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled around for his mother’s ring.
"Mariah," Swifty said, "der’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ ta ask ya, an’ I wanna ask it now before I can’t ask."
Seven let out a deep breath. "I’m listening."
Swifty drew out the ring, and then got off the bed. He got on one knee and held the ring out to her.
"Mariah," he said, "I love ya more than anythin’ on this earth. Will ya marry me?"