Rocky - Origin - Chapter Six

Rocky Markona had glared at Jim off and on during the trip downtown, but most of his time was taken up with the bus's passengers, who wanted to know what was going on, or wanted to have a wound bound, or just wanted to be comforted. When the boy wanted to know where they were going, Jim told him he should have kept the card. There was almost a row when they pulled up in front of the skyscraper, but a simple brandishing of Wildman's automatics convinced the gang to move inside.

The elevator let the kids out in batches about halfway up the building, where they quickly filled the hallway. Jim had tried unsuccessfully to get a count of them on the bus, and now came to the firm conclusion that, as much chaos as kids are, they needed to be organized for long enough to get them all in rooms and treated and named. He was going to see to it personally that each child was returned to it's parents.

The last group jammed into the throng, the other five adults close behind them. Jim tried to get their attention, but a piercing whistle overpowered the bedlam. The crowd hushed, and cleared a small space around Rocky. He thanked the girl who had whistled and hollered so all could hear. "O.K. everybody! We're where they want us. I suggest that, for now, we do as they say. Either we'll get out, or they'll help us. But right this moment, we need to get anybody who was hurt over at that end of the hall, next to the great big guy. Stick with your partners, especially if you've been hurt. Everybody else, keep the noise down, sit if you want, but stay out of trouble! When I figure out what's going on, I'll let you know. Thank you."

Rocky guestured that it was time for the group to move, and Jim watched the crowd seethe from the vantage point of his tremendous height. Soon all of those who had been wounded were gathered around him with their partners, and he concentrated on them. The injuries were minor and it took only a few minutes to get the kids into a room and clean them up and apply bandages where necessary.

Ham waited until the last pair came back into the hall before going in to talk to Jim. "I didn't hear any screaming. First I was worried, but then I figured you had used some of the anaesthetic gas on them." His grin faded as he saw his friend's face fall. It didn't fall far, as Jim had trained himself not to show his emotions, but Ham, being a trained observer, could tell, Jim Wildman was worried.

"What's the problem? Someone hurt worse than you thought?"

"No. All their injuries were minor. No, it's just... What are we going to _do_ with them all?"

Ham was startled by this uncharacteristic uncertainty, and groped for an answer. An answer came, but not from the lean lawyer. "You'll let them go." Rocky stood in the doorway, leaning against the door jam. "We'll all go back to the way we were before we were so rudely interrupted. You gentlemen will return to... whatever it is you do when you're not harassing children, and we'll go on with our own plans."

Jim started to speak, but the boy held up a hand. "Wait for me to finish, please. You and your friends helped us out of a scrape, and we're grateful. But we aren't under the sway of some jerk of a bad guy, who'd let us get wiped out by marauding nincompoops. And we aren't Olivers to an absent Fagin. We're kids without families, or at least reasonable families, who put together our own.

"I can promise you, heck, I give you my word, that when we leave here, we'll be in no more danger than we were last week, or the week before. And we'll be in much better shape than we were last year. We've been doing this for quite a while, and we know what we're doing."

Rocky folded his arms, and waited smugly for Jim's reply. Jim considered the boy in front of him. The cowboy style clothing worn with simple canvas shoes, the pale face under the dark hair that wrapped into a knot at the back of his head, the youthful face that held old and knowing green eyes.

Normally, a person's dress and hair and manner all combined to tell about the person inside. Good actors, and con men, used these details to create other people. When the parts didn't match, one knows one has a phoney. This boy's details didn't match, but there was something that made it seem purposeful, as if he were defining his own persona by avoiding stereotypes.

Jim spoke finally, restating the boy's points. "You know what you're doing." Rocky nodded. "You have everything under control." Again a nod. "These kids have no families." A hand came out and waggled briefly. "Billy VanGuisen's parents miss him terribly, and that means someone is guilty of kidnapping."

"Ah! I thought that's who he was, but I make it a policy never to force a kid to tell me anything. I only have a few rules for them. No violence, no stealing, go to school. And for the teens, especially the girls, no... well, anyway." He blushed briefly, but forged on.

"Bill's parents didn't take care of him. They spent all their time at work or clubs or salons or wherever, and when they left him completely on his own, he decided to leave. He's just lucky one of his friends knew one of us."

Jim broke in as Rocky stopped to breath. "He had a governess. And there are a great many other people there who cared about him."

Rocky snorted. "They were servants! And his parents had taught him very well that servants aren't real people! As I understand, the governess was only hired the week before they left. And she was a total... total... She was nasty to him.

"Now I would encourage Bill to go home, if only to see if his parents have learned their lesson, but as near as I can tell, he's doing better with us than with them. His homework is done on time. He does his share of the chores gladly.

"He's no longer a spoiled little rich kid. But I can't vouch for how well his parents have learned their lesson. Maybe you want to check for us?"

Jim started to answer affirmatively, but Rocky seemed to know before the words came out, and interrupted the bronzed giant. "Good. Now. I put your friend 'Joe' back together. And apologized. He's not a bad egg, and he hardly whimpered when I relocated his shoulder. Of course he shouldn't use it for a couple of days, but you knew that.

"So." Rocky put his arms behind him in an imitation of military parade rest. "What's your plan?"

Jim leveled his gaze at the boy. "I take them back to their parents."

"What if they don't have parents?"

"I find them new ones."

"What if their parents are missing?"

"I find them."

"What if their parents are abusive, and their lives are in danger if they go back?"

Jim paused for a moment, "you have a suggestion?"

"Foster homes. People who will look after and raise the kids like regular parents, only they can't adopt their charges, because they still have parents. If the real parents truly clean up their acts, they can have their kids back, if the kids want to go."

"It sounds a bit complicated."

"I know, but it's the only reasonable way to handle it. It's at least better than shipping the kids off to the midwest, and hoping someone there will want them and not abuse them."

"You sound like you have this all worked out."

"I..., and a few others."

"Anyone you care to name?"

"No."

"Ah."

"And, before you ask. Yes, I've been doing things like this for a while. Yes, I have 'grownups' helping. Yes, it's a big job for one person. Do you think you can handle it? And, more importantly, do you think you can finish it?"

Drawing on his years of training, Jim Wildman kept his face impassive. Inside he was quite taken aback by Rocky's adult demeanor. "Will your friends help me? Or don't I need help?"

Still with us? Part Seven coming.... someday?
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