Hero of the Five Points by Alan Gratz

Author:Alan Gratz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2014-08-04T16:00:00+00:00

A boy stuck his head through the door of Sportsman’s Hall and yelled, “Fire! Fire at the Mantotohpa Tannery!”

Half a dozen Dead Rabbits who’d been sitting over mugs of beer jumped to their feet and ran for the door. Agatha hurried over to Dalton and Mr. Rivets.

“The Mantotohpa Tannery’s on the edge of Bowery Boy territory,” Agatha told them. “If they show up there’s bound to be a fight—”

“—and if there’s a fight, Mose might put in an appearance,” Dalton finished. He was already getting up from the table. He’d kept an ear out for the monster for days, ranging as close to Bowery Boy territory as he dared, and occasionally returning to Mose’s old room in the tunnels in his search for him. But the Manglespawn hadn’t put in an appearance since Dalton’s first day in the Five Points. Maybe this was his chance.

“Keep your knob down, noddle!” Agatha called after him.

Dalton raced out into the street, Mr. Rivets at his heels. A dozen boys and young men wearing the red shirts and red-striped pants of the Dead Rabbits ran by, pulling a hand-drawn wagon. The wagon carried a tarnished brass steam engine and water pump that towered like the New Rome skyline, and from the corners and sides of the rickety old thing hung ropes, ladders, sand buckets, and hoses. Besides the brassworks, the entire wagon was painted black, with the words BLACK JOKE painted in gold along the side. A Dead Rabbit sat in the driver’s seat, doing more hanging on for dear life than driving as he shouted directions to the chasers.

Dalton caught one of the Dead Rabbits as he was running past. “Haven’t you got Tik Tok firemen?”

The Rabbit scoffed. “Maybe up at Astor Place they do, but not down here. The only bolt buckets in the Five Points are yours and the Coppers—when they show.”

Hellcat Maggie appeared behind the boy and glared at Dalton. He knew what the look was meant to tell him: he was giving himself away. Foul, joyless creature, Dalton thought. Regardless, he resolved to keep his mouth shut as he fell in with the Dead Rabbits running to the fire.

The Mantotohpa Tannery was fully ablaze when they arrived. Flames rose from the broken windows of the wooden warehouse and black smoke hung thick in the air. There was but one well for the Dead Rabbits to dip their hoses into, conveniently located right across the street from the conflagration, but it was currently being guarded by the meanest-looking Cherokee Dalton had ever seen. The ruffian was short and squat, with arms as thick as stovepipes bulging out from under his rolled up shirtsleeves. His nose was bent, his chin was scarred, and part of his left ear was missing. Pulled down tight over the top of his black mop of hair was an oversized tan plug hat.

“Looks like the Plug Uglies beat us here,” said one of the Dead Rabbits.

“Yeah, but only one of ‘em,” Hellcat Maggie snarled. “Quash him!”

The ugly Plug Uglie stood, revealing the raygun tucked into his waist and the brickbat in his hand.

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