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Chapter 7: Expendable and Exploitable

When you're poor you see death a lot. I saw my first dead body when I was four. It was some drunk against the wall one evening when I was fetching some apples for the Sisters. At first I thought he had just been asleep but when someone shoved me and told me to stop bothering the dead, I knew better.

It was the same every winter. Poor folk who can't find shelter, can't get food or medicine, they die on the street. Sure, Her Majesty's government tries to do some things, but it ain't enough, not for everybody. People always die. The professor said it's the debt that all men pay.

Even now, after everything that's happened to me since...well, this whole mess that got me starting this journal, death is still a lot to process, especially when you're young. I learned that people respond to death very differently, and depending on just who died. It's real easy to just ignore someone you don't know, to not give a bit of time and energy to 'em. It's, I think, a defense mechanism -- if we felt the pain of death for every person who died I don't think we would ever climb out of sadness. It's cold, but it keeps a lot of people moving to the next day, to get up in the morning and keep trying. These are people like Gideon, who harden themselves to the point where the pain isn't something that they can truly feel, especially if it's someone they don't know or care about.

Then there are people like me. Avery would say I'm a 'bleedin' heart' and I would haveta agree on that one. Ever since I was small I just cared about the people around me, even if I wasn't terribly close to 'em. I know the people I live and work with have been dealt a bad hand in life, that we got it tougher than most and the odds are stacked against us, and a little kindness and caring can go a long, long ways.

I think that's why I like Avery so much -- he's a lot like me in that regard; we both...Iunno how to describe it, we both feel the pain of others, him more than me. He just knows when someone is feeling bad and he's always aware of the mood of the room he's in. It's really crazy, almost magic-like. He's like an emotional mirror and if someone is upset then he's upset... and he doesn't really know what to do until he's at least made some attempt to fix it. I think that's why he gives so much of himself to people -- he doesn't want to hurt, even if it's not his pain, so he tries to make everyone around him a little better. He taught me a lot about caring for me fellow man, and I never asked for a single lesson.

I also know that people like Avery, and I guess me, are usually the first to go in a cruel world. We can be taken advantage of, cast aside, hurt and abused, drained for all the goodwill until there's nothing left but an empty bottle of a person. Bensley once said people like him -- like us -- have to work extra hard to protect their hearts. It's that reason why I always keep an eye on Avery... as nice as I am, he's a lot... softer than me, so I make sure he's alright when he's upset because no one else would. It's why we're so close, and it's why I consider him me best friend in all of London. I wonder if he'd like to come with GIdeon and me to America when we finally decide to leave this blasted city. I think he would. I hope he would.

It took me a while to get over Ben. It wasn't just that he died, it was because he died while I was trying to do something about it. I carried a guilt around with me like a bunch of bricks in a bag. Gideon did his best to cheer me up, and the other sweepers did as well. Even Alister sat down with me after supper and talked to me about the costs of living and how it was sad but we can't be stuck in the past and we are the kings of our own emotion. It was easier to listen to than to actually do, but that was life, ain't it?

After a week or so of moping and my friends being there for me, I started to feel better. Avery brought me a pastry from the baker which surprised me. He was still low on the rank and didn't earn much money. A lot of sweepers in London didn't make coins as it was to go to their room and board, but Alister always made sure we got a tiny bit. The fact he spent some of his money on me made me smile and hug him, and it was the start of getting back to my old self.

And so the life of London went on as usual. I spent most of my days working from dawn until dusk, walking up and down the streets yelling "Sweep-oh!" as any good sweeper would do, getting customers, running coins, and helping others when they needed it. I still scurried up chimneys myself, I was too good at it not to, and Alister liked me doing it for new customers that had money, showing off his best worker so they would be return customers. It always worked and we got a good reputation for being hard workers. The hardest thing that a lot of these richer middle class folks had trouble adjusting to is watching me strip down to just my fur sometimes to get through a job.

I try to only work shirtless since, well, being naked in a hot chimney is not exactly what I would call being comfortable, but I was getting bigger and every little bit of room helped and prevented me from getting stuck. It wasn't like it bothered me, every sweeper had climbed a chimney naked many times. The poorer homes were always fine with it. The middle class homes, and dare I say the few rich homes Alister had on his client list, it was like the sight of me bum would cause a well-to-do woman to faint. I guess I had a nice ass.

When I had time I always did my rounds about the city, going to walk along the Thames, stopping at the Professor's and getting my lessons. He was working harder this time of year, saying he was on the verge of something great, but he always found time to teach me. My skills in numbers grew daily and I was reading much, much better. Gideon said I could probably read any of the books on his shelf, but I doubted it. Gideon was smarter than his face let on. Much, much smarter.

I also spent time with Gideon. I was with the Howler Boys a lot, sometimes having a few drinks or playing cards. One of Gideon's cohorts was a good knife thrower and tried teaching me, but he said I needed to get a good throwing knife if I wanted to get better at it. I didn't really have the coin to go buy a weapon so I just let the skill waffle inside the "beginner" level of things.

I'm also a little embarrassed to write this, but I promised myself I wouldn't leave anything out of this journal. But we kissed a lot, Gideon and I. I don't know how to explain it, but I was always drawn to him when we were alone. The way he held my face, our muzzles touched, his strong arms around me. We could lay in his bed for hours, just softly kissing each other. It was wonderful, if not infuriating. Gideon said we needed to be careful with being this close, we were going to smell like one another. He got some oil for our fur that would hide each other's scent. It worked but it wasn't like a perfume, it just masked things. Too much touching would overpower it. We had to be careful.

Those nights with Gideon are some of my happiest memories. Not because I got to practice kissing, but because I was really content. Everyone is confused at my age, with their bodies, where they exist in the world, where they're going, how they're going to live their life... it's scary. Most people don't spend a lot of time thinking about it because it can be overwhelming, but with Gideon I could lay there, holding his hand, and just dream all the dreams I could imagine, and he would always encourage me to keep dreaming, to keep looking at the stars and hoping for more. I never had a friend like him, someone who wanted to see all my dreams come true and wanted to help me get everything I wanted. He also let me go off on wild and imaginative stories with him, little stories about sailing the seven seas, or going to war and becoming heroes, meeting the Queen and being a knight -- the kinds of things I didn't really have time for when I was working. I guess, in a small way, Gideon gave me back some pieces of a missed childhood.

"So," I said, my shirt off and laying in the bed with Gideon, an arm tucked behind my head. "What do you want to do when we're in America? Do you even know where you want to go when we get there?"

" 'Course I do!" Gideon said with a grin. "You think I'd go half-cocked on some wild adventure and not have some of the details?"

"Well..." I said and grinned, to which Gideon gently flicked one of my ears. "Blasted fox, I don't know why I tolerate ye."

"Because you like my charming smile and my wonderful personality, and I'm the best fox in all of London," I said and rolled to lay my head on his chest, looking up at him.

"Best fox in all of London, eh?" he repeated, his hand down and stroking through my headfur. "You sure you got that right?"

"Callin' me a liar?" I pretended to be offended, looking shocked. "I'll have you know that, as the best fox in all of London, I cannot lie."

"Oh, really?" Gideon said and grabbed one of my ears, holding it firmly but painlessly between his thumb and index finger. "So I dun suppose ye want to walk me through how you got such a title, King."

"Secret! Secret! Lemme go!" I said, holding his wrist and Gideon, chuckling, let my pointed ear free. I sighed and fixed my headfur a little bit. "So... where we going when we get to America?"

"New York City," Gideon said with a grin, looking up at the ceiling again as his own thoughts took over. "I heard there's plenty of work, so much money, and no nobles to get in the way. People like us, we can do so much more out there, and that's just one city! Imagine... we could go across the new world... Follow rivers and stuff... See Indians, or go down to Mexico... we could do anything we wanted! A lot more than we can do here in England."

I had to admit it sounded wonderful... and actually something possible. Everyone knew of the opportunities in America, it was why so many were leaving by the boatloads. I knew I couldn't be a chimney sweep forever, even a Master Sweep, and the idea of saying goodbye to Alister was tough, but I also wanted to see more of the world. England was an island and I've lived in London me whole life... if I didn't see more of the world soon, I may never get to.

"Swell," I said, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and looking at Gideon with a grin. "New York it is!" I got up onto my feet and found my shirt and tugged it on, buttoning it up quickly. "But if it's a bust I pick the next town."

"I think that's fair," Gideon said as he got up onto his feet and stretched. He went to the small basin in his room and grabbed his cleaning kit from under a shelf, motioning me over to get cleaned up. He was always on me to keep grooming, even if I didn't see the point. I was just going to get dirtier than a codger's soul the next time I was in a chimney, why waste time and money getting pretty?

After some teeth brushing, some oil applying, and cleaning up, we left the Howlers Den and went looking for breakfast. We had money, Gideon always had some coins because he was the Howler's leader, but I didn't like the idea that he always paid for things.

After a little bit of searching we found someone selling some warm bowls of beef stew and some cups of fresh water and sat down with our backs against the wall, eating and just talking. I wish I could say I remember what, but it was probably nothing. Just those moments you have with a dear friend, someone you really care about, and just enjoy the moments. When I was with Gideon I didn't feel like the world was so much bigger and I could do anything. He let me put my guard down.

After our meal I told him I had to get back to the House before it got too late. I needed to get ready for the week and I also wanted to check in with Avery and Billy anyhow. I think Alister was also worried about me, I did kind of vanished suddenly -- not that I couldn't come and go as I pleased -- but he was always watching out for me, the old fox was kind of a mother hen that way.

So that was why I was feeling much better, more confident, and older. I felt like things were alright and I was alright and I was going to get my riches and live like a king. It was why I whistled as I walked down the street in the cold but warming air of the end of winter. It was why, when I saw another boy on the sidewalk clutching his leg, I stopped and moved over to him.

He was one of us. Not... a man-lover, but a chimney sweep. He was a grey wolf and dressed in an oversized shirt and trousers. His leg looked twisted... maybe broken. I could see his brushes and his kit next to him. I looked up and saw the rope hanging from the top of the tall tenement building and frowned. "You fall?" I asked. Stupid.

"Y...Yeah," he said, wincing as he started to get up. Fell... hit that box there. My leg... Argh!" He held his thigh and his knee and shook his head. I could see him grit his teeth. What was he doing out here this late? The sun was setting. Working in the dark was dangerous.

I sighed and gathered up the discarded tools, slipping them into the wolf's pack. He was small. I thought he was young but when I put my arm around him to help support his wounded leg I felt his bones. He needed food.

"Thanks..." he said, looking up at me with a tired grin. "If you could just help me to my place, it's down the street and to the left. Duncan's."

"Sure," I said, walking with him in thought. Duncan? Where had I heard that name... Wait, was he the Master Sweeper who grew up with Alister? The one who was always in the east part of our burrow? I heard he yelled a lot, or rather, I heard him yell a lot. Hopefully it was just bluster. Master Sweepers tended to be loud when they were out and about -- they were the boss after all.

We walked in silence. Mostly because my new companion was gritting his teeth and didn't seem like he was terribly interested in talking. I made sure to help him and by the end I had him on my back. I had our packs turned forward with this all-bones wolf on me, my arms behind me like stirrups for a horse but trying to be very gentle with his bum leg. We got to the door of Duncan's and I paused.

It was a three story building, old with chipping paint along the trim. There was a flashy stylized "DUNCAN'S" along the front but so faded and chipped it looked like it had been here longer than the Tower of London.

We could hear voices inside and I looked over my shoulder, smiling. "Got ya here. Let's just get you settled inside. Hopefully your Master Sweeper knows how to set a bone right."

I felt the wolf on my back tense as I grabbed the heavy door and opened it up, stepping inside. He was speaking into my ear quickly. "No! You don't want to go in there, He's --"

But I was struck by how it looked inside. I knew Alister and us crew members didn't live in the palace, but this was... scary. There was soot everywhere, like there was no attempt to keep the place clean. I knew it was a futile effort, but we at least tried. Did pretty well, too. Alister had shown us a few cleaning tricks to keep the tables nice. But here everything was caked with the soot like the inside of a chimney and I could see why.

The boys, and there were maybe twice as many as Alister had, were filthy. I know I wasn't the cleanest fox in all of London but I still had relatively clean clothes and I didn't actually exist as a cloud of soot. These boys, though, it was hard to tell their species. Their fur was matted down in areas, some raw and bald. I could see bare tales, arms, legs. No one looked like they had a healthy coat of fur. Most were clothed in things so threadbare that if they hadn't been covered in soot and ash they'd have been transparent.

To make matters worse, this whole floor was dark and smokey. The fire was roaring in the back with some giant pot over it. But there was almost as much smoke coming in as it was going out. Didn't they clean their own flume?! It was easy. I could tell it was a wide flume, too. Alister could do it if he wiggled enough, but that he would. He earned the right to stand on the street. I had to cover my muzzle with a hand and squinted my eyes, the smell of smoke weed burning my nose. It was the cheap stuff, the kind sailors smoked when they got back from bein' on the ocean and ruining the pubs. I gagged once and was starting to put my friend down.

"No, wait, you really shouldn't --"

"BARCLAY!!" The voice made everyone flinch. It was deep, rough, heavy, and angry. I watched as some of the boys pushed themselves into the walls or turned away and tried to make themselves smaller. The braver ones just watched from the sidelines as a huge badger descended the steps. This was Duncan.

He wore torn overalls and a loose button up shirt. He probably had been getting ready to take a nap or something by the way one strap of suspender hung down, and no hat or jacket. But he was big. His arms were as thick as pillars, and his hands as big as me head. I took a step back out of natural instinct, but the man had other ideas.

"What in blue blazes happened?! You were at the McMillins House and 'posed to be cleaning their flume and then I 'ear from these other blighters that you FELL? You being clumsy is on your own time, boy. I swear if you weren't working off the contract I bought you from your parents..."

I felt Barclay twitch and try to say something, but he was grabbed around his neck by the huge badger. I tried to hold onto him but the boy was thrown across the room and onto the table, crying out loud as his shoulder took the weight and sent wooden bowls and spoons clattering to the floor. Duncan followed.

"They were new clients, boy. They were gonna pay a pretty penny for my service, but now they think I hire drunkard whelplings!" I watched as Duncan grabbed the wolf by his shirt, hauled him up and punched him so hard in the face his nose look like it exploded in blood. I think the most chilling thing was he didn't really cry out, or try to defend himself. He hung there limply.

Duncan lifted him high into the air and then slammed him down onto the side of the table, getting a scream out of the bleeding youth. What made him scream was when the badger grabbed his broken leg, pulled, twisted and popped the bone into place. It was loud and painful. Probably the worst setting I'd heard. No whiskey, nothing to bite down on, just pain. Barclay cried out in a wail but was then silenced by being lifted and slammed down into the table.

"SHUT IT!" Duncan yelled, repeating the process. "You're just fucking lucky I set your leg. I didn't haveta, but I care about you brats. Can't have you developin' a gimp on me dime. But until you can go down a chimney you're on half portions of food. Lest one of your chums here wants to be kind."

I watched as Barclay laid there, breathing through his mouth, his face covered in blood. He was alive at least. When he tried to sit up Duncan grabbed him and threw him into a group of other boys. "Fix his face! Stop that bleedin' or I'll make sure he has friends to join him."

The badger was walking toward the stairs and stopped when he saw me. I had put Barclay's bag down by my feet and had my own slung onto my back. I had my fists clenched but remained silent. "What's this? You must be Alister's. I recognize you. That smartass fox who thinks he's so clever 'cause he tied a brush to his tail."

He started walking toward me.

I backed up involuntarily but remembered what Gideon told me. If I showed weakness before a fight it was definitely going to end that way. I had to be stronger than that, even if I would actually run if push came to shove.

I growled deep and flattened my ears. "Don't you come near me. I'm going to tell --"

It happened so fast.

I felt a wall hit me in the stomach, then my face, then my stomach again. A hand was around my neck and lifting me up, squeezing me like a bottle. I coughed, trying to breathe but was so stunned. My head rang and I saw things in order of threes.

"Tell who, brat?" the badger taunted, holding me up to his face. "Alister? He's even weaker than the boy back there. The Sisters? They can't do nothin'. Not with the church sanctioning me establishment. And even if they decided to stop letting me bring in these little cocks I would still be able to buy them for their parents."

His large hand shoved the door open, and into the cold we stepped, my vision darkening around me.

"I'm goin' ta give you a little bit of advice, boy."

Then, all of a sudden, that huge hand of his grabbed my crotch, my balls, and squeezed. The pain was so intense, I felt tears well up, I couldn't move, I couldn't think. He held them like that, even twisting. God I thought they would burst! He got me to whimper.

"You mess with my affairs, and I'm gonna keep these in a jar up in my bedroom." He sneered, obviously taking delight in seeing me in pain. "So bugger off and go turn tricks at the docks. I got things to do with me and mine."

He let me go of me as he threw me onto the sidewalk. I rolled to a stop against the lamp post, coughing and curling up on myself. I looked up at him with nothing but hate in my eyes. My hat lay next to me. I couldn't find my voice, even though I wanted to scream.

"Thanks for bringin' Barclay back. He's the only reason your little eggs are still attached to you. Now fuck off." And he slammed the door behind him. Gone.

I guess no good deed ever goes unpunished.