Chapter 3
The commotion of lights and sound hit Harley at the same time his feet hit the ground. There were fire trucks, there, and on the way, as well as multiple ambulances lined up along the street. The emergency lights and sirens flooding his senses.
The boys he shared his room with were seated on the tail ends of two different ambulances, facing one another as the paramedics checked up on them. Down the sidewalk a little further, Harley could see a larger body, one of a teenager, being loaded into another vehicle. He was being transported on a stretcher.
Harley turned his head, it was easier to pretend he did not know who it was.
In the other direction, the other boys were being tended to; four of the younger boys and two of the older. Harley let out a breath of relief- everyone seemed to be okay.
“Are you Harley?” A paramedic asked from behind him. Harley turned to the man.
“Yes, sir.” He answered.
“The other boys told us the escape was all your idea, your friends were lucky to have you.” The man gave three curt pats to Harley’s shoulder before nodding and motioning for him to follow.
Friends was a relative term, Harley thought.
The man led him over to an empty ambulance, one free of patients or other emt’s and asked him to sit on the edge and lift up his shirt. Harley did as told, eyes wary and various all throughout.
“I’m just going to check your lungs, does anything hurt?” He asked, his name tag said his name was John.
“No, sir.” Harley said.
The cold metal of the stethoscope felt good against the still too warm skin of his chest. He breathed deeply when instructed to do so.
John hummed.
“What started the fire?” Harley asked as the stethoscope was moved to monitor from a different angle.
“A cigarette butt, one one your friends’.” Harley scoffed, there was no doubt to whom that belonged to.
“He’s not my friend.” He said, a bit more bitter than necessary.
“Got good taste in people then, kid.” John said. “Your lungs sound a little irritated, are you sure nothing hurts?”
Harley thought, before he had just said no, that nothing hurt. It was the automatic response, I’m okay, I’m fine. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, his chest was a little tight, and he could feel his heart beat in his ankle. He hadn’t realized he had landed wrong. Adrenaline was funny like that.
“I’m fi-“ He started, before thinking of another time with someone else. I’m fine. They had said. Harley had been sitting at the side of their hospital bed not five hours later. “It’s a little tight, yeah.” He admits. They can get to the ankle issue later.
“Alright.” John says, wrapping the stethoscope up and putting it back in its designated spot. “See that ambulance over there?” He asked, pointing to one just beyond the crowd, another boy sat inside. “Head over to that one, I’ll find someone to drive you boys down to the hospital.”
Harley nodded, though was internally groaning, hospitals were far from his favourite. Though, he supposed there were worse places to be, that he has been in worse places.
He listened, and started towards the other ambulance.
The drive to Queens general was bumpy, but short. An emt, Daniele, if he remembered correctly, sat in the back with the three boys. Harley, Roy, and Mason, newly ten and who slept in the younger boys’ room. They were to be kept at the hospital overnight so that the staff could monitor their breathing.
The hospital itself, was far from impressive. Harley had been there multiple times before, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic of the waiting room chairs and lingering by someone else’s bedside but this was his first visit with himself as the patient.
The service was slow and the establishment was run down and poorly funded, but the paramedics that had been on the scene of the orphanage actually seemed to be putting effort into getting the boys settled quickly.
They were set up in a shared room, three beds with curtains giving them at least minimal privacy. They were given clean sets of clothes and, with a little convincing from the boys, were allowed to remain in them for the night instead of the alternative of itchy hospital gowns. Two monitors for each boy, respiratory and an EKG, and they were set to sleep.
Finally, at 2:30 that Saturday morning, the lights in room 106A, were flicked off.
***
At 4:06 there was murmuring in the hall. The door to the boys’ room had been left open by the last nurse to enter and now allowed for Harley to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place just outside.
“Just getting settled-“ Someone was saying, a female, Harley presumed.
“New York…. over populated…. not enough…” He hears, this time a male. It sounds like John's voice.
“Unfair… brothers…” That catches Harley’s attention, he did not know of any pairs of brothers at the orphanage. If his assumptions were correct and that was what they were talking about.
“It's what the case worker thinks will be best.” John says, Harley stills. If this is his caseworker they’re chattering about, that means bad news. In the last few years since he’s been in the system, his social worker has brought nothing but ill made decisions and half-assed placements.
“They’re sending him to Tennessee tomorrow?” The woman asked again, Harley couldn’t tell if she was a nurse from the hospital, the EMT Danielle, or someone else entirely. He was more focused on the mention of a state a thousand miles away.
“First thing in the morning, poor kid. They think it’s better if they don’t get a goodbye.”
“Yeah, but Harley seems like he has a good head on his shoulders.”
Harley shudders. Tennessee?
***
The first thing Harley did when he woke up was check his sack for his belongings. The three items, the bear, the blanket, and the pacifier, were all accounted for.
He checked the clock.
6:03 A.M.
It would have to do.
He swept his possessions back into the sack before tearing off the monitors and moving to leave. He knew the drill, he’s done this countless of times, it wouldn’t be long before they sent his social worker. Besides, this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
The machines were left blaring in the background as Harley set out down the hall. Their mostly empty at this time of day, the only light being from the LEDs set into the ceiling. The lack of people left the residue of dirt and old rain water completely visible. The walls and floors could use a good washing.
The waiting room is sparse as well, and it seems only a pair of eager ‘soon-to-be’ grandparents are seated among the sea of back breaking chairs.
Harley takes a breath. This is too easy, the lack of security, the immense amount of time it was taking for the nurses to respond to his chaotic monitors and realize he was no longer there.
He had tried to do this before, he remembers, not all that many months ago either. It was harder then, and he hadn’t even been able to make it to the front door before he was caught. He supposed it was difficult to be subtle when you were fleeing with a small child pressed to your hip.
Now though, alone and with nothing but a backpack, he ran. He sprinted the rest of the distance to the door, each step a leaping bound. The parking lot was slightly busier, workers arriving to clock in for the morning shift. There was a slight drizzle of rain that left goosebumps on Harley’s skin. Either that, or the thrill of proposed freedom.
The wetness seeps through his frayed sneakers, the only pair of shoes he owned and the only other thing he had grabbed before his great escape the previous night. Now, with the bitter chill of autumn, he wishes he had also grabbed his jacket. Even it’s thinness would have been better than nothing.
He slows down a little, once a safe distance away from the main door, he can’t look suspicious. Running causes suspicion, he knows this from experience.
There’s screaming by the hospital entrance only minutes after he leaves and he has to admit, they were faster than he expected.
He ducks behind a nearby dumpster for cover, though by now he is far away enough that he would be difficult to depict through the misting rain. He shivers again.
He needs a computer, or some other point of internet access. If he had been given the chance, he would have snooped in his caseworkers files again, or hacked into the man’s phone while he was distracted. He has done it before, it was easier to find these things that way, not all of it is put on the internet.
Nevertheless, he finds himself in front of the public library.
His library card is nonexistent, but the teenage girl sitting behind the front desk is distracted by her phone and he easily slips past. While walking past, he grabs an internet pass. Without it, the computers are useless to him.
He logs in with the keycard and opens the search browser, clicking straight away to the login for email. He knows his caseworkers usernames and passwords, he had memorized them ages ago.
He enters the information successfully and navigates to search the inbox. There, Harley types:
Peter Parker, Queens, placement
There are three results that catch his eye immediately. One is an email dates three years ago, when he and the younger boy were originally entered into the system, the other is more recent, from two and a half months ago.
The email is rather short, a list of complaints from the workers at the orphanage. The worry about a possible lawsuit if anyone finds out what had been going on behind the scenes. Talk about it being easier to relocate the boy and than deal with a jury. How the workers are sick of the toddlers medical needs and rescue of nightmares.
Harley scoffs, the workers didn’t deal with any of that as it was. He had always been the one to do the tending to. Besides, the boy wouldn’t have had nightmares if adults could do their jobs.
He scrolled, and saw the return email. A message of understanding and an apology for the inconvenience. Harley sneered: These goddam people.
There was an attachment, probably the address to where Peter was now. They wouldn’t tell Harley, had refused when he bothered to ask, but now-
“There you are, kid!” He whirled, quickly swiping the screen back to home.
“T-tony?” He sputtered to the man approaching him.
“The one and only.” He said. “Say, what are you doing in a library on a Saturday? Don’t you kids have phones these days?” The question is innocent, not meant to cause harm but still, it sends a flair of anger through Harley.
“Not everyone’s a billionaire.” He spits.
“Oh I see, we’re trying the teen angst out today, are we?” Tony paces, laughter suddenly replaced with seriousness. “How do think I felt this morning, huh? Rolling up to your place to find it tapped of and smoking? Then come to find you're apparently at the hospital but all I see when I get there is an empty bed?!” Harley is furious. This man has no right. None.
“Your upset?” He screams, breaking what he’s pretty sure is library code. “My home of three years is burnt to a crisp, my already small amount of belongings is down by half, they’re planning to ship me out to Tennessee and your pissed because you didn’t get a heads up text? Well news flash, dumbass, not all orphans have phones!” His vision is blurred with angry tears and Harley’s fists shake as he clenches and unclenches them repeatedly. “You don’t get to be upset.”
Tony, for his part, looks completely taken aback and a little ashamed. Mostly though, he looks apologetic, not like he pities Harley, just like he has empathy for him.
“I’m sor- wait.” He starts, and Harley wishes he could say he was surprised Tony cut off his own apology. “Did you say Tennessee?”
“Yeah?” Harley blinks.
“So what? No more lab time, then?” Tony asks, which is rather dumb for a billionaire.
“Well Tennessee ain’t exactly a train stop away, is it?” Harley sasses.
“You can’t use smart assery on the master, kid. Why are they shipping you all the way over there?” Tony asks.
“I didn’t stick around for that part.” He admits.
“So I take it your not happy with this?”
“Happy? Of course not!” Harley says, voice increasing in volume. “New York is my home!”
Tony looks at the kid. Eyes wide, red and wet from emotion and lack of sleep. Harley’s clothes are much too big, colors faded from years of ware, material rubbed thin. His shoes are frayed and wet, his frame skinny, his hair and face dirty. Tony sighs. He’s been thinking about this for years he realizes. He says it before he can think.
“I have an idea.”
“An idea.” Harley deadpans. “Does this involve illegally pulling me from the system?”
“No, not illegally. Unless you want to?”
“Not illegally, definitely not illegally if we don’t have to.” Harley hurries. Legally means more protection, less chances of screw up, following legalities means no more running. “How are we going to do this legally?” He asks, though he thinks he already knows.
“Simple.” Tony says, a smirk taking over his features. “I’m going to adopt you.”
‘Well’, Harley thinks, ‘it’s a better plan than Tennessee’.