Lindsay looked up at Albert with frightened brown eyes.

"Not so talkative now, are ya bitch?" he asked smugly.

Lindsay lifted her head and spat in his face.

Albert growled and backhanded her viciously. Then did it again for good measure."Uppity for a street gypsy, ain't ya? Didn't anybody ever teach you not to mess with somebody bigger than you? That's the law of jungle, String Bean. I'm a lion and you're a... well, you're a... a smaller lion."

She coughed as blood filled her mouth and slid down her windpipe."I... I must have missed that lesson when I wasn't in school."

He cracked a tiny smile and roughly pulled her to her feet by the front of her coat. Albert could tell she was barely capable of standing on her own; he quickly rifled her pockets. Finding them empty, he decided he had better things to do, like trying to sell the dog he'd swiped from another ratter. Brutal beauties like him didn't come cheap and he could buy two lesser dogs to use quickly and discard. "Now get the hell out of here, String Bean, before..."

"What do we have here?"

The disembodied voice came from behind Albert, and Lindsay closed her eyes when its owner registered. Oh, shit. This is bad. Bad. So bad.

Jacque, then his cousin Jean, came into view.

Albert cruelly shoved Lindsay up against one of bridge's wooden support posts hard enough to send a shower of powdery snow down on them. Her head cracked against the frozen surface and once again she saw stars.

Rat Face's voice sounded very far away as he kept her from crumbling to the ground with his firm grip."Don't you recognize String Bean?" he grumbled as he decided what to do next. He'd been content in smacking her around and letting her go... it wasn't like she had any more money to steal. But he didn't want to look soft in front of Jacque and Jean. They were fairly new to the tracks and Albert was sure they would be important people to know. Besides, he had a reputation to uphold."What are you guys doing back here?"

Jacque brushed a thin layer of snow off his sleeves and tapped the brim of his hat to dislodge even more."We didn't see no cops. And we figured this was just some scheme of yours so that you could steal our bets."

"No," Albert protested indignantly."I would never do a thing like that."Damn, why didn't I think of that?

Jean looked down at Lindsay. Then he grabbed the hat off her head and exchanged it with his own, carelessly tossing his old hat into the steel drum's dancing flames.

"Aww... my hat," Lindsay protested weakly. Shit. I loved that hat.

"Hey!" Jacque, who had been staring at Lindsay's face, suddenly grabbed the front of her much abused coat and wrenched her away from Albert.

"Fine," Albert groused. "You hang onto String Bean then. See if I care."

She began to struggle as she was dragged closer to the steel drum.

"He's a girl." Jacque's surprise showed in his voice."A woman," he clarified as he looked a little harder. He smiled.

"So?" Albert shot back a little confused. Everybody knows String Bean's a girl, don't they? "She's a bitch," he added for clarity's sake. His jaw was starting to hurt even more and he wondered briefly if she'd cracked the bone.

Jacque's smile twisted into a leer and Lindsay could feel her heart beating out of her chest. She'd seen that look a dozen times before, even had to jump off moving trains if it was coming from somebody especially dangerous. This man, she felt deep in bones, was very dangerous.

"Don't know any woman who'd hang around on the tracks 'cept for a few whores me and Jean know from Queens. They sometimes get real hard up and have to go lookin' for customers. You a whore?"His eyes glittered with the promise of danger and he darkly intoned, "not like I'd have to pay."

"Do I look like a whore?" Lindsay asked through gritted teeth as her mind scrambled for a way out.

"No," Jacque allowed, shaking his head slowly."Not like no whore I've ever met. On the other-"

"She's not a whore," Albert interrupted, impatiently. There was a perfectly good dog and at least a half a crate of rats waiting for them and they were wasting their time on String Bean?"She's an annoying bitch rail rider just like the rest of us."

"I ain't no bitch!"Jean smacked Albert upside the head.

"Ow!"Grimacing, Albert rubbed the back of his head."That's not what I meant and you know it." He spun around and glared at Jean."Are all whoring Frenchies as stupid as you?"

Jean's hands curled into fists."Why you-"

"STOP IT!" Jacque roared."I don't want to watch you two losers fight." He jerked his chin towards Lindsay."I wanna know what we're going to do with her."

Unaccountably, Lindsay smiled at Jacque."Know what I'd like to do?" she purred.

The seductive quality to Lindsay's voice snared Jacque's attention and he leaned in closer to her, pressing his body against hers and gulping when Lindsay licked her lips with excruciating slowness. He gulped, his eyes riveted on those pink lips."What, baby?"

"This." With all the force she could muster, Lindsay slammed her forehead into the bridge of Jacque's prominent nose.

Albert winced. Head butts were the worst.

Jacque screamed and covered his face with his hands as hot blood pooled in his palms and light wisps of steam rose from the thick liquid and vanished into the night sky.

Lindsay made a break for it, but in three more strides she felt herself hitting the ground. Her chin struck snow-covered rocks hard, leaving a dark trail on them when she moved her head. Jean was on her back, pummeling her with large fists. His third strike was to her left kidney and she shrieked in pain, her body jerking away from the violent blow.

Then Jacque took over for his cousin and pulled her to her feet.

"Rat Face is right. You are a bitch," he hissed.

Albert shrugged."Toldja."

Jacque dragged a stumbling Lindsay back towards the rat pit and kicked several of the crates out of his way. The dog began to bark again, pulling on the chain and baring bloodstained teeth in anticipation of another fight."String Bean, that's your name, right?"

Lindsay didn't acknowledge the question. She couldn't even hear it over the ringing in her ears. Jacque shook her to gather her attention and a searing pain shot through her side, making it hard to breathe, much less think.

"Hey."Albert's heavy brow furrowed as his gaze traveled first to the dog, then to Lindsay. "What are you gonna do?"

Jacque looked at Albert as though he were an imbecile. Which, of course, he was.

"He's gonna feed her to the dog, moron," Jean advised Albert coldly. He tucked his chilled hands under his arm pits.

Albert looked around nervously."What about the cops?"

"There are no cops!" Jacque yelled, punching Lindsay in the stomach. Next, he punched her in the nose, smiling at the satisfying crunch of cartilage and the stream of hot blood that went pouring down her chin and splattering onto the ground. Steam rose from it.

Lindsay felt like her entire head had exploded in pain, and she doubled over, feeling sick and dizzy all at once. For an instant she wished she'd hurry up and pass out, but her heart was still pounding furiously, sending a surge of adrenaline singing through her blood. She swung an ineffective fist at Jacque, who merely laughed and slapped it away.

Jean moved over to help Jacque hold her upright as he continued to rain down blows on her. "Do you see any cops?" Jacque asked Albert condescendingly.

Albert glanced around again."Guess not." A look of uncertainty chased across his face."But still..."

Jacque didn't wait for Albert's next words. He simply lifted Lindsay off her feet and tossed her, back first, into the rat pit.

She landed on a pile of rat bodies, and the force of her fall squashed them beneath her. The air was forced out of her lungs but before she could manage to draw in another breath, Jacque casually reached over and picked up the rat crate.

He tore the lid off and, without so much as blinking, dumped the dozen or so remaining rodents directly onto Lindsay's screaming, writhing body. He turned to Albert and Jean and in an eerily calm voice said, "One woman, one minute, one dollar?"

With deadly intent, the snarling dog surged forward towards the rats and Lindsay's pale, exposed throat. She could smell his foul breath the instant before he was upon her and his filthy teeth began tearing into her flesh, sending white-hot bolts of agony through her already damaged frame."Noooo!" she howled out, clawing wildly at the insane dog's face and eyes.

Albert looked on in horror as Jean cried, "Done!" and threw his bet onto the snow at his cousin's feet.

Lindsay's ear-splitting screams could be heard for blocks as the New Year's sun started to rise over Queens, New York.

It was nearly time for the first morning train to arrive at the station and the locomotive's whistle wailed as it sped towards its destination. Because of the holiday, only a few passengers waited impatiently for their morning commute. They stood shifting from one foot to the other, hands stuffed in pockets, scarves tucked neatly around their throats to ward off the chill as they read their newspapers and glanced worriedly at their pocket watches. Their bosses never seemed to understand that sometimes the train was just late.

A thick layer of snow-laden clouds hid the newly risen sun, and so, despite the hour, the City was still cast in an ethereal silvery glow and its shadows still held the secrets of the night. Out of one of those shadows emerged a slowly traveling figure that stopped and covertly watched as Albert unhooked a blood-stained dog and turned him loose. Albert was scared witless by what had just happened and couldn't bear remaining even another second with the beast he was sure would now haunt his dreams.

The dog snapped at Albert's hand, and then tiredly limped away. In a matter of seconds the mutt found a hole in the fence that lined the tracks and disappeared into an alleyway.

Jacque and Jean kicked at the rough circle of crates, scattering the evidence of their game before heading towards the railway station and the plate of steaming eggs and hot coffee they intended to purchase with their winnings.

Albert had been elected to do something' with Lindsay and he grabbed her limp body by her arms and dragged it well out of view of anyone who might happen by. Carelessly, he kicked snow over her and laid a few sheets of old, torn newsprint across her face.

He let Jean and Jacque get well ahead of him before he pulled his cap further down onto his head and scratched at his chin. He knew a soup kitchen about three blocks from here where the line for lunch didn't really queue up until around 9am.Maybe he could find someplace to curl up and go to sleep for a few hours. After that he could snatch a purse or two and then track down Jean and Jacque. They seemed like the sort who would always be up for some sort of betting game.

Albert kicked several rat carcasses out of his way as stepped onto the tracks and followed Jean and Jacque's footprints in the snow.

As soon as the coast was clear, a figure bolted from the shadows and frantically began brushing the newspapers and clumps of snow from Lindsay's face and body.

The young woman was a ghostly white, splashed liberally with red. She looked dead.

Shaky fingers checked for a pulse and found a faint but steady beat.

There was a thankful sigh as the fingertip stilled for a split second then moved from Lindsay's neck to her battered face, where they tenderly traced her cheekbones.

"Still alive. But gotta hurry..." A shifting of weight. "God, you're heavy. I don't think... I can... yeah. Okay. Maybe... Yeah, okay."Lindsay was settled over a strong shoulder, and she let out a something between a wheeze and gasp of pain as her world was turned upside down. One eyeball opened and stared out at the fuzzy world before rolling back. She gratefully sank into the safe haven of oblivion.

"It'll be all right." A hand grasped one of Lindsay's dangling ones and squeezed gently."Whoa!"A misstep nearly had them both tumbling to the ground.

Lindsay cried out softly, though she remained unconscious.

"I'm sorry. I'll be..." A step over a pile of broken bottles. "...more careful."

Lines formed on Lindsay's normally smooth forehead. She began to whimper every time she was jostled, which turned out to be nearly every step. And a steady stream of blood dripped from her face, soaking through the black coat beneath her cheek.

"Sorry. I couldn't help it. Shortcut up ahead. Damn. This is... hard."Breathing that had started out slow and deep was now labored."I have to take... the tracks though. If you just hang on."Their pace increased."Just hang on."

A cold wind whistled through the station just as the chugging train came to a halt. Not a single passenger debarked and the few men and women who were waiting to board settled into their seats in a matter of seconds. A skinny Negro footman exited the lead car and ran along the length the train, slamming shut each door with a practiced hand. The train's shrill whistle sounded three times in quick succession before there was a loud hiss and a black, noxious cloud exploded upwards from the smoke stack.

Lindsay couldn't hear the sound of panting or the rapid footsteps that pounded along the tracks beneath her.

"Not... far..." The words were interrupted by several ragged breaths."...Now."

The rails on either side of them began to vibrate and worried eyes glanced backwards towards the station then widened."Shit."

The train lurched forward and began to gain speed quickly. Soon, it was eating up twenty feet for every one of theirs. The whistle blared again, warning anyone foolish enough to be on the tracks, especially in the wan light of early morning, to move or be run down.

Faster and faster they went. The sound of leather boots furiously striking wooden tracks with greater force than before and the loud panting of her rescuer was nearly enough to drown out the deafening monster on their heels. But they couldn't move off the tracks. They had to keep going. This particular stretch of rail was lined not only by a rickety fence but also by buildings set so close to the tracks that even a worn out, rat-killing dog had to squirm to fit between them and the fence to enter the alleyway.

"Please. Pleeease. Almoooost!"

Heat poured off the gasping body in waves and sweat flew from a flushed face.

The train's shadow loomed over them and the roar grew louder and louder as the tracks shook.

"Ahh! Almost there!"

Then the tracks....

"God!"

...widened.

"Yesssss."

...and forked.

The train whizzed past them on its way to the next station.

A ferry worked sluggishly across the East River from Manhattan to Blackwell's Island. A mile and three-quarters in length, and just under 200-square acres, the narrow strip of land was located directly in the middle of the East River, which separated Queens and Manhattan. A layer of clean snow covered the flat terrain in a blanket of pristine white and the ice-laden tree branches swayed in the frigid wind, causing intermittent cracking sounds as wood struck wood. But for many of the island's inhabitants, the simple beauty of a frosty January day was lost.

Blackwell's was home to the solid stone, four-story, 750-cell New York State Penitentiary, which held both men and women and whose reputation as a secure, well-built facility was known throughout the state. To the north of the prison, two side-by-side gray, stone buildings housed over 1400 souls who had been sent to the Work House as punishment for their misdeeds, typically public drunkenness. The brick Lunatic Asylum, established in 1839, and New York's only hospital dedicated solely to the treatment of those with Small Pox both resided on Blackwell's Island, serving as models of modern architecture and civic-mindedness.

Virginia Chisholm, however, was on her way to the island's Charity Hospital, a proud granite structure surrounded by several majestic oak trees and well-maintained shrubbery, that was cared for by workers made up of inmates and patients from the island's other facilities. The waters of the East River were choppy and dark, and as the ferry moved closer to its destination, Ginny began to dream.

It seemed as though Ginny and her siblings had been sitting out in the snow on Orchard Street for days. Though it had been several hours. Her hands were numb but her lungs, stomach, and throat felt as though she were continually being force-fed searing-hot coals. Every breath required more effort than the last as the band around her chest continued to tighten.

Jane lay sleeping on Ginny's shoulder, her fair hair mixing with Ginny's darker locks with every gust of wind. The excitement of the night was finally too much for the 3-year-old to withstand, though it had still taken three renditions of her favorite lullaby to coax her into a fitful sleep.

Lewis' eyes were riveted to every fireman that entered or exited the smoking building. Ginny had long since given her little brother her coat and the dark woolen covering dwarfed the short boy, making him look like one of New York's thousands of street urchins.

His brother, James, stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes, knowing he should be sad or feel something. Instead, he just felt tired and empty and craved a bed where he could pull a blanket over his head and shut out the world completely.

"Look, Ginny," Lewis said glumly as he pointed to doorway of the tenement building. Two pairs of firemen carried two full litters draped with dull gray cloths and placed them at the end of a line that had grown steadily longer through the early and mid-morning hours.

Ginny's stomach churned and she coughed weakly."No more please," she mumbled, not realizing that her brothers could hear her, that they were hanging on her every word, every gesture. She'd already fought her way across the crowded street three times to identify the bodies that lay under the cloths next to the hospital wagon.

Ginny had seen Sophie, the bright-eyed girl whose mother worked in a quilting factory as Alice did. The Frederick family who'd only arrived from Hamburg two months before. All six of them lay cold and lifeless, growing stiff as the snow accumulated atop them. Vincent and Joan from the fifth floor, who had sang Happy Birthday to James and Lewis just last month when they'd passed the boys in the hallway, were gone too. Vincent had been so badly burned that Ginny had calmly replaced the cloth that had covered him and turned her head to throw up. If she lived to be a hundred, the young redhead was sure she'd never forget the smell.

But every time she lifted a cloth and didn't find her mother, or sister, or stepfather, she thanked God. And she felt bad about that too, knowing that the people she was seeing were kin to someone too. Someone just like her only they didn't know it yet.

"Lew-" Ginny swallowed painfully; her voice was nearly gone. Something was terribly wrong but she couldn't worry about that now."Lewis, can... can you hold Jane?"

The little boy nodded and unbuttoned his coat. He opened his arms to his chubby baby sister and she snuggled happily into his warm embrace, falling back asleep before she even realized she'd woken up.