Johnny Cade: a murderer. It just doesn't fit.
You're proud of him, there's no denying that. But you're scared and you wish you had killed that soc, just so that Johnny wouldn't be involved with something like this. That's something you wouldn't tell anyone. They'd think you were soft, they'd think he was soft, and that's not the case for either of you.
If only you could go with him; you want to watch him, shield him. But you're smart and you know you have to suss out what's going on here, and that you'll been a suspect. It's safer just to get Johnny far away from it all.
Ponyboy. That kid's less smart than Johnny. Maybe not at school, but in terms of felony and street smarts, Pone is like a mouse. But he can handle himself in a fight and his brothers would be going mad for him, so you aren't too worried about him, truth be told. Johnnycake has no one in the world. Besides you. Everyone knew the kid looked up to you, but they didn't know the half of it.
Johnny isn't your drinking buddy or someone you turn to for advice. He isn't your wingman when you're picking up girls or squaring up to some guys in a fight. Johnny Cade is your brother, simple as. He's your family, the only family you have in the world. You curse yourself for ever getting to know him because you think that maybe, if he hadn't have known you, he might not have been in this mess. Maybe if you hadn't have been in his life it wouldn't have occurred to Johnny to stab that soc.
That soc. You pace the room taking deep drags on your cigarette. You're glad he's dead, you think he's got what's coming to him. You hate him. Even in death socs manage to fuck things up for greasers. You know there will be an all out war across town now, and you'll fight ten times harder now it's about defending two of your boys.
Buck tells you there's been a murder and asks if the two boys that visited last night have anything to do with it. He says they meet the descriptions in the newspaper. He says their names are printed in black and white. He knows the truth from your reaction, you realise you'll have to work on the way you carry yourself through all of this.
You don't want to go to the Curtis', but you're a gang and you stick together. Plus, it'll look weird if you're not there. You have to act as natural as you can. For Johnny.
Tulsa is like a ghost town; Shepard's gang would probably be out looting to take advantage of this unusual state of the town. You take the back alleys, knowing that if you run into a soc they'll be looking for trouble. You crouch behind some bushes until the cop car pulls away from Darry's house. Steve steps out onto the porch and lights up a cigarette. You walk up to him, he looks like he's about to be sick.
"They really think he did it. They really think Johnny could kill someone."
"They don't know him. They just see a area code and think a greaser must be a cold-blooded killer." your voice sounds weird, like it's coming from far away.
You share Steve's cigarette and he tells you it 'ain't a pretty sight inside', and you head in to see for yourself. Two-Bit is sat on the floor, he's knees to his chest, his eyes staring blankly. He looks about five years old. Through the open kitchen door, Soda is sat at the table, his head in his hands, catching his breath through deep sobs. Neither boy looks up even to acknowledge you, too engulfed in their own misery.
"Where's Darry?" you ask Steve.
"He went to his room. It's hit him hard".
'Hard' is an understatement. When you knock and walk into the room you feel like you've stepped into a morgue. The room is lifeless and eerie, the tension pushing from Darry into every corner. He looks up at you with absolute despair all over his face. How can Two-Bit look younger now when Darry looks like he's aged about 50 years? And then you work it out. Two-Bit is thinking about what he's going through, he cares about the boys and he's wallowing in his grief. But Darry: Darry's trying to stay strong for the gang, trying to keep all the boys going crazy - and he knows he's failing. He's trying to imagine what's happening to your two youngest buddies. He's got the weight of his world and six other people to carry on his shoulders. He's got the hassle from the fuzz and the social aimed directed completely at him. You've never felt more sorry for anyone, and have never been prouder of any of your buddies than you are right then of Darrel Curtis. He's twice the man of any of you.
"Do you know where they are?"
You lie so easily you don't even have to think about. The guys can't know. No-one can know.
Police come, journalists come. It feels like they're bombs, and you're all in a shelter made of sticks. But an unlikely hero comes in the form of Steve, who forces the reporters to leave, with not so much as a picture of the 'broken brothers', as one photographer dubbed them. He stands with one hand on Darry's shoulder the whole time the police interview him.
"How are you doing all this?" Two-Bit asks him in awe.
"I owe it to them, all of them. I need to keep people sane for Johnny's sake, I need to defend their family the same as they've done to me in the past... And Pony. Pony wouldn't be in this if it wasn't for me."
You're confused, and you push Steve to explain.
"I never let him hang around, I didn't let him come to the game last night, I never let him tag along with me and Soda, even if we ain't taking the girls out." he paused, trying to find the right words. "If he'd been at the game last night, he'd have come home with us and this wouldn't have happened."
He turns to look at you, his eyes bleak with what he thought was the truth. But you counter him, refusing to let him place blame anywhere but on the bastard socs. "You didn't jump the boys, socs did. You didn't try to drown Pony, socs did. They'd have done this at some point, and they'd have always picked little greasers; they're cowards. And if Pony had been with you guys, well then maybe… Maybe Johnny would have been killed. I'd rather a dead soc than one of us… Don't blame yourself."
Steve seems comforted, but you've set your own mind racing. What if you hadn't try to pick up that red headed soc? What if you hadn't ran off when Johnny stood up to you? What if you'd walked the boys home instead of getting into a brawl with Tim? If this was anyone's fault, it was yours.
The moment comes, like you knew it would: the cops haul you in. You're at the Curtis house and they ask you to come to the station for questioning. They don't arrest or handcuff you, and you joke that you wish they would as you'd like to add murder to your record. Soda starts crying, and you wonder how you can say such a thing - and half mean it, when for most people having a murder rap on file would be the end of the world. You're not normal, that's plain for you to see.
The cops expect a fight from you. They don't realise you've got a plan, a motive for going into that interview room. After hours of interrogation you're finally ready to 'accidentally' let slip that the boys aren't in Tulsa anymore.
"I'm not your guy, Ray!" you yell, enjoying calling a cop by this first name because it riles them so much. "You're not even in the right state!"
"What are you talking about, Winston?"
You pretend to backtrack, feigning panic and back peddling. After a short pretence, when they think you've finally broken, you whisper in a fake defeated voice, "Texas… They're in Texas."
The two policemen grin, stupidly fooled just as you wanted them to be. You have a way with police, most of the time you only got convicted when you wanted to be.
By nightfall news reports are already telling of the criminals escape to Texas. Two-Bit sinks his teeth into the news, finally feeling he can do something to help your gang members. You can't tell him it's a false trail, none of them can know, it would make all this so much harder. But you manage to convince Two-Bit that five JDs running after wanted murderers wouldn't help anyone.
The gang know you and they know Johnny. They know if he was in trouble he'd head straight your way. You see the way Darry and Sodapop look at you. Suspicious, accusing. You have to pretend you don't notice, but you don't think you're fooling anyone.
Darry carries on working; afraid to stop, afraid to think. You pick him up one day and on your way home you drive round a corner to find Two-Bit outnumbered by socs. He's taken a beating but he's done some damage. Two socs are doubled up on the floor, two others are avoiding Two-Bit, waving his switch around like a mad man. Darry jumps out the car and tackles one soc to the ground. All his anger is taken out on this guy, who is knocked out cold as his friend stands watching. You walk up to him slowly, savouring the moment. He outnumbered your buddy, now you outnumber him. Socs know who Dallas Winston is; they're scared of you. But this guy is angry enough to speak up.
"You greasers killed our friend."
"We'll kill you, too." you threaten.
"A rumble!" he yells wildly.
That night greasers and socs hold a war council, as you like to think of it. It reminds you of New York. The details are finalised and the tension on the east side is almost unbearable. It's what you've all been waiting for. You start carrying a gun after the rumble's been arranged; you might need to scare a soc one of these days.
The next day when Darry is working late, Soda suggests you all play soccer, knowing if Darry was around he'd find it insensitive. You all need to blow off steam and it makes more sense than skin fighting this close to a rumble, so the gang head to the vacant lot and kick a ball around. It's fun, and for a few moments you can forget that two of your friends are absent and alone.
Tim and a few of his outfit come your way. He walks up to Soda and holds a hand out, "We just wanted to let you know we've got your back, in all of this. We're proud of your boys." Soda shakes his hand and the game restarts with a new competitive edge, only stopping when a flash little car pulls up to the curb.
"It's a girl" Steve says in shock. He and all the guys were nervous about some underhand attacks from the socs before the rumble.
The red head. It's the red head. She's got some nerve, but you're impressed.
"That's the dead kid's girl." Two-Bit states in disbelief.
The Shepard guys suggest hurting her, sending a message to the socs. You talk them out of it to the relief of your gang. None of you would ever hit a woman, but you couldn't admit that to the Shepard's; you wonder why it's something you and the boys feel they need to lie about.
Whatever she's here for, it took a lot if guts. She's pretty but feisty and you like that. She's a lot like girls in New York. The greaser girls in Tulsa - girls like Sylvia, were shallow and easy. This red head was a challenge, she'd keep you on your toes.
The girl walks up looking scared stiff. She nods at you for recognition, like you're the safest bet in this group of men. How dare she think you're a safe bet? You give her a filthy look, you can't help it. She's a soc and she's the centre of all this trouble really. Johnny wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for her.
"Hey." Two-Bit says with a pitying smile. She lost her boyfriend, he feels bad for her. Two-Bit is full if surprises.
"Any news on Ponyboy and Johnny?" she asks boldly.
"Don't you talk about them, don't you dare!" you snarl aggressively.
"I'm sorry." she whispers, and you know she's talking about more than that moment. She's sorry for everything. She goes on to say so, says she wants to help. She gets a few nasty comments thrown her way, and Soda has to put a hand on Tim's chest to stop him charging towards the tall girl. She says she'll keep you in the loop with things going on over on the west side. After a while the boys lose interest and you walk over to her without much notice given to you.
"You've got some nerve" you tell her honestly. "I'm all nerves these days" she says sadly. You remember she's a soc - she doesn't deserve your sympathy. So you hit on her, knowing it's the last thing she needs right now. Knowing it will hurt her, and not caring about it at all. You want to hurt her. She turns down your offer off taking her for a coke, venom pouring out of her. She looks down on you, but with your greaser pride you won't let her make you feel bad. You enjoy the fact she despises you. You wouldn't want a soc to like you. You want to be hated by anyone of any value in society. You're an outsider, and proud.
After a couple of days you have to get out. There's nothing you can do for the brothers, and it's not making you feel too good being around such gloom. You don't stop to think that you're being selfish, that's not how you're made.
You go to Buck's and get bombarded with questions from half cut partiers. You tell everyone where to go, and you're scary enough that they listen to you. Sylvia's there. She gives you a small wave, she's nervous but at the same time she's trying to be seductive. She looks like an idiot. You hate her. You never loved her, you never would have either, but she got under your skin even if you can't admit it. She made you feel good, and she could sometimes calm you when in a temper; not many people could do that. She's cute, but you're no fool. You'd never take her back - you had a reputation to think about.
Taking a beer to the room that is the closest thing you can call home, you lie back and think of Johnny. You wonder if he and Ponyboy made it to the church, if they are safe, and if the cops are closing in. You can't shake the thought of police finding Johnny, maybe sneaking up Jay Mountain in the dead of night as he slept, catching him unaware. It makes you feel sick. You think of his eyes. How scared they'd look. How panicked he'd be. It hurts to think of it. It hurts more than seeing him sad when he told you he had killed a person, it hurts more than not knowing who jumped him a few months ago. Right now you're more helpless than ever. You aren't with him, can't protect him and can never take away what he had done.
You wouldn't care if you killed someone. It's the truth. You've come close a few times, and often people have only survived your beatings by chance. You'd kill without guilt. Johnny will feel guilty for the rest of his life, he'd never accept that he saved Ponyboy's life and that made it ok, he'd carry this scar as visibly as the scar down his face.
You think of Johnny standing up to you at the Nightly Double. It took you off guard, he'd never done anything like that before. Ponyboy was waiting to intervene if you lunged for Johnny, you could read it in his body language. And that's what really upset you - how could anyone ever think you'd hurt Johnnycakes? That's why you bolted, and you hope Johnny knows that. You hope he knows you'll never hurt him.
A knock interrupts your thoughts, it's Soda. He's red eyed and disorientated. You wonder if he's drunk, but he's not. He sits on the bed, takes a cigarette out your pack and lights it. You ask how he's doing.
"I took Sandy out tonight. Thought it'd help me unwind."
"That'd do it." you whistle suggestively.
"We're over." he says numbly, "We're over."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's left me. She's leaving Tulsa."
"Why?"
He shrugs, but he knows why; you can read Soda like a book. He's one of your friends, like Steve and Two-Bit, they're guys you hang out with, laugh with, and fight with. You know them all the same amount, but you can't read them the way you can read Soda. You don't know why: maybe it's him, maybe it's you. Maybe it's something about the two of you. But you know he's not telling you the whole story.
"She doesn't want to get married."
She's pregnant. You're smart and you know how things work. Maybe the rest of the gang wouldn't pick these things up, but you could. You never find out the child isn't Soda's; that's something he'd never let on to anyone unless he wanted to.
Suddenly Sodapop is on his feet and rushing to the corner of the room. You curse. Before he picks up Pony's sweatshirt you know he's spotted it. You try to think of an excuse, but the game is up.
Sodapop stares at you, bewildered. He asks nothing of why you didn't tell the gang all this, he doesn't yell or swing for you. He's a wreck, he only cares about one thing.
"Is he ok?" he asks desperately.
"I got them out. I had to." Soda nods, understanding as he is.
"Have you heard from them?"
"No. I'm gonna see them tonight, I think. I don't think the cops will be paying me much attention anymore and it's killing me not knowing."
"Killing you?" Soda spits, angrily. "You know where they are, you've known this whole time!"
"Sorry." you say honestly. It's not often people get an apology off Dallas Winston - Sodapop knows that and he appreciates it.
"Can I come?" he asks, knowing you'll say no. "It's my brother."
"It's my brother too!" you snap, thinking of Johnny.
There's a heavy silence in the room, you're both gathering your emotions.
Soda fiddles in his pocket and pulls out a wad of money. He counts some out and hands it to you. "I got paid today, give them this, will you? And do you have some paper?"
Soda writes a letter to Ponyboy as you ask Buck to borrow his car. He lets you without so much as a protest - you can get anything from that man and you take advantage as often as possible.
Speeding through deserted roads all through the night, you drive recklessly as always. You feel free when your driving. You know you can go anywhere at anytime; nothing holds you down, you have no ties to anyone. Except Johnny. You have to get to Johnny.
You stop to take a leak at the side of the road just as the sun is rising. You watch it, a sense of calm coming over you. You've never really watched a sunrise before, it was nice - not that you'll ever admit that to anyone.
The church is easy to see atop the big hill. You hope the boys haven't been outside, they'll be seen if they weren't careful. The boys are asleep on the floor. they're alive, you can relax. You look at them for a while. Johnny's a murderer. It still doesn't seem right. Pony's hair is blond, it's something you wouldn't have thought of - you admire the kids for that.
You wake them, and boy do they wake quickly. They have a thousand questions, you have a need for food so you take them to a Dairy Queen you saw on your way in. Windrixville was dead, the boys could wear shirts saying 'I'm a murderer' and no one would bat an eyelid.
After lunch you drive back to the church and Johnny tells you he wants to hand himself in. If he does you won't be able to protect him, he could get the chair. But you see in his eyes, those damn black eyes, the kid's made up his mind. The guilt's getting too much for him to bear. Looking after Pony is too much to handle. You realise now that you should have left Ponyboy in Tulsa and you and Johnny should have taken off together and never looked back, but it's too late to think of doing that now.
As the church comes into view it's billowing smoke. It's on fire! The fucking church is on fire! You can't stop the boys from jumping out and you don't really blame them; you know they must have been bored stuck alone for a week. But then, they disappear into the flames. You panic, what are they doing? What the fuck are they doing?
You're out the car, you're at the window of the church screaming at the two stupid greasers trying to save stupid kids. Johnny passes you a kid and you look at him, you really take him in, and then he disappears again. He looks alive, the most alive you've ever seen him. You curse him, but you smile because nothing makes you happier than seeing Johnny Cade look like he can take on the world. Because he can, lord knows he can, if only he would realise it himself.
You hear a noise and take a few steps back to look at the top of the church. It's crumbling, and not at a slow pace either. You scream for Johnny and Ponyboy to get out. You could floor them for being so selfless. You never did get why self preservation wasn't top of everyone else's minds.
It all happens so fast. Ponyboy's on fire and you're not even aware of what you're doing. Suddenly he's on the floor. He's dead, you're sure of it. But you can't think, because an almighty crash sounds behind you and the roof of the church collapses faster than Pony just had.
Your mind explodes. JOHNNY! You hear him scream and your heart feels like it's breaking. JOHNNY! JOHNNY! JOHNNY!
The window is bowing but a small space is still there. You can make out a lump on the floor. You assume it's Johnny, it has to be Johnny. You reach through, flames burning your flesh, and it hurts, dear god it hurts. You fumble aimlessly, the smoke blinds you and you turn your head away, feeling for anything you can.
There's a timber pillar alive with flames. With all your might you flip the wood out of the way, and where it once was you feel flesh: an arm. You wrap your hand around Johnny's wrist and pull. It's not easy, there's debris covering him. But it's Johnny and he has to get out; you find the strength, because you have to. You have to.
As you make progress your arm reappears, it looks like melted plastic. Black, melted plastic. And then out comes Johnny's arm, and head, then shoulders. Is he dead? You can't tell. He's sure as hell not moving. Suddenly the fat guy that wouldn't go in after your friends is next to you, pulling at Johnny, helping get him out. The rest of his body comes out quickly and you stumble to the ground as you aren't prepared for the final tug.
The guy is leaning over Johnny, he's blocking your view. You try to push him away but he fights you, tries to calm you. 'He's helping, let him help.' you think to yourself, and it takes all your control to sit back.
You look at Johnny's face for a moment, and then you can't look again. He looks dead, but Johnny Cade can't be dead.
Little kids are screaming and a women is asking you a question but your not listening. She's asking "What's his name?", what Ponyboy's name it. You ignore her, but crawl over to the limp 14 year old. "He's breathing!" she tells you, and you've never felt so relieved at anything before.
Ambulances arrive, a fire truck follows. They head to Johnny and you follow, you won't leave him. The first ambulance drives away with Ponyboy, and as one man wraps your arm in something you watch as paramedics work slowly on Johnny, scared to move him, scared to break him. 'He's already broken.' you think you yourself. He's been broken for years.
As your both get wheeled into the ambulance it doesn't seem real, none of this seems real. Johnny's a murderer, Johnny's dying, Ponyboy's dying, you're dying, Soda's dying, Darry's dying. Everything is dying, nothing makes any sense.
You're settled into the hospital and given enough painkillers that your arm no longer hurts. You want to see Johnny, but the doctors won't let you. Tim Shepard stops by; you're glad to see him, welcoming any distraction. He's teasing you about not being part of the rumble, but you know he just wants to make sure you're ok. He's a good buddy, even if your ribs still ache from when he cracked them.
Later, Two-Bit and Ponyboy stop by. They tell you Johnny's not doing so good and you refuse to take it in. You ask Matthews for his blade, and he gives it to you - no questions. They leave, knowing not to talk to you when your in such a mood.
As darkness falls you get dressed and slip out the door of your ward. You sneak into Johnny's room; it's quiet, way too quiet.
"Johnnycakes?" He barely stirs, but you know he's awake. "How you doing, man?"
He sniffs, he's crying. You want to cry too, he's scarred and hurt and scared.
"You'll be ok." you tell him confidently. Because it's true, because it has to be true.
"I'm dying." he whispers.
"You're not dying, Johnny." This isn't a statement, you're pleading with him. He can't die, Johnny Cade cannot die. "You'll be fine, it's all gonna be ok, buddy."
"I wish I was more like you." he says sadly.
"I wish I was more like you." you tell him sincerely. To be like Johnny: to care, to dream, to be strong like Johnny is something you could only wish for. The gang love him, and need him, and he's never understood just how important he is. He doesn't know that he's the only reason you're in Tulsa, the only reason you haven't killed yourself during some of your darkest times. He's been there for you, without ever knowing just what he's done.
"Don't go to the rumble." he asks you in a quiet voice. You know he's worried about you, even when his every effort is dedicated to breathing in and out, one breath at a time, he cares about your safety. This kid is something else. You wished you could just stay with him, screw the rumble and sit by his side. But you can't, and you hate yourself for it. Fighting is all you know, violence against your emotions is the only way you can handle all of this.
"I'll be back soon, Johnnycakes." you say as you ruffle his hair, it's full of ash and grease still. "And then everything's gonna be ok." You believe that, too. You think once the socs are defeated everything will be ok, including Johnny. You have to believe it, you've got no choice.
As you leave a doctor stops you, and you flick the switchblade up and hold towards his belly. He steps back and let's you pass. You run get to the lot in time to see the stand off of socs and greasers. The rumble starts! It's fast paced and you love it, you never feel as alive as when you're fighting, but this time you're fighting for Johnny and it makes you more angry, more vicious.
Everything is a blur; you've been slugged hard and you aren't registering things as quickly as you ought to. Suddenly there's cheering, Two-Bit is celebrating and you guess the greasers won the rumble. You don't feel as happy as you thought you would. The rumble's over, all your thoughts are back on Johnny, and for some reason you're angry at him. Maybe you know he's dying?
You grab Ponyboy, he's in more of a state than you are as you shove him into the passenger seat and drive to the hospital. You're trying to tell him something, but you can't get your words right. You're trying to tell him that Johnny is dying, and that he'll die too if he doesn't toughen up. These stupid kids trying to save strangers, they've killed themselves.
A cop pulls you over and your conniving autopilot kicks in; you tell the fuzz that Ponyboy needs a doctor, fast. He escorts you at quick speed. Even now, even in all this, you still get a kick out of getting one over the fuzz.
The strip lights in the hospital corridor hurt your eyes as you hurtle down the corridor, the darkness of Johnny's room is a welcome relief. But he's dying - you know it, Pony knows it. Johnny Cade is dying. Johnny is more important than any rumble, you hate yourself for not staying with him.
'Why aren't the gang here?' you think to yourself, and then you're glad they're not there, because they shouldn't see Johnny like this. It makes sense that you and Ponyboy are with Johnny now; the two people Johnny loved most in the world. You loved him too, you only just realise it now - you love him so much you won't be without your brother. If he dies, you die. You decide there and then.
And he dies.
He dies.
Johnny Cade dies.
His black eyes are closed, he's breathing no more.
He's dead.
And you're dead. You're dead the moment you run out of that room. You're crying silent tears. You're running. And you're dead.
The night is a blur, and then there's lights hurting your eyes. The bright lights of a store, they hurt your eyes, they hurt your heart.
You're not thinking, you don't know what you're doing until you look at the old man, and you realise you're looking at him from the end of a gun. You can't shot him, you don't have the ammo, you know that. But you want to shot him, you want to kill this man. You want him to kill you, you want out.
As you turn and run you hear a gunshot and you feel a bullet impact on your hip. You don't stop running - you've been shot but you don't even react. Because you're already dead. Dallas Winston is dead, Johnny Cade is dead.
Johnny. Johnny. How can he be dead, how is the world still going on as normal when Johnny Cade is dead?
Where did the sirens come from? You have no idea, but the lights hurt your eyes and you want it to stop. Darry can help, Darry can always help.
You stop at a pay phone and dial the number you've dialled a hundred times before when you've needed help. It's Steve voice you hear, he can't help. You ask for Darry.
And just like that, you're running again. Your side hurts, your head heads and your heart hurts. You're running, but the sirens are getting louder, the lights are flickering. The lights hurt your eyes.
You get to the waste ground and you see the boys running towards you. All of them, they've all turned out for you. But Johnny isn't there. Johnny is the gang, but he isn't there. Never will be.
Everything slows down. You can feel the warm wet blood spilling out of your side, and you can see the gang, but there's no gang without Johnny. The sirens are ear splitting, and they've got lights, so many lights. You're eyes can't take it. You want it all to stop.
You're dead. You want to be dead. You know what you're doing.
You look at the gang, you think about Ponyboy, you think about Sylvia. You think about Johnny. It's not worth living if Johnny isn't there.
The gun is in your pocket. You can't shot yourself, it's empty. But you can get yourself shot.
You reach for the gun and before you've even raised it into the air you feel a bullet hit your broken body. And another. And another. And another.
The boys are yelling, the sirens are yelling, but the lights are fading. Thank God the lights are fading.
And then you fade. And then you're gone.