Two pairs of inky black tires of a beaten Ford truck swerved dangerously among the empty dark road. It was a warm spring night, where the only sound was the screeching of the tires as the driver yanked the steering wheel sharply as to the point the truck tilted to one side and landed harshly on all four again. The driver winced and licked his lips anxiously as he made another sharp right. The tires in his brain were driving as quickly as the truck and his adrenaline was as high as his speed limit. What is causing him the stress, he simply can't say; his information being carried is the most mildly classified and it could cause potential danger if told to the wrong people.

The man scratched his stubble and kept looking in his review mirror. Nobody seemed to be following him. Swallowed hard, he took another shockingly sharp left towards society. To be personal, it was his biggest dread. Before he wheeled himself into a violent frenzy back at his facility, he was the most distant of the cliques. Probably because of his mild fascination of nuclear energy, perhaps? Whatever it was, he had taken back one of his greatest works and he must face people who will ask what in the world he was hiding with colorfully knitted blankets in the back of the Ford. Can he say a deadly nuclear engine core that can be used to determine the fate of all future wars? You can guess his answer.

He looked on his map in the passenger seat to the nearest town, which was a good thing. Throughout the day, he managed to pass through a state and a half with no stop breaks. Now, it was finally taking a toll on him. He was tired, he was hungry, he had to pee. But his fears and doubts distracted him long enough to get to Oklahoma, which works for him. As long as it was far away enough to make sure the directors at his facility won't find his masterpiece, then he'll be safe. But the rushing feeling he had from him taking back his core must've kept him going.

Anyway, the driver managed to find a small light in the seat compartment and kept looking at the map, and that there was a small town there. It seemed to be pretty close. He could get some supplies, get a place to lay over and hide himself. And perhaps, if he could swallow his doubts deep into the back of his mind, he could find someone or someplace eligible to take the energy-filled core. This town might be his best bet into keeping the world safe.

The driver yawned and looked at the clear road straight ahead. He was going to Tulsa.

oooOOooo

The wheels on the Ford truck moved quietly through the town, in comparing irony to how it was on the way there. The man's blue eyes moved quickly and his breathing was hefty. Why, besides being back into where he had to interact with people about his's life's work? Because of the men and woman in Tulsa. He must've entered a pretty beaten up town, and the folks seemed pretty low-life to him. The girls walking around had the tightest jeans possible with curls on curls and a few skirts. The boys wore leather jackets with their collars flipped up and smoking and drinking quite heavily. The streetlights were the only things illuminating their faces, giving the drivers that came by a shifting view of the uncaring lip curls on their faces. This was perfect.

Completely unsuspecting.

But as the driver looked around some more for a nice place to lay low, his eyes finally saw it. A gas station, just a moment away. He drove closer and there already seemed to be two people. Teenage boys, in fact. He squinted closer. They seemed to be closing up shop and talking by the tall tank fillers on the outside of the station. One boy had dark hair kept in complicated swirls with tons of hair grease. Judging by his posture and the way he laughed at the other boy, the man could tell he seemed pretty cocky to whatever was thrown at him. The other one had a drawn sensitive face, and the man admit, he looked pretty attractive. Especially for females. He had dark gold hair and lively brown eyes.

He inhaled. Does this seem like a good place? What if they tell someone? They seemed like they would talk to their families and other hoodlum friends about what they should be protecting. It could be risky. But on the other hand...think about it. A gas station and two greasy workers no more than eighteen. It was the perfect setup. They couldn't find him or the core here. They couldn't.

Shaking his shoulders to clear all signs of apprehensiveness, he guided the truck up to the parking of the station. The man flipped up his long coat collar and finally stepped out, closing the door behind him with a slam and causing two sets of eyeballs gazing at him.

oooOOooo

AS YOU CAN SEE, I AM NOT DEAD! (lol sorry)

Hello! So, I wrote another story, (about time, dude. you've been gone for a month!) and I feel pretty shaky. Did I start out my character too weak? Sorry. I'm still new to the writing thing and I feel really anxious about this. I LOVE The Outsiders, let me tell you! It's such a good book and I wanted to write a story on it. I suck so bad at beginnings, so you can leave criticism (not too mean nor destructive. i wanna keep writing.) if you request. But hey, you made it to the author's note, so thank you for reading! If you liked it, then I hope you'll stick around if I continue! I'lll try to make it better than the summary sounds. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon! ;3

-Deximon