More than a Storm

Summery: It can change anything; in this case, it changed everything. Police, ambulance, rescuers, and eager news reporters try to find the 5 missing boys from Tulsa, Oklahoma, who are struggling with their own battles-alone.

Part I: Alone

Ponyboy

I sat on the couch, looking at the tv. Bright, red lights flashed below he screen. "Hey, Darry," I called, "You might wanna see this." I turned around to look at Darry, who held a phone up to his ear and his finger to his mouth, motioning for me to be silent. "Oh," I whispered.

Soda came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, scratching his head with a fake yawn. "You seen Two-Bit anywhere?" He asked.

Darry hung up the phone and sat back on the wall. "That was him. His dad's left him at a gas station somewhere near the Dingo. He wants me to pick him up."

"Well, what'd you tell him?" I asked, trying to cock an eyebrow like Two-Bit did.

"I think you'll have to, Soda. With this storm and all, I can't leave you alone." He nodded at me. I could see the look in his eyes; he was really worried about me. I don't blame him, this storm was supposed to be the biggest one in history-or something like that. "Nothin' against you, Pony, but it's gonna be big."

"Like . . ."

"Yes."

His answer was stern in comparison to my scared, fragile question. I went back to my dream from the other day. It was the same thing, but it was the only thing I could remember. The foggy cloud prior to the storm, the flash of white light, the yell for help that was my own. It was almost too much. I leaned my head back on the couch. Soda sat beside me, somehow fully dressed now. "I'll be right back, Pony. Don't worry." He gave me a one-armed hug and walked out the door.

Darry looked at me with a hint of happiness. "He forgot his keys." I laughed. "He's gonna get himself in a bunch of trouble one of these days."

Soda walked through the door again, already soaking wet. "Forgot my keys." I looked up at Darry and grinned. He ruffed my hair a bit, affectionatly.

He sat down on the couch beside me and let out a deep breath. "You think you can help me clean out the closet?" I nodded.

There's a little closet in the hallway, near the bathroom. It's where we keep most of our extra stuff, mostly Mom and Dad's now. It's got a little light dangling from the ceiling, barely letting a dim shine cover the walls of the closet. It smells irony and dirty, probably because it is, but we don't mind. We usually use it as a storm shelter, considering we don't have anything better. I remember curling up beside Momma, lightning and thunder covering Tulsa and almost any part of Oklahoma. That storm was really big, but they say this one is gonna be bigger.

I started to get the boxes from the closet and set them in our parent's old room, like we had done on the night of that storm. Some of them were open a bit, and I could see inside them: Pictures, books, old papers, our old dog's collar. Darry and I even moved an aged, inactive tv from the closet; I think it was our grandmother's originally. I'm not sure why we never got rid of it. Either way, I liked having it, just like the old typewriter.

Darry grabbed the last two boxes from my hands. "Way too big, little buddy." He said with a grin. I rolled my eyes, smiling. He was still Superman, and he always will be-no matter what. The thought helped me; as we went through the house finding blankets and pillows. As we padded the musty, temporarily empty closet with them. As we waited for Soda and Two-Bit to arrive, soaking wet and glad to be sheltered, but they never did. As the sudden, blinding flashes of light and haughty laughter of the clouds grew closer and louder. As the amused clouds turned into risky wind, twisting and turning all around.

I was pushed into Darry's chest, positioned awkwardly. His legs wrapped around mine. Mine were criss-crossed, my head leaning towards him. He rubbed a warm, soothing hand affectionatly across my arm. "Where's Soda? And Two-Bit? And Steve?" I wimpered, barely audible in his ear.

Of course, that's the moment when I heard a shriek. It jerked my neck, my head, my whole body toward the sound. Darry didn't even tell me it wasn't, because he knew it, too. The scream we'd only heard once before. Steve's pitchy, scared scream, louder than anyone's, more rare than anyone's. It was enough to break me down. I clammed up against Darry, snuggling into his strength, his superiorness, his leadership. It kept me comforted and made me feel safe, but only for a second. Right before I heard another scream, sharper, louder, stronger, and quicker than the last one; he was cut off by the sound of travel.

Right before Darry and I were ripped apart by the same force.

Part of something tore off. From what I could guess, it was part of a wall to our house. I reached closer to Darry, telling him something in his ear. He leaned toward my ear, and said something louder and sterner, but with the same affection as if he were barely alive and about to die. Of course, that could be true. Something else was ripped away. Another part of the house. And another. It was right beside us; at least, that's what I was told, because I passed out just before Darry told me his dear response. "I always will. Don't you forget that, and don't think I won't find you."

A/N: Hope you liked the intro! Reviews, suggestions, and flames are appreciated. Thanks.