A/N: This was an incredibly hard story for me to write. Sodapop is my absolute favorite character ever. If he were real, I might be all over him. As far as I know, everything I wrote was correct. I believe the Vietnamese army was called gooks; if I'm wrong, please feel free to correct me. Take into consideration that I'm fourteen, I haven't even learned about the Vietnam War yet.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Outsiders. I own only the plot, actually, no I don't.
WORD COUNT: 1,020

I can hear screaming around me. Everything is in a panic. We've been attacked. The damned gooks snuck up on us. How the hell did they get past the guys on watch? The alarm is sounding, everyone is in a panic. We weren't trained for this. None of us expected this. We were just expecting to sit around for our tour. Maybe we'd shoot a few gooks. But, none of us expected to be ambushed. The alarm is killing my head. I can't think straight. There's no time to think. There's barley time to get dressed. I'm trying to get my shirt on. I can't get it on right. Screw it! My shirt isn't going to help me. A millimeter of cotton isn't going to stop a bullet.

Everything is confusing. Everything is going too fast. I can't process anything. I'm trying to pull my shoes on. I've got one on. Damn, I can't find my other one. There it is. I'm trying to grab it. I keep getting knocked over by everyone rushing out of the tent. I've got my shoe on, and I've rushed out the tent. There are bodies everywhere. I can't tell who's on what side, and who's on the other side. My head is spinning. My gun is loaded. I'm firing at the gooks, and I'm watching one fall right after one another with each crack from someone's gun.

If there is a hell, this is it. I feel heartless right now. I'm killing people, and I don't care. I'm fighting for freedom. At least, that's what they tell me. I don't feel like I'm giving people much freedom right now. I feel like I'm killing people. Worse than killing. I'm murdering. I'm a murderer.

This is no time for thinking. I can see people falling all around me. The enemies are falling, my friends are falling. Steve is beside me suddenly. His face is serious, and if I had to guess, I'd guess that he's just as scared as me. This isn't Steve's normal demeanor. I guess none of us are quite our normal selves right now. You can't really blame us.

I'm watching all my buddies falling around me. I've known most of these guys for just about nine months, and they're being taken away from me in seconds. It reminds me of the time Johnny killed that soc. We thought we'd lost both of them. I loved Johnny. He was just like another little brother to me. And he saved my other little brother. There was nothing, in life or death that I could do to repay him for that.

My thoughts trailed back to the gang. My immediate thoughts landing on my brothers. Pony was always the smart one of the gang. He was the youngest, but he was probably the smartest, except for Darry. Pony was the dreamer of the gang. His head was always in a book, or he was always watching a movie. I could feel a feeling well up inside my chest as I thought of how dire my situation was, and how I just wanted to get home and see Pony and Darry.

Good old Darry. Darry was the muscle of the operation. He roofs housing for a living. Me and Pony always nag him about carrying two bundles at a time. We've lived with Darry since mom and dad died. I remembered how Darry would always make a giant chocolate cake on someone's birthday. I laughed to myself, nearly crying as I remembered how just yesterday I had received a box of chocolate cake mix from Darry. Just yesterday, I had turned nineteen.

I hadn't noticed that my shooting had intensified as I was remembering my brothers. I could see Steve grinning at me as more gooks fell. My breath suddenly caught in my chest, and I let out a strangled cry as a bullet hit me. I wasn't sure where exactly it had hit me. But, I could tell it wasn't good. Steve was shouting, and I could feel myself sinking in the mud.

From the way he was yelling, I knew I had been hit somewhere bad. "Hold on Sodapop!" he was screaming. "You're gonna be fine!" I could feel my life draining away from me even as he yelled.

"Don't worry about me Steve, I'm going home now. I'll be fine," I managed to yell. I don't know where I mustered the strength or the air. As I felt myself settling into the mud, I looked up into the sky. Not too far above me were four figures. There was a woman with a smiling face, and a happy air, a man who couldn't have looked prouder or happier if he tried. A teenaged boy who no longer looked like a lost puppy who'd been kicked one too many times. And the last figure was a teenaged boy, slouched lazily against some invisible wall. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Come on Sodapop. We ain't got all day," he drawled lazily, taking a deep drag off the cigarette, a KOOLs no doubt. He received a slight smack from the woman, my mom, and dad just laughed.

"Come on honey. It's your turn to come join us," mom said, reaching her hand out to me. Johnny grinned as I reached up and took her hand. I could feel her lifting me out of the mud. But, as I looked back, I could see my body still lying there.

Even as I saw several of my buddies shouting, especially Steve, as my eyes closed, and my heart stopped beating, I couldn't feel sad. I was home again. I was with mom, and dad, and two of my buddies. I felt bad about leaving the gang behind. But, I had a feeling they would always know I was watching over them.

"Let's go home," I said, taking a turn to hug each of my parents, and clap Johnny and Dally on the back. "I'm ready now," I said with a small nod, as we turned and slowly left the battlefield far behind us.