People yelling and boots squelching in mud and gunfire and blood and no, not him too, please not him– and then I'm awake and screaming. I can't figure out where I am for a second, but it's dark and I'm sobbing and trying to catch my breath and then someone has me and my knuckles are probably white for how hard I'm gripping the back of their shirt. I don't know who it is and I don't care; I just lean into them, shaking uncontrollably. The arm around me tightens, and the hand that was at the back of my head moves, running up and down my back in an attempt to calm me down.
"Shh, Ponyboy, I've got you. I've got you. It's okay."
I'm getting my senses back, and now I can tell it's Darry talking softly. For a split second, I find it odd that he's being gentle, but the thought quickly leaves as I lean against him and try to stop crying. After a few minutes, I feel myself relax, my breath slowly going back to normal. Darry doesn't say anything, just keeps his arms wrapped around me as I curl against his chest, the steady beating of his heart calming me down.
We regret to inform you that Private Curtis was killed in the line of duty…
"He's really gone, isn't he, Darry?" I whisper, and Darry pauses, brushing my hair back with his fingers before replying quietly, "Yeah, Ponyboy. He's really gone."
That sets me off again, and this time Darry's crying too, his chest heaving as I press my face to the front of his shirt. He buries his face in my hair, and I don't know how long we stay like that, holding each other as we cry, but the last thing I hear before I finally drift off is Darry's soft sobs.