Well, here it is, my first Outsiders fic. For the purposes of thanking the teachers involved, let me now list when exactly I wrote this.
1. Biology (oh yeah, that took up the whole 2 periods of photosynthesis)
2. Elementary Math (we take 2 math, elementary and advanced, and it just so happens that the a math teacher is far too strict for me to attempt something like this)
3. P.E, physical education, gym, whatever. (Boy, am I glad I had tonsillitis that day)
4. Social Studies (coupled with alternate pestering my seat mate to read it. She didn't, being a good girl who listens to teachers. Well I do. Normally. When I haven't been siezed with the urge to get into Dallas Winston's head. It's just too good to pass up)
And everyone knows I write better with music. So when I was typing this out (It took up 3 pages of my notebook, and since I'm on this weird thanking spree, let's thank the... stationery manufacturers?) I was listening to:
1. The Fray - How to Save a Life
2. Nickelback - If Everyone Cared
3. Daughtry - It's Not Over
4. Linkin Park - Numb
5. The Fray - Over My Head
6. The All American Rejects - It Ends Tonight
YES. All those songs remind me of the Outsiders, so I play them when I write. I also have special songs for Lord of the Flies.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Outsiders. But I wish I did. Actually, I'm bargaining with S.E Hinton for a deal - she keeps the Socs and I get the greasers. But for now, on with the oneshot!
Towards the Light
They say that your life flashes in front of your eyes just before you die. What Dally Winston hadn't counted on was finding out so soon.
As he tore down the street towards the vacant lot, the asphalt pounding under his boots, the scream of the police siren followed close behind, razoring the night air into shreds. Darkness, black and muffling, pressed in on Dally and he shuddered. The shadows danced just out of reach, mocking him by eating into the feeble light. Suddenly it occurred to him that perhaps there was no such thing as light, not anywhere. Just emptiness waiting for shadows to fall.
He had been sitting in the lot that day with Johnny. It had been high summer and if Dallas' memory wasn't playing tricks on him there had seemed to be something more than usual to the sunlight as it fell, hot and bright. He remembered how it had tinged Johnny's brown skin with gold and how the wind had brushed back the younger boy's hair so that his eyes showed.
He couldn't recall what they had been talking about, or Johnny's question, but he remembered his answer.
"Yeah, I was scared of the dark once."
Even as he continued to run he wondered what had triggered such unguarded revelation. Maybe it had been Johnny, him just being there. That kid had something about him that loosened Dally's tongue and made him tell things that were best left inside. Him and the sunlight.
But Johnny was gone and it followed that the light was gone, too.
When he had been growing up in New York it had just been him and his father after his mother walked out. He had been three years old and maybe it had been losing a parent so early that had triggered the fear. Time and again he had woken up drenched in sweat and with tears on his face after the latest series of nightmares that tore through him and left him gasping for air. There was no respite even after waking; the darkness of his bedroom crowded in and seemed to be full of nameless, horrible things. Most nights ended with him screaming for his father.
Dally started leaving his bedside lamp on when he slept. That way, even when he closed his eyes the dark could never fully follow. When the nightmares jerked him awake he could stare full into the bulb, ignoring the pain building up behind his eyes as sparks danced across his vision. He didn't dare to take his eyes off the light. If he did, he told himself, he would be fair game for the shadows.
His father had soon put a stop to that, pulling the lamp's plug from the wall socket. Dally was plunged into darkness again. The nightmares escalated to fever pitch but Dally's father never came in again. The dreams were never discussed further between the two.
But I survived, Dallas thought grimly as he ran on. And now I don't give a hang about the jerk who calls himself my father. And the feeling's mutual.
For a moment a new, inexplicable sensation assailed him. Regret? Dally dismissed the notion out of hand.
He had reached the lot, and not a moment too soon. He was tiring and the shadows were all around him, obscuring the times when he had sat here with Johnny, Pony, Sodapop. They had sat and smoked and talked and maybe even laughed, but he couldn't remember all that in the dark.
No matter. He would live for the here and now. Even though time was running out.
He skidded to a halt in the pale circle of light beamed down from a streetlight. Beyond the momentary brightness the police car stopped too, the siren still blaring and the strobe light sending our flashes of red light that came and went and came again.
Standing in the circle of light like a lone actor on a stage he thought of Tim. They were two of a kind. Cut from the same cloth. Tim was proud of being a hood, proud of his rap sheet and all the trouble he got into with the cops. That was why they were buddies. They rubbed each other's corners off.
Fleeting, Dallas remembered when – a century ago – he had had his last run-in with the Shepard gang leader. The elder boy had been flaming-mad with Dally after he had taken a switch to Shepard's tires. It had developed into a full-blown skin fight and Dally had come out of it with a few cracked ribs. A day or two later Tim and Dally had been buddying around again like nothing had happened.
Dally grinned at the memory, a taut, thin-lipped smile. He was sure Tim would applaud what he was doing now. They'd both imagined that they would go down fighting one day.
Cops scrambled out of the squad cars, guns at the ready, surrounding the streetlight and the lone figure standing under it.
Dally reached into his waistband and jerked out the gun, feeling the metal cool under his fingers.
I been carryin' a heater. It ain't loaded, but it sure does help a bluff.
He remembered the words as he had said them to Johnny and Ponyboy the day before – a lifetime ago. How he had given them his gun when they had turned up at Merril's place, wide-eyed and trembling after what had happened, and how he had given them directions to safety.
Mistake, he thought. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Just the latest few in a life that had been nothing but a whole series of them.
Johnny, you blasted fool. I had it all set up for you, and what did you do? You threw it all away, and what for? A bunch of stupid kids. And look where it got you. No one's gonna remember what you did, why should they? Hell, Johnny, you should have just turned back. Come back to the car. What I would've done…
As he brandished the gun he felt a surge of grim triumph. This was his last act, his last laugh in the face of the world. And he didn't care whether it was a mistake or not because it was what he wanted and he always made sure he got that.
He heard the sharp cracks as the cops fired, and he felt the bullets tear into him, spinning him half around and leaving him slumped in the pool of light from the streetlight. There was a single instant of blinding pain but then it dissipated, and Dally was left with a sense of overwhelming tiredness. Slowly, he closed his eyes.
Dallas Winston had never believed in heaven or anything good about it. As he felt himself losing to the darkness which was swallowing him, the fear returned. Suddenly he was three years old again, grappling with nightmares in a dark and silent house, screaming for his father but hearing nothing. Paralysed with terror. Somewhere above him, Dally heard mixed voices, vaguely familiar.
Darry? Steve? Two-Bit?
They were fading fast, and all of a sudden they weren't there anymore, leaving him to the dark. Dally clawed at it but nothing he could do would destroy it as it blanketed his arms and face.
Stone blind.
Then, a pinprick of light broke through the darkness and the fear. Slowly, the brightness swelled until the shadows fell away and Dally blinked. The light was like a tunnel, and at the far end of it he could make out a figure standing. Dally took in a slight frame, dark hair. Big black eyes.
Peace stole over Dally as he started towards the boy in the light.
Johnny… Here I come.