Author's Note: So ... this is a story a couple years in the making (written for NaNoWriMo) that I've finally gotten the courage to post. Friends from the 731 Boards may remember the discussion that sparked this story to begin with.
And just an FYI if you end up being confused: This is a standalone story, post-book, with absolutely no connections to anything written by A Sideways Smile. (So no, this is not the sequel to What a Night for a Dance. Sorry.)
Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders and Mumford and Sons owns "Winter Winds."
We'll be washed and buried one day, my girl,
And the time we were given will be left for the world
The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague
So let the memories be good for those who stay
August 1969
The heat had steamrolled the entire state and refused to break. There hadn't been rain in weeks – even longer than the heat wave had made itself known – and there were fire warnings from Kansas down to Texas.
Officer Miles pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his forehead. The heat was relentless and unforgiving, making the petty criminals of Tulsa restless enough to wreck havoc and making even the sanest of folks lose their heads. He tucked his clipboard back in place after he slid into his cruiser. Tulsa's finest were waist deep in grievances throughout the city. Some residents had legitimate complaints from vandalism to theft, but most were mere annoyances. Miles wondered how long he would be able to hold up with either the heat or the state of mind everyone seemed to be sharing. He had only graduated from the academy at the beginning of summer, and he was sick of wasting his time on the force doing pointless things like he had that afternoon, telling Mr. Thompson he could no longer sweep the dust from his storefront onto Ms. Malick's sidewalk due to property lines and common courtesy. He personally didn't see what the dispute was about, considering it was just a little dust, but both Mr. Thompson and Ms. Malick had plenty to say on the matter.
He swiped his arm across his brow, feeling fresh beads of sweat replace the ones he wiped away almost immediately. Tucking the hanky back in his breast pocket, the radio gave a squawk of static as Base called him.
"This is Miles," he replied into the handset.
"I've got a complaint coming in from St. Paul Avenue from Mrs. Menerva Crawford," Base said. "She says her neighbor's yard is crawling with cats, and she wants something done about it."
"What's she want us to do about it?" He rubbed at his brow with one hand, flicking the sweat away before it could sting his eyes.
"I told her we weren't equipped for the removal of animals, but she keeps demanding someone come out to deal with this mess. This is the fourth time she's called today, and she's prepared to continue calling for as long as it takes. She told me so herself."
Miles sighed to himself. "If she calls back, tell her I'm on my way."
"Copy."
He snapped the handset back onto the tack next to the radio and pulled on to Front Street. He crossed from Front to Prospect and over to Blanton, leaving the business district behind him. He couldn't help but notice the toll the heat was taking on the lawns across town. The grass was brown. The trees were losing their leaves. A few even looked like they were dying. The place was starting to look like a wasteland, and it was beginning to feel like one, too. There were fewer people on the streets. Most people, it seemed, were holed up inside their homes, hiding from the heat as though that were possible.
Miles watched the few leaves that still clung to the branches of trees as he drove by. There was no wind to speak of, and on the rare occasion that there was one, it didn't seem to do much more than move the heat around with more force and more anger than he thought a breeze capable of.
He turned onto St. Paul Avenue. He didn't need James from base to give him an address; most every officer in Tulsa had to deal with Mrs. Crawford every once in a while. She was a bitter old woman, although they didn't seem to come in any other variety. She had a bone to pick with each and every one of her neighbors about something. Even Miles, however, had to note that there was something worth complaining about when he pulled up to her house.
He was just climbing out of the car when she came powering down her porch steps, pointing an arthritic, crooked finger at him.
"It's about time someone comes out here," she was saying as he closed the driver's side door and met her on the sidewalk. "Do you have any idea how many times I have called to report Mrs. Dancy's cats in the last two months?" She paused only to sneeze into the handkerchief she kept in her hand. "Fifty-three times, not including the four times I rang today. And you know how many times anyone has come out to investigate? Exactly twice, today being one of them."
"Menerva," he began, but that crooked finger was back in his face.
"It's Mrs. Crawford to you, Officer."
"Mrs. Crawford," he continued without missing a beat, "I understand that the number of cats Mrs. Dancy owns is a nuisance, and something should be done, but there is no law in Tulsa regarding the number of animals a person is allowed to own." Glancing at the overgrown mess that was Mrs. Dancy's yard and the stench that was coming from it, he added, "Although I think there should be."
"You're darned right there should be. I don't think I am asking for any mountains to be moved. I'm just asking that she get those beasts under control and out of my gardenias once and for all."
More eager to get Menerva off everyone's back at the station than to settle a silly squabble between two grown women, Miles nodded. "I agree, ma'am. I will go speak to her."
She nodded once, curtly before she coughed into her hanky again.
"Are you feeling all right, ma'am?"
"It's just this summer cold that's going around. I'm sure I caught it from these mangy cats that have been roaming around."
He nodded, knowing there had been some sort of virus going around. He luckily hadn't caught it, but it seemed to be running rampant with the older folks around the city. He hoped it stayed away from him because there wasn't anything worse than the flu in the middle of summer.
Menerva crossed her bony arms firmly across her chest as she planted her feet on the sidewalk. He glanced back as he made his way over to the Dancy property, and it was obvious that Menerva had every intention of witnessing the exchange.
He opened the rickety gate, cringing as the rusted hinges protested. The number of cats roaming the un-manicured lawn surprised him, and he had to nudge a few out of the way with the toe of his boot. The smell he noticed earlier intensified as he stepped onto the porch. Two cats were sitting by the door, pawing at the wood impatiently. He noticed a handful of bowls sitting on the porch, all empty of both food and water.
Mrs. Dancy attended the same church Miles' mother did, and she had always spoken highly of her, having known her through bingo. She was a widow, terribly hard of hearing, and had an affection for cats that bordered on obsession. His mother said it was merely a kind heart trying to fill the void of a dead husband, and Miles had no reason to disagree.
He knocked heavily on the door and spoke even louder. "Mrs. Dancy?"
He repeated the actions once, twice more, louder each time. After the third time, he became a little more concerned than he had been before.
Testing the doorknob with one hand, he was surprised to find the door unlocked. He pushed it open a couple of inches and called the woman's name again, only to get no response once more. The cats at his feet surprised him with their will and determination to get inside, pushing the door hard enough for him to lose his grip on the knob. The door stood open a couple of feet, and he felt guilty in spite of his police uniform and badge.
"Mrs. Dancy," he called once more. "The door was unlocked, and I'm coming in. I would like to talk to you about your cats." The two that had pushed their way inside were leading the way for a handful of the other cats. One brushed by his leg as he stepped inside. "Mrs. Dancy?"
The stench that had tickled his nose outside intensified tenfold as he stepped into the house, but he couldn't put his finger on what the smell could be. He assumed the vast number of cats was the culprit but the deeper he got into the house, the less likely it seemed to be the only factor.
"Mrs. Dancy?"
He pulled his hanky out of his pocket once more and used it to cover his nose and mouth. The taste of sweat on his lips was better than the rancid smell of the house. When he reached the sitting room in the back of the house and saw the old lady sitting in the armchair, his stomach twisted.
Miles fought the urge to bolt. He was a police officer now, and if he had any hope of a career, he couldn't lose it now. Looking around the mess of a room, he tried to figure out what his next step should be. He needed to go back to his car to call the station for back up. As he headed back to the front door, he realized it wasn't back up he needed, it was an ambulance.
Turning around, he ended up kicking a few cats as he made his way back to the sitting room. Only, Mrs. Dancy wasn't sitting anymore. She was standing in the doorway, staring at him, a distant look on her face.
It scared him more than he would have admitted to anyone, but he let out a sigh of relief. He really didn't want a friend of his mother's to be the first dead body he ever saw up close.
He walked a little closer to her, trying to explain why he was in her house, but she just stared at him. When he was within arms length, she attacked.
XXX
Miles found himself crumpled next to the porch swing, vomiting. He didn't know what had happened in those few quick seconds. The only thing he knew was the gun in his shaking hand was still warm from firing it. He hadn't meant to shoot her, but the way she attacked him wasn't natural. His eyes fell away from the smoking gun and onto the bloody patch of fabric on his arm. He pulled the shreds of clothing away from the bite wound and remembered why he shot her.
XXX
Darry sat down at the table after he ate dinner and began going through the bills. Running a hand through his hair, he wondered how he was going to make money start appearing as fast as it had been disappearing. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, wiping the sweat away. Just minutes after a refreshing shower, he was already sweating again.
Pony walked in the door a few moments later, flopping onto the couch before sending an apologetic glance Darry's way. He had a stack of books that he dumped on the coffee table.
"You missed dinner again, kiddo," he said, shuffling the bills around, trying to figure out where he was going to start. "I just had leftovers if you want the same. The oven might still be warm to heat them up."
The kid leaned his head against the back of the couch. "Who needs an oven? I can just toss it on the sidewalk outside and fry it. When's this gonna be over? It's too damn hot."
Darry shook his head. "Hell if I know. We had two guys pass out cold at work today. At least they were on the ground when it happened. It's gotten so bad that Carter's giving us mandatory breaks every thirty minutes. It's killing him a little each time he announces them, but I guess no foreman out there wants one of his men falling off a roof."
Pony grinned. "That'd probably shut down business for a day or so. He'd want that even less."
"Where were you?"
"Went to the library. I had gone down to the college earlier to get a list of the books I'll need for my English course."
"Looking forward to it?"
He nodded before he got up to turn on the television. "Nervous, I guess, but I think it'll be fun. At least a change of pace from high school."
Darry nodded and looked from the bills to the balance of the checkbook. He was proud of Ponyboy. He had really stepped up and raked in a few needed scholarships to attend the Oklahoma University. He even had a job with the bookshop downtown to pay for the little bit of tuition that wasn't covered by the grants.
The television buzzed from channel to channel until Pony finally stopped on the news and sat back down.
" … looks as though this heat wave is here to stay," he heard the weatherman say, disappointment in his voice. "We have had temperatures nearing and, at times, exceeding 100 degrees for the last two weeks. The humidity is only increasing the temperatures and generally making things miserable for everyone out there."
Darry scoffed a little. "Tell me something I don't already know," he muttered under his breath.
"Just like most of our stories this evening have revolved around the weather we are currently experiencing," the newscaster said, "we have a report in North Tulsa this evening with Lieutenant Kehres of the Tulsa Police Department."
"Due to these extreme temperatures, we have seen a rise in criminal activity around Tulsa. Everyone needs to keep an eye out for their friends, family and neighbors. Another thing we especially need to do is watch out for our elderly residents. With the weather so dangerously high, check in on your neighbors. If you haven't heard from someone in a day or so, call them or go see them. It may seem like a nuisance, but there have been a tragic number of deaths and illnesses related to this heat."
"You ever remember it being this hot, Darry?" Pony asked.
"No," he said, as the reporter with the officer concluded his story in North Tulsa and sent it back to the man in the studio. "A few days, sure. Not this long. Never this long before."
He walked over to the storm door. The windows had been open every hour of every day for the last month at least, but since the heat wave had taken over the town, he hadn't seen the curtains move once. "Ain't never seen the wind so quiet before."
He looked out onto the street. The sky was still light, but the sun was setting. It wouldn't bring any relief to the heat of the day. Just darkness.
XXX
Darry tossed and turned but finally gave up trying to sleep. He decided the dogs in the neighborhood must have had a powwow earlier in the day with every single one of them making a pact to bark all night long. He had tried to block out the noise with his pillow, but it was too hot even for blankets. A pillow on his face would suffocate him for sure.
He sat up and looked out the window to see if he could find anything out of the ordinary that would be making the dogs on St. Louis Avenue bark like the devil was after them. He couldn't see anything strange.
Walking into the hallway, he stepped over the creaky floorboards he knew of as he made his way to the kitchen. He noticed the front door was open and so was Ponyboy's bedroom door. He walked a little further into the living room and noticed his little brother standing out on the porch. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water and then walked outside.
Pony would have jumped out of his shoes had he been wearing any when the storm door creaked open. Darry clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry. What are you doing up so late?" Darry asked. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Too hot and miserable."
Darry took a gulp of water before he nodded. "Yeah, same here."
Pony glanced from Darry back out into the street. "I wonder what's got all the dogs riled up tonight."
"I don't know. Maybe there's a raccoon in somebody's yard, and it got all the other ones excited."
"It's kind of creeping me out."
Darry smirked a little and squeezed the back of his brother's neck a little until he wiggled away from him. It used to send Pony into a fit of giggles every time their dad did it. It still elicited a smile from the kid.
"I'm serious," Pony said, the grin fading. He nodded toward the dark street in front of them. "There's just something weird going on here lately."
"I think you've been reading too many books lately, kiddo."
"You don't feel it?"
"Feel what?"
Pony shrugged a little.
"For someone majoring in English," Darry said, "you sure don't have a way with words sometimes."
"There's something out there."
"I think you're just scaring yourself." He didn't add that there was so much confidence in Pony's voice that Darry felt a little nervous himself.
"Maybe it's the heat. It's going to my head."
He nodded. "It's going to everybody's head. Get some sleep."
Pony walked back inside and Darry began to follow him, pausing for a moment to look for whatever his brother had been seeing on that dark street. He couldn't see a thing, but he didn't think Pony was entirely wrong. There was definitely something weird, and he could feel it. The hair on his neck stood on end, and Darry fought off a chill that ran down his spine in spite of the suffocating heat of the night.
XXX
Darry wasn't sure when he finally fell asleep, but he suddenly woke with a start at 3 in the morning. He couldn't figure out what woke him up as he lay there listening, and then he realized the dogs had finally stopped barking. Their neighborhood wasn't a rowdy one; it was full of older folks that mostly kept to themselves and dogs that occasionally barked no matter what the time was. However, this total silence was different from anything he had ever heard before.
He pulled the curtain back a little ways and looked outside, not sure what he was looking for, but coming up empty anyway. The porch light in the back didn't illuminate much other than the steps to the back door, but as far as he could tell, it all looked pretty normal. He looked back at the clock, knowing he would have to be up in a little over four hours to get ready for work, but there was something that was still working its way around his brain. Pony's words from earlier were still lodged in his mind; there was something strange going on.
He slipped on his shoes and walked into the hallway. Pony's door was open, and he was sitting in his desk chair next to the window, staring at something Darry couldn't see.
He knocked lightly on the doorframe so as to not startle him again, but Pony seemed to know he was standing there.
"Do you believe me now? There's something going on out there."
Darry cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed near Pony. "Yeah. But what is it?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I wish Soda were here, though. I'd feel better if we were all together."
He squeezed his little brother's shoulder, wondering if that was what had been bothering him earlier. It had been a rough few months, but things had been different between the two of them. Soda's death in Vietnam had only brought them closer together when Darry feared it might make things worse.
"Are you having nightmares again?" he asked quietly.
Pony looked over at Darry before looking back outside. "Nightmares? No. I haven't even gotten to sleep yet."
"You better get some soon. You'll feel better if you do."
He finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'll try."
Darry gave Pony's shoulder another squeeze before he stood up and walked out into the hallway. After one last look at his brother sitting there, looking both scared and thoughtful, Darry decided to spend the rest of the night sleeping in his armchair.
He woke up the next morning to find Pony asleep on the couch.
XXX