A/N: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, and Kings of Leon owns "Closer."

Stranded in this spooky town
Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down
This floor is crackling cold

Steve felt nervous being stuck behind bars. It had only happened once before, and he had called his old man to bail him out which had been a serious mistake because his old man had not taken the news well. Steve may have an 'attitude problem' as his teachers called it, but he kept his distance from the cops as best he could.

The longer he was stuck in the cell, the more his chest tightened and the more anxious he felt. If he could just see a clock or have his watch back, he would feel a little calmer, but as far as he was concerned, without knowing what time it was, he was going to be stuck in that damn cell for the rest of his miserable life.

Having no real experience in jail – other than those bleak couple of hours he had spent waiting for his old man to pick him up a couple years back – he suddenly found himself concerned about the fact that the only cops he had seen was the one that hauled them in and the other one doing paperwork at the desk. The first left soon after he and Two-Bit were deposited safely behind bars, and since, it had only been the one at the desk. Sure, it was a Friday night, and Tulsa seemed to be losing its collective mind thanks to the heat, but shouldn't they be coming back and forth to the station? Shouldn't he be seeing more than a couple officers at a police station?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his forehead rested against the bars. He needed to calm down. He was panicking for no good reason. He should still be pissed for what happened, not worried about the well-being of a bunch of asshole cops that thought they could arrest whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

The radio squawked again, and it caused him to jump. He opened his eyes as if that would help him to hear better. It didn't. The voice on the other end of the radio came in choppy waves, occasionally drowned out by static completely.

" … mess out here … for back-up but not enough … need reinfor – "

It cut off and from the frantic way the officer was clicking the handset, Steve could tell the whole thing had died somehow.

The cop rushed into the room and headed for the small desk still covered in paperwork.

"I could take a look at the radio if you want," Steve offered, but the older man jumped in surprise when he spoke up.

"You … you need to … sit down and mind your own business," the officer said. He seemed flustered and that made Steve nervous.

He glanced back at his sleeping friend and the other inmates snoring in the other cells. "What's going on out there?"

The cop grabbed his cap from a hook on the wall and pulled it on. "None of your concern."

"Whatever they were saying over the radio didn't sound good."

The cop looked like he wanted to tell Steve to sit down and shut up, but he hesitated and walked closer to the bars. The room wasn't entirely dark, and Steve could make out the cop's name on his tag. Henderson.

"Is there something really wrong out there?" Steve asked.

Henderson shrugged a little. "Have a seat, son. I just need to get out there and hear for myself what they were trying to say over that damn radio."

"I can try to look at the radio, see if there's something wrong with that."

Henderson gave him a funny look, like he was trying to pull one over on him.

"Look," Steve said, glancing around to make sure everybody else was still asleep. "I ain't never been in here before, not overnight like this, and I can't say I like it. I just want something to keep my mind off it. I work down at the DX. I'm pretty good with taking things apart and fixing them. Mostly I work on cars, but I built a transistor radio once for a school project."

"I don't know if I can let you do that," Henderson said, glancing through the open door to the other room. "They'd have my badge if you did something with that to create a ruckus."

Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. He thought of something brilliant and looked back at Henderson.

"How about you unplug the handset? Then I just have the radio to fiddle with. That won't cause any trouble."

Henderson shook his head and walked out of the room. Steve sighed to himself and sat down when he heard him go outside and start his car. He perked up a little when he heard the engine turn off and watched the door. He heard Henderson walk back in, then mess around in the larger room. He stood up when the cop came in carrying the CB radio. He had already unhooked the handset and set it on the desk.

"If you do anything to mess this damn thing up more than it already is, I'm gonna be out on my ass faster than you can say Jack Robinson."

Henderson muttered curses as he unlocked the cell and passed the radio to Steve.

He looked it over and examined the bottom. "You have a screwdriver I can use?"

Henderson sighed and walked into the other room. After a few minutes, he came back and passed him the tool.

"If you do something with that screwdriver – use it as a weapon or anything like that – I'll swear in court that you smuggled that in here somehow."

Steve nodded and sat down on the bench. There was enough light coming in from the streetlight outside the window that he could see, but he sure would have liked to have been in the other room under a desk lamp.

He glanced up after he took out the second screw in the bottom of the radio, but Henderson was already gone. He was glad for the distraction and hoped that if he couldn't fix it, they weren't going to blame him for breaking it in the first place.

XXX

"Buck?" Tim called up the stairs. He put a hand on the railing, but Curly said his name.

"Don't go up there." His little brother might not have been so little anymore, but he looked like he was five again from the way he stood there, nervously gripping that pool stick.

Tim nodded once and stepped back. He was about to call for Buck one more time when he heard feet pounding across the hallway. They were moving faster than anything he had ever heard, and if he were anyone else, he would have admitted to being scared. He wasn't anyone else, though, so he stood there, stock-still and unshakeable.

The pounding continued down the stairs, and Tim felt an unfamiliar tremble to his core when the previously dazed, slow-moving tramp came around the corner of the staircase and slammed into the wall at the little landing. He looked wild-eyed and insane, his mouth curled into a tangled snarl, drool and some mix of blood and pus hanging from his lips. Jo let out a scream that brought goose bumps to Tim's arms despite the raging heat that still filled the room.

As much as he wanted to stand there and be the tough hood he knew he was, Tim followed his instinct and backed up when the bum's eyes narrowed in on him. The old man lunged down the stairs, moving so fast that it didn't make any sense. Tim kept backing up until he hit the bar behind him. He realized he left the broken bottle upstairs, and although he had his switch in his back pocket, using it meant the guy was going to have to come closer than he was willing to let him.

The bum was closing the distance faster than Tim could comprehend, and he realized quickly that there was nowhere he could go. There was a sudden snap to his right – a sound he couldn't place – but he couldn't peel his eyes from the sight in front of him. The man was almost two feet from him, and Tim blinked. In that instant, the man stopped with a surprised look in his wild eyes.

Curly was standing between them, and Tim blinked again before he could understand what happened. That was when he noticed the pool stick Curly had speared the guy with. The kid was still holding onto the cue with a death grip when Tim put a hand on his shoulder. That seemed to snap him out of whatever state he was in because he dropped the stick like it was a snake.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled as the tramp fell to the floor. "Oh, shit. Goddamn."

"What the fuck is going on around here?" Nick asked from behind the bar. He hadn't been any help so far, and Tim shot him a glare that shut him up.

"What happened to him?" Jo asked quietly, although she didn't seem to be asking anyone in particular. He glanced back at her, and she had a dazed look on her face. The far-away look in her eyes reminded him of when the bum first walked in the roadhouse.

"I'd be more concerned about what happened to Buck," Tim said, grabbing the box of bandages and rummaging through it until he found two that were big enough to cover the still-bleeding wound on her arm. He noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he wrapped the bandages around her arm, so he did it quickly, careful to keep his hands from touching the wound.

Jo didn't complain that it hurt and, Tim noted as he backed away a little, she didn't seem to even know he was standing there anymore.

"Curly," he asked, not taking his eyes off the girl. "You broke that pool stick in two, didn't you? Where's the other half?"

"Shit," he muttered. "I hit it against the table and the other half went flying … where the hell … here. I got it."

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Tim?"

He took his eyes off Jo and looked at Curly. His brother was looking up the stairs, and he followed his gaze. Buck was standing there, blood oozing from a wound on his neck. Tim looked away too quickly to see if it looked like Jo's bite, but he was positive it was. Buck stood there, a surprised look on his face as he slowly brought his hand up to his neck. His fingers touched the wound, and he seemed confused when he looked at the blood on his hand.

"Get over here, Curly. Slow," Tim warned.

Curly did as he was told, not taking his eyes off Buck as he quietly asked, "What the hell is going on, Tim?"

"We're getting out of here is what." Tim glanced at Jo, who looked like she was starting to hyperventilate. "Whatever this is … I think it's spreading."

"Oh, shit."

"You can say that again."

XXX

The sky was completely black when a news report finally came on the blank television screen.

The camera showed an empty desk before a lone reporter walked into view and sat down. The image of the single person in such a big, empty room scared Darry. He sat up a little when the man began talking.

"We are getting reports into the station that the vast majority of Tulsa's population has either succumbed to this epidemic that is spreading, or they have suffered at the hands of it." He took a shaking breath and held a hand to his mouth to collect himself. His voice shook when he continued. "The best information that could be gathered that this disease shows no signs of slowing. In fact it seems to be getting progressively worse."

He wiped at his brow, and Darry wrung his hands. He was used to seeing the professional news reports from the men at the Tulsa news station. He didn't like this other side of the newscaster, who was one shuddering breath away from tears.

"I don't know that anyone can even see this broadcast, but if you can, you must be safe in your homes. It seems that the best advice I can give is to leave Tulsa as soon as possible. This epidemic is spreading across the state, but it may be possible to outrun it. At the same time, that means leaving your home. I can't guarantee that leaving the city is worth leaving the safety of your homes, nor would I want to try promising that."

There was a thud somewhere in the room the newscaster was in, and he visibly jumped in his seat. It startled both Darry and Pony, too.

"What was that?" Pony murmured.

The newscaster took another deep breath and looked back into the camera. "This studio is currently under attack. This may be the last bit of information that may come your way. I wish it were something more positive."

Another thud. Darry stood up. He didn't know what to do, but he couldn't watch whatever was going to happen by just sitting there like it was some television show. It was a real man sitting in that room by himself.

There was a shudder of metal and a groan as a door somewhere off camera gave way to a great force.

The newscaster kept his head high as he looked directly into the camera. "God bless us all. Be safe."

People came flooding into view of the camera. While some rushed through the room, seeking what Darry could only assume were other people that were not yet infected, the others swarmed the lone reporter. They overwhelmed him, blocking him from the camera, but Darry cringed at the sound of his cries when they overtook him. He walked over to the set in two strides and switched it off. The tubes buzzed for a brief moment before the screen went dark.

Darry looked back at his little brother, still sitting on the couch, still staring at the TV.

"Oh my God," he mumbled.

"No more television," Darry declared. "Got it?"

Pony nodded, but his eyes were still glued to the set. Darry stood guard by the television as if those people on the other end were going to come through the screen any second. The brothers stayed frozen that way for several long minutes. The only thing that shook them from their stances was a distant scream outside.

Darry rushed over to the front window beside Pony, and they both peered out from behind the curtains.

"Do you see anything?" he asked Pony.

Pony pointed down the street. "I think I saw somebody. Yeah, look."

Darry strained to see from his position, but he finally saw the woman running down the street. Mrs. Winters. She was clutching a small overnight case as she ran, a terrified scream escaping her lips every few steps or so. He clamped a hand over his mouth when he saw someone that looked infected running behind her. There were several others that joined in the chase, and they were on top of her before he could comprehend what was happening. She screamed again, and he felt Pony shudder beside him.

"No," Pony was mumbling beside him. "No, they can't just do that. Why are they doing this? They can't just hurt her like that. They're going to kill her."

He kept mumbling things as they watched the scene unfold until Darry grabbed his brother by the arms and shook him until he looked away from the street and at him.

"Pony, we're staying in here, okay? We'll wait this out."

"We need to go help her," he said, looking at Darry like he was out of his mind because that wasn't his first instinct. "Are we just going to let her die?"

"She's already gone," he said. He didn't need to look back outside to know he was right.

"We might be the only people on this street that can help her," Pony snapped, ignoring what Darry was trying to tell him. "We need to do something."

"There's nothing we can do," he said firmly, still gripping his brother's arms tight enough that he knew they would bruise by morning.

"Yes there is!" he said. He hadn't yelled it, but it was loud enough in the silent room to sound like he had screamed.

It startled Darry, and he glanced outside. The gang of people on the street had heard it, or at least something else, and they were looking around for the source. He locked eyes with one of them and shoved Pony to the couch. He sank to the floor and pulled his brother with him, crawling on his knees and forearms to get back to the window.

"Keep quiet," he snapped. He knew, even then, that he shouldn't be mad at Pony for his reaction. He shouldn't blame him for his outburst, but he was mad then. They had been spotted.

XXX

Steve had the CB torn apart in front of him on the floor, and he was carefully checking all of the wires. It was hard to tell if he was fixing it without much light and no handset to check for a signal. That didn't matter. He felt better despite the fact he was sitting on the rock-hard, concrete floor in a hot jailhouse. The phone had been ringing non-stop for what felt like an hour but probably hadn't been any more than five minutes. Steve wondered if the person that was calling would think it was strange that no one was answering. He thought the entire situation that evening had been strange, but then again, he wasn't a familiar face around the police station, so who knew what was odd?

He tightened the last couple of wires and was screwing the bottom back on the radio when he heard a car pull up outside. For a brief moment, he wasn't sure what to do. If it wasn't Henderson coming back, whoever was out there would probably go crazy if they saw him messing around with one of their radios. When a door opened into the station, he shoved the radio under the bench and put the screwdriver in his back pocket.

He relaxed a little when he saw Henderson walk in until he noticed the way he was walking. He seemed to be limping, and from the way he was rummaging around the place, he was desperate to find whatever he was looking for.

"Hey," Steve hissed when Henderson came into the room and opened the drawer to the desk. He didn't want to wake up the other guys in the cells, but he wanted Henderson's attention.

"What?" He didn't look up from the drawer.

"What's going on? Is there something wrong out there?"

"Yeah, you could say something's wrong out there."

Steve stood up, his whole body stiff and sore from sitting on the hard floor for so long. "What's going on? Is it because of the weather or something?"

Henderson looked up at him finally, a book in his hand. He started to say something but was cut off by a loud bang outside. It sounded like it was on the door to the station.

"What was that?"

Henderson looked nervous which wasn't what Steve wanted to see. There was another loud bang outside, and the other men in the cells were starting to wake up.

"It's nothing."

Steve walked as close as he could and leaned in until his face was between two metal bars. "What the hell is happening out there?"

"I don't know. I need to call someone."

"Who? What did you see out there?"

"This is none of your concern. Where's the radio?"

"I'll give it back to you when you tell me what the hell's going on out there."

Henderson narrowed his eyes at Steve, and he glared right back. Something was really wrong outside, and he had no way of protecting himself if he was trapped behind bars.

"You little shit," Henderson said. "If you and Mathews are somehow behind whatever the hell is going on out there …"

There wasn't time to find out what he was planning on doing if that were the case because there was another loud bang on the door, and Steve sank further back into the cell. He didn't have any idea what was going on, but it was obvious that whatever was out there wanted inside.