WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A WHOLE LOT OF VIOLENCE. NOT FOR FAINT OF HEART. CURSING ABUNDANT. INFERRENCES TO RAPE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Enjoy!
A Shot For Revenge
Chapter 6
Winners and Losers
XXX
The four of us nearly ran up the parking lot to the hospital ER entrance, only to be held back by police. They weren't allowing anyone who wasn't visibly bleeding to actually go right inside unless you stood in line for a pass, which was about to send me into a full blown meltdown. Steve had to bolt my arms to my sides, and I was sure anyone could see smoke coming out of my ears as furious as I was. Darry, also just as angry, was naturally handling it better.
"Coach! Hey, Coach Devers!"
Darry had spotted the track coach being escorted by a cop going in, and he looked over at us. The coach said something to the cop, who waved us in past the other cops at the barricade.
"Sorry about that, Darrel. It's all over the radio, the press have been putting it out that the Governor was shot. The Governor wasn't even there! No one knows what's going on."
I wanted to tell the coach to shut up, none of us even knew who the Governor was, let alone if he was hurt too. My mind was on one thing, getting to Ponyboy's side. But, the coach did get us through the barricade, and for that I was grateful.
"Ponyboy Curtis." Darry said to the lady at the check-in desk.
"Who?" she asked back. I felt my anger getting fueled again.
"The runner that was shot. My brother. How is he?" Darry tried again.
The lady's looked changed and had one of her co-workers lead us back. The knots in my stomach began to roll as I realized she was taking us away from the main part of the emergency room, where patients either sat or lay, moaning about their own ills; to an empty room, which, if history is any indicator, is never good news.
"Darry? Darry, I don't know, man... " I looked at my shaking hands, which still had Pony's dried blood on them.
Steve saw my hands, and put one of his behind my neck, forcing me to look at him. "Soda, go wash up," he said softly.
"No," was all I could get out. Tears started to fall. I wasn't gonna wash Ponyboy off me, I just couldn't do it.
Darry grabbed me in a vice grip of an embrace. It was so tight, I couldn't breathe. Tears continued to run down my cheeks. I wasn't some tuff greaser then, I was a terrified teenager who had lost too much in the past year of my life, and finally figured out the losses weren't over for us. I knew there was only one reason we wouldn't be taken to Pony's bedside, and I wasn't sure how too accept it.
"Not a word, Sodapop. Not a word. Hold it together, no matter what. For Ponyboy, okay?"
I felt my head bob up and down on my shoulders, but I wasn't sure I could "hold it together" if it was bad. The door opened, and Darry stepped away from me. The man in the green scrubs looked at the four of us, then spoke with purpose, gentleness faintly present in his voice.
"I understand you are the family of the runner brought in by ambulance?"
"Ponyboy... his name is Ponyboy. He's our brother, how is he?" Darry asked.
"Just to make sure we have the same young man, does anyone have a picture of him? He came in with no identification. We have to be sure, first."
Right away, wallets came out and various pictures of Ponyboy were produced. Even Steve had one in his wallet... standing with me and Darry. Still, I was touched he thought enough of us to have it. The pictures satisfied the man, and he took a deep breath. I braced myself, Steve on one one side of me, Darry on the other. Two-Bit was standing by Darry. We were all supporting each other.
"He's been taken to emergency surgery in critical condition. He's lost a lot of blood and his vital signs were shaky. He hadn't regained consciousness. It doesn't look good. Once he left the emergency room, his case was turned over to Doctor Davidson, one of our surgeons. The operating rooms are on the forth floor, the nurse at the desk there will help you more. I'm sorry, boys. Are your parent's on the way?"
"Our parents are deceased, I have legal custody."
Darry's soft voice sounded strange to me, foreign almost. My ears had stopped hearing, the word surgery being the only thing echoing in my brain. I felt myself take a breath again. It made sense, he would have to go to surgery, they had to fix him... that bullet couldn't stay in him. He wasn't....
"Forth floor? Thanks, doc. Which way to the elevators?" Two-Bit cleared his voice and asked for us. The doctor pointed us in a direction, and Darry took charge again, leading the way down towards the elevators. I swallowed my fear, forcing my tears to dry up. I just wanted to find him, let him know we were here.
XXX
Two Months Earlier:
"Pony, wake up, Pone. You feel up to going to school?" I shook him on the arm. Despite all the noise in the house last night, he slept right through it. I thought I saw him twitch when Tim came over, but he was softly snoring soon after. At least now I knew what to give him if I really want him asleep; that one pill had him out completely. He didn't even respond later to my picking him up and carrying him to bed. I was gonna have to stop doing that, he's gonna give me a hernia if I keep hauling him around. "Ponyboy, come on now. Can you make it to school today?" I shook him a little harder, and his eyes began darting around under his closed lids.
"What time it is?" he groaned, arching his back while stretching his arms and legs to the four corners of the mattress. At least I knew everything still moved.
"Almost seven. How's your shoulder and leg?"
He sat up and rolled his shoulder. The grimace told me the arm still hurt, but he said nothing about it. Then he pulled his legs out from under the covers and took the bandage off, inspecting the damage. It looked good, at least as far as scrapes go. An abrasion running about four inches up the side of his calf and about three inches across it, not to mention the bruise around it. I didn't think it would leave a scar that you could see once it healed.
He wiggled his toes and moved his foot and leg in every way possible. "Feels okay." He squirreled around me and hopped out of bed, grabbing his stuff for his shower and headed down the hall. I shook my head. Very little puts him down, but when he does go down... he's out for the count.
"I take it Pony's going to school?" Soda asked as he shoved his breakfast in his mouth. We could both hear the water running through the pipes.
"Yep. His leg looks like it will heal fine."
"He gonna be able to make it to practice today? It's Friday, remember?"
"Yeah, I know. He looks like he'll be okay with it. His shoulder's still bugging him, but he ain't complaining. Tim said he would be there when he gets out. Give me a call if there are problems. I got to go, little man; roofing job is way across town. Bye now." I headed out, hoping things would go better today.
I had a sinking feeling that whoever this piece-of-shit was that either tried to run Ponyboy down or botched an attempt to simply scare him wasn't done. What I couldn't figure out was why. Pony hadn't done anything to anyone, laying so low since he recovered from that mess last fall that he was practically one with the grass.
Still, I wasn't taking any more chances with just hoping he'd be okay with our trying to keep tabs on him. His schedule wasn't making it easy for us either, with most of us working and Two-Bit having to keep up with his sister now, too. I had to call in outside help, and for me to do that... well, I needed help. Tim, as usual, had no problem being there. I think he still feels he owes it to Dallas. Whatever the case, he's willing to lend a hand, and I'm accepting. Whatever it takes to keep Ponyboy safe.
XXX
"Good morning, madam. Is Robert Sheldon home?"
I stood on the front steps of the ranch house with the manicured lawn trying not to stare at the woman in front of me, sporting a shiner so dark she wasn't even trying to hide it.
"No, my husband is at work. What, um, what can I do for you, officer?"
"Does your husband have a blue Ford Mustang?"
"It was our son's car. My husband had the title changed after Bobby's death. Why?"
"May I see the car, ma'am?"
I didn't want to tell her exactly why I wanted to see it, unless she pressed me for more. She looked at me and nodded.
"Certainly, officer. Let me get my shoes on. Just a moment, please."
She's a quiet woman, sadness in her eyes. It intrigued me enough to make a mental note to look up the death of her son, see what that was about. She came back wearing her shoes and a house coat, and I followed her behind the carport, where under a tarp sat the car in question.
"May I see the car? I need to actually see the car, not just the plates and wheels."
"Oh, certainly, officer. Sorry. My husband has the key, though." She took one corner of the tarp and I took the other, and together we removed the tarp, revealing the sleek, sporty car with the powder blue paint job.
"What's this about, sir?" she finally asked the magic question.
"There was a report made concerning a car matching this description with these plates, and a youth on the East side." I made some notes on the car's condition in my notebook. The slight ding on the front bumper was the only damage I could see, which coincided with what Ponyboy had mentioned about the car hitting the curb before it took off. Other than the typical scratches a car gets once it's driven off the lot, it was in great shape.
"My God, what happened?" The tone of her voice was not one of a question. Sounded more like she expected bad news.
"Was your husband home last night?" I asked her point blank and watched her expression. I've been doing this for seven years now, and one thing has always stood out... words may lie, faces usually don't. Her face betrayed her husband, but her words were loyal.
"Yes. He never left home after he came home from work. I don't know what that Curtis boy said, but my husband was home, all night."
I looked at her, fear and sadness clouding her brown eyes.
"Thank you, ma'am. If you'll get that corner again, we can get this car covered up, and I'll be on my way."
We got it covered, and I noticed there was no way that petite woman could cover this car on her own. I got in my patrol car and headed back to the station, knowing in my heart that something was going on, and she knew more than she was telling.
I never said who the youth was, yet she said his name unprompted. She was lying, and her husband was up to something. Now I had to do the digging to find out the why's and how's of this. However, I would have to do it on my own. When it came to rich versus poor - even though it was so wrong, the rich won out. I would get my report filled out and officially move on, but this …. something told me this wasn't done. Not yet.
XXX
"Okay, guys... everyone line up for the two mile run. Ready, set.... GO!"
Our pounding feet hit the track sounding like a small herd of horses headed down the fairway. We made two laps and then took to the path, again running the trail around the building. My leg was sore... my whole body was, but I ignored it. I pushed myself and found myself in with the leaders of the pack, they were both seniors. I noticed they seemed to be having a harder time than I was, and I was secretly pleased. Even though they were my teammates... to me they were competition, and I was still out to beat them.
The road loomed ahead, and for the first time, a bit of apprehension went through me. I swallowed and dug in my heals, spurting out ahead of the other two. I was NOT going to let what happened yesterday scare me from doing what I had every right to do.
"Hell, Curtis... this is just practice!" I heard Terry say, panting as I left him behind.
"Then keep up," I called back over my shoulder.
The road ended and I headed back toward the track, the footfalls of the other guys close behind me. We all came back on the red clay and looped it again, then crossed the finish line. I breathlessly looked around me, not for runners, but for that blue Mustang. I hadn't seen it, but I wasn't sure that was comforting or not. I grabbed my small cup of water and downed it, scanning around for anything out of the ordinary.
"Fifteen minutes and thirty eight seconds for the last runner to cross the line. Great job, boys, but I can tell you're not pushing yourselves. Remember now, first meet is this coming week. Work on your times over the weekend, and I'll see you all on Monday. Dismissed."
I got my bag and headed up the hill, spotting Tim's car on the roadside. I thought I saw it when I ran past, but wasn't paying attention to it. If it had been blue instead of black, I would have had every detail memorized.
"Hey, kid. Saw you running. You got speed, that's for sure. Hop in, I'll give you a ride home."
"Thanks, Tim. Where's Two-Bit? I thought he was my ride?"
"Wellup, I'm gonna be your taxi service for a while, me or one of my boys, unless you actually see one of your boys hanging by. Seems you and blue Mustangs' ain't getting along so well. I got the big man's version of events last night... lets hear yours. And do me a favor... don't leave anything out. Details, as long as they're true, can sometimes tell more than the big picture."
So I sat back in the seat and once again went over everything that's been going on since the middle of last month. Seeing how it wasn't very much, I was done just as he pulled up to my house and I hopped out.
"Kid, sounds like you got a tail on you. You're a smart kid, so act like it. Don't go out alone. This guy is waiting on you to do that, figuring you will. Don't. See ya on Monday, kid."
I watched Tim head off, waving as he rounded the corner then went on inside.
XXX
"Come on, Steve, it ain't like we're taking girls out or nothing. He needs to get out of the house. It's been a week since that car almost took him out, and he's only been to school and that track meet since."
I heard Soda talking to Steve through my opened window as they came back up on the porch. They had gone out a while ago, I wondered what they were doing back so soon. Friday's often had them out until midnight, when Darry's blood pressure automatically went up.
"Fine, but I ain't got no extra cash, know what I mean? I'm still short on dough since last Friday, when I made sure he didn't become roadkill to some maniac."
"And I appreciate it. No telling if that bastard would have come back to finish him if you hadn't shown up."
"What'd Darry want that police report for anyway? Not like they're gonna prosecute any West side well-to-do for anything that happens here."
"I think to make sure the cop knew we were serious. If Darry gets a copy of the report, then the cop would actually have had to file it. Darry's seen the system 'lose' to many things where we're concerned. This way, if Darry has a copy, then somewhere, there has to be an original."
"Fine, fine. Go get the rugrat, I'll move my stuff to the trunk."
"Thanks, buddy."
The screen door opened and shut, and I heard Soda talking to Darry in the kitchen. From the conversation I had already overheard, I knew Soda was planning to take me out... to where, I didn't know, but I was looking forward to it. I had been stuck in the house for most of the week and I was itching to get out. We did have our first track meet last Wednesday, and I was still smiling at my second place ribbon hanging above my desk. I may not have beaten that other runner from Maconville, but I did beat my own time in that competition, and beat Terry too. It was good enough for now.
"Hey, Pony, get your shoes on. Lets go to the drag strip."
I smiled, and put my pencil down. That was just what I was needing. Loud engines, fast cars, and some freedom. I reached in my desk and pulled out my switch, pocketing it and the little change I had saved up. I didn't want to bug Soda for money later on when I got thirsty.
"Stay with Sodapop, Ponyboy. If you run into any problems, stay in a crowded place until you can call me. Understand?"
"Geesh, Darry, not like I ain't been out before."
"He means, 'Yes Darry, I will stay with my older, more responsible brother and his tuff best friend; doncha, Pone?" Soda teased as he pulled me outside the door.
"Kid, don't make me regret this." Steve said as Soda pushed me into the backseat, then Steve vroomed the engine to life.
"I won't. Thanks for letting me come along."
"Seriously, though, Ponyboy, don't wander off. Darry will kill me if you get lost and in trouble out there."
I looked at him. First he defends me, then does the same thing Darry just did! "Sure, Soda."
XXX
The weeds were few and far between, but the early March warmth was bringing new life to the patch of bare ground the woman sat on. In silence, she gazed the rectangular piece of granite a few feet in front of her, remembering the sound of his voice, his laughter and his smile when he was younger and still so full of hope. He'd loved to give her sloppy kisses when he was a child, and she regretted now admonishing him on those days when sloppy kisses came from a face covered in either jelly or chocolate; leaving her with a sticky, messy face too. At the time, she wished he'd grow up. Now she wished she could hold that time again; when he was so innocent, so happy. Alive.
Then he had to grow up, and saw the world without the rose colored glasses that youth had invisibly given everyone to see from. He was around eleven when everything seemed to change. He'd come bounding in from school early that day, his daddy unexpectedly laid off from work that same morning and had been busy downing the Jack Daniels to forget about it.
He'd been angry with her because she'd gone to buy some grocery that morning instead of doing the housework. From her perspective, she liked to get the shopping done early so she could spend the rest of the day tending house and caring for the family. She never expected him to be waiting on her. When she'd made it back from the store and saw her husband's car unexpectedly in the driveway, she knew trouble lay ahead. He either wanted her... and would take her by force if she didn't just relent to it, or something else was going on. It was both.
He'd already been on a tear. The beer was all gone, drunk the night before. A half empty bottle of Jack was in his hand, and that look was in his eye.
"Woman, where have you been? This house ain't fit for anyone to live in. I work all day and this is the thanks I get?"
"Robert, if I had known you were coming...."
Too late. His fist met her cheek and down she went. He grabbed her by the wrist and half dragged her to the bedroom, forcing her to do the wifely duty he expected her to do. Unfortunately for him, or rather for her... he was too inebriated to obtain satisfaction. Angered now for that reason, he berated her while physically taking his wrath out on her. When the fight ran out of him, he dressed and returned to the kitchen. Shakily, she found her clothes and dressed herself, putting the torn blouse in the basket to sew later and reached for another from her closet. As she smoothed back her hair and went to the laundry room to wash the towels she had left that morning in a heap, the door unexpectedly opened and Bobby came bounding in, holding out a test he'd finally made a hundred on, as if it were a prize. Thank God he hadn't come home ten minutes sooner. She did her best to hide the truth from him, to protect him the only way she knew how.
"Mom... hey Mom! I did it, just like you said I could! One hundred! Mom?" Bobby's voice went from excitement to confused wonder as she came out of the laundry room, her smiling face now red and puffy from where the bruise was forming on her cheek.
"That's wonderful, Bobby!" she said with false cheerfulness. She was happy for him, ecstatic... but her sadness overwhelmed her just then.
He turned when he heard the noise behind him, and his father stepped out of the kitchen with the then nearly empty bottle of Jack.
"Ain't you got somewhere to be, boy?"
Bobby took a step back, and slowly nodded. "Y...yes sir," then went past her to his room, the perfect grade hanging limp and forgotten in his hand.
Bobby was never the same after that, and his father only worsened. Robert ended up getting a similar job with another company with even better pay, but their lives never saw the difference. Bobby was now aware what his father did to his mother; that she really wasn't just clumsy like she claimed she was all those years. How many bruises can their house's six steps cause anyway, and how many times in a day can you reasonably expect to fall down them? He began to brood more, as he did the math and realized what two plus two added up to in his father's house. At the age of thirteen, she came home to find her Bobby drunk and passed out on the bathroom floor.
He only got worse. Her influence on him waned as he became more like his father with every year that past. His grades plummeted, becoming a barely passing student. He quit every sport she convinced him to try out for, and when he was of age to take it, even failed his drivers test twice. His daddy gave him one last incentive... pass that drivers test and that fancy new Mustang he wanted would be his. He had a new bunch of friends that were all driving, and he wanted to join in; the promise of that car was all it took for him to study for it. Sure, he passed his exam, but she knew the first time she saw that car that it would kill him. She never expected it this way, though. She figured he'd wrap it around a pole or something. Instead, it took him to the fight that ended his life. And it was his own fault he was dead. The ways of the father were passed to the son.
She was empty inside, pointlessly moving the flowers around in the basket in front of the headstone. Numb. Just like when the police came to their house that night to say there had been a fight and she and her husband needed to go to the hospital. She had only cried when the casket was closed on her son, sealing him inside for eternity, his body dressed in that black suit she'd picked out for him.
Robert had not changed from it either. With no one home, he let his anger and frustrations out on her at will. She took his abuse.... all the abuse.... without a word or a whimper. She had learned that her sounds of protest only fueled his aggression.
And his aggression was fueled with a vengeance last week, when she mentioned the policeman that came about the car.
"And you showed it to him? You fucking bitch! Did he have a warrant?"
She wordlessly shook her head. He smacked her, first sending her into the doorjam, then she crumpled to the floor.
"Ain't you got any sense?" he screamed at her. "You ain't got to show the cop's nothing without a warrant! That's my car, and I'll do with it as I please! Now I can't take it anywhere, not if the police are going to be tailing me! Stupid bitch!"
From her spot on the floor, she knew better than to look up, but she couldn't help the words that came out. A mother's instinct to protect is strong - even when the child isn't hers, and she is helpless to defend him.
"What did you do to that boy, Robert?" she whispered. "He's just a boy... leave him alone!"
Robert's reaction was swift... his shoe into her midsection. It left her doubled over, gasping for air. He'd only been this cruel once before, fifteen years earlier, just after she found out she was expecting again. The bleeding lasted longer than two weeks, and she was never pregnant again. Her tears this time, however, never came. She felt dead inside, and dead people don't cry.
He stormed out of the house, and before too much time had passed, she heard the Mustang's engine start and the crunch of the gravel in their driveway as he left. She didn't care where he went, as long as he left her and that boy alone.
He came back later, so drunk she wasn't sure how he managed to make it back without either wrecking the car or a ticket to pay. He found her, asleep in her bed, and again forced himself on her. He was able to have his way this time despite the haze of liquor on his breath. And this time, like all the other times before, she took herself out of the room, back to the days when Bobby was a baby, and all she could think of were the happy days ahead that were sure to come.
XXX
Calla Lilly Rose
WELL, I WARNED YOU IT WOULD BE ROUGH!
And no, I DO NOT condone violence, abuse, rape or anything else that's bad. If you are a victim, seek help immediately. Do not live with it in silence, thinking the abuser will stop.
Off my soapbox. Calla