Author's Note: So I know the last chapter was a little intense. This one is much less intense, more reflective so you get a little break from that. Just so you know where we stand with this story, I have nine chapters mapped out (so two more after this one) and I'll probably add another one to make it an even ten when all is said and done. Also, fun fact: this is actually the first chapter I wrote for this prequel after I wrote Days Slide and the Years Go By. I added to it a lot the past few days to develop it more, but this was the original idea that sparked this story. So enjoy! And please review!
Chapter Seven
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Pony felt heavy as he rolled over and looked at the clock. It was just about time to get up. He hadn't slept more than an hour or two the night before and he was exhausted. It was going to be a very long day. He could hear movement out in the kitchen and assumed Darry was already up. He wasn't sure how he was going to face him today of all days though.
But he knew he couldn't put it off forever. As much as he wanted to just stay in bed all day he knew that wasn't going to be an option. Darry would come looking for him eventually like he always did even when Pony didn't have to get up for school and he didn't want that. He felt bad for Darry and he knew he didn't help matters when he made Darry constantly have to pick him up out of a depression when Darry was just as devastated by the turn their lives had taken. The depression was still there but Pony was doing his best to hide it these days. He wasn't always successful, but the least he could do was drag himself out of bed.
Slowly he pulled himself out of bed. He forced himself to walk from the room and out into the hallway, padding quietly in his bare feet. He was aware of the sound of rain falling down on the roof. That seemed appropriate enough for his current mood, though he knew it would mean Darry would probably be home all day. He wasn't real sure how he felt about that today.
Darry turned to him as he entered the kitchen and gave him a weak smile. It was the same smile Pony had seen for the past year and a half. Ironically it was when Darry smiled you could see the most pain behind his eyes if you knew what to look for. It was like he was trying so hard to be happy but just by trying he was forced to acknowledge the reason he had to try so hard.
"Mornin', kiddo," he said.
"'Mornin'," Pony mumbled. As he took a seat at the kitchen table he noticed that Darry was making pancakes this morning.
"Happy birthday," he said, trying to muster up at least a little enthusiasm.
"Yeah, thanks," Pony said flatly, staring down at the table as his stomach turned a somersault.
"Thought you'd be more excited," Darry said slowly. "It's a big birthday after all."
"Yeah, eighteen," Pony said sullenly still staring down at the table, unable to meet Darry's gaze. "Drafting age. Yipee."
Darry sighed heavily, letting the strained smile fall off his face. He took the last of the pancakes off of the stove before moving over and taking a seat next to Pony. "You ain't gonna get drafted, Ponyboy," he said. "You're goin' to college in the fall." Despite the subject matter, Pony could still hear the pride in Darry's voice that he had whenever he mentioned college.
"Yeah…" Pony said slowly. Then he looked up at Darry seriously. "But you're not exempt anymore because of bein' my guardian. You could get drafted now…"He let the thought hang.
Darry paused for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he finally admitted. "We just gotta hope we get lucky."
"We ain't been so lucky so far," Pony mumbled. He bit his lip and looked back down at the table. "I… I can't lose you too, Darry."
Darry reached over and put an arm around his shoulders. "Don't think like that," he said. "It probably won't even happen. You can't live scared of what might happen. If it does happen we'll deal with it then. For now we won't even consider it. Okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Pony said, though he didn't sound very convincing, even to himself.
"Now c'mon," Darry said, standing back up. "Let's try and enjoy some of your birthday, okay? It really is a big day and it's worth celebrating." He retrieved the pancakes and brought them to the table. Pony just looked at them for a moment, suddenly remembering a stack of green pancakes years ago that his other brother had made. His currently missing brother.
Darry and Pony didn't discuss Soda much as a general rule. It was just too difficult. There wasn't much to talk about anyway since they hadn't heard any news at all in the year and a half since they received the letter that said he was missing in action. But just then as he looked at the pancakes he just couldn't help it.
"I miss him," Pony said so quietly that it was almost a whisper.
Darry didn't need any clarification on who he was talking about. "Yeah… I miss him too," he said, a sadness in his voice that was rare to hear. Darry was usually so good at keeping his emotions in check.
"Do you… do you think he could still be out there? Somewhere?" Pony asked, looking up at him.
Darry sighed heavily. "I dunno," he admitted. "I'd like to think that he is… but after all this time… honestly Pony I don't think there's much chance." The pain was clear in his voice and it was apparent that saying that out loud cut him deep inside.
Pony looked back down at the table. "Yeah. I know that."
"But who knows," he said. "Maybe he is."
Pony nodded, knowing full well that Darry was only saying that for his benefit, just as Steve had done last year when Pony was asking about prisoners of war. They all wanted so badly to keep hoping but that was so difficult to do as time kept passing and they got no more news, good or bad. How long were they supposed to go on like this? Would they ever get some sort of peace from all of this? Would they ever know for sure what happened to his brother?
Pony forcibly pushed the thoughts out of his head as he reached out and took a bite of pancake. Darry may not have Soda's crazy sense of humor when it came to cooking, but he was definitely the better cook. "Thanks Darry," Pony said, doing his best to smile at his oldest brother.
"Happy Birthday, Pony," he reiterated with his own smile, and Pony wondered if his smile looked as pained as Darry's did right now.
XxXxX
Vietnam
Soda coughed hard, feeling the phlegm buildup in the back of throat almost choking him. He had noticed he had felt feverish the past few days. He must be sick again. The welts on his back from his last lashing were throbbing and he had an aching that radiated through his bones. He lay limp on the scratchy blanket that served as his bed, his breathing shallow and ragged, too drained to move as he stared blankly at nothing in particular. Some days weren't so bad, but today he just felt awful. Today was one of the days where he wished they had just killed him instead of taking him prisoner.
At that thought he wondered vaguely how long it had been. Time was getting so hard to keep track of these days. He knew that a year had gone by. In fact it had gone by a while ago. He had nothing but time on his hands so he decided to try and figure out exactly how long it had been in order to pass some time. He knew he had been captured at the beginning of September in 1969. He had spent four months in the first prison camp. Then the march to the next camp had taken five months. Nine months of his life gone. He began counting the days he had been here. Days that turned into weeks, weeks that turned into months. All this time that he would never get back.
Suddenly he began counting more slowly, a strange feeling coming over him as he got closer to the actual date. It couldn't be… could it? Was he right? Was today really the day he thought it was? He knew he probably didn't have the exact date right, but it had to be around that date… didn't it?
His thoughts were interrupted by a rattling sound outside of his cell. He snapped his gaze to the door as it was yanked open, sending a bright light streaming into his darkened cell. He squinted against it, barely able to make out a guard bringing in a bowl of rice and a bowl of water. They had been less strict about keeping him completely isolated these days, and Soda found himself thankful for that. Just seeing another person at least once a day and even the little bit of light that would briefly flood his cell made him feel just a little more human.
"What day is it?" Soda croaked, his voice catching in his throat. Not every guard spoke English and when the guard stared at him he was afraid that this was one of those guards that didn't. Even if he did speak English many of the guards would simply beat him for trying to speak to them when they brought him food or water. But he was desperate for just this small piece of information. "Please," he tried again, practically begging as the guard placed the bowls next to him. He was grateful for this if nothing else. He wasn't feeling up to moving across the small cell to retrieve his meager rations. "What day is it?"
"June," the guard said stiffly, looking down at him strangely. His expression looked a bit like a cockroach had suddenly spoken to him – disgusted yet intrigued.
"The date," Soda coughed. "Please, what's the date?"
"Twenty-two," the guard answered.
Soda felt the air leaving his lungs in a pained hiss. So he had been right. He did his best to hold onto what little composure he had until the guard had walked from the cell and slammed the door behind him, the clang of metal echoing behind him. As soon he was alone he squeezed his eyes closed and let out a choked sob.
It was June 22, 1971. Ponyboy's eighteenth birthday. It crushed him that he wasn't there with his little brother to celebrate his birthday. They had always made big deals out of birthdays, going all out as much as they were able to. Their parents had always been enthusiastic about birthday and that was something the brothers had carried on with even after their parents were gone. He wondered what Darry and Pony were doing right now. Were they celebrating? Did Darry bake a chocolate cake? Were they thinking of him at all? Or did they think he was dead?
Once the dam was opened he couldn't stop the thoughts from overwhelming him. The sobs wracked through his entire body as he rolled on his side and curled in on himself as if he could somehow protect himself from this pain. Oh how he wished he were with his brothers right now. Oh how he wished he could simply tell his brother happy birthday. It wasn't fair. He never even wanted to be over here in the first place.
Ponyboy was eighteen now. That was how old Soda had been when he was drafted and forced to leave his family. Would Ponyboy be drafted as well? That thought was horrifying. He quickly pushed it out of his head. No, more likely Pony would be going to college soon. It suddenly hit him that Pony had probably graduated high school just a few weeks ago. He must have gotten into college with how hard he had worked. Would he get to see Pony graduate from college someday? Would he get to tell him that he was proud of him?
And what about Darry? Was he still working all the time? Was he keeping everyone going like he did after their parents died and after Dally and Johnny died? He was always there to support everyone, but Soda knew that Darry felt just as much as the rest of them. Darry had cried after finally getting Pony back after he had disappeared for a week. Soda had been missing much more than a week. Had Darry cried? Had he mourned as if Soda were already dead and gone? Or did he still have the hope that Soda himself had a hard time holding on to? The hope that someday Soda would make it back home again.
Then he thought of Steve. He was supposed to have returned home over a year ago now, in March of last year, just like Soda should have. Had he made it home? Did he survive the war? In just the few months Soda had spent actually on the battlefield he knew how dangerous it was and how easily the guy standing next to you could be taken from this world in the blink of an eye. He desperately hoped that Steve was safely back in Tulsa right now and wasn't too scarred from the battlefield. And he desperately hoped that Steve hadn't landed himself in some kind of hell like Soda had.
While he was on that train of thought, he turned his thoughts to Two-Bit. The happy-go-lucky one of the group. The one who was always grinning and cracking jokes. The one who Soda could remember being grim and stoic at Johnny and Dally's funerals. How was he dealing with Soda's disappearance? Was he still cracking jokes and trying to get everyone to laugh? Soda hoped so. He hoped that everyone back home was still living their lives. Even if he couldn't be with them right now.
He wondered vaguely what the military had told them about him. Had they told them that he was missing in action? Did they tell them he had been captured by the enemy? Somehow Soda found that hard to believe. No one had been around that day he had been captured. No one had seen it happen. Maybe they had just assumed that he was dead. Could they do that even if there wasn't a body as proof? What if they had told his family that he was dead? Maybe they already had a funeral… buried an empty casket… put up a tombstone with his name on it next to their parents' graves. The image made Soda sick to his stomach but then he thought maybe he was just being selfish. Maybe it would be easier for them if they simply believed that he was gone forever rather than waiting and wondering. At least then they could move on with their lives.
He prayed for peace for his brothers and for his friends. But he knew the only real peace he could ever feel would be if he were to someday return to them. Even if he died here somehow he knew that he wouldn't truly be at rest. He needed to go home more than anything. He had lost a year and a half of his life already. Even if he was trapped here for a few more years – though the thought made him shutter – if he could just make it home, back to his family, maybe someday things could be okay again. Maybe someday he could find peace again.
Soda took in a shuttering breath, feeling his throat burn. "Happy Birthday, Ponyboy," he whispered quietly to himself. He felt fresh tears streaking down his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes shut against them. "Happy Birthday, little brother."
