Chapter 10

Bloody Hand Prints

The numbness of medicated sleep can be deceiving...control of thought is lost as your mind ventures unrestrained into avenues previously designated off limits to conscious memory, and you are forced into recalling events your mind and body fight against during the hours of having wakeful command of your senses. I was forced into recall by the medicine, and like an unwilling rider trapped on a roller coaster, I had no choice but to hang on for the ride. During the hours I was awake I couldn't remember the accident...I had subconsciously blocked it out, able to remember only bits and pieces. It was pure terror for me to relive now in my medicated sleep...mostly because I couldn't distinguish between the memory of it versus feeling it physically happening again.

I remembered the bright glare of the headlights in motion outside my window, realizing they weren't stopping, totally blowing off the stop sign I knew existed at that particular corner. The lights blurred in the rain then disappeared as the grill of the delivery truck collided into my door at speeds high enough to launch me from my seat, smashing me headfirst into the windshield as if I were a bug on the highway. I felt the glass give as it broke upon my impact with it, sending glass shards of all sizes raining down over me, many having already embedded themselves in my face and arms. Before blood could even begin to flow I was hurled backwards and down, below the dashboard to finally come to an agonizing stop of motion on the floor of the truck. En route to this end of motion, my right knee was rammed hard on the dash board then the foot of the same leg became ensnared in the the steering wheel, torquing it around before freeing itself as I collapsed in a heap. I instantaneously knew my right arm was twisted and broken, the lightening bolts of agony shooting from it gave that fact away the instant I tried to use it, which was immediately upon hitting the floor. The cab of the truck proceeded to encase me in twisted collapsed metal and I tried in vain to free myself.

The floorboard wasn't flat anymore, it was jagged and had an accordionized feel about it which only made my pain worse. The undercarriage of the seat was broken and jagged pieces of sharp metal poked out of everywhere. The door and side panel were crushed inward, further panicking me as I felt them pressing inward on my head. My vision blurred as something hot began to seep into my eyes. Using my left hand I felt my face, trying to wipe away the wetness. It was warm and sticky, and I knew instantly what it was. Blood. I could taste it in my mouth too, that taste being unmistakable. As bad as that was, it still wasn't over.

I didn't want to inhale, afraid of the sharp acidic smell that came from the battery mixed with the odor of burning rubber that now filled the cab of the wrecked truck. It wreaked havoc on my airway, choking my lungs and refused me any further air movement either in or out. I couldn't even scream again...not that anyone could hear me anyway. It was at that moment, that last second before all conscious thought faded into black that I knew... I knew I was going to die.

My eyes shot open then as that thought...that terrifying feeling gripped my chest like a vise again. My eyes deceived me...I didn't know what to trust anymore. I could feel the couch under me, a light blanket draped over me and in front of me were the coffee table with Darry's newspaper on it and the TV left on, the volume down low on some random channel that no one was watching. I blinked my eyes. It was to me only a whisper of time ago that the accident had happened, but it had been well over three weeks. The memory of the accident was never a guaranteed dream, and this wasn't the first time I had relived it. The pain medicine did this to me and I was trying to avoid taking them, but at times the ache in my arm and leg was too much. It had been too much again today, and as usual I was mixed up, afraid to even breathe, fearful of the harsh chemical smell that had choked me that night. I looked over and saw the front door was open, the screen allowing fresh air into the house. I finally took a breath...allowing the spring air into my lungs. I tried to relax. It was only a memory.... I could breathe again.

I sat up, gingerly rubbing my knee. Once I felt steady I stood and stumbled my way outside. I heard familiar voices and went to see what was going on, where the guys were. I found them as I peaked around the porch, they were working on the truck that had somehow been brought to the house. I hadn't seen it since the accident...and no had one volunteered to tell me where it went either. But there it was, and what a wreck it was, too. The entire passenger side where I had been sitting was crushed like a discarded Coke can. I could overhear the guys....even they were shocked.

"It's amazing he made it out of this alive." Steve said, and I smiled inwardly. I knew that Steve cared, but he'd probably never show me directly or say it to my face.

"Coulda been worse. A whole lot worse. Hell, Soda... the front axle's broken too, better put that on the list also." Two-Bit said from under the engine.

"Great...that's just another thing we'll have to find. Man, he took a direct hit, right where he was sitting. I don't know how, but it somehow even snapped his history book in half... in half! He took one hell of a hit, that's for damn sure." Soda said, intent with the wrench he had, doing something with the engine under the crumpled hood.

"How the hell'd they even get him out of this?" Two-Bit asked.

"Cut the door off and pulled the seat out, then they slid him out. They put the seat back only cause they wanted to keep the wreck together for us." Steve answered.

"How nice." Soda said, still working that wrench.

"He's a strong kid, Soda. He'll be back to normal in a few weeks. Once that leg heals up. How long before the cast comes off again?" Two-Bit was optimistic. I was glad I had him for a friend. I could always count on him.

"You mean if that leg heals." Steve said. Thanks Steve... I knew I could count on you too, I thought, shaking my head.

"His leg will heal up fine. Doc said so." Soda was quick to retort. "And the cast comes off hopefully in two months."

"Yeah, I mean the leg will heal up...but will he be able to run with it again." Clarified Steve. Hmm...hadn't heard this from him before. He wasn't one to come to my meets unless Soda dragged him, and when he was there he always looked so bored... like I was once again wasting his precious time.

"Is Darry even gonna let him run with him missing his spleen...or the school for that matter?" Two-Bit suddenly asked.

"Lets just get him walking again and we'll worry about the rest later." Soda said.

This didn't give me confidence. No one had said anything to me about my possibly not being able to return to track. I looked at my knee and foot. My foot still had minor swelling but only after I was on it all day. My knee had only minor discoloration and was always sore...but the swelling on it had for the most part stopped. I will admit thought, I used my left leg to lean on now, more than just standing up with my weight even on both my legs. As far as my surgery...I didn't feel any different on the inside. Sore perhaps where they actually had to cut me open, but nothing else. Was there something else they weren't telling me?

"Two-Bit, you got that bolted up yet?" Soda asked.

"Yeah, it's ready here. Steve, you ready?"

"Yeah. Been ready. Soda?"

"Yep...okay, one, two, three..."

I watched as they pulled the engine out of the truck with a makeshift pulley system and lowered it down on a pair of sawhorses. Now that the engine was out, it wouldn't take Soda and Steve long to have it perfect again. I was leaning over the banister watching with a smile on my face as Two-Bit turned around, looking right at me.

"Well, look who's up! Thought you'd sleep all day kid!" Two-Bit smiled at me. I got up and made my way down the porch and over to the wreck of the truck, wanting to get a better look at it. After all, I had survived the accident...it couldn't be that bad.

"Ponyboy, you don't have to see.... I mean, why don't you go back in... get off your foot. Are ya hungry? Two-Bit can drive you over for something, right Two-Bit?"

"Yeah, sure Pony. Come on.... lets go."

There was something going on and I was gonna find out what. They all had a look in their eyes that said there was something that they were trying to hide from me. Soda's expression being both pained and intent that I not go over there was decidedly more evident than the others. This made me even more determined to get to the bottom of it. I hated secrets...especially when they were right in front of me. I hobbled around Soda, and even though he was now both temporarily faster and more agile than me, he also knew he ran the risk of tripping me if he turned too fast to stop me. I came up on the passenger side of the cab where I had been sitting and peered in through the shattered glass left behind in the window track, being careful to avoid cutting myself further in this wreck of a truck as I peered in.

Aside from the large volume of shattered glass scattered on both the seat and the crumpled floorboard, there was a brownish red smear that seemed to cover the area where I had laid at while being encased in the darkness of the mangled wreck. A clear hand print, my hand print, made in the ink of my own blood was visible on the pale leather seat above where I had laid. At some point in the immediate aftermath of the wreck, I had to have reached up and made it, but I didn't remember. I guess there were some things I still blocked out. Suddenly I didn't feel so hot anymore and stumbled backwards.

"Catch him!" I heard Steve yell out.

Soda and Two-Bit caught me as I went down, feeling their arms around me as I let gravity pull me into the course overgrown green grass we never seemed to keep mowed. My mind was all a fog, but some time later I began to hear Soda calling my name, his voice breaking through the haze I suddenly found myself in.

I felt a wet coolness on my face and finally was able to open my eyes. He brown eyes were hovering over my face, his own face all scrunched up in lines of worry. He had a wet washcloth and was gently wiping my face with it, trying to both provide me comfort and wake me up. He held me in his lap while I still lay in our yard next to the truck. Both the guys were still there and glancing at them I could see worry in their faces too. When Steve saw me look at him, he tried to change his glance to one of curious indifference...but it was too late. I saw it. I was still too lightheaded to process it though.

I tried to sit up, but Soda held me firmly. "No you don't. Not yet. Take another minute." He looked up at Two-Bit next. "Two-Bit, go get him a cup of water. Thanks buddy."

Two-Bit turned and went back in the house...I heard the screen door slam as he entered the doorway. "I'm fine, Soda, just … just a little woozy." I pulled myself up to sit next to him, feeling my head spinning. "It's probably just the medicine I took earlier." I knew it wasn't, but didn't want to say anything. They all had enough to worry about without my becoming another issue on the list...again.

"Or it could be that you're not ready for this... and I'm thinking that's it."

Two-Bit returned and I took the cup, downing the contents in quick order.

"Damn, Ponyboy, not so fast. You're gonna make yourself sick." Steve said with a grumble.

"I'm fine, Steve...guys...really." I reached out and leaned on Soda's shoulder with my left hand while Two-Bit hooked his arm around my cast to help me up. Stars of dizziness still sparkled in my vision. I made my way back to the porch and went inside again...this time stopping only when I made it to my bed to lay down. The image of my own bloody hand print drifted into my mind and my stomach turned. I barely made it into the bathroom before Steve's prediction came true. What came up wasn't a lot but the physical act used just as much energy and hurt just as much, so it didn't matter how much I puked. The result was the same. It hurt. I was glad the gang was still outside, I didn't want or need anyone hovering over me right now. I cleaned up best I could and went back to lay down.

XXX

The stars in my vision changed to stars outside my window when I next opened my eyes. I heard soft voiced filtering down the hallway as I looked at the clock by my bed. 7:43.

"He passed out?" Darry's voice was edgy. "He actually passed out?"

"Fell like a brick." Steve said with just enough emphasis for me to hear him.

"Did he get hurt?" He asked while I heard his heavy footsteps getting louder as they came down the hall.

"No...Darry come back here and let him sleep. We already checked on him." Soda's voice was more firm than ever. I heard Darry's boots stop in the hallway, then go back up to the kitchen away from my door.

"Did he eat dinner at least?" He asked finally.

"Kid ain't gonna starve, Darry. When he wakes up...then feed him." Two-Bit said. I heard a chair scrape the floor then his voice continued. "Well, guys...I got to go. Tell him 'hey' for me when he wakes up. See y'all in the morning." A moment later the door opened then closed again.

Bye Two-Bit, I thought.

"I best be going too. We still moving the truck to Tim's place tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Darry said barely to where I could hear him. "I don't need him seeing that wreck the way it is again. Soda, I still can't believe you let him look in it with all the dried blood and other mess still in it."

"Darry I already told you, I tried to stop him but didn't want to tackle him in the process. He was determined to look...and you know how stubborn that kid brother of ours is when he gets an idea in his head." Soda was getting a defensive tone that was easier to hear.

"Keep it down, little buddy. Geez, I wonder if I should just sell it for what it's worth in scrap. Guy at the scrapyard already said he'd give me $300 for it."

"That's cause the steel in it alone is worth over twice that. Don't sell it, Darry. Not yet. Let Soda and me have a longer crack at fixing it before you give up. Tim's got no time line on getting his car back, so there really ain't a rush."

"Besides, what are you gonna drive if you sell the truck for scrap? Steve's right. Let us work on it some more before you give up on us."

"I haven't given up on you, Soda, but fixing that truck ain't necessarily gonna fix the situation."

"What situation?"

"Think about it, Soda. I had a feeling this was gonna happen. Just like he wont go down to the park anymore, and hasn't been to the Nightly Double since that night. Hell, this is just one more thing that's gonna stew in my consciousness."

I turned over and pulled my pillow over my head, not wanting to hear anymore. I'm sure between Steve and Soda, that engine will be the best running engine in town but I doubted it would ever work in Darry's truck again. The crushed condition of the frame alone would prohibit it from being considered "reliable transportation" by Social Services, who looked for any reason to remove me from my home to foster care. The very fact they haven't shown up yet to yank me out surprised me. Uhhgg...I didn't want to think about this either. I stared at the stars twinkling in the night sky outside my window until I felt their sleepy pull on my lids, and I happily obliged their request. I rested, peacefully this time, leaving the world of reality behind.

XXX

Calla Lilly Rose

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