Std disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Outsiders (book or movie, characters, TV scripts, or anything else)
No compass. No map. No watch. No food. No water. I realized as I made my way down the mountain that whether he'd meant to or not, Kent had done me a favor leaving me up on that bluff. If I'd met dawn in the valley I was quickly approaching, I'd have been completely unable to guess at a direction. Well, I would have known in general which direction I was facing, of course, with the sunrise being predictably in the east. But I wouldn't have been able to see the blurry hint of what may or may not be the Stovepipe.
The pines were growing denser. I wished like hell I had that knife. Instead, every few trees, I stopped to beat an obvious mark into the bark of a tree with a rock. If I ended up going in circles, I'd realize it pretty quick. And if anyone made it out this way to look for us, they might have a hope of finding me, though I couldn't say how the others would fare.
Water was top priority, and I kept my eyes peeled and my ears open. They say you can smell water, and I guess that's true. But I wasn't sure how much water it would take, and I doubted that I'd smell it before I heard it.
It was lonely out here with no one to talk to, which was funny because it wasn't like I talked much more at camp. But just having other people around was something, I guess. I sure hoped to find someone else soon. In the meantime, I tried to picture Soda and I trudging along. But he would have started complaining after about five minutes about there being nothing to do. Two-Bit would have been cracking jokes, which sure would have passed the time easier, but when it came to working for things like finding food or making a shelter, he'd have done more goofing off than work. Darry. I tried to figure out what Darry would do if he were me, because Darry usually doesn't get too excited about things. He just looks at everything with those cool eyes of his and gets things done, no matter how boring or how difficult. I guessed if I had to choose anyone to be with me just then, it would be Darry. I felt a little guilty about that, about the fact that I wouldn't choose Soda.
Under the canopy of trees, it was cold and shadowy, but I was okay since I was moving. I watched the sky carefully, though. If you got wet, it was possible to die of hypothermia in sixty degree weather. Hard to believe that, really. But that's what we learned in survival class. Exertion generated heat, though, so until I stopped moving for any length of time or unless I got drenched, I wasn't going to die from cold. Now dehydration was another story. Three days was about as long as you could live without water. The thought that I was on day one of three made me a little edgy, but I was pretty sure I was out of luck until that clearing…and maybe not even then.
I stopped to rest some time later, easing down on a fallen, charred tree. Lightning? That put a little wrinkle in my forehead. The sky was still clear, though. I panicked a little, realizing it wasn't as easy to keep the sun where I wanted it, and that I'd wandered a little bit off my intended course. From my starting point, I'd seen clearly that the way to go was south by southwest, and that doing so would take me deep into a gorge that opened into a clearing. After the clearing would come a climb uphill, where the pines would thin out and give way to scrub brush and piñon pines, which look more like fat green bushes. That'd be one source of food…piñon nuts.
But it was hard to know exactly where I was just now and whether I was still headed for that clearing. All I could see was trees and more trees.
I started walking again. I was scared. I mean, at least with Johnny, I'd had baloney. And with the barn, there were enough peach trees nearby to make sure I wouldn't starve. I had a roof over my head in both places, and company in one of them. Now I was just this tree marking, wandering idiot with too much time to think. I wasn't even sure it was possible that I would reach the clearing in one day's walk.
It was Monday, July 10th. I wondered if it was 0800 yet. It had to be. Later, even. I wondered what the Colonel would think when I didn't show up for that hearing. I wondered, too, what Kent was going to say about my disappearance. And Wade's. I was pretty sure he was one of the others, which meant that Kent's barracks was at least two men down, maybe more. Why would he set himself up to look bad? Greensboro's drill sergeant sure wasn't winning any leadership awards.
And if it had been Kent that had dropped us all off in the middle of nowhere, why had he cut the ropes? Why not just leave us tied and gagged and helpless? I thought of a short story we had read in English. The Most Dangerous Game. It was about a guy, Sanger Rainsford, who was traveling through the Caribbean on his way to Brazil to hunt Jaguar. He fell overboard and ended up stranded on an island, where he ran into another guy who was crazier about hunting than he was. That guy, General Zaroff, he was out of his mind. He tricked ships into crashing near his island and when the crews would wade ashore, he'd capture them and give them a choice between being murdered by his manservant, Ivan, or be hunted. If they lasted three days, Zaroff promised to release them. Sportsmanship and all that. No one had ever survived so far, but Rainsford, the jaguar hunter, took him up on it, anyway, because who wouldn't want to have at least a shot at life?
I felt a little bit like Rainsford, though I sure hoped Kent wasn't stalking me. But at least Rainsford got a sack of food and a knife. What did I have besides a couple lengths of rope, a pillow case, and a sharp rock?
Still, I figured maybe Kent was just too cocky to consider that any of us would ever make it back to snitch on him. He probably figured that even unbound, we'd never make it on our own. Which, of course, made me want to prove him wrong. It was good to have a goal besides just basic survival. I not only strove to find water and food but see the look on his face when I made it back to camp, hopefully with the rest of the guys.
Every now and then, I let out the whistle me and Johnny had used…long and low, with that high note at the end. I didn't hear anything back, but I thought maybe I eventually would. I wished I could do one of those wolf-whistles, where you stick your fingers in your mouth. That one would carry a lot farther than mine. But though I'd tried it a million times, the best I ever got was farting noises, which Two-Bit loved and which made Soda laugh. But it wasn't going to help much more than the signal whistle.
After what felt like hours, I stopped again, leaning on the trunk of a pine tree. I didn't know whether it was just wishful thinking or not, but it seemed like the trees were thinning out some. I'd been heading downward so long that when I turned all I could see was green rising behind me, and a tiny bit of mostly blue sky.
My stomach growled, and then it ached and then it gnawed painfully as if turning itself inside out like a jeans pocket to show how empty it was. But there was nothing except pine trees as far as I could see. Technically, the seeds were edible, but who wanted to eat a small pine cone? I wasn't that desperate just yet. And the cones were past their best time, which is in the very early spring. It was summer now, and they were large and probably past their prime.
As the day wore on, fat clouds scudded by. I started to see more and more sky, though it didn't look like I was going to reach an actual clearing anytime soon. My whistles still went unanswered, as did the loud shouts I tried out. OORAH seemed the best word, because it would identify me as something more than just a wild animal. Every so often, I would cup my hands in front of my mouth and call it out, long and loud.
Anyway, the sky was growing thick with clouds. Menacingly dark ones, too. And there was a faint rumbling starting up to the right of me. I looked all around me and realized the trees were going to have to become a shelter. I tried to gather some snags, which are branches that have died and fallen from a tree but get caught in the living branches, but there really weren't many. Every tree was vibrant and green. Snapping off dangling dead branches would have been no problem, but if you think using a sharp rock to break off living branches is easy, you've got another think coming. I sawed and sawed, pulled, yanked, and tore and still only came up with about a half dozen young branches in addition to the couple dozen snags I'd found.
The rumbling got louder and the wind grew more insistent. I quickly wove the branches together as best I could until I had a small but serviceable lean-to. I used those ropes I'd been bound in to tether it to the trunk of a large old pine with a good natural canopy of its own. It started to sprinkle as I shoved dropped pine needles together in a large pile and shoved them under the lean-to.
When the rain began to pick up, I gave up and crawled inside, glad I wasn't the type of guy to get itchy in closed in places. I pulled out that pillow case again and laid it over my arms and tucked my knees in toward my chest. I never thought for a second that I'd get a wink of sleep, but sometime after the loud crashing of thunder eased up, I dropped off.
When it was still that soupy gray-blue outside, just before dawn, I ducked out from under the lean-to. It was soggy, but it had done its job. I was only a little damp. It was probably luck. I think I'd set my angle just right for the slant of the rain. It took a little time, but I got the ropes untied from the tree and the pillowcase rolled and tucked them back into my pockets.
I was cold, no doubt about it. My teeth were chattering as I marked a tree. I was surprised I even had to go, seeing as how I'd been a whole day without water. I felt heavy and slow, but I forced myself into a run so I could warm up. As I ran, I put out a few more OORAHs, though I didn't cup my hands in front of my mouth.
I stopped so abruptly I almost tripped over my own feet. Did I imagine that? "OORAH!" I called again, and this time I didn't move.
"oorah!" came the distant but clear response.
I let out a whoop and bounded forward a few steps, trying to figure just where it was coming from. "OORAH!" I called again. The other guy and I kept it up, with me taking a few big steps in this direction or that direction until I knew for sure that it was coming from ahead of me and just to the right.
We made slow but steady progress, my eyes darting around everywhere trying to make out RCJMC greens in a mess of forest greens. In the end, I didn't so much see him as I saw just some sort of movement up ahead. I'd never been so glad to see a soul in my life, not even when I realized Darry and Soda had found me at the old Winslow place.
Kurt was limping a little, but he was ok enough to walk a little faster when we finally saw each other in the mess of trees. I wondered if I looked as filthy as he did. He looked like he'd slept in the mud run. When we finally were close enough to talk, he said,
"Jesus Christ, I thought I'd never see anyone again."
I nodded. "Me, too."
We sat down against neighboring trees to catch our breath. He winced and adjusted his position, as if it hurt to sit down. "Don't suppose you know where the nearest 7-11 is?"
I chuckled. "I don't even know where the nearest trickle of piss is."
He smirked and grabbed a handful of pine needles. Then he tossed them angrily. "You see them?"
I knew who he meant. "Nope," I shook my head. "I know one of them had to be Kent, though."
Kurt nodded. "I figured. And probably Greg and Charlie, too." He swore.
"Oorah," I agreed. He chuckled.
"You and that word," he shook his head. "I'd think you'd be the last person to want to have anything to do with anything Marine. Used to think I might enlist, but after this bullshit..." he trailed off.
I just nodded again. "We probably ought to get moving again."
He sighed. In wordless agreement, we got to our feet. "Got any food?"
"Hell, no. I'm lucky I've got boots," I said, and I noticed he was wearing his, too.
"They were kind enough to remember to bring them along. Dropped them on top of me as they hi-tailed it out of there after dumping me," he explained.
We trudged along silently for a few minutes. I couldn't say I was happy, exactly, but I sure felt better to have someone around, even if it was Kurt. He stopped again, so I stopped with him.
"Look, Curtis," he began. Then he looked away, over my shoulder. "Back at camp, I was—"
I shook my head. "Don't worry about it."
"I was an ass," he finished.
"Yeah," I nodded. He laughed.
"Don't cut me any slack or anything," he retorted. "We're only lost in some damn forest or another. Probably gonna die out here."
"Speak for yourself, Private," I smirked.
We hit the clearing in the early afternoon. The sun was as hot as it was going to get. I was surprised to find I was sweating. When I looked over at Kurt, though, he was, too.
"Company, halt!" I said half-heartedly and flopped down on my back in the tall grass. Kurt just looked down at me for a minute. Then he shrugged and flopped beside me.
"You got any idea where we're going?" he asked a few minutes later. For some reason, it struck us both hilarious and we burst into wild laughter.
"Not a damn clue," I gasped, when I could finally talk. "Best I can figure, we keep heading southwest. Get up on that ridge," I pointed to the far end of the clearing, where the ground started to rise again, "and we see if we can find the Stovepipe."
"I thought I saw it," Kurt nodded. "But once I came downhill, I lost sight."
"Yeah." I yawned. "I'm really hoping we aren't too far off course. If we can see the 'Pipe from the top of that ridge, maybe we can find the creek. And if we can find that, we're home free. Just a matter of time and effort."
Kurt sighed. "My feet are friggin' killing me."
"Oorah," I said. We started laughing again. I think we were both a little slap happy.
"Guess we better keep walking," he said with a heavy sigh, rolling to his feet.
I moaned. Kurt just held out a hand. I stared at it for a minute, thinking how crazy it was that just a few days ago he'd sooner have backhanded me. Then I grinned and let him help me up.
A/N: Hang in there. It was bound to get a little dull with a guy wandering around by himself. A necessary evil!