Thank you for last chapter's reviews. I see your point that choppy sentences can be a good thing considering the situation. And I fixed last chapter's spelling typos! Forgive the ones that I know are going to be in this chapter (and preferably point them out). I typed this up really fast, and I have to get up early tomorrow. Mondays are stupid! It is a cliché fact, yet true. Enjoy!

Ponyboy's point of view

I've read in books that when a person is hurt bad enough he or she is beyond pain. The person is in such a state of shock that the mind feels separate from the body.

This was not the case with me. I could feel the pain.

I've also heard that time is meaningless when a person gets badly injured, but that was not the case either.

One minute I was napping at my desk dreaming of chocolate fountain slides, the next thing I know I'm on the floor. It hurt to breathe. And I had an inkling as to why this was: A large concrete slab was pressing down on my chest.

I'm no doctor, but this probably isn't good for a person's body.

For a couple of minutes I attempted to move the heavy slab pinning me to the ground.

I remember when Steve's oldest kid was five or six he attempted to "help" Darry by attempting to move a crate of bricks. He strained until his face turned red and sweat ran down his back. Of course the crate never moved an inch. I had just about the same effect trying to move the slab on top of me.

My next step at trying to save myself involved yelling for help. It hurt to breathe, so yelling turned out to be completely out of the question. I realized that my chest pain lessened considerably if I breathed in very slowly through my nose, and then exhaled even slower out of my mouth. That was about all I could handle.

All I had to do was keep breathing until Darry and Soda found me. There was no question that they would do just that. My brothers always watch out for me unconditionally. There was no shadow of a doubt in my mind that they would personally turn over every stone until I was found. All I had to do was wait for them. (Not that I had much of a choice on that account.) I regretted that I couldn't find them to let them know I was relatively okay.

After I layed there for a couple hours someone finally showed up.

I saw black pants and boots first.

"Hey, Bill. I found another body."

I opened my mouth to let them know I was alive, but thought better of it when my lung recoiled at the action. Oh well, they would figure it out soon enough.

"You better go over and double check before we move on."

The pants and boots came closer to reveal a navy jacket with 'search and rescue' on the pocket. An astonished face appeared soon after when the guy's gaze caught my own. His surprised to see me alive expression melted into a kind grandfatherly smile.

"Hey, Bill. We've got a live one." Bill materialized beside the first rescue guy.

"Good to see that you're not dead kid. Me and Jack are going to get you out."

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded.

Bill and Jack both lifted together at the slab. It raised a couple of inches.

"We need more manpower," gasped Jack.

"We can't set it back down though to go get help."

"Just yell for assistance. There are some people over there."

They did. After a moment a paramedic showed up. He was followed by two familiar faces.

Darry's face is good at hiding his emotions. But his icy blue eyes were filled with desperation. Soda, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve. His face was an ashy sort of white, and red eyes gave away the fact that he had been crying or had come close to it.

When Soda caught sight of me, he yelped and scrambled down near my head.

Trembling fingers tenderly brushed my hairline. It was the first thing that felt good all morning.

"Oh, Pony," he choked out huskily. I wanted nothing more than to speak aloud and comfort him, but my lungs would not allow that. Instead I forced a small reassuring smile. I'm sure it turned out to be a distressed grimace instead. Soda blanched in sympathy.

Way to be comforting Ponyboy, I thought sarcastically to myself. Why don't you just start crying? That will make Darry and Soda feel better.

Time went by pretty quickly now. It helped that I wasn't alone anymore.

Darry, Jack, Bill, and the other guy all lifted up the heavy slab while Soda pulled my out by my armpits. The slab fell back down with a heavy thud.

Everybody rushed over to me with questions.

"How do you feel? Can you move your arms and legs? Do you feel dizzy? What happened? Can't you speak? Was anyone with you? Do you know the score of the game?"

That last one came from Jack. He reminded me of on older Two-Bit.

I couldn't help it; I laughed.

My laugh came out with a gurgle and a spurt of blood.

Dammit. If I was laughing blood out of my mouth, I had internal bleeding.

Darry's point of view

Relief did not begin to describe how I felt when I found out my little brother was alive. Sure he was hurt, but I could handle that. I could handle anything as long as I had my family in my life. All of them that is. I would not be able to stand it if I ever lost one.

As soon as I let go of that stupid, heavy slab I dashed to my youngest brother's side. Soda crouched over him.

Ponyboy's eyes looked glazed over, and he was sweaty. Other than that he looked fine.

"How do you feel?" I demanded. Everybody else clamored in with questions. I felt concerned that Pony didn't say anything. He just stared up at us from the flat of his back. I wanted to hear him physically say that he was all right. With Ponyboy, that didn't always mean that it was true, but it always reassured me to hear it none the less.

I crouched down next to Soda. Soda ran his hands along Pony's shoulders.

"Why aren't you answering?" My question was one among many. One of the search and rescue guys chuckled and joked, "Do you know the score of the game?"

Pony barked out a laugh in surprise. As a result, a fountain of blood poured from his mouth. The paramedic turned Pony on his side and talked soothingly until the fit subsided.

"You'll be okay." The paramedic said. "We'll get a stretcher over here and get you to the ambulance. You might need a little surgery, but the most that you can expect is spending a few days in the hospital."

I saw Pony roll his eyes and I smiled despite my crushing concern. Pony didn't have to speak for me to know what he was thinking. No Curtis boy likes staying at a hospital.


So who else is completely bummed that FeistyFeist completed her Outsiders' series? I know I am.