A/N Drug use is bad. Very bad. Naughty naughty naughty. Don't do it. Unfortunately, not everyone got this message in time. Disclaimer over, on with the story.

Divining Rod

Chapter 12

Approaching Storm

XXX

The radio blared, ignored as background noise while the three friends played cards. Annoyed with the noise, Ponyboy had retreated to his room to once again try to fix something his mind refused to clarify.

Old sketchpads laid in disarrayed heaps on the bed, pages yellowing from months in forgotten storage on the back shelf of the closet. The drawings were reflections of another time; when friends with devilish grins or dark, suspicious eyes wandered in and out of the house as if it were their own. He pulled one sketchpad out at random, opened it and lightly traced the image with his finger. He tried to remember the sharp angles of jawlines, the deepset of eyes, the thickness of eyebrows; but in many ways it felt so foreign to him, as if he were looking at someone else's work and not his own.

His memory was all that was left of his friends, and it was slowly beginning to fail him. When that happened, what would be left?

He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight in a desperate attempt to remember, but all he got was a phrase - one that had stopped him cold the first time he'd heard it, and yet it pierced his soul again.

"... you don't just stop living because you lose someone. I thought you knew that by now..."

He hadn't stopped living, he just never thought he'd live to forget. Anger welled within him, a sudden caged feeling wrapped around him in the small confines of his room - one he needed to break away from before he smothered. He carelessly tossed the sketchpads away and bolted for the door.

"I'm going out for a while," he announced as he hit the front porch, hopping the fence too rushed to open it. As soon as his shoes met the sidewalk beneath him, he was off like a rocket.

"'It's getting dark ... you gonna be back before Darry gets home, right?" Soda yelled after him, but by then Ponyboy was just a mere blur as he rounded the corner out of sight.

"Damnit, now what?" Soda grumbled aloud to no one in particular as he watched his brother disappear.

"Don't tell me you two ain't talking." Two-Bit asked, spewing crumbs everywhere. "I mean, him and Brawny, that's one thing; but you? Something ain't right with that."

"Gross, Two-Bit," noted Steve as he brushed crumbs off the cards, stacking them up and wrapping a rubber band around them.

"Whatever's bugging him, he ain't saying." Soda came back over, flopping in his chair. The conundrum of his brother worried him like always.

"Just like Johnnycake used to be," Two-Bit agreed absentmindedly. "All quiet, all the time."

Both Steve and Soda turned toward Two-Bit, making him stop and look up. "Wha?"

The memory of their lost friend was still strong enough to make them pause. Pause.. but not stop. Even Johnny hadn't been one to wallow in the 'what if's' of life. His pop would beat him, but he'd simply roll with the punches - as painful as they may have been. Steve pulled out his keys and spun them on his finger. "Well guys, this has been a blast, but I got a date with Evie that I'd better not be late for. I'll check y'all later."

"See ya, Steve," Sodapop glanced Two-Bit's way. "Well, buddy, looks like it's just you and me."

"Nup. Make that just you. Me and Kathy are heading down to the drive in. You're on your own."

"Great!" Soda said, frustrated at the sudden turn of events.

"Sorry man, but like they say... there's plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe it's time you went out and cast a line... see what you reel up."

Soda grabbed a cigarette from a nearby pack and lit up. "See ya later, Two-Bit."

XXX

Once again, the deer weren't anywhere around. I was hoping they would be, I needed something to distract me from my misery... if only for a hour. The stupid sketches were infuriating. The harder I tried to get them right, the more wrong they looked. I'd left them at home this time, knowing nothing I did on them right now would fix the problem. The unexpected sound of a dry twig snapping behind me startled me, and I whipped around while reaching for my blade at the same time.

"So this is where you've been hanging out at. I was wondering what I'd find at the end of that path, although I didn't expect this." Karen's smile faded instantly when she caught sight of my knife. "You uh, ain't planning nothing, are you?"

"Course not," I said, folding my knife and putting it away. "Don't be stupid. What're you doing out here anyway?"

"Simple, I followed you."

"You did what?" I asked, a little angry.

"I followed you. Two-Bit mentioned how you've been disappearing lately, and more than once I've seen you heading out this way. I must say, you ain't the easiest person to follow... considering you walk like your pants are on fire."

I ignored the fire remark, but the memories it brought back still stung. "Maybe I didn't want to be followed, ever think of that?"

"No, but now that you mention it, pulling a blade on me was a definite clue."

"I didn't know it was you, and you ought to know better than to sneak up on someone who carries a blade, especially when it's getting dark out."

"You ain't gonna hurt me. I know better than that."

I smirked and sat back down. "Yeah, whatever."

"So, this bridge-thingy, it still in use?" She sidestepped around the Caution sign onto the crossbeams with ease, looking around.

"It's called a trestle, and I doubt it. I think they stopped using it when the train was diverted around the refinery. Now it's just forgotten. So, why are you spying on me?"

"I wasn't spying, I was snooping. If I'd been spying, I wouldn't have gotten caught. There's a difference."

I tried to cock my eyebrow, looking at her humorously. "There is?"

"Uh huh," she murmured, not noticing me at all. "Just ask Nancy Drew."

Nancy Drew? And they say I read too much!

"So, what's out here that's so interesting? Looks like a mosquito trap to me," she said, smacking a bug for emphasis.

I shrugged, not wanting to tell her about the deer. Somehow, to me, that was as personal as my sketchings. "Sort of hard to explain."

"That water polluted?" she asked as she sat down and looked at the stream below.

I shook my head. "Nope. The refinery is downstream. The water is clean at least until it gets there. Didn't think our little armpit of Tulsa could have this, huh?" I thought it was neat, she seemed to think otherwise.

"So.. you just sit around out here, doing nothing, for hours?" She was looking at me as if I were nuts.

"Mhh hmmm," I mumbled, my eyes closed as I tried to listen to the world around me... sans Karen Mathews.

"You okay?"

I think she was questioning my sanity and not my health. "Look, I didn't ask you to come out here, nor did I ask you to stay. Go on back if all you're gonna do is find fault with this. Just, do me a favor and keep this to yourself. That includes your brother."

"Don't worry," she said as she got up, rolling her eyes as she headed back across the trestle and onto the pathway. "I doubt Two-Bit would find any of this the least bit interesting. See ya, Ponyboy, and uh, try not to catch malaria."

"Don't get lost on your way back." I called out, adding a silent - and say 'hey' to Nancy Drew for me - as she disappeared.

A half hour of sitting perfectly still was rewarded when movement below got my attention. I smiled. The doe and her fawn were safe, my nightmare was just a figment of my stupid imagination. They came out and wandered around for a bit in the moonlight, the fawn's spots almost reflecting the full moon overhead while prancing about and drinking from the stream, the doe eating some grasses along the bank. When they'd had enough time in the clearing, they disappeared back into the brush. I stretched and got up, my arms and legs stiff from being still for so long.

I rubbed my arm, thinking of the sketchings again, wondering what it was I was forgetting when a step I'd taken ended up being a misstep. The next three seconds were a blur as I slipped on the metal, all my weight smashing my knee onto one of the exposed crossbeams as I went down. I let out a yell as I caught myself from falling through, grabbing the surrounding beams with my hands and pulling myself back up, but instant pain was already shooting through my leg. Tears welled in my eyes it hurt so bad.

"Shitshitshitshit!" It didn't exactly help the situation, but cussing made me feel a little better anyway. The metal had ripped a hole in my jeans over the same spot, and a trickling coolness on my leg told me I'd gashed it too. All the more for Darry to yell at me about. I rocked back and forth, my bent leg held close to my chest, waiting for the pain to dull enough to move again. When it did, I hobbled to my feet and limped off the trestle, heading home.

XXX

"Curtis."

The sound of my name being called out from the darkness startled me. I turned, my knee protesting the motion but I managed to stay on both feet. Curly was there, leaning against the shadowy backside of the laundry mat, a dying cigarette teetering from his lips. He sucked in the last of it then dropped the butt, snuffing it out with his shoe. "Hey man, what's up?" I answered hesitantly.

"Seen you around, thought I'd say 'hey.' Haven't seen you since..." He clenched his eyes, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Last September. It's been since last September, Curly."

"Yeah, yeah... right. Man, that was a cold winter, huh? Guess you've been busy. Whacha been up to?"

"Nothing much, playing catch-up with school, that sort of stuff. What about you? What've you been up to since... getting out?"

He smiled as if he were hiding a secret. "No good, man. No good. Got any smokes... you know, for later?"

"No, not on me. Smoked my last earlier. So, you doing okay now?" The obvious answer was no, he wasn't. I didn't like the way his eyes were twitching, and while my own nails weren't exactly clean, his were beyond grungy. It was more than that though. His hair wasn't Greaser greasy, it was just greasy – uncombed and somewhat matted. His clothes were filthy; it looked like he hadn't cleaned up in days. He'd changed. He wasn't the pal I'd had just a year ago.

"Could be better. Could always be better. You got any dough? I'm out, I just need a little."

"Nah. I'm always broke, you know that."

"Yeah, but you got some at home, ain't ya? You showed me that penny bank once. You still got it I bet, doncha?"

The bank he was referring to was a 2 liter Coke bottle that I often used to keep pennies in, with the ludicrous idea of one day filling up. Usually what happened is by the time I'd saved enough to cover the bottom, I'd spend it on chocolate or a magazine. "I got the bank, sure, but not the money. Sorry, Curly, but like I said, I'm broke. Maybe Tim..."

"Shuddup about Tim! Son of a bitch, he ain't nothing to me!" Curly's eyes went stormy, pointing his finger at my chest. He stopped just as soon as he started, stepping back but shaking in rage.

I backed up, aggravating my sore knee more but I ignored it. "Curly, I'm sorry man. But I ain't got nothing." A brief moment of silence fell before I tossed a thumb over my shoulder. "I gotta get going, Darry's expecting me home."

"Yeah, I bet he is," he said icily. "And you're too good to disappoint him, now ain't ya?"

I bristled. "Curly, what's with you, man? You know how it is, what me and my brothers face all the time, what he's -"

"-Yeah, yeah.. sorry Curtis. Sorry." He cut me off, not sounding sorry at all for anything and stepped further into the shadows, still facing me. If we were gonna talk and hear each other, I'd have to follow – and I wasn't about to do that. Everything about this was unsettling and I decided it was time to split.

"See ya around, Curly." I halfway hoped I'd never run into him again, at least not the way he is now. Whatever had happened to him, the old Curly wasn't there anymore.

XXX

I was exhausted, glad to be back in my neighborhood on familiar streets. Between my aching back, the beer, and the summer heat radiating off everything, I only wanted to be home so I could relax. Maybe if Sodapop was still there, he'd work out some knots that refused to go away. If not, then I'd have to settle for a steaming shower to do the trick. It wasn't as good, but it'd do.

The fog in my head went a little too far. I hit a curb, the spine numbing jarring sensation brought me back to my senses, waking me back up. I cussed a little, running my hand over my face to slap some sense back into me. Looking around, I was lucky I didn't hit anything that would cost me money; like a parked car or a mailbox, or even that dolt limping along in the street just ahead, just asking to get hit. Wait a second... I flipped on the brights, lighting up the guys backside and watched as he jumped a foot in the air, blade already out and ready.

"Ponyboy! What the blue blazes you doing out here this time of night?"

In that micro-instant of time that existed before recognition sunk in, he held an expression that any stranger would find menacing enough to leave him alone. However, I wasn't a stranger and could see past that toughness. Something besides me had spooked him, enough that he was carrying his blade in his hand, not his pocket like usual. Once he realized it was me, he'd tried to hide it, closing his blade and slipping it back into his pocket. "Hey Darry, how was the gym?" he asked as he slid in and shut the door.

"I didn't go to the gym tonight, went out to see somebody. Ain't it a little late to be out?"

I didn't miss how his eyes were scanning the darkness. "I was on my way home."

Something about all this wasn't right. I looked over at him as I drove on home. "What happened to your leg?"

"Huh? Oh, tripped. Nothing big."

Tripped? Figures. I pulled into the yard, seeing a light on in the garage. Soda was tinkering around on that wreck he swore he'd get running again but I had my doubts. We had a dollar bet on it, a dollar I was sure I'd have to loan him just to get back. When our doors closed, Soda came out, wiping his hands and grinning. Pony didn't wait, heading straight inside.

"He find you or the other way around?" Soda asked, puffing on a stick.

"I picked him up about a few blocks out. Looked like he was heading home. If you're done screwing around on that bucket of bolts, you wanna see what you can do with my back?"

He smiled. "Sure Dar. Just let me kill the lights in the garage. I'll be in in a minute."

I went inside, stripping off my shirt while getting the muscle ointment out; flopping across my bed just as Soda joined me. "Don't knock me out," I warned.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Shuddup and lay still." The radio hummed low in Pony's room, dulling my senses even more as Soda rubbed in endless circles. I knew Sodapop would get his way; I didn't bother reminding him I didn't want to be out. Instead, I replayed the conversation with Tim in my head, wondering how far Curly would go even as messed up as he was.

XXX

I kicked the can, hearing it pinging off the brick. I itched, the need for a little blow screaming through me. I already owed T.J. more than I could come up with and risked getting sent back up if caught in a hold-up again. That place was worse than juvie, a real shithole if there ever was one. It may not have been prison, but I couldn't imagine it worse. Anyway, T.J. was my cellmate's older brother who supplied the goodies during his visits. The first month he introduced me to weed. The second month we did lines. The rest of my time from that point on was a blur.

On the inside; me, T.J. and his kid brother were tight, but on the outside, T.J.'s attitude toward me was different. Nothing was free, and payment plans weren't optional. Still, I wasn't gonna get sent back again... not if I could help it. I just needed some money; something that would get T.J. off my ass.

Then I saw Ponyboy, remembering how his brothers always had a little emergency fund stashed in their house, and how they never locked their doors; and suddenly all my problems seemed solved. As long as Darry didn't get in the way, I was sure I could handle the others.

The Barracuda pulled so close to me, I was lucky it didn't run over my feet. I jumped back, surprised.

"You got my money?" T.J. asked in a bored voice.

"No man, but I can get it. I got a buddy, he's got some dough. I'll get it ... tomorrow ... I promise."

T.J. got out of the 'Cuda, the engine idling softly, purring like a kitten. "Who the fuck would want to be your buddy?"

"Just a kid I know."

He looked off in the direction Ponyboy'd disappeared into. "Let's go pay him a visit."

"Can't. Now ain't the best time..."

He flipped out his butterfly so fast it was like a blur, the tip suddenly resting just under my chin.

"It's his family," I explained quickly, "man... the kid's got one bad-assed set of brothers who pack one hell of a punch, with friends to boot. In the morning..." I felt the tip of the blade start to dig in, I was so scared I about pissed myself. "... - in the morning I'll go and get it. You'll be paid up man... I swear."

T.J. backed off. "What's the kid's name?"

"Curtis," I said, knowing there was no way out of it.

He looked at me through slitted eyes and lit a Camel. Then his fist flew at me, first hitting me hard on the chin followed by a second landing square in my chest, damned near shutting down my lungs. I never saw either punch coming and doubled over, falling to my knees. For the first time in days, the ache for another hit took second place to another feeling. Pain.

"Get me my money, Curly, or next time I'll break your legs. Kapishe?" he asked, snuffing out the Camel on my neck, burning me but I didn't flinch, too busy trying to breathe again.

I coughed, trying to suck in air. "Yeah man, I got it. I got it."

XXX

Calla Lily Rose