Dally stared out the open door of the boxcar at the passing scenery. He'd finally hopped a train out of town and hadn't told anyone but Ponyboy. But he didn't tell Ponyboy the whole story. Sure, he missed Johnny, just like everybody else did, and of course he was concerned about how Johnny was doing. But that wasn't entirely why he was going.
The only time he could ever remember being really mad at Johnny was the day Johnny alluded to having thoughts of suicide. Dally had flown off the handle and told Johnny he'd better never say stuff like that again. He realized in hindsight his reaction had only hindered his ability to know if Johnny was actually becoming a danger to himself or not. Johnny never mentioned it again in Dally's presence, but Dally knew there were times when the kid was sinking into a deep depression. In a way, it didn't matter if he ever mentioned it again or not. He'd mentioned it once, and that was enough for Dally to be aware of the problem. Johnny didn't communicate with words. Dally had always been able to read his face; he could see what was going on in his head. He became fairly confident after a while that Johnny would never actually attempt anything as horribly drastic as suicide, but there were times when that confidence had wavered. Johnny had always been able to pull himself out of the mood after a while, but Dally never got over the sick feeling of knowing that Johnny himself had to be added to the list of dangers that Dally tried so hard to protect him from.
So the problem now was that a significant means of communication with Johnny had been removed. In some ways, the only means of communication. Now, he heard the sad, lonely voice over the phone and he knew nothing. He didn't know what Johnny was really thinking, he didn't know how this new family was treating him, he knew nothing but what very little Johnny would tell him. And there was no one there to stop him if... Dally forced the thought from his head.
Sad and lonely... no- there was more to it than that, Dally thought. There was something else in his voice the last time they'd spoken. Fear, maybe? But of what? He would find out soon enough, he decided.
The train rumbled through town after town, all the while the sky turned from blue to gold and the buildings became fewer and farther between as the train left the city. The sparse groups of trees grew thicker, and the vacant lots became open fields of corn and hay, and the sky seemed to extend forever. So this is the 'country' that Ponyboy talks about so often, Dally thought with some amusement. He wasn't quite sure what the thrill was. But something made him sit up a little straighter and start really looking at the quickly moving surroundings. In the distance, Dally could see they were approaching a hill, unusual for the typically flat Oklahoma landscape, and something about it had jogged his memory... this was the place his cousin had told him about a few months ago. This was the town of Windrixville. The hill was Jay Mountain. Dally had never been there, but now he knew what he was looking for. He leaned slightly out of the boxcar, squinting his eyes to see if he could see it. And there it was. Off in the distance rising just above the tree line on the hill Dally could see the silhouette of a church steeple. The setting sun glinted off what he figured must be a metal cross on the top of the spire. The church was abandoned. His cousin had mentioned that it would be a perfect hideout if anyone were ever in enough trouble to need it. Dally hadn't given the place a second thought since that day. He'd been in trouble with the law before and he wasn't afraid of spending a few nights in jail. Hell, he'd spent a few weeks in jail before. He could take it. And the rest of the gang never got into any real trouble, so he'd pretty much forgotten about the place until now. But, as he stared at it, a sick, eerie feeling filled the pit of his stomach as though the church held some kind of horrible memory for him. He'd never been there, so he couldn't for the life of him think what kind of memory a place he'd never been could hold. As he looked at it, he knew he'd never go there. He couldn't go there. He didn't think he would even send anyone else there. In fact, the sick feeling slowly turned to a feeling of relief, as though in seeing and passing by the old, empty building and continuing on his journey, he'd avoided something terrible. He wondered in awe about the feelings he was having. Bizzare, he thought. Wonder if the old place is haunted, or something? He thought about how Johnny and Ponyboy used to go to church. He'd gone once, but no one knew. He had gone to meet Pony and Johnny, and he'd waited for them outside the church below an open window. He'd been able to hear the minister quite clearly speaking about God and how he loved his children and how even though bad things happen, it's all a part of God's plan.
"And we know that all things work together for good for those that love God, " the minister said.
Dally had sat back against the wall of the church and lit up a cigarette. Whatever, he'd thought. He'd seen enough bad stuff to be pretty sure that "all things" weren't working together for good. Maybe Mr. Preacher should hang out on my side of town for a few days, he'd thought ruefully.
"But the promise is not for everyone, " the minister went on. "Note that it says 'to them that love God'. For those who love God, He is working in their lives to turn even evil circumstances around for their long range good. We may not understand why or how, but God knows."
Dally digested that. On the rare occasions that he decided God existed, he only felt anger, certainly not love. So, Dally thought, I guess that pretty much leaves me out of that plan. He was only half listening by this point. The way he saw it, he and the other greasers were pretty much stuck in their "evil circumstances" and he couldn't see a way that even God could get any of them out. Except maybe Ponyboy.
"Think of a piece of coal," he heard the minister say. "If you place a piece of coal on a table and let it sit there, not much will happen. It's just a lump of coal. But, if you place it underground, under enormous pressure, in time, what happens to that piece of coal?" There was a pause. "It becomes a diamond!"
Dally raised his eyebrows. Was this guy nuts? If that were true, every low life on the East side of Tulsa would be getting rich in their own backyard! And what did coal have to do with people living with difficult circumstances? He was not making the connection.
"God wants everyone to be a part of his plan... It is His desire that everyone comes to know and accept His Son, Jesus-"
Dally got up then and stormed off. He'd heard enough. Johnny and Ponyboy could come and find him when they were finished listening to all this nonsense.
Dally chewed at his lower lip as he remembered that day. That was one of the last times that Ponyboy and Johnny had gone to church. The next week they'd brought some of the boys with them and Two-Bit had done something to embarrass them enough that they had never gone back. Too bad, he thought. That preacher had been a pretty good speaker. Even though Dally had stormed off, he'd thought a lot about what he'd heard that day.
He laughed a little at himself, still remembering. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it, but he had. He had buried a piece of coal that night. Two-Bit had given everyone a lump of coal for Christmas one year as a joke. Dally hadn't really seen the humor in this, but for some reason, he'd kept the coal in the bottom drawer of his dresser at Buck's. He had just never bothered to get rid of it. He waited for a night when he knew none of the gang was sleeping outside and he took the coal over to the far corner of the lot and buried it. He buried it as deep as he could and even put a few heavy rocks on top of it. What could it hurt, he had thought. It was such a ridiculous idea that maybe it was actually true. Preachers were supposed to be honest men. And if it didn't work, no harm done, really. He certainly hadn't told anyone about it, and he had completely forgotten about it until that very moment on the train. Maybe he would dig it up when he got back.
Dally's thoughts began to wander to other things... things that had weighed on his mind for weeks now. He had made a choice to let Johnny go to Virginia. Granted, Johnny had a mind of his own, but Dally knew full well that he could easily have insisted that Johnny remain in Tulsa and Johnny would have stayed. Ultimately, he felt he was responsible for whatever happened from here on out. And then he began to think about choices. How making choices was like setting up dominos all in a row. If you make a wrong choice, set up a domino wrong, the whole thing can fall all at once. What were the implications of the choice he'd made not to stop Johnny from leaving? Was it a good choice? Had Dally removed him from harm's way, or had he sent Johnny straight into another living hell, just further away from his friends? What would have happened if Johnny had stayed in Tulsa?
A noise from the back of the box car made him jump. A scraping sound... like one of the crates that was piled up against the wall had moved. Then a groan. Dally realized he was not alone in the car.