Crazy chapter below. No cliffie though so breathe easy.

A Showdown

OoO

Walter Wentworth rushes out of the shadows, coming crazed. Something glints in his hand. I fly off of the bed, but he's fast and I'm groggy. Knocking into my tray of food, I trip. I slam onto the floor and go sprawling. Wentworth lands on top of me. Jell-O and the metal tray clatter next to us.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" I punch him in the face. I try to squirm away.

Wentworth pulls me up, slams me back down into the tile, where my skull bounces off of it like a ball of Silly Putty. I blink, getting a grip, as stars run through my vision.

"I told you I'd get you," Walter Wentworth says, running a fleshy palm down the side of my face. It rests across my throat and he pushes. Spots flash. He's gripping a scalpel. Colors begin to dull, my eyes roll, the buzz gets louder on my brain. Willy's words…

Reach out and see…

Using every last ounce of strength I have, before the light can die, I twist underneath him, reaching out, reaching, reaching…

Lightening quick, I grab the metal meal tray the nurses had brought my dinner on earlier, raise it and slam it across Walter Wentworth's face. With a grunt, he flops off, landing on his shoulder. He bellows into his hand as it cups his mouth, blood pouring between his fingers like a stream of lava.

I twist on the ground getting my bearings. In addition to the fire alarm, I hear a new type of ringing. My mind whirls to place it. Ringing. Ringing. The phone's ringing…

Choking, gagging on air, I roll over into a crouch. When I have enough air to move, I'm up and diving for the nightstand. I snatch up the phone and shout, "Darry, you gotta get over here—"

Something glints in my periphery. I drop the phone and grab Rosie's needle-sharp hairpin. The scalpel slices air. Walter Wentworth grabs my hair and throws me across the room. My head smashes into the hard wall. I draw back and slam the hairpin into the side of Walter's neck as he advances at a lumbering pace. The hairpin makes a sickening squishing sound and stays lodged.

The Tulsa Terror screams again, clutching at his neck and flailing around the room. The dial tone signaling that the phone is off the hook competes with the fire alarm, the two sirens filling my hospital room loud and clear. Coughing on the cloud of smoke that's engulfed the room I rush for the door. My fingers fumble with the lock, slick with blood, slipping over the hot knob, but I manage to get it open.

I step out into the hallway and say, "Christ."

The hallway's a furnace. An orange glow of flames lashes from a nearby room. The world spins and I resist the urge to vomit when I see what's out there. Three dead bodies in the hallway. Two nurses and a doctor. Face down on the ground, redness on the back of their stark white coats. My legs give out and I hit the ground. I hope my brothers are far away from here. I choke on smoke in the middle of the hallway. The sirens bleat their warning.

The hospital's burning. I'll burn too if I don't get the hell out of here. Unable to breathe, I try to think. I try to collect myself and think of Willy's words…

Make sure you go down. Down, down where it's cool.

My head jerks up. Ten feet away the elevator beckons. And a button. G. Ground Level.

The stairs.

I hear a soft shuffling. Something lands near my hands. Dumbly, I look down and realize it's the box of matches. The Casablanca stares up at me. It's empty. The matchsticks all gone.

"I found a way," Walter lisps, limping out of the darkness. "To find you again."

Fire, my brain screams. He started the fire. My mother's words: Go, Ponyboy. Go.

As the lights flash, his monstrous face illuminated, the hairpin still in his neck, blood coating his throat, scalpel in his fist, I rally. I pull myself up and bolt for the stairs.

OoO

Go, go, go…

Ten floors to the ground level. I take the stairs at a dizzying pace, around and around I go, unable to tell how long it's been. I can't believe this is happening again. The never ending chase. I'm either going to die like this or I'm going to finish it. Tonight. The heat's following, clustering; I can feel it bleeding through the walls. My lungs burn. I think of the dead nurses. I pray to god it's not Kathy. Please god.

Stopping once to catch my breath, I wonder how he got out. The lack of security, his damn good luck, but know in the end it doesn't matter. It's out of control. Willy knew and it was going to happen. It's a slaughterhouse above me. The sirens are still going off; now a voice over the loudspeaker is calling for EVACUATION.

St. Joe's is going down.

OoO

It hurts but I do it. I slam my shoulder into the stairwell door and it sticks. "C'mon…c'mon, please," I urge but it doesn't budge. There's nowhere else to go. No other exit. I either go up to meet Walter Wentworth or out. A big green GROUND LEVEL is emblazoned on the front, mocking my failure. I can't stay here.

Drawing back, sucking in a hiss because I know it's going to hurt, I slam into the door with all the strength I have. I scream as my healing shoulder twinges, but the door opens and falling, I collapse across the floor.

I black out.

OoO

"Ain't goan make it out of the hospital in one piece, is you, My Boy?"

I rub my eyes. "This is a dream."

"Dat it is. Best dream you ever be havin."

"I don't know about that."

"Are you in a better place, My Boy?"

"Not yet. But hopefully soon."

"I left you something."

"Yeah. I heard about that. Thanks for the warning. What is it?"

"No, no, no. You know how it goes with me, My Boy. You have to—"

I wave him off. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I have to work for it." I evaluate Willy. Shackled and in a prison jumpsuit. "So what about you? Where are you, Willy?"

"Funny you should ask dat. Because I be in a better place too. Darker den yours I bet. But better in da end."

"Willy—"

Lights flash. I choke on smoke. Willy's gone.

OoO

"Oh Jesus…oh, shit…" I swear as I wake up, the dream disappearing into my subconscious. As much as I'd like to evaluate its meaning, a burning hospital is not the place to do it.

I roll on my back and take gulps of hot air. Willy was wrong. The smoke's down here too now. Clotting and clouding the enclosed space. My eyes focus as I sit up. I see a long hallway, whiteness all around, dark lit up by the flashing lights. I don't know how to get out of here. I can't see shit.

I stand, slapping at my scrubs. Except for the crackling sounds through the walls, it's quiet. I listen. There's clanging from the stairwell. Rushed footsteps. Slowly, I back away from the noise and turn in the opposite direction. I run, fast, faster than I ever have before, and then, before I can reach the end of the tunnel of white, my back cramps up. I hit my knees, and crumple in the middle of the hallway.

"Shit," I hiss. My legs are jelly, my stomach a ball of nerves. I catch my reflection in metal reflecting off of the vending machine. The iris of my left eye is blown out, black filling the entire space, no green. The face so white I barely recognize it as mine.

"No…" I squeeze my eyes shut, unwilling to cry. Dipping low, chest pressing the tops of my thighs, I cough into my hands and smear my face. I will my body to work.

"Don't do this. Not now. Please, not now."

A door opens. The squeak echoes throughout the hallway. Raising my face, I see a figure emerging from the darkness. I stiffen, afraid, ready to run, but then realize it's the man from my dream. Tall, broad-shouldered, safe…it's my dad but it's not my dad. It's—

"Darry?" I whisper. He pauses in the doorframe of the stairwell, unsure of who's there. He looks like a guard on watch. And when I see the profile, I know it's my brother. Rallying my voice, I holler, "Darry!"

"Ponyboy!" comes the strangled reply. Darry begins to run.

I grit my teeth. "Go," I say to myself, trying to push my aching body up on my fingertips. Darry shouts again. Somewhere inside, adrenaline kicks in. I'm up and I'm flying to my brother. I pump my arms and rush through the smoke.

Finally, I'm close. I launch myself into Darry's strong arms and he winds both of them around my neck, biceps bulging. He draws me in to his chest. Darry shakes. "Thank god," he says. "Thank god, I found you. Kiddo, we've been looking everywhere for y—I thought—oh my god, Ponyboy, I thought—"

I pull back, my voice haggard. There's no time. "Darry, he's here. He's down here. Walter, he—"

My brother's eyes move as there's movement in the darkness. Lit up by the strobes, Darry's soot-streaked face is a mask of anger. "Where?" he asks, through clenched teeth. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. I don't know where. He came to my room – Darry, people are dead up there…"

"I know, Ponyboy. I saw. The entire hospital's on lockdown."

"Jesus, Dar, but what—what in the hell are you doin down here?"

He gives me a look. "I told you…I wasn't leaving this hospital without you."

"How'd they let you in?"

"I didn't ask them," he says.

"Glory, you're really taking the Superman thing serious, ain't ya?"

"Ponyboy, I don't trust any of these cops or the goddamn doctors. I'd find you myself." Frowning, scrutinizing, Darry touches my face, tilting my chin back. "Did he hurt you?"

"Not as much as I hurt him."

There's a long pause as Darry chuckles and just shakes his head, a brief respite, but then it's broken as there's a thundering crash from somewhere in the hall. I jerk around. "Darry…he's coming. We gotta get out of here."

Sticking an arm across my chest, Darry backs me up, away from the noise in the hall. His whole body is rigid, alert. "Stay behind me, Ponyboy."

OoO

It's dark and we can't see where we're going. The flashing lights and the smoke smother the thin hallway. Darry leads the way, pushing forward, determined.

OoO

The coughing fit happens and I have to stop. Darry lowers me to the ground, kneeling beside me. "You have to breathe, Ponyboy. You got that? Shallow breaths, kiddo. C'mon…" He cups the side of my face and swears lowly. "Jesus, we're never going to get you better."

I let out a little laugh and shake my head. "I can't believe this, Darry. I can't believe this is happening again…"

"We're gonna get outta here," Darry says and helps me stand when I reach for him. We keep a steady pace down the hall, careful to keep away from the walls.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I ask as we take a corner.

"Maybe."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Dar."

"I wouldn't let you down, Ponyboy."

I give him a smile. "I know that."

"I should've listened to you." At my look he says, "You thought Willy meant something bad was going to happen here. And it did. I never should've left you alone." Darry coughs and smears his face.

"Aw, Dar, you couldn't have known. And I never would have expected this." I give him a smile. "I kept dreaming about dad and it was you."

"I don't know about these dreams of yours, Ponyboy," Darry says, sounding tired. "They're enough to make me go gray."

"I thought you already were?"

This time he cracks a grin. "You're as bad as Sodapop." The smile dies. "It's been some story, Ponyboy."

"It's over tonight, Dar. Tonight I'm gonna knock it out."

Darry stops and turns around to face me. He looks like he wants to hug me but doesn't. "Whatever happens, you stay close to me, kiddo. Real close."

OoO

Winding us down corridors of the hospital's ground floor, Darry keeps a hearty pace. My eyes burn, sweat beads on Darry's forehead. His soft footsteps are swallowed up by the droning alarm. The hallway we come out of branches into two paths, one leading right and one left. Doors at each end. Darry goes left. I stay put, the buzz in my head throbbing. Nearing the door, Darry coughs into the crook of his arm once. It's getting harder to breathe. He glances over his shoulder.

"This way, Pone."

I stare at the door in front of me. Cock my head as I think I see the knob turn. "Darry…" I slowly begin, backing away. "There's someone—"

The door flies open.

OoO

I hear Darry shout but before I can do anything about it, Walter Wentworth is headed my way. He's still bleeding from the face and neck, greasy sweat running down his fat face. "I found you," he lisps and slices the scalpel in the air. Jumping back, I knock into the wall, but then dip and duck under his arm as he takes another swing. I come up behind him. I shoot my wild-eyed brother a look.

"Run, Ponyboy," Darry says, standing his ground. His hands are pulled into fists, his stance solid.

"No way," I say. Wentworth, in the middle of the hall loosely holding the scalpel, separates me and Darry.

"Mr. Curtis," Wentworth says to Darry. "I didn't think I'd see you. You were so nice to me. So nice."

"You didn't have to do this, Walter," Darry says, sounding pained, sounding like he's trying to talk someone down from jumping off a cliff. "Steve and I trusted you. You shouldn't have done what you did to those boys."

"It's a habit," Wentworth says, repeating what he's told me. I go to touch the stairwell doorknob but it's hot and burns my hand. Fire probably on the other side.

"Believe me," I say, looking for another way out. "It ain't a good one." Darry swears under his breath, no doubt wanting me to shut up.

Wentworth's eye rolls. He says to Darry, "Your brother's nice too." Backing up, towards me, he holds out the scalpel. The sharp point glistens and he jabs it. I hop back and find there's nowhere to go.

"You're the only one I couldn't fix."

"Walter," Darry says, taking a step forward. He has his hands out, voice calm. "Just put it down and get out of here. We ain't gonna stop you."

"But I haven't got what I wanted. I need it."

Darry's eyes flicker to me and then back to Walter. "Take one more step toward him and I'll put you out. You hear me?"

Walter licks his dry lips. I see the sickness in his eyes. It's going to go down here. It's going to end. I ready myself and as Darry moves closer it all happens fast. Walter lunges. Darry yells.

"I got you," Walter Wentworth says. He wraps a hand around my throat and slams me back into a vending machine, glass and metal groaning. I buck underneath his grip. He raises the scalpel. Letting out a scream, I rip the hairpin out of his neck and jam it deep into his side until it stops. Warm blood flows through my hand, down my fingertips. Surprised, he lets go of my throat, backs away, and drops the scalpel. He glances down at the hairpin. His face is an ugly shade of grey – probably from the blood loss.

"But –but I never got what I wanted…" Wentworth mutters.

I look at him. "Fuck you."

Lights flash and with a blur, Darry grabs Walter, slams a fist into his face and then shoves him across the hall. Walter sprawls across the floor like a fat blob. Kicking the scalpel underneath the vending machine, Darry grabs me. We both jump as somewhere down the hall a window implodes, flames jumping through it. In the harsh light of the hallway, Darry face is harried. "Ponyboy, we gotta—"

Then simultaneously, two things happen. Walter's slowly scraping himself off up the floor, when the stairwell door in front of us whips open and the police barge in. Still moving, insane with rage, Walter lets out a yell. The cops raise their guns and with all the commotion and the smoke, we're a blur.

"Jesus, Darry," I say, grabbing his bicep. "They don't see us, they're gonna shoot us."

My brother's mouth forms a curse. Moving forward, Darry waves his hands in the air trying to get their attention. The cops bawl out a warning to Walter Wentworth. Wentworth pulls the hairpin out of his side.

"Shit," I hear myself say. Then I hear Willy again: You drag your bones to da ground, My Boy…drag da big one down. You get to a better place…"

"Darry!" I shout. Wide-eyed, he turns.

Before the cops can fire, I dart forward, knocking into my brother with such force that I see spots. We both hit the ground. Shots ring out, flashing bursts of lightning. Dim commands echo throughout the hallway and this time I know Walter Wentworth will be dead. I clap hands over my ears to block the noise. Rolling my way, Darry throws his arms over my shoulders, pulling me close, into his body and shielding us from the noise. He says something I can't hear. But he keeps talking and he doesn't let go until the hallways is a mess of quiet and gunpowder.

OoO

The top five floors of the hospital burn. We watch all this from our spot near the back entrance of the hospital. "Tilt your head back. Go on and take a long deep breath," the paramedic instructs. Darry watches us, arms crossed, his own offer of an oxygen mask refused.

The paramedic asks Darry if I need to be admitted to the nearest clinic. "No way in hell," Darry says. "I'm taking my brother home tonight." He helps me stand when they're finished. "Let's go, kiddo."

I pad across the cool cement of the parking lot in bare feet and scrubs. "You okay, Pony?" Darry asks when I stop. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck. I glance up at the burning building. The cool air hits like a slap in the face and I realize it's finally over. Walter Wentworth's dead, the cops finishing the job. Willy Wiese's words, his tape, burning up in the fire. I wish I could have held onto those but I'll never forget them. Nine long months done with; crumbling to ash in the night sky. The stars are bright above.

"I just wanna go home," I say.

Darry gives me a smile. "Yeah, well, let's hope that's still standing." I follow his gaze.

Twenty feet away, Soda and Two-Bit are in the parking lot watching the flames leap from the hospital. Soda's pacing, Two-Bit just gawking. Kathy and Liz are next to them, hands pressed to their faces. Fire trucks, cops and reporters mill outside the front of St. Joe's. I see Nick jogging across the lot, a pen behind his ear, cigarette in his mouth.

We walk a few more paces and then Darry whistles – long and sharp. Heads swivel.

There's a loud yelp coming from Soda and then they're all running. Anticipating what's to come, I stick my arms out and Darry braces himself behind me. Soda flies into my arms, knocking me back into Darry's force field. He squeezes me tight, his body shaking, mumbling something over and over. Everyone's yelling, crying, laughing, all at once that I can't hear what's going on. I just know I'm going home and for that I'm so damn thankful.

OoO

Yep. They had to have it out one last time.

Last chapter is next. Sad to wrap it up but it's time. Thank you for all the reads and reviews. I never thought it'd get this big but thank you!

Oh, and just so you know…I am going to do a sequel to this. Not now but in a while. So maybe that will make you feel a bit better.

After this…I'm thinking sequel to Esoterically Yours.

XO,

Feisty