Slashed Tires Chapter what now? Oh 9
A/N: This chapter inspired by review of the brilliant Seselian.
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Dallas had barely left Curtis property before the cops were on him. They pulled up beside him, and before he knew it he was being dragged into that stupid car like so many times before.
"What the fuck!" he managed once they were speeding their way down the street. Without warning he was slapped hard across the face.
"Shut your mouth boy," snapped one of the men.
'Police,' Dally thought darkly. 'Fucking assholes.'
They pulled up at the station, and the two policemen hopped out. Dally stayed where he was. His stomach was growling, partly because he hadn't eaten anything all day, and partly because he was on what he considered enemy territory. He waited uneasily for the men to wrench him out of the car. He had missed for what crime they were picking him up for, but the cuffs on his wrists told him all he needed to know. A night in jail, maybe a few, was waiting for him. Not exactly his idea of fun.
The two policemen pulled him roughly out of the car. One of them led the way and the other clamped his hands down on Dally's shoulders, pushing him forward. Dally stumbled up the steps to the station, muttering a curse. Inside the station, the policemen pushed him past the usual hallway, which led to the cells. Instead, they led him down a longer, darker hallway, one that Dally had only been in a handful of times. He was shoved into a dark room. The room had no windows, and the only furnishings were a few metal chairs and a long table. Dally's insides twisted at the sight of the room. He didn't know what he was here for, but he didn't have a good feeling about it. The cops followed him inside, and then stood behind him at the door, hands clasped behind them. In the darkness they looked almost identical, the same stance and uniform, faceless, like medieval guards. Dallas swore at them, hoping for a reaction of some kind.
"Fuck." His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. Neither of the men moved when he spoke. Dally licked his lips uncomfortably. He walked around the table just for something to do, then gave up and sat down on one of the hard chairs, waiting like the policemen. He waited, the minutes ticking by, unsure who or what he was even waiting for. He looked at the cops, but neither of them offered any answers. Finally, just as he'd made up his mind to say something, the door opened and a tall, strong policeman stalked in. He closed the door firmly then turned and smiled coldly at Dally.
"Good afternoon Mr. Winston." Dallas stiffened, automatically suspicious of anyone who would address him with such formality, especially a cop.
The policeman held out his hand in greeting. Dally smirked and raised his arms, handcuffs dangling off his wrists. The man shrugged and seated himself in the chair across the table from Dally. He leaned forward and placed a small notebook on the table.
"We have a bit of a situation on our hands, Mr. Winston-" the man began.
"It's Dallas," Dally cut in quickly. Not that he wanted to be friendly with a cop, but the "Mr. Winston" bit was creeping him out. Every other cop called him Dallas anyway. Or "stupid JD" at the very least.
"The situation, Mr. Winston," the man continued, ignoring Dally's request, "is rather severe. There has been a murder, a young boy, seventeen or eighteen years old. It took place nearby, a park, far from where this boy lived. Actually very close to where you live, Mr. Winston-"
"I know." Dally regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. "I read about it in the paper," he explained hurriedly. The man sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, Mr. Winston, it is our belief that you were friendly with the accused."
'Why doesn't he just fucking get on with it and ask me where they are!' Dally thought, almost nervously, grinding his teeth.
As if the man could read his thought, he leaned forward suddenly, placing his hands firmly on the table in between them.
"Do you have any idea where they are Mr. Winston?" his eyes were intense gazing steadily at Dally's face.
"No." Dally's voice was calm and confident. They had no reason to doubt him. Except for his rep.
The man narrowed his eyes, the cold smile returning to his face. He leaned back again, and made a motion to the other policemen. Dally looked up suspiciously as the cops walked over to the two of them.
"I don't like liars, Mr. Winston," the man said, matching Dally's confidence. His eyes locked on Dally's face, he repeated his question.
"Where are they, Mr. Winston."
'Mr. Winston. shut up moron.' Dally stopped himself from saying the words he so badly wished he could. Instead he answered dutifully.
"I don't know."
The man motioned again to the policemen. One slid behind him, griping his shoulders tightly. The other was rolling up his sleeves in a perfect imitation of a t.v. cop.
'Oh my god,' Dally thought with disbelief before he was knocked nearly senseless by the man's fist. He blinked feeling the dizziness once again. The cop could be a fair match for Darry.
"I'll ask you again Mr. Winston." The big man's voice had lost its polite lilt. "Where are they." It was a demand, not a question, but Dally kept his answer.
"I don't know."
He was punched again, the man's fist colliding with his jaw. Dally's head snapped to the side. He could taste blood. The policeman cursed, rubbing his hand. He switched places with the cop behind him, his hands coming down hard on Dally's shoulders, his fingers biting into his flesh.
"It doesn't have to be this hard, Mr. Winston," the man's voice sounded almost bored now, as if he'd done this a million times. Dally looked at him, his head pounding.
"You can't-" he gasped.
"But we can, Mr. Winston." The man's eyes glittered with hostility. "The fact of the matter is, we know that you know where they are." The man's mouth curled into a sneer. "So I would advise you to tell us now. It's much easier for you. If not," the man spread his arms wide, including the other two men in his statement, "we have no problem continuing the interrogation this way."
"Fuck you!" Dally spat, before he was silenced by a barrage of stunning blows. They fell on his face, his shoulders, until he was twisting desperately under the cops' grip. The attack stopped as suddenly as it began.
The man behind the desk was laughing. "Calm down man, we're not trying to kill the kid." He smiled sarcastically, and Dally felt a cold chill, wondering if the man really meant that.
"Mr. Winston-" he began again, but Dally didn't need to hear it.
"I said fuck you I don't know where they are damnit!" Before the other cops could act the man had vaulted over the table, his face a mask of fury. He loomed over Dallas, his tall form tense. He grabbed Dally's hair, twisting it into his fist and he pulled the younger boy's head back roughly. Dally glared back at him. The fingers intertwined in his hair hurt like a bitch but he wasn't about to let the man know that.
"Listen you little bastard," the man hissed, forcing his angry face up close to Dallas. "I don't give a fuck about you, or your meaningless pitiful existance! You tell me what I want to know or I'll send you to the chair for this fucking murder!" He jerked his hand back, cracking Dally's skull on the hard metal back of the chair. He slapped Dally once, and Dally almost winced at the ferocity in that one strike.
The idea of being sent to the chair made his stomach twist into a hard knot. He knew the system. Depending on who was making the call, it might not matter that he had an alibi or that others had been seen killing the Soc. But there was no way in hell he was going to rat out Johnny and Ponyboy. Johnny was as good as dead if they found him, and Dallas wasn't about to let that happen. And Ponyboy was a good kid, besides Darry and Soda would kill him if he let Ponyboy get in that much trouble. They had got so mad when he wouldn't tell them where the kid was. Accusing him of not caring, of lying all the time..As Soda's words from that morning flashed through his memory, an idea so obvious and yet so brilliant occurred to him.
He would lie.
Dally swallowed and tried to look hurt. Adrenaline was running through his veins, refusing him to let him actually feel any of the pain.
"Texas," he said hoarsly.
"What?" The man demanded. "Speak up damn you!"
"Texas!" Dally's voice trembled. Tears pricked at his eyes. "They went to Texas, t'hide." He gazed up with fear. The man stood up, releasing Dallas, a triumphant look on his face.
"Where in Texas?"
"They didn't say," Dally voice cracked and he flinched turning away from the man.
"Texas boys," the man drawled to the other cops. "Write it down." He glanced back at Dally.
"You can go," he said dsmissively, looking away in disgust. He obviously wasn't worried that Dally would complain about the beating. 'Bastard,' Dally thought, slinking out of the room.
As soon as their eyes were off of him, Dally stood up straight, smoothing his rumpled hair. 'Stunning performance, Mr. Winston,' Dallas thought with bitter humour, resuming his usual strut as he made his way down the street.
A/N: This chapter inspired by review of the brilliant Seselian.
~
Dallas had barely left Curtis property before the cops were on him. They pulled up beside him, and before he knew it he was being dragged into that stupid car like so many times before.
"What the fuck!" he managed once they were speeding their way down the street. Without warning he was slapped hard across the face.
"Shut your mouth boy," snapped one of the men.
'Police,' Dally thought darkly. 'Fucking assholes.'
They pulled up at the station, and the two policemen hopped out. Dally stayed where he was. His stomach was growling, partly because he hadn't eaten anything all day, and partly because he was on what he considered enemy territory. He waited uneasily for the men to wrench him out of the car. He had missed for what crime they were picking him up for, but the cuffs on his wrists told him all he needed to know. A night in jail, maybe a few, was waiting for him. Not exactly his idea of fun.
The two policemen pulled him roughly out of the car. One of them led the way and the other clamped his hands down on Dally's shoulders, pushing him forward. Dally stumbled up the steps to the station, muttering a curse. Inside the station, the policemen pushed him past the usual hallway, which led to the cells. Instead, they led him down a longer, darker hallway, one that Dally had only been in a handful of times. He was shoved into a dark room. The room had no windows, and the only furnishings were a few metal chairs and a long table. Dally's insides twisted at the sight of the room. He didn't know what he was here for, but he didn't have a good feeling about it. The cops followed him inside, and then stood behind him at the door, hands clasped behind them. In the darkness they looked almost identical, the same stance and uniform, faceless, like medieval guards. Dallas swore at them, hoping for a reaction of some kind.
"Fuck." His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. Neither of the men moved when he spoke. Dally licked his lips uncomfortably. He walked around the table just for something to do, then gave up and sat down on one of the hard chairs, waiting like the policemen. He waited, the minutes ticking by, unsure who or what he was even waiting for. He looked at the cops, but neither of them offered any answers. Finally, just as he'd made up his mind to say something, the door opened and a tall, strong policeman stalked in. He closed the door firmly then turned and smiled coldly at Dally.
"Good afternoon Mr. Winston." Dallas stiffened, automatically suspicious of anyone who would address him with such formality, especially a cop.
The policeman held out his hand in greeting. Dally smirked and raised his arms, handcuffs dangling off his wrists. The man shrugged and seated himself in the chair across the table from Dally. He leaned forward and placed a small notebook on the table.
"We have a bit of a situation on our hands, Mr. Winston-" the man began.
"It's Dallas," Dally cut in quickly. Not that he wanted to be friendly with a cop, but the "Mr. Winston" bit was creeping him out. Every other cop called him Dallas anyway. Or "stupid JD" at the very least.
"The situation, Mr. Winston," the man continued, ignoring Dally's request, "is rather severe. There has been a murder, a young boy, seventeen or eighteen years old. It took place nearby, a park, far from where this boy lived. Actually very close to where you live, Mr. Winston-"
"I know." Dally regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. "I read about it in the paper," he explained hurriedly. The man sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, Mr. Winston, it is our belief that you were friendly with the accused."
'Why doesn't he just fucking get on with it and ask me where they are!' Dally thought, almost nervously, grinding his teeth.
As if the man could read his thought, he leaned forward suddenly, placing his hands firmly on the table in between them.
"Do you have any idea where they are Mr. Winston?" his eyes were intense gazing steadily at Dally's face.
"No." Dally's voice was calm and confident. They had no reason to doubt him. Except for his rep.
The man narrowed his eyes, the cold smile returning to his face. He leaned back again, and made a motion to the other policemen. Dally looked up suspiciously as the cops walked over to the two of them.
"I don't like liars, Mr. Winston," the man said, matching Dally's confidence. His eyes locked on Dally's face, he repeated his question.
"Where are they, Mr. Winston."
'Mr. Winston. shut up moron.' Dally stopped himself from saying the words he so badly wished he could. Instead he answered dutifully.
"I don't know."
The man motioned again to the policemen. One slid behind him, griping his shoulders tightly. The other was rolling up his sleeves in a perfect imitation of a t.v. cop.
'Oh my god,' Dally thought with disbelief before he was knocked nearly senseless by the man's fist. He blinked feeling the dizziness once again. The cop could be a fair match for Darry.
"I'll ask you again Mr. Winston." The big man's voice had lost its polite lilt. "Where are they." It was a demand, not a question, but Dally kept his answer.
"I don't know."
He was punched again, the man's fist colliding with his jaw. Dally's head snapped to the side. He could taste blood. The policeman cursed, rubbing his hand. He switched places with the cop behind him, his hands coming down hard on Dally's shoulders, his fingers biting into his flesh.
"It doesn't have to be this hard, Mr. Winston," the man's voice sounded almost bored now, as if he'd done this a million times. Dally looked at him, his head pounding.
"You can't-" he gasped.
"But we can, Mr. Winston." The man's eyes glittered with hostility. "The fact of the matter is, we know that you know where they are." The man's mouth curled into a sneer. "So I would advise you to tell us now. It's much easier for you. If not," the man spread his arms wide, including the other two men in his statement, "we have no problem continuing the interrogation this way."
"Fuck you!" Dally spat, before he was silenced by a barrage of stunning blows. They fell on his face, his shoulders, until he was twisting desperately under the cops' grip. The attack stopped as suddenly as it began.
The man behind the desk was laughing. "Calm down man, we're not trying to kill the kid." He smiled sarcastically, and Dally felt a cold chill, wondering if the man really meant that.
"Mr. Winston-" he began again, but Dally didn't need to hear it.
"I said fuck you I don't know where they are damnit!" Before the other cops could act the man had vaulted over the table, his face a mask of fury. He loomed over Dallas, his tall form tense. He grabbed Dally's hair, twisting it into his fist and he pulled the younger boy's head back roughly. Dally glared back at him. The fingers intertwined in his hair hurt like a bitch but he wasn't about to let the man know that.
"Listen you little bastard," the man hissed, forcing his angry face up close to Dallas. "I don't give a fuck about you, or your meaningless pitiful existance! You tell me what I want to know or I'll send you to the chair for this fucking murder!" He jerked his hand back, cracking Dally's skull on the hard metal back of the chair. He slapped Dally once, and Dally almost winced at the ferocity in that one strike.
The idea of being sent to the chair made his stomach twist into a hard knot. He knew the system. Depending on who was making the call, it might not matter that he had an alibi or that others had been seen killing the Soc. But there was no way in hell he was going to rat out Johnny and Ponyboy. Johnny was as good as dead if they found him, and Dallas wasn't about to let that happen. And Ponyboy was a good kid, besides Darry and Soda would kill him if he let Ponyboy get in that much trouble. They had got so mad when he wouldn't tell them where the kid was. Accusing him of not caring, of lying all the time..As Soda's words from that morning flashed through his memory, an idea so obvious and yet so brilliant occurred to him.
He would lie.
Dally swallowed and tried to look hurt. Adrenaline was running through his veins, refusing him to let him actually feel any of the pain.
"Texas," he said hoarsly.
"What?" The man demanded. "Speak up damn you!"
"Texas!" Dally's voice trembled. Tears pricked at his eyes. "They went to Texas, t'hide." He gazed up with fear. The man stood up, releasing Dallas, a triumphant look on his face.
"Where in Texas?"
"They didn't say," Dally voice cracked and he flinched turning away from the man.
"Texas boys," the man drawled to the other cops. "Write it down." He glanced back at Dally.
"You can go," he said dsmissively, looking away in disgust. He obviously wasn't worried that Dally would complain about the beating. 'Bastard,' Dally thought, slinking out of the room.
As soon as their eyes were off of him, Dally stood up straight, smoothing his rumpled hair. 'Stunning performance, Mr. Winston,' Dallas thought with bitter humour, resuming his usual strut as he made his way down the street.