Slashed Tires Chapter 19
A/N: I can't say much for this chapter. It's really LONG. And kinda sappy/dramatic. Meh, I'm just the writer. What do I know anyway?
~
Tim pulled up silently at the large building. Beside him, a gang member whistled appreciatively.
"That's one huge buildin' that is," he said in awe.
Tim stilled the urge to crack his head open. He was terrified (though he'd never admit it) about what those dickhead Socs might be doing to Angela. His friend complimenting the bastards only served to irritate him more.
"Bet they never have to worry about not having enough space," said someone else.
"Yeah, them buildings is full of empty space," Dallas remarked before Tim had a chance to start swearing. He leaned over the front seat from where he sat in the back. "Way too big with not much in them - just like them Socs' heads."
Laughter and grunts of agreement followed this statement, and Tim experienced the incredibly strange feeling of being grateful to Dallas Winston.
"Let's go," Tim ordered, sliding out of the car. The rest of the people followed. Behind him, he saw Darry and Two-Bit emerge from their respective cars, dragging more people with them.
"This is it huh?" Darry said abruptly. He gazed up at the building, his muscles tense. Tim looked the other over and smirked. It would be one stupid Soc who took on Darry.
"We gonna kick Soc ass or what?" Steve growled, moving forward, his face twisted angrily.
Tim nodded smiling tightly. "You still got that switchblade Two-Bit?" The greaser flicked it out, swallowing nervously. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he shifted, tense. Sweat trickled down his back under his heavy leather jacket. He hadn't had time to down anything. It had been a long time since he'd fought without being high.
Tim glanced back at Darry. "You got a blade in case?" Darry nodded, that heavy, silent gaze fixed on Tim. An odd sense of calm had settled on him, the scene seemingly unreal. No nervousness. No fear. He was superman after all, and those Socs didn't stand a chance.
"I don't have anything," Soda piped up. His gaze flicked from Darry to Tim to Two-Bit, his own feelings changing as he took in the different moods. One minute he was sure nothing much would happen, the next he was feeling eager to get in and kick Soc butt, then he was terrified that someone would get hurt. His mind was a whirlwind of activity, always feeling as if there was something important he'd forgot, but he had no idea what it was.
"I got an extra," Steve said, handing it over quickly. His hands were shaking. He wanted in that building. Those stupid Socs thought they could run all over them did they? Thought they'd get away with anything? He'd prove `em wrong. He'd show them no one, especially not any Goddamn Soc, could mess with a greaser and come up with nothing to show for it. He'd show them all.
"Anyone else?" Tim's eyes scanned the crowd. He met every greaser's eyes, saw their fear, their anticipation, their uncertainty. He smiled, his lips twisting in a cruel, almost satanic smirk. He felt a rush; these greasers were his army, and he was their commander. He was in charge here.
"Well then, let's kick ass," Dally's voice was light and laughing. His blue eyes danced merrily in the dim light. `Fun!' a voice inside him squealed. Hell, this was all what life was for. He grinned demonically at Tim. Money had no advantage here. The greasers were ready to fight. The Socs would be taken by surprise. For once, the greasers had the upper hand. Unable to help himself, he laughed out loud.
Tim watched Dallas, thinking mildly that his friend was crazy. He lit a cigarette and shifted in front of the greasers, leading them through the wrought iron gate, across the well-manicured lawns, and up the clean gray cement. Tim flicked his ashes disdainfully at the welcome mat. Slowly, he reached out and turned the doorknob. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Slowly, silently, the greasers walked down the waxed hall. Tinkling classical music filtered through a heavy wood door. Tim smiled, and tossed away the remainders of his cigarette. "Party time," he murmured. The door opened, and a sandy-haired Soc peeked through. "Cherry? Where'd ya-" he froze mid-sentence, his gray eyes focusing on the band of greasers in front of him. He stared openly at Tim his eyes widening. Tim stared back at him, silently studying the narrowing pupils in the Socs eyes. He breathed in, the tangy scent of fear foremost in the air.
It lasted only a moment, but it felt like forever. Finally, Nathaniel resumed his breathing. He let out a frightened squeak then opened his mouth and yelled. "GREASER! Grease-" his voice choked off as the vicious man in front of him reached out, his hands gripping the front of Nathaniel's expensive madras shirt. One large hand clamped over his mouth, and Nathaniel found himself staring up into the most frighteningly angry eyes he'd ever seen. All around them the greasers poured in, pushing past Nat through the oak door, their leather jackets creaking, the musk of their hair oil filling his nostrils. He struggled uselessly against the iron grip of the greaser, the black orbs gazing down at him, a mad smirk slowly forming across the thin lips. He heard the yells of surprise from his friends behind him and the frightened screams of the girls before he was hit savagely over the head.
The Soc went down in a heap at Tim's feet. Tim hesitated, his gaze drawn into the well-lit room. He watched as Two-Bit dove through the crowd, sweating heavily, swinging his fists, not caring who he hit. He watched when Darry punched out a dark haired Soc, hurling him into his friend. He saw Soda grab the punch bowl, dumping it over a group of shrieking Socs, then standing looking confused as if he didn't understand why he'd done that. Soda went down, caught in his moment of doubt by a well-built boy. Tim watched some Soc ram his fist into Steve's stomach, the boy yelping in pain before retaliating, kicking the Soc in the shin. Then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the fight.
"Come on man, we'll fight them later," Dallas murmured, tugging Tim down the hall. Only then did Tim remember that he was looking for his little sister. Resentment and fury crashed down on him in a new wave, urged on by a stab of guilt he felt at forgetting. He gripped Dally's arm back, and the two boys hurried down the hall. They rounded a corner into a door-lined hallway ending with a glass-paneled door, opened to the cool night air.
"You take the right, I'll take the left," Tim said, when suddenly a lithe figure appeared at end of the hallway. The girl hurried down the hall, an expression of alarm on her face.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice frightened. Dally realized suddenly that the girl was Cherry. She stared questioningly at him before turning back down the hall. Without thinking Dallas reached out and grabbed her arm.
"You can't go back there," he said desperately. "It's not safe..." His voice trailed off as his eyes met Tim's. The other was staring at him in unbridled rage; obviously Tim wasn't feeling charitable to any Soc. He didn't recognize Cherry, and probably wouldn't have cared anyway. "Tim," he started, but was cut off by Cherry.
"Tim?" She whirled around to stare at the tall greaser. "That was your sister!" she breathed. Dallas darted in front of her, placing a hand on Tim.
"Hear her out," he said firmly. Cherry watched the greasers puzzled. She couldn't see the force with which Dally's hand held down his friend, nor did she notice the switchblade griped in Tim's hand.
Tim stopped struggling, his mind clearing slightly. All he'd felt was fury when the Soc had mentioned his sister, but he was calming now.
"They brought your sister in," Cherry paused. "That's why you're here right?"
Tim growled a curse, but Dallas nodded.
Cherry took a deep breath. "I think I can help you, if you'll let me. I think...I know where she is."
Tim breathed out, realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Where?" he demanded, all anger at this Soc vanishing in an instant.
Without a word Cherry turned and hurried the way she'd come. Tim slid out of his friend's grasp, walking briskly after the girl. Dallas trailed behind the two.
She led them through the glass door, onto a wide balcony. It overlooked the gardens, moonlight glimmering off the freshly showered plants. The stone was smooth underneath their feet and the air felt cool and calming, the fresh scent of lilac dancing on the wind. Dallas glanced at Cherry unable to stop the thought that, if circumstances were different, it could have been like a romantic fairytale out here on a full moon.
All too soon they were back inside, leaving the dream of lilac and moonlight. This hall was darker, the few lights harsh, not golden like the others. Cherry led them down the hall then turned, entering a door with a brass plaque on it, stating in clear bold letters: GIRLS. Tim followed ignoring the sign, but Dally couldn't help hesitating: this was no-mans land for sure. But finally his curiosity got the better of him and he hurried after the others.
The fluorescent light was bright in here, burning at their eyes. Cherry turned abruptly, facing the greasers, her eyes lost in thought, head cocked to the side, listening. Tim shifted impatiently.
"Well?" he demanded. Cherry shook her head, frowning.
"Hush!" she said sternly. "Listen!" Dally bit back a smile, thinking again that she had to be one of the bravest girls he had ever met. Tim's hands clenched once more into fists, but he didn't move. Just to be sure, Dallas pried the switchblade from his friend's sweaty palm, sliding it safely into his own pocket.
The trio waited in silence. The only sounds were Tim's harsh breathing and the steady drip, drip, drip, of a leaking tap. Dally leaned wearily against an empty stall, thinking that the girl's bathroom smelled about 10 times better than the guy's did. Cherry eyes met his and she smiled slightly. He returned it quickly, his eyes flicking to Tim's back, hoping the other hadn't caught their exchange. He studied Cherry in her long red plaid skirt and classy off-white sweater. He caught her eye again and mouthed: "You look nice." Cherry frowned in confusion, obviously not understanding him.
Suddenly a muffled wail cut through the silence. Tim went rigid and Cherry glanced up startled. No one moved. They hardly dared to breathe. Then another cry, this one more distinct. Dally pushed himself off the stall and pressed his ear against the side of the wall. Tim followed suit. Another cry, and he could make it out this time.
"Tim!" Angela's soft soprano cried almost desperately. Tim knew it was her, the way she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, the way she pretended that she wasn't really in that much trouble. He swallowed hard, his own desperation rising. He had to see her. His eyes met the girl's. She was gazing down him with something like pity, but at that moment Tim couldn't care less.
"Where?" he croaked. Cherry shook her head - she didn't know for sure.
"I can take a guess," she said quietly. She slid past the two greasers, and out the bathroom door. Tim and Dallas followed quickly. There was only one door in this hallway. The trio rushed to it quickly. Inside was a narrow staircase, twisting up into the darkness.
"Come on," Tim urged tearing up the stairs. Cherry followed, leaving Dally to trail once again. The top of the stairs opened to yet another darkened hallway lined with identical oak doors. Tim leaned back against the wall, despair written over his features. How could he have hoped to find Angela in this maze of corridors? Without thinking, Cherry took the greaser's hand squeezing it reassuringly. Dallas stared at her, surprised again at her boldness. But there was something else...startled, he realized he was jealous. He shook his head, as another of Angela's cries pierced the air. It was louder this time, more defined.
Tim jerked upright and bounded down the hall with renewed energy, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. "Angela!" he yelled. Dallas tore after him, and clamped a hand down on his mouth.
"Shuddup moron! What if there are Socs guarding her?" he hissed. Cherry and Tim looked at him startled. Neither of them had thought of that. Dally scowled and shifted, uncomfortable under their stares. "Why d'you think I wanted to come with you?" Tim shook his head then hurried down the hall, straining his ears.
"Tim!" He heard it clearly. He knew exactly which door it was. Two strides down the hall and he was there. One twist of a doorknob and he was in the room. There she was, two Socs struggling to secure knots in the heavy rope binding her. There were more, he saw them out of the corner of his eye, but Tim didn't care. He bounded across the room, his hand lashing out, catching a Soc's jacket. He tossed the boy across the room. The Soc hit the wall and crashed to the floor, unconscious. The second was brought down with a quick punch to his jaw. Tim reached into his pocket; his switchblade was gone. Not caring, he ripped at the heavy rope with his fingers. Pain cut through his numb body; he was vaguely aware that there was blood on his hands. And then she was in his arms and nothing mattered. Tim cradled his sister's fragile body, hugging her to him, hearing her gasping breaths in his ear. He heard himself murmuring softly to her, calmly asking if she was alright, if they had hurt
her. Inside he was thanking whatever was up there that she was alive. He had to blink back the sudden urge to cry as a gratitude he hadn't known he could feel filled him.
Behind him Cherry watched in horror as the remaining four Socs threw themselves at Dallas. She was frozen to the spot, unable to will herself to help him. Instead she watched as one threw a punch at him, catching him in an already blackened eye, as his friend punched him hard on his bruised side. Dallas had lost all pretense of being honorable. He was hitting low at every chance he could get. He took one of them down, slamming him knee into the Soc's midsection, his fist connecting solidly with his cheek. He backed into another, digging his elbow in hard, feeling the bone break beneath him. He kicked another in the groin, jumping on the Soc's back when he fell to the floor. The last one took off, brushing past Cherry, nearly knocking her down. Anger flashed through him; Dally always hated cowards. He tore after the Soc, with every intention of bringing him down, but Cherry's hand on his arm stopped him. He twisted to look at her, bringing a sudden sharp pain to his side. He
dropped down with a yelp, gasping lightly as the burning subsided to a dull throb. Cherry kneeled down beside him, whispering quiet words of comfort. Dally groaned softly. He was really feeling it now. His mind spinning he stared blearily at Cherry, watching the red of her hair swirl with the dark around him as everything went black.
A/N: I can't say much for this chapter. It's really LONG. And kinda sappy/dramatic. Meh, I'm just the writer. What do I know anyway?
~
Tim pulled up silently at the large building. Beside him, a gang member whistled appreciatively.
"That's one huge buildin' that is," he said in awe.
Tim stilled the urge to crack his head open. He was terrified (though he'd never admit it) about what those dickhead Socs might be doing to Angela. His friend complimenting the bastards only served to irritate him more.
"Bet they never have to worry about not having enough space," said someone else.
"Yeah, them buildings is full of empty space," Dallas remarked before Tim had a chance to start swearing. He leaned over the front seat from where he sat in the back. "Way too big with not much in them - just like them Socs' heads."
Laughter and grunts of agreement followed this statement, and Tim experienced the incredibly strange feeling of being grateful to Dallas Winston.
"Let's go," Tim ordered, sliding out of the car. The rest of the people followed. Behind him, he saw Darry and Two-Bit emerge from their respective cars, dragging more people with them.
"This is it huh?" Darry said abruptly. He gazed up at the building, his muscles tense. Tim looked the other over and smirked. It would be one stupid Soc who took on Darry.
"We gonna kick Soc ass or what?" Steve growled, moving forward, his face twisted angrily.
Tim nodded smiling tightly. "You still got that switchblade Two-Bit?" The greaser flicked it out, swallowing nervously. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he shifted, tense. Sweat trickled down his back under his heavy leather jacket. He hadn't had time to down anything. It had been a long time since he'd fought without being high.
Tim glanced back at Darry. "You got a blade in case?" Darry nodded, that heavy, silent gaze fixed on Tim. An odd sense of calm had settled on him, the scene seemingly unreal. No nervousness. No fear. He was superman after all, and those Socs didn't stand a chance.
"I don't have anything," Soda piped up. His gaze flicked from Darry to Tim to Two-Bit, his own feelings changing as he took in the different moods. One minute he was sure nothing much would happen, the next he was feeling eager to get in and kick Soc butt, then he was terrified that someone would get hurt. His mind was a whirlwind of activity, always feeling as if there was something important he'd forgot, but he had no idea what it was.
"I got an extra," Steve said, handing it over quickly. His hands were shaking. He wanted in that building. Those stupid Socs thought they could run all over them did they? Thought they'd get away with anything? He'd prove `em wrong. He'd show them no one, especially not any Goddamn Soc, could mess with a greaser and come up with nothing to show for it. He'd show them all.
"Anyone else?" Tim's eyes scanned the crowd. He met every greaser's eyes, saw their fear, their anticipation, their uncertainty. He smiled, his lips twisting in a cruel, almost satanic smirk. He felt a rush; these greasers were his army, and he was their commander. He was in charge here.
"Well then, let's kick ass," Dally's voice was light and laughing. His blue eyes danced merrily in the dim light. `Fun!' a voice inside him squealed. Hell, this was all what life was for. He grinned demonically at Tim. Money had no advantage here. The greasers were ready to fight. The Socs would be taken by surprise. For once, the greasers had the upper hand. Unable to help himself, he laughed out loud.
Tim watched Dallas, thinking mildly that his friend was crazy. He lit a cigarette and shifted in front of the greasers, leading them through the wrought iron gate, across the well-manicured lawns, and up the clean gray cement. Tim flicked his ashes disdainfully at the welcome mat. Slowly, he reached out and turned the doorknob. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Slowly, silently, the greasers walked down the waxed hall. Tinkling classical music filtered through a heavy wood door. Tim smiled, and tossed away the remainders of his cigarette. "Party time," he murmured. The door opened, and a sandy-haired Soc peeked through. "Cherry? Where'd ya-" he froze mid-sentence, his gray eyes focusing on the band of greasers in front of him. He stared openly at Tim his eyes widening. Tim stared back at him, silently studying the narrowing pupils in the Socs eyes. He breathed in, the tangy scent of fear foremost in the air.
It lasted only a moment, but it felt like forever. Finally, Nathaniel resumed his breathing. He let out a frightened squeak then opened his mouth and yelled. "GREASER! Grease-" his voice choked off as the vicious man in front of him reached out, his hands gripping the front of Nathaniel's expensive madras shirt. One large hand clamped over his mouth, and Nathaniel found himself staring up into the most frighteningly angry eyes he'd ever seen. All around them the greasers poured in, pushing past Nat through the oak door, their leather jackets creaking, the musk of their hair oil filling his nostrils. He struggled uselessly against the iron grip of the greaser, the black orbs gazing down at him, a mad smirk slowly forming across the thin lips. He heard the yells of surprise from his friends behind him and the frightened screams of the girls before he was hit savagely over the head.
The Soc went down in a heap at Tim's feet. Tim hesitated, his gaze drawn into the well-lit room. He watched as Two-Bit dove through the crowd, sweating heavily, swinging his fists, not caring who he hit. He watched when Darry punched out a dark haired Soc, hurling him into his friend. He saw Soda grab the punch bowl, dumping it over a group of shrieking Socs, then standing looking confused as if he didn't understand why he'd done that. Soda went down, caught in his moment of doubt by a well-built boy. Tim watched some Soc ram his fist into Steve's stomach, the boy yelping in pain before retaliating, kicking the Soc in the shin. Then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the fight.
"Come on man, we'll fight them later," Dallas murmured, tugging Tim down the hall. Only then did Tim remember that he was looking for his little sister. Resentment and fury crashed down on him in a new wave, urged on by a stab of guilt he felt at forgetting. He gripped Dally's arm back, and the two boys hurried down the hall. They rounded a corner into a door-lined hallway ending with a glass-paneled door, opened to the cool night air.
"You take the right, I'll take the left," Tim said, when suddenly a lithe figure appeared at end of the hallway. The girl hurried down the hall, an expression of alarm on her face.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice frightened. Dally realized suddenly that the girl was Cherry. She stared questioningly at him before turning back down the hall. Without thinking Dallas reached out and grabbed her arm.
"You can't go back there," he said desperately. "It's not safe..." His voice trailed off as his eyes met Tim's. The other was staring at him in unbridled rage; obviously Tim wasn't feeling charitable to any Soc. He didn't recognize Cherry, and probably wouldn't have cared anyway. "Tim," he started, but was cut off by Cherry.
"Tim?" She whirled around to stare at the tall greaser. "That was your sister!" she breathed. Dallas darted in front of her, placing a hand on Tim.
"Hear her out," he said firmly. Cherry watched the greasers puzzled. She couldn't see the force with which Dally's hand held down his friend, nor did she notice the switchblade griped in Tim's hand.
Tim stopped struggling, his mind clearing slightly. All he'd felt was fury when the Soc had mentioned his sister, but he was calming now.
"They brought your sister in," Cherry paused. "That's why you're here right?"
Tim growled a curse, but Dallas nodded.
Cherry took a deep breath. "I think I can help you, if you'll let me. I think...I know where she is."
Tim breathed out, realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Where?" he demanded, all anger at this Soc vanishing in an instant.
Without a word Cherry turned and hurried the way she'd come. Tim slid out of his friend's grasp, walking briskly after the girl. Dallas trailed behind the two.
She led them through the glass door, onto a wide balcony. It overlooked the gardens, moonlight glimmering off the freshly showered plants. The stone was smooth underneath their feet and the air felt cool and calming, the fresh scent of lilac dancing on the wind. Dallas glanced at Cherry unable to stop the thought that, if circumstances were different, it could have been like a romantic fairytale out here on a full moon.
All too soon they were back inside, leaving the dream of lilac and moonlight. This hall was darker, the few lights harsh, not golden like the others. Cherry led them down the hall then turned, entering a door with a brass plaque on it, stating in clear bold letters: GIRLS. Tim followed ignoring the sign, but Dally couldn't help hesitating: this was no-mans land for sure. But finally his curiosity got the better of him and he hurried after the others.
The fluorescent light was bright in here, burning at their eyes. Cherry turned abruptly, facing the greasers, her eyes lost in thought, head cocked to the side, listening. Tim shifted impatiently.
"Well?" he demanded. Cherry shook her head, frowning.
"Hush!" she said sternly. "Listen!" Dally bit back a smile, thinking again that she had to be one of the bravest girls he had ever met. Tim's hands clenched once more into fists, but he didn't move. Just to be sure, Dallas pried the switchblade from his friend's sweaty palm, sliding it safely into his own pocket.
The trio waited in silence. The only sounds were Tim's harsh breathing and the steady drip, drip, drip, of a leaking tap. Dally leaned wearily against an empty stall, thinking that the girl's bathroom smelled about 10 times better than the guy's did. Cherry eyes met his and she smiled slightly. He returned it quickly, his eyes flicking to Tim's back, hoping the other hadn't caught their exchange. He studied Cherry in her long red plaid skirt and classy off-white sweater. He caught her eye again and mouthed: "You look nice." Cherry frowned in confusion, obviously not understanding him.
Suddenly a muffled wail cut through the silence. Tim went rigid and Cherry glanced up startled. No one moved. They hardly dared to breathe. Then another cry, this one more distinct. Dally pushed himself off the stall and pressed his ear against the side of the wall. Tim followed suit. Another cry, and he could make it out this time.
"Tim!" Angela's soft soprano cried almost desperately. Tim knew it was her, the way she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, the way she pretended that she wasn't really in that much trouble. He swallowed hard, his own desperation rising. He had to see her. His eyes met the girl's. She was gazing down him with something like pity, but at that moment Tim couldn't care less.
"Where?" he croaked. Cherry shook her head - she didn't know for sure.
"I can take a guess," she said quietly. She slid past the two greasers, and out the bathroom door. Tim and Dallas followed quickly. There was only one door in this hallway. The trio rushed to it quickly. Inside was a narrow staircase, twisting up into the darkness.
"Come on," Tim urged tearing up the stairs. Cherry followed, leaving Dally to trail once again. The top of the stairs opened to yet another darkened hallway lined with identical oak doors. Tim leaned back against the wall, despair written over his features. How could he have hoped to find Angela in this maze of corridors? Without thinking, Cherry took the greaser's hand squeezing it reassuringly. Dallas stared at her, surprised again at her boldness. But there was something else...startled, he realized he was jealous. He shook his head, as another of Angela's cries pierced the air. It was louder this time, more defined.
Tim jerked upright and bounded down the hall with renewed energy, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. "Angela!" he yelled. Dallas tore after him, and clamped a hand down on his mouth.
"Shuddup moron! What if there are Socs guarding her?" he hissed. Cherry and Tim looked at him startled. Neither of them had thought of that. Dally scowled and shifted, uncomfortable under their stares. "Why d'you think I wanted to come with you?" Tim shook his head then hurried down the hall, straining his ears.
"Tim!" He heard it clearly. He knew exactly which door it was. Two strides down the hall and he was there. One twist of a doorknob and he was in the room. There she was, two Socs struggling to secure knots in the heavy rope binding her. There were more, he saw them out of the corner of his eye, but Tim didn't care. He bounded across the room, his hand lashing out, catching a Soc's jacket. He tossed the boy across the room. The Soc hit the wall and crashed to the floor, unconscious. The second was brought down with a quick punch to his jaw. Tim reached into his pocket; his switchblade was gone. Not caring, he ripped at the heavy rope with his fingers. Pain cut through his numb body; he was vaguely aware that there was blood on his hands. And then she was in his arms and nothing mattered. Tim cradled his sister's fragile body, hugging her to him, hearing her gasping breaths in his ear. He heard himself murmuring softly to her, calmly asking if she was alright, if they had hurt
her. Inside he was thanking whatever was up there that she was alive. He had to blink back the sudden urge to cry as a gratitude he hadn't known he could feel filled him.
Behind him Cherry watched in horror as the remaining four Socs threw themselves at Dallas. She was frozen to the spot, unable to will herself to help him. Instead she watched as one threw a punch at him, catching him in an already blackened eye, as his friend punched him hard on his bruised side. Dallas had lost all pretense of being honorable. He was hitting low at every chance he could get. He took one of them down, slamming him knee into the Soc's midsection, his fist connecting solidly with his cheek. He backed into another, digging his elbow in hard, feeling the bone break beneath him. He kicked another in the groin, jumping on the Soc's back when he fell to the floor. The last one took off, brushing past Cherry, nearly knocking her down. Anger flashed through him; Dally always hated cowards. He tore after the Soc, with every intention of bringing him down, but Cherry's hand on his arm stopped him. He twisted to look at her, bringing a sudden sharp pain to his side. He
dropped down with a yelp, gasping lightly as the burning subsided to a dull throb. Cherry kneeled down beside him, whispering quiet words of comfort. Dally groaned softly. He was really feeling it now. His mind spinning he stared blearily at Cherry, watching the red of her hair swirl with the dark around him as everything went black.