1 Slashed Tires Chapter 31
A/N: Argh. Still got writer's block. Trying to overcome it by forcing self to write. Apologies if this sucks.
P.S. Changed things just a touch. It's hard to follow someone else's plot.
P.P.S. Is either sappy, angsty, or dramatic. Consequently, is rated a possible R. But who cares right?
~
The night was cold. The wind had died down, but there was a chill in the air. Darry hardly noticed. His bare arms were covered in goose bumps and he was shivering, but he was too busy watching the Socs pile out in front of him to care. One of those guys was going to share the fame of starting the rumble with him. Darry wondered if the guy was as nervous as he was about it. He wondered if the guy even knew that he was going to start the fight. He scanned the crowd in front of him, searching for something in their faces that would show they were to be his opponent. Pale faces, devoid of expression sneered back at him. Darry stared back, his face smooth and bland. He waited until the greasers were ready, then stepped forward, giving in to his curiosity.
"I'll take on anyone," he said stonily, his eyes travelling through the throng of Soc-male. There was a ripple in the crowd, and then there was a boy standing in front of him, his age, maybe a year older, with blond hair, and a cock-sure smile playing across a face Darry remembered all too well.
"Hello Paul."
He was quiet, and just for one second he let his feelings flicker across his eyes. They didn't have to do this. He watched Paul, awaiting an answer he knew he'd hate.
A smirk, and then, in a tone infused with disdain:
"Hello Darrel."
Dead voice, dead eyes, dead friend. He'd lost the Paul he once knew.
"I'll take you."
'Yeah, I'll bet you wish you could you fucking bastard,' Darry thought automatically. It wasn't fair. Paul had been one of his best friends; they'd sworn allegiance out there on the field. And after that night, they'd be sure enemies.
Darry smiled bitterly. Paul didn't stand a chance. He had his disdain, his expensive training, his hatred for Darry's 'kind'. But none of that was a match for the injustice Darrel felt so keenly. His body tensed, and he crouched slightly, mirroring Paul. The two circled, slowly, scouting each other, looking for any opening to attack. Darry's body felt like it would explode. He heard each rustle of jeans, the harsh breathing on both sides, and the faces behind Paul blurred until grease was Soc and Soc was grease, all silhouetted against a backdrop of the blackest night.
"Hold up!" The voice was so clear, so loud for a minute Darry was sure it was his own. His head snapped to the side, searching out the source of the voice, and then he was hit.
~
"Hold up!" Dallas dashed up to the rumble. His yelling was useless. They'd started anyway.
"I said 'hold up' you fucked up dip-shit idiots! Jesus mother fucking Christ!" He went at the nearest Soc he could find. But his will alone was not enough this time, and with his damaged arm he was soon being beaten to a ragged, half crying, pulp.
"Yeearrhh!" With a war cry he'd never heard before, Ponyboy launched himself on the Socs back, biting, tearing at the boy's dark hair, his feet kicking uselessly. Amazed Dally stood back and watched him for a split second, before Two-Bit shoved him forward with an undeterminable yelp. He went down, dragging the Soc, dragging Ponyboy, into a puddle of yelling, hissing, spitting human.
"I thought…you were in…the hospital!" Ponyboy yelled, between punches.
"I was! I ain't now!" 'Whose the pulp now?' he thought giddily, throwing another half-assed whack at the Soc. He knew it wasn't fair, two against one wasn't ever fair, with the exception of maybe Darry, but it felt good not to be on the losing end.
"How?"
This was crazy. Talking, while trying to fight someone was like trying to read upside down when you're drunk. It's just not feasible for normal mortal beings.
"I talked my nurse into it with Two-Bit's switch!" Dally yelled, somehow defying the laws of natural human behavior. "Don't you know a rumble ain't a rumble unless I'm in it?"
Then Ponyboy was knocked off, hit in the head by some stupid blond Soc. Darry barreled through the crowd, snatching up the boy in one hand, warding other rich kids off with the other. Dally winced, not wanting to know how that Soc was going to end up.
"They're running! Look at the dirty son-of-a-bitches run!" Two-Bit screamed, right in his ear. Dally shoved the wise-cracker away, leaning down and shaking Ponyboy. He'd promised Johnny the kid, and he'd do anything in his power to keep that promise.
"Come on! We're gonna see Johnny." Ponyboy was struggling to keep up with him. 'He ain't doing so well,' Dally thought eyeing him. But, at that point he didn't care. Johnny was the only thing on his mind. "Hurry," Dallas snapped impatiently. "He was getting worse when I left. Wanted to see you."
They ran, diving into Buck's T-Bird. Dally started the engine up, wondering with vague surprise how he'd managed to remember where he'd parked.
They drove fast, the lights a blur outside the windows. Ponyboy groaned softly, his eyes glazed over and sick. Dally's mind was a blur. In the midst of all his thoughts, he remembered sitting in that car just yesterday, driving down to see the kids, his main concern about how much he liked Cherry. He shook his head now, wishing to be in there again, wishing he'd had the sense to wait one more day, wishing that he'd done something…anything…
A shrill scream split the air: the cops. 'SHIT!' Dally thought. He glanced around frantically for a reason to be speeding. "Look sick," he ordered Ponyboy, surprised his voice was so steady. "I'll tell the fuzz I'm taking you to the hospital, which is truth enough." Ponyboy groaned again, leaning his forehead on the window. Dallas glanced at the kid, really seeing him. Ponyboy looked like he'd been to hell and back. Dally felt a pang, knowing the kid didn't deserve that…he deserved better. He deserved a life.
~
Johnny was so ready for this he thought he'd burst out laughing and suffocate himself before his friends got there. But there was still a longing inside him. He needed to see Dally, one last time before he left him. Johnny's eyes closed. He'd always known he cared about the tow-headed greaser, but he was smart, smarter than most people thought, and he knew the best way to deal with feelings was to not think about them too much, not try and understand every little bit of them, or you'd drive yourself insane. That was one thing he knew that Dallas didn't. He smiled, picturing his friends again in his mind. He'd take that memory with him wherever he was headed. Two-Bit, cocking and eyebrow, talking and joking, Steve and Soda, one leaping and laughing, the other dark, passion shining in his eyes. Darry, flexing his muscles, but Darry was always strong. He'd be okay, and he'd take care of them all. Ponyboy…he opened his eyes, and looked to the table beside him. He saw, and was reassured, the note, barely sticking out of the pages of 'Gone with the Wind'. Ponyboy was gonna make it big somewhere. He was gonna be happy. All he had to do was keep some of that wonder. But Dally…Johnny sighed softly. The blond needed Johnny as much as he needed Dallas. He had so much to learn about the world, about the good that still existed, and Johnny hoped Ponyboy would tell him that, before it was too late.
Johnny glanced at the clock, it's tiny black wand ticking away the seconds of his life. A sudden lightning bolt of pain rain down his back and his body shuddered. Johnny fought dizzily against unconsciousness. He eyes fixed again on the clock, silently begging the boys to hurry up.
~
"Okay buddy where's the fire." Dallas wanted to punch out that stupid cop.
"The kid," he barreled ahead, trying to control himself. "He fell off his motorcycle. I'm takin' him to the hospital."
"Is he okay? Do you need an escort?" Goddamn fickle minded fuzz.
"Yeah we could use an escort." Dallas watched the cop swagger back to his car. 'Sucker,' he thought, and hissed the word aloud, tasting with relish the contempt dripping from every note.
Buck's car sped down the road, the shrieking siren leading the way. Dally almost laughed…Two-Bit would have a field day with this one. He could almost hear him… "Aren't the cops usually behind you Dallas?" The engine roared under him, bouncing over a pothole, eliciting a low moan from Ponyboy. Dally glanced at the kid. He was so fucking innocent. Just like Johnny.
"Man, I was crazy, you know that kid? Crazy, wanting Johnny to stay outta trouble, not wanting him to get hard. If he'd been like me, he'd never be in this mess. He wouldn't have run into that damn church. That's what you get for helping people kid…editorials and a lot of trouble. You better wise up Ponyboy. You get tough like me and no one can hurt you…" 'Shut up,' Dally thought desperately at himself, but at that moment he couldn't have stopped talking to save his life.
They were speeding twice as fast as any other car on the road, but they still weren't moving fast enough for Dallas. When they finally pulled up to the hospital, he had to force himself not to sprint up the stairs and leave Ponyboy behind. He helped the boy out of the car, watching as the cops roared off. And then they were running, through the lobby, past hordes of gaping people and disapproving nurses. Up the stairs, their pounding hearts the only sound in their ears, down the hall, and right into the stern gaze of a doctor.
"You can't see him boys. He's dying."
The knife was out before he could think of it. "We gotta see him." He'd never sounded so shaky. "We gotta see him, and if you give me any static, you're gonna end up on your own operatin' table." Dally wiped his face with his arm. He'd been worried about crying before, and now he was having trouble not falling to his knees and sobbing in front of this man. He didn't hear the doctor's answer, but darted past, dragging Ponyboy into the room where a little boy lay, drenched in sweat, his black hair plastered to his paled forehead.
"Johnnycake? Johnny?"
Moving slowly, like in a dream, Dally shifted through the room. He was speaking but he didn't hear the words, and now Johnny was smiling, his white face glowing. Then his mouth opened, and he too, spoke silent words, beckoning with his hand. Dallas stared back, helpless and hopeless, as Ponyboy glided forward and bent down to Johnny's side. His mind whirled. He felt like he was falling. Dizzily he moved forward, his eyes searching for Johnny's and finding them closed, his hand clasping desperately the boy's, clammy fingers unmoving in his grip. Johnny had woke up, he wasn't dreaming no more, but Dallas was still stuck in this nightmare. He groped for someone, anyone to share it the rest of it with. He found only the boy.
Ponyboy stared at him, solemn. His eyes were filmy and white, his blood drenched clothes plastered to his slender frame. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't breathe. He was silent. He was a ghost, and Dally couldn't look at him.
His chest hurt bad, like someone had broken all his ribs into his lungs; he was gasping. Dallas leaned forward brushing Johnny's hair. His fingers burned with the feel of it.
"Never could keep that hair back." Black bangs always in the kid's eyes. There was something in his eyes too, watery, stinging, something he hadn't wanted, but Dallas didn't care anymore. He felt them run down his face and thought 'This is real.' And Johnny was gone.
Like a shattered mirror, reality broke through the dream, and truth crashed down on him.
"That's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…" Johnny had died, in this room that smelled of antiseptic and piss, in a room where the machines were still droning, covering the sounds of his own harsh breathing.
"Damnit Johnny! Don't die, please don't die!" He hurt, worse than he'd ever hurt before and he couldn't breathe. But there was no point anyway. Goodness and life and anything worthwhile had died in a white enameled room, and evil had won, and would always win.
"Please…" He ran, from the knowledge that was haunting him now, the last of his hope dead with Johnny. And Dallas knew, with a damning clarity that he'd lost his mind.
A/N: Argh. Still got writer's block. Trying to overcome it by forcing self to write. Apologies if this sucks.
P.S. Changed things just a touch. It's hard to follow someone else's plot.
P.P.S. Is either sappy, angsty, or dramatic. Consequently, is rated a possible R. But who cares right?
~
The night was cold. The wind had died down, but there was a chill in the air. Darry hardly noticed. His bare arms were covered in goose bumps and he was shivering, but he was too busy watching the Socs pile out in front of him to care. One of those guys was going to share the fame of starting the rumble with him. Darry wondered if the guy was as nervous as he was about it. He wondered if the guy even knew that he was going to start the fight. He scanned the crowd in front of him, searching for something in their faces that would show they were to be his opponent. Pale faces, devoid of expression sneered back at him. Darry stared back, his face smooth and bland. He waited until the greasers were ready, then stepped forward, giving in to his curiosity.
"I'll take on anyone," he said stonily, his eyes travelling through the throng of Soc-male. There was a ripple in the crowd, and then there was a boy standing in front of him, his age, maybe a year older, with blond hair, and a cock-sure smile playing across a face Darry remembered all too well.
"Hello Paul."
He was quiet, and just for one second he let his feelings flicker across his eyes. They didn't have to do this. He watched Paul, awaiting an answer he knew he'd hate.
A smirk, and then, in a tone infused with disdain:
"Hello Darrel."
Dead voice, dead eyes, dead friend. He'd lost the Paul he once knew.
"I'll take you."
'Yeah, I'll bet you wish you could you fucking bastard,' Darry thought automatically. It wasn't fair. Paul had been one of his best friends; they'd sworn allegiance out there on the field. And after that night, they'd be sure enemies.
Darry smiled bitterly. Paul didn't stand a chance. He had his disdain, his expensive training, his hatred for Darry's 'kind'. But none of that was a match for the injustice Darrel felt so keenly. His body tensed, and he crouched slightly, mirroring Paul. The two circled, slowly, scouting each other, looking for any opening to attack. Darry's body felt like it would explode. He heard each rustle of jeans, the harsh breathing on both sides, and the faces behind Paul blurred until grease was Soc and Soc was grease, all silhouetted against a backdrop of the blackest night.
"Hold up!" The voice was so clear, so loud for a minute Darry was sure it was his own. His head snapped to the side, searching out the source of the voice, and then he was hit.
~
"Hold up!" Dallas dashed up to the rumble. His yelling was useless. They'd started anyway.
"I said 'hold up' you fucked up dip-shit idiots! Jesus mother fucking Christ!" He went at the nearest Soc he could find. But his will alone was not enough this time, and with his damaged arm he was soon being beaten to a ragged, half crying, pulp.
"Yeearrhh!" With a war cry he'd never heard before, Ponyboy launched himself on the Socs back, biting, tearing at the boy's dark hair, his feet kicking uselessly. Amazed Dally stood back and watched him for a split second, before Two-Bit shoved him forward with an undeterminable yelp. He went down, dragging the Soc, dragging Ponyboy, into a puddle of yelling, hissing, spitting human.
"I thought…you were in…the hospital!" Ponyboy yelled, between punches.
"I was! I ain't now!" 'Whose the pulp now?' he thought giddily, throwing another half-assed whack at the Soc. He knew it wasn't fair, two against one wasn't ever fair, with the exception of maybe Darry, but it felt good not to be on the losing end.
"How?"
This was crazy. Talking, while trying to fight someone was like trying to read upside down when you're drunk. It's just not feasible for normal mortal beings.
"I talked my nurse into it with Two-Bit's switch!" Dally yelled, somehow defying the laws of natural human behavior. "Don't you know a rumble ain't a rumble unless I'm in it?"
Then Ponyboy was knocked off, hit in the head by some stupid blond Soc. Darry barreled through the crowd, snatching up the boy in one hand, warding other rich kids off with the other. Dally winced, not wanting to know how that Soc was going to end up.
"They're running! Look at the dirty son-of-a-bitches run!" Two-Bit screamed, right in his ear. Dally shoved the wise-cracker away, leaning down and shaking Ponyboy. He'd promised Johnny the kid, and he'd do anything in his power to keep that promise.
"Come on! We're gonna see Johnny." Ponyboy was struggling to keep up with him. 'He ain't doing so well,' Dally thought eyeing him. But, at that point he didn't care. Johnny was the only thing on his mind. "Hurry," Dallas snapped impatiently. "He was getting worse when I left. Wanted to see you."
They ran, diving into Buck's T-Bird. Dally started the engine up, wondering with vague surprise how he'd managed to remember where he'd parked.
They drove fast, the lights a blur outside the windows. Ponyboy groaned softly, his eyes glazed over and sick. Dally's mind was a blur. In the midst of all his thoughts, he remembered sitting in that car just yesterday, driving down to see the kids, his main concern about how much he liked Cherry. He shook his head now, wishing to be in there again, wishing he'd had the sense to wait one more day, wishing that he'd done something…anything…
A shrill scream split the air: the cops. 'SHIT!' Dally thought. He glanced around frantically for a reason to be speeding. "Look sick," he ordered Ponyboy, surprised his voice was so steady. "I'll tell the fuzz I'm taking you to the hospital, which is truth enough." Ponyboy groaned again, leaning his forehead on the window. Dallas glanced at the kid, really seeing him. Ponyboy looked like he'd been to hell and back. Dally felt a pang, knowing the kid didn't deserve that…he deserved better. He deserved a life.
~
Johnny was so ready for this he thought he'd burst out laughing and suffocate himself before his friends got there. But there was still a longing inside him. He needed to see Dally, one last time before he left him. Johnny's eyes closed. He'd always known he cared about the tow-headed greaser, but he was smart, smarter than most people thought, and he knew the best way to deal with feelings was to not think about them too much, not try and understand every little bit of them, or you'd drive yourself insane. That was one thing he knew that Dallas didn't. He smiled, picturing his friends again in his mind. He'd take that memory with him wherever he was headed. Two-Bit, cocking and eyebrow, talking and joking, Steve and Soda, one leaping and laughing, the other dark, passion shining in his eyes. Darry, flexing his muscles, but Darry was always strong. He'd be okay, and he'd take care of them all. Ponyboy…he opened his eyes, and looked to the table beside him. He saw, and was reassured, the note, barely sticking out of the pages of 'Gone with the Wind'. Ponyboy was gonna make it big somewhere. He was gonna be happy. All he had to do was keep some of that wonder. But Dally…Johnny sighed softly. The blond needed Johnny as much as he needed Dallas. He had so much to learn about the world, about the good that still existed, and Johnny hoped Ponyboy would tell him that, before it was too late.
Johnny glanced at the clock, it's tiny black wand ticking away the seconds of his life. A sudden lightning bolt of pain rain down his back and his body shuddered. Johnny fought dizzily against unconsciousness. He eyes fixed again on the clock, silently begging the boys to hurry up.
~
"Okay buddy where's the fire." Dallas wanted to punch out that stupid cop.
"The kid," he barreled ahead, trying to control himself. "He fell off his motorcycle. I'm takin' him to the hospital."
"Is he okay? Do you need an escort?" Goddamn fickle minded fuzz.
"Yeah we could use an escort." Dallas watched the cop swagger back to his car. 'Sucker,' he thought, and hissed the word aloud, tasting with relish the contempt dripping from every note.
Buck's car sped down the road, the shrieking siren leading the way. Dally almost laughed…Two-Bit would have a field day with this one. He could almost hear him… "Aren't the cops usually behind you Dallas?" The engine roared under him, bouncing over a pothole, eliciting a low moan from Ponyboy. Dally glanced at the kid. He was so fucking innocent. Just like Johnny.
"Man, I was crazy, you know that kid? Crazy, wanting Johnny to stay outta trouble, not wanting him to get hard. If he'd been like me, he'd never be in this mess. He wouldn't have run into that damn church. That's what you get for helping people kid…editorials and a lot of trouble. You better wise up Ponyboy. You get tough like me and no one can hurt you…" 'Shut up,' Dally thought desperately at himself, but at that moment he couldn't have stopped talking to save his life.
They were speeding twice as fast as any other car on the road, but they still weren't moving fast enough for Dallas. When they finally pulled up to the hospital, he had to force himself not to sprint up the stairs and leave Ponyboy behind. He helped the boy out of the car, watching as the cops roared off. And then they were running, through the lobby, past hordes of gaping people and disapproving nurses. Up the stairs, their pounding hearts the only sound in their ears, down the hall, and right into the stern gaze of a doctor.
"You can't see him boys. He's dying."
The knife was out before he could think of it. "We gotta see him." He'd never sounded so shaky. "We gotta see him, and if you give me any static, you're gonna end up on your own operatin' table." Dally wiped his face with his arm. He'd been worried about crying before, and now he was having trouble not falling to his knees and sobbing in front of this man. He didn't hear the doctor's answer, but darted past, dragging Ponyboy into the room where a little boy lay, drenched in sweat, his black hair plastered to his paled forehead.
"Johnnycake? Johnny?"
Moving slowly, like in a dream, Dally shifted through the room. He was speaking but he didn't hear the words, and now Johnny was smiling, his white face glowing. Then his mouth opened, and he too, spoke silent words, beckoning with his hand. Dallas stared back, helpless and hopeless, as Ponyboy glided forward and bent down to Johnny's side. His mind whirled. He felt like he was falling. Dizzily he moved forward, his eyes searching for Johnny's and finding them closed, his hand clasping desperately the boy's, clammy fingers unmoving in his grip. Johnny had woke up, he wasn't dreaming no more, but Dallas was still stuck in this nightmare. He groped for someone, anyone to share it the rest of it with. He found only the boy.
Ponyboy stared at him, solemn. His eyes were filmy and white, his blood drenched clothes plastered to his slender frame. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't breathe. He was silent. He was a ghost, and Dally couldn't look at him.
His chest hurt bad, like someone had broken all his ribs into his lungs; he was gasping. Dallas leaned forward brushing Johnny's hair. His fingers burned with the feel of it.
"Never could keep that hair back." Black bangs always in the kid's eyes. There was something in his eyes too, watery, stinging, something he hadn't wanted, but Dallas didn't care anymore. He felt them run down his face and thought 'This is real.' And Johnny was gone.
Like a shattered mirror, reality broke through the dream, and truth crashed down on him.
"That's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…" Johnny had died, in this room that smelled of antiseptic and piss, in a room where the machines were still droning, covering the sounds of his own harsh breathing.
"Damnit Johnny! Don't die, please don't die!" He hurt, worse than he'd ever hurt before and he couldn't breathe. But there was no point anyway. Goodness and life and anything worthwhile had died in a white enameled room, and evil had won, and would always win.
"Please…" He ran, from the knowledge that was haunting him now, the last of his hope dead with Johnny. And Dallas knew, with a damning clarity that he'd lost his mind.