Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders; I'm writing this for fun, not profit.
Dedication: To Tessie26, who has been waiting patiently for more details about the boys' experience in Vietnam, and to Tensleep, who might need something to read as she recovers from her mosquito bites before next week. Hope you enjoy!
Pony's POV
I headed through the lot, toward the trees at the back. There was nothing beyond those trees, just some brush before you hit the backyards of the folks who lived on the street that ran parallel to the lot. But somehow, I kept walking.
The trees were getting closer together, and I had to press through the ever-thickening underbrush as if I were wading through molasses. Snagging, vine-filled, damp, green molasses that became more viscous with each step I took. Sweat rolled down my face, and I glanced up through the overhanging branches for the sun where it crept lazily through the heavily visible air. My clothes were soaked with sweat now, or maybe it was moisture captured from the empty space around my body, clinging to me as angrily as the vines and thorns I waded through.
I continued to press my way to my unknown destination and was taken aback when the dense jungle gave way to a clearing. It looked exactly like the lot, the one that I had left behind, but I was miles away from that by now. A man was sitting by a small bonfire, shoving the firewood around with a long stick from the rock on which he sat. He was tiny, dark skinned, with black hair and slanted eyes, and blood flowed freely from the open wound in the middle of his chest. He looked up at me and smiled. "Hi there. Come out of the jungle so I can finally see you."
His voice was at once startling and familiar. It wasn't the high-pitched chatter I expected, and didn't even hint at an accent. He patted the rock that sat waiting on the ground next to him, reaching down every so often to wipe halfheartedly at his blood as it dripped to the reddening ground below. I stepped into the clearing and moved toward the man.
"How have you been?" he asked me.
"Not bad. The kids, you know, it's hard. I want to help them all."
He nodded. I took a step back when I realized that the clearing, which had only seconds before been empty save this one man, was filled with over a dozen other men. Some had blood gushing from their necks, others were missing part of their face or head, still others bore wounds similar to the man stoking the fire, and one had a seeping red hole where his left eye had once been. I knew them all, but I didn't. I tried to think where I knew them from.
"Sit down," the man said again in that same voice, as comforting and familiar as it was upsetting.
I walked toward him and sat down, thinking nothing of the bleeding mass surrounding us. They were all talking in hushed whispers, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. "How have you been?" I asked.
"Oh, very well. We enjoy watching you. Even though we can't be with you, we love watching how you have turned out." He smiled at me before turning back to the fire. "It's almost dinner time."
I watched the stick he was holding as it caught fire at the end, only to be extinguished in the soft damp dirt next to the man. He repeated this action a few times as the end of the stick became more charred and unrecognizable.
"How's Mom?" I asked the man.
He sighed and looked down at the ground in front of him. "She wants to be with all of you, but she is happy. She'll wait." He looked to me again. "I think it's time for dinner now."
I looked across the fire to where Darry now sat, plucking the feathers off of a large duck. He gazed across to me. "These ones are good eating. Lots of meat."
I nodded. "What about the other men?"
"What about them?" The duck that Darry was holding was abruptly ready for cooking, as if we had been sitting there for much longer than a few seconds.
I glanced around the field at the men, thinking they would all be hungry, but in their place was a small flock of bleeding ducks. "What about those men?" I asked again.
Darry looked over at the ducks, then glared at me through stormy eyes. "Those ones aren't good for eating, Pony. You only shoot the ones you can eat." He tossed the duck into the fire.
I turned to the man who was somehow my father; he was now a duck, but the transformation didn't seem strange to me at all. His chest was still bleeding freely, and he smiled at me again. I vaguely wondered how I had never before noticed that ducks could smile. "Are you eating with us?" I asked.
"Oh, but I'm already gone," he replied. "Don't you remember? That car came at us from out of nowhere, like a bullet. We didn't even see it coming out of the woods."
"But…but you were on the highway," I reminded him. "There weren't any woods…"
"Doesn't matter," Darry snapped from across the fire. "They weren't ready yet. How could you let that happen?"
A sick cold wave of shame washed over me under Darry's glare. How could he ever forgive me? I looked back to the duck sitting next to me, who was a man again, a small dark-skinned dark-eyed man with slanted eyes and a now-present accent. He looked at me through expressionless eyes as the skin on his body began to wrinkle, peel, and crumple away, and he spoke his last words just as his body became a skeleton, slumped forward and charred black by the fire he had built. "I had children, too."
"Hahh!" I sat bolt upright; my heart pounded furiously as sweat rolled down my face, back, and chest. I was shaking, and my breath came in ragged gasps as I scanned my surroundings for ducks and skeletons. Within a few seconds I was fully awake, in my own bedroom, with Melissa breathing peacefully beside me. Unable to stop the images that were speeding through my mind, I climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans, and went out to the living room.
The house was quiet and felt almost sinister in the darkness of night, though nothing bad had ever happened here. Angry with myself for succumbing to childish fears of nightmares and ghosts, I switched on a light and plopped down on the couch. I sat for a few minutes trying to steady my nerves, wishing for a cigarette as the mantle clock ticked steadily, and almost jumping to my feet when a floorboard across the room creaked.
"You up late, or early?" Vic asked, peering across the room at me through groggy eyes.
I took a breath and sat back again. "Just woke up. I…I couldn't get back to sleep," I hedged.
Vic gave me a suspicious look before crossing the room to sit next to me. "You're not sick, are you? Because I'm not sitting here if you're sick. I have a social life, you know, can't afford to bail on my engagements."
I felt a slight smile cross my lips. That kid was something else, and I found myself grateful for his subtle sense of humor. "No, Vic. I'm not sick." I looked over at him. "How come you're up?"
"I couldn't sleep, either."
It was all he offered, though by the look on his face when he had appeared, which I was only just thinking back to, there was more to it for him, as well. The mantle clock chimed four times. "Hungry?" I asked him.
Vic nodded. "Yeah, I could go for some grub. You cooking?"
"Only if I get some help," I replied.
"Sure," he answered. "I'll go wake up Liss." He ducked as I reached over and swung lightly at the back of his head. "Alright, I guess I can crack a few eggs. Just don't expect any miracles."
Something about what he had said made me think about him, and Linleigh, and Melissa, and the baby that was growing inside of her. "I don't need to expect miracles. I see them every day."
>>>>
"Pony, could you please take the trash out to the can? I need to keep stirring this stuff."
"Sure." I pulled the bag out of the kitchen garbage bin and tied it up. The bitter February wind cut right through my sweatshirt as I crossed the yard to the back alley and deposited the bag in the trash can. It was an overcast Sunday, bare and quiet and gloomy outside. The mood contrasted harshly with the smiles and laughter coming from inside the house. Darry was in the basement with Vic, spotting for his nephew at the weight bench; Sodapop, Melanie, and Lin were in the living room playing Clue; and Melissa and my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Jenn, were in the kitchen cooking dinner and paging through bridal magazines. Everyone was happy, the world was great, and in the mood I was in, I felt completely in the right place – barren, still, cold, alone.
I leaned against the back fence and took a deep breath. I had to tell them. The dream I had had that morning was the worst one yet, and in the past couple of months they had been coming with vicious rapidity. Almost every night I was awakened by my own fears, my own inability to cope with my past. Soda had told me before, and I hadn't wanted to believe him, but now I knew – I needed help. I needed help as much as Lin and Vic did. Constantly I was reassuring them that their weekly sessions were nothing to be ashamed of, everyone needs help to deal with the bad things in their lives, and sometimes that help comes from someone who understands the mind and how to beat it at its own game.
Soda's laughter cut through the silence, warming me from the inside and making me smile in spite of my mood. He was different than he used to be, but the same. I couldn't put my finger on it. He was still my brother, I still loved him so much it hurt, but he wasn't the same brother I had grown up with. In a lot of ways, the difference made us closer. Maybe it was because he was able to see the world a little more the way I did. Thoughts of him took me back to one of my earliest experiences in Vietnam, and one of my strongest memories of that dark time.
I had been in-country for almost two months. During boot camp someone had picked up on my "God-given" abilities, and word got around, following me right across the ocean like a persistent plague. My sergeant pulled me aside on the first day to let me know what he expected of me.
We hadn't seen much action for the first several weeks. Then, one morning, just as the sun was rising, I had made my first kill, and my second, and third, all in the span of about two minutes, and the group we had stumbled across was left scattered and confused. I had saved my buddies, but the faces of the men I had killed stared at me in my sleep every night for the next week. I was given a few days R&R, and went directly to an alcohol-serving hole in the wall overflowing with soldiers and soldier-seeking native women.
I'd only been sitting down for a few minutes, and hadn't even touched my drink, when a voice boomed from over my shoulder, "PRIVATE CURTIS! What the hell do you think you're doing, sitting here looking like a damn drunken slob! Stand at attention! You're listed as AWOL, you damn little FNG! Turn the hell around and look at me when I'm talking to you, Curtis!"
I had spilled my drink somewhere around 'what the hell', stood up so fast my chair went over backward, and tried to straighten my shirt and look presentable in an outright panic. My brain had shut off as my military training took over, desperately grasping for some sense of discipline and professionalism. I turned around at the end of the tirade to look into the smiling eyes of the brother I hadn't seen in over two years.
Tossing all pretense and protocol out the window, I half leapt, half slid across the table between us and was in Soda's arms an instant later. Both of us were crying and laughing, and looking back, it must have been a pretty surprising ending to the scene the soldiers around us had just witnessed. "He's my brother," Soda had explained to anyone who was watching us, and most of them smiled understandingly and nodded appreciatively. I never did get myself another drink. Having my brother there with me was enough to pull me back to life and get me back on track.
The next three days were filled with women, dancing, fighting (not with each other, that's another story), and talking. Before we had to part ways, we'd sat down and written a letter to Darry, together, and both signed it. He would be glad to see that we were together, even if it was only for a few days. I knew he would be jealous of me – we had both been missing Soda horribly – but he would be happy all the same that at least one of us had had the chance to see him.
Soda did get a month-long leave not long afterward, and was able to travel home to be with Darry. But it ended up being a total of four years before the three of us were in the same room again, all together. It was a hospital room where Soda had been sent to recover from his injury.
"Pony, are you still out there?" I looked up to the back door, where my wife was calling to me with concern. "Aren't you cold?" she asked.
I smiled; it was work, but I smiled. "I'm okay. Just thinking." I pressed the metal lid back onto the trash can and went back to the house, almost shaking with the guilt and shame I was already feeling as I looked ahead to the end of the evening. I had to tell them. Tonight.
>>>>
"A sniper?" Darry repeated from his spot on the arm of the easy chair.
I took a deep breath. It sounded loud in the silent room. Soda's hand squeezed my shoulder as I swallowed. "Yeah. I mean, the Army didn't actually have trained snipers, like the Marines. They picked out the soldiers who were the best shots, and we went ahead with another guy to scout things out. Sometimes I had assignments. But that's what I was. A sniper. Hiding in the jungle, picking off guys like…" I stopped and put my face in my hands as I felt the first sob shake through me. "I…I couldn't even shoot a duck when I was a kid, but I…" I had to stop again.
Soda's arm draped across me. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Melissa was suddenly on my other side, kissing my face and rubbing my hair.
"Pony."
I looked down at Darry, who had come to kneel in front of me. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. You're here. It was a war. You did what you had to."
Hearing him say that, and seeing in his face that he meant it, lifted more of a weight off of me than I could ever have expected. I thought back to what had kept me going all those months, whenever the guilt threatened to take over and keep me from doing my job. Every time I had to take someone out, I kept one thought in mind – the next bullet out of his gun could be the one that kills my brother. Every round that comes out of my rifle and hits its mark is saving Soda's life.
I scanned my family's faces. They were surprised, sympathetic, understanding – but not angry or disappointed. "I…I think I need some help with this," I stammered. "I've been having dreams. I think I need help."
"Pony, whatever you need. We love you, you know that. A lot of guys back from the war needed counseling." Melissa smiled at me, a genuine smile through tears. "I'm very proud of you, Pony. You fought for your country and you probably helped some other boys come home alive. You shouldn't be ashamed of that."
I nodded and wiped my eyes. "Thanks. All of you. Thanks."
An hour or so later Darry pulled me aside. "Hey, Pon, I have something at home I think you should have. It's Dad's journal, from when he was in the war. I think there's some stuff in it you should read."
"Yeah? I didn't even know he kept a journal."
"Me neither, until I found it in a box in the attic a few years back. I read through it, and…I really think you need to see it."
"Okay. Thanks." I shifted awkwardly. Emotional moments between me and Darry are few and far between, and they still usually make me feel like a little kid again.
Darry took my arm as I started to turn and walk away. "Wait a minute." I turned to look at him and was surprised to see the emotion in his face. He didn't even try to hide it. "I'm real proud of you, Pony. You took good care of Soda while you were there. I'm real proud of you." After a brief hesitation he pulled me close for a hug. We held on for a few minutes; I guess when you don't hug someone very often it's okay to make up for lost chances. He held me back by the shoulders and smiled at me before we both headed back to the living room, and I realized once again that my fears about what my oldest brother thought of me came more from my own feelings of inadequacy than anything he had ever done to put them there. He didn't just love me, he wasn't just proud of me. He understood me. Maybe that was all I had ever needed to know from him.
Hope you all enjoyed!
FYI, in case you don't know much about the military or aren't married to someone who does (hehe), "FNG" (the thing Soda says in his tirade) stands for "Fing New Guy".
FYI #2: I did some research and found pretty much what Pony said: during the Vietnam War the Army did not yet have a sniper school. In its simplest form, they took their best marksmen and utilized them as a form of snipers, sending them ahead with another guy to make sure the path ahead was clear for the rest of the unit.
Now, to my review responses:
goldengreaser: So cool that you were reading stuff again! I'm glad you've enjoyed it enough to do that.
Erika VonTrapp: Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying!
babygurl33: Thanks! Hope this wasn't too long for you!
MissA92: Thank you!
Lee: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. Darry's a tough character to write, so it's good to hear he came across well. Thank you for the kind compliments; I enjoy exploring the different paths this family might have taken, and am constantly trying to keep them true to the book, so again, it's good to hear when it is working. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Rosie: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well; I didn't see any need to drag things out, there are other things to cover before I get to the end as well.
Keira: Thanks! I liked writing that scene with Darry and Pony. Vic and Lin will come in more in the next chapter. I wanted to write this one kind of to-the-point, not drag it out and all, since there's still more stuff to come before the story is over. Hope you liked this one!
Sodapop's#1gurl: Thanks, hope you enjoyed this one!
nycsarabicfaith: Thank you! And here's another chapter, hope you enjoyed!
BlackLightningDX: Thanks, glad you liked! I'm finding Soda more fun to write the farther I go with this story.
Scarlett7: Thank you so much, those were some really nice compliments. I love writing this story and try hard to keep everyone in character. I plan to continue to the end of the story; hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Mrs. Soda Curtis: Thank you, hope this wasn't too long for an update!
horrorpop: Thanks for reviewing, glad you enjoyed!
Tessie26: Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I've had parts of it written for months now!
darkdestiny2000: Thanks, here's more!
Locket the Lookout: Thanks, glad you enjoyed!
LOL: No, he's still around, roaming the halls in the wee hours of the morning…
Hahukum Konn: Thanks, it's always good to hear that the Darry I wrote sounds true to form. I had fun writing the part about Melanie's quirky family. Hope you liked this chapter, Vietnam and everything!
virgil-t-stone: Thank you, here's the next chapter, hope you liked!
Fairlane: Thanks so much for the review! Again, it's always good to hear that I'm writing Darry the way others also perceive him. The Christmas party scene was fun to write. I have to be in a fun mood to write Soda, so I enjoyed that one. Hope you liked this one, and that it cleared some things up!
Tensleep: Glad you liked the chapter. Uncle Trev would have been a riot with these people, eh? Yes, Soda and Pony were in the war at the same time; Soda enlisted, and Pony was drafted two years later, while Soda was still there. Hope you liked this chapter, I wanted to get it up for you to have something to read over the weekend.
ktk2005: Thank you, hope you liked the update!
kimmerkay: Thank you so much! I always liked thinking ahead to what Darry and Pony would have been like together as adults. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it should explain some things from the end of the last one. Yes, things are going well so far. This is my third. My two boys are 3.5 and 5.5 years old, and as far as two ultrasound technicians and one doctor are concerned, this one is going to be a little sister. Thanks for asking!
kaz456: Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! A little bit of Vic in this one, but more to come in the next chapter.
Amber: Thanks so much, I'm glad you've been enjoying the story. I love writing it. Congratulations on your son, I hope everything is going well. Are you getting any sleep? I was tired for the first four months with my first one, and learned a lot by the time I had my second. Good luck!
screaming666: Thank you, you write very amusing reviews. Black roses! Yay! Thanks again, hope you liked this chapter.
Ale Curtis-Carter: Thank you, I'm glad you liked it so much! Hope you enjoyed this one as well.
