5. Running

Pulling away from the bus station, I did my best not to stare out the window at Dally. He was already worried, and I didn't figure there was any need to worry him more. Besides, if he saw my face, he'd realize how scared I was. I didn't know what he was going to do...how he would take care of this before the cops or the social workers tracked me down. Then again, I supposed New York was a big place. I hoped he got word to my brothers somehow. They'd worry, I knew it...especially when that family had to report me missing. I figured they'd wait until after school ended on Monday. Heck, maybe even Tuesday. Say I was home sick or something. Because eventually they were going to find Lianne. It wasn't exactly a deep grave.

That thought made my stomach turn and I turned to the window again, glad I hadn't eaten anything.

I met Dally's eyes as the bus turned onto the main road, and he lifted his hand, a cigarette between his fingers, a solemn look on his face. I waved back, then leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. I'd gotten a seat on the aisle like he'd told me, my bag beside me against the window. I'd made sure to sit near the back, hoping the other people getting on the bus didn't pay any attention to me. My face was starting to throb, and I brought a hand up to find that it was bleeding again. Grimacing, I opened the bag and dug through, past the food and grinning a little at the candy bars, then found the gauze Dally had gotten me. I held it up to my face, dumping some alcohol on another gauze pad and pressing it to the cut. I wanted to scream, but if I'd learned anything from that foster home and the asshole that ran it, it was how to keep quiet when something hurt like hell.

After about three hours, I pulled out the sandwich and started eating, figuring I'd need to keep up my strength. I wasn't hungry…I rarely was anymore, but after the first bite, it was like my body was woking without me and I practically inhaled it in a few bites. I hadn't eaten in what felt like days. I wanted to eat the candy bars too, but since I barely had any money, I was terrified of running out of food. Instead I waited for the first stop, ran into a gas station to buy a bottle of water and use the bathroom, then sipped the water for a while, drinking about half and putting it in my duffle bag. It was the first trick I'd learned in that place. Drink enough water, and you could trick your stomach into thinking you weren't hungry.

Once I was back in my seat, I closed my eyes, resting my head against the seat and trying to sleep, the duffle bag strap wrapped around my leg. It only sort of worked. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her...I saw the knife in his hand and the way he'd grabbed her around the throat and then the others...I should have done something. I should have saved her. She should have been the one that got away.

I jerked awake when a hand landed on my shoulder, and I went for the blade in my pocket before the hand jerked away. I looked up to find a wide eyed greaser pulling back from me. "Easy there, kid." He held his hands up, looking more amused than anything. Good to know I wasn't even convincing to a stranger. "You're bleeding," he told me wryly, and I rolled my eyes, mumbling my tired thanks and pressing another piece of gauze to my face. "You a friend of Dallas Winston's?"

I hesitated at the question...apparently he'd see Dal drop me off at the bus station. Still, it would be bad if he figured out who I was. "Yeah...more of an acquaintance." I shrugged. "Needed a ride."

The guy nodded, apparently catching on that I didn't want to talk about it. "Got it. Keep the gauze on that cut, kid, else you'll bleed out before you get where you're going."

I nodded, thanking him again, and he headed back to his seat. I put more alcohol on my face, once again trying not to yell. It burned something awful. Keeping the pressure on it for a while, I tried not to fall asleep again. I was exhausted, but I figured I could sleep when I got to New York. Hopefully. Besides, every time I closed my eyes it was the same nightmare. But I'd gotten pretty good at not thinking about things that hurt when I was awake, so I stared out the window, unseeing, as the bus took me north.

For the next two days, I made sandwiches on the bus, filling up the same water bottle in gas station bathroom sinks. The greaser that had woken me up to tell me I was bleeding bought me a soda and a breakfast sandwich at one of the gas stations, and when I tried to pay him, he shook his head. "You're a buddy of Dally's," he told me, like it was an explanation.

"Acquaintance," I corrected him. He rolled his eyes.

"You've been refilling that same water bottle all day, and eating sandwiches from that bag. Take it."

I sighed, mumbling a thank you, and he'd nodded, heading back to his seat. Choking down the breakfast sandwich, I tried not to think about my brothers. It didn't work, and I wondered if Dally had given them the cards yet. Heck, I wondered if he'd even told them anything. I hoped Darry didn't hit him or nothing. He'd done me a huge favor...he'd saved my life. When I got to New York, maybe it would be safe to call home...find out what was going on. I dozed on and off and tried to think about what I would say to them...especially Darry, instead of why I was running. After that fight, we hadn't even had a real conversation, and then the social workers had shown up to take me away.

Golly, I missed my big brother so much.

After what felt like a week, but was only a little over two days, the bus squealed to a stop and the remaining people climbed to their feet, yawning and grabbing their bags. The greaser that had given me a soda and the breakfast sandwich had gotten off a few stops ago, and this was the last bus station, where Darry had ordered me to get off. I stretched my legs a little, almost falling as I tried to stand, holding the duffle bag on my shoulder close. I gripped the handles on the ceiling, feeling my legs nearly give, but managed to catch myself at the last second as I made my way to the front of the bus. One of the rougher looking guys gave me a once over, then nodded. I nodded back, figuring that it was the cut that made me look tough, barely meeting his eyes. At least it had fooled him . I headed down the aisle, mumbling a 'bye' to the bus driver as I walked down the stairs.

"Take it easy, kid," he told me without interest, not even looking up as he lifted a finger from the steering wheel.

Good. The last thing I needed was for someone to remember me.

Walking down the steps on rubbery legs, my whole body sore and aching, I fished the piece of paper Dally had given me out of my pocket and looked around, standing beside the bench at the bus station. A few people brushed past me, and I gripped the shoulder strap of the duffle bag. In my back pocket, I could feel the switch and that was some comfort. On the paper was the address of this "James" guy, his phone number, and Dally's phone number. I didn't know if Dally had gotten a hold of James yet, but I didn't think Dally would be up just yet. It was about 8 am on a Wednesday morning, and Dally usually didn't get up before 10 at the earliest. Plus I figured there was some kind of time change. Still, I had nothing to do in a strange city, and not a lot of money to do it with.

The address didn't mean much to me. I didn't have a map, nor did I know where to find one. I knew I needed to move, but I felt rooted to the spot on the sidewalk. I was exhausted after that ridiculously long bus ride, and my brain didn't seem to be working right still. I thought about my brothers and wondered if they were up yet. There was a time difference between us, but I was too tired to figure it out. Instead, I wanted to drop down on the bench and take a nap. But I knew Dally would beat the shit out of me if I did something stupid like that. This wasn't Tulsa. It would be dangerous to sleep outside here, especially with no one around to watch my back.

Suddenly, this all seemed so much more real. On the bus, it had been like living in a fog, just doing whatever Dally had told me to do. But now...I had to figure it out on my own. Thankfully, I'd had a lot of practice being on my own for the last few months. A stab of pain went through my chest when that thought, like most thoughts, led to my brothers.

Forcing my legs to move and figuring I couldn't get any more lost, I headed down the street, ducking into the first gas station I saw and looking around for someone that worked there. There was a guy behind the counter, around Soda's age, and for a second, it hurt so much I couldn't stand it. Then he looked up. Thankfully, he looked nothing like my brother with blond hair and bright blue eyes that were too awake for how early it was.

"Hey man," he greeted, nodding. "What can I do for ya?"

I shifted the duffle bag up further onto my shoulder, then stepped up to the counter, forcing myself to meet his eyes. Another thing I'd learned staying in that hellhole: never make eye contact. Still I didn't want this guy to think I was scared. Sometimes I'd catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and give a start, wondering who that terrified looking kid was.

The guy seemed to soften, leaning across the counter a little, arms resting on the surface. "What's up kid? You lost? Just get here?"

I laughed a little, running a hand through my hair and nodding, making sure to avoid the still-fresh cut on the side of my face. I'd probably need to put more alcohol on it or I'd have bigger problems than being lost in New York. "Yeah, actually. Just got into town. I'm looking for my uncle's place." I hadn't rehearsed the lie, and I was glad it came so easily. I always had been a good liar. "All I got is his address. Any idea where that is?"

He reached out, grabbing the paper from me and reading it for a minute, then nodded. "Sure, kid. Maybe two miles from here. Turn left down Liberty for a few blocks until you get to Park." He pointed. "Take a left on Park and walk until you hit Troy...might be a while. These apartments are off Troy...not sure exactly where, but it ain't no good part of town."

I shrugged. I hadn't exactly lived in a good part of town before.

"Anyway, you might have to walk for a while until you get there. I think they're down by Union Avenue but I ain't sure. If you get lost, there's another filling station around there, so you should be able to stop in and ask. You got all that?"

"Yeah, thanks," I told him, meaning it.

"Sure thing, kid." He held out a hand. "I'm Will."

I hesitated. Even if the news hadn't gotten up to New York that I was missing, and even if it was a big city, I didn't want to risk it. Besides, Ponyboy was a name people remembered. "Mike." I told him, going with my middle name as I shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, Mike. Good luck."

I thanked him again, heading out the door and turning left, hoping I remembered his directions. I was dead tired, but I needed to find this place before I could get any rest, and even then, it was possible that this guy had moved, or wouldn't let me stay...or was dead. In that case, I really might have to take a nap on a park bench. I thought of how Dally would react to that and grinned a little.

The streets were full in a way I'd never really seen before except on TV. People crossed the road, narrowly dodging cars that sped by, and barely any of them spared me a glance. There were some businessmen in suits, carrying briefcases in one hand and newspapers under their arms and women in nice dresses and heels and guys that looked like me, dressed in old clothes with slicked back hair, and on the street corners tucked into alcoves were some older guys in ratty clothes with their hats upside down on the sidewalk in front of them, never meeting my eyes. I supposed there were homeless people in Tulsa, but not really in my neighborhood. I thought about tossing a few coins in, but I knew I didn't have much money, so I was afraid to part with any of it.

When I saw the sign for Park, I turned left, mumbling an apology when I bumped into some lady, and she grabbed her purse tighter, eyes shifting over to me nervously. I did my best to ignore her, shifting the bag on my shoulder. Around us, shops were opening, and the lady slipped into an office building, pulling a key out of her pocket. Three real pretty girls walked towards me, their eyes flashing to me, and the one in the middle, a blonde girl that reminded me of Sandy, grinned at me. I felt my ears get hot, and for a second I got distracted, forgetting where I was supposed to be going. Running a hand through my hair, I grinned a little at her, then dropped my eyes back down to the sidewalk. I seemed to have lost the ability to make eye contact with anyone for long. Beside me, a guy with hair greasier hair than mine bumped me a little, all but marching up to the girls to talk to them, and I felt stupid for thinking they were smiling at me. Anyway, the last thing I needed was to get into any kind of trouble, so I hurried on past the girls and the guy that reminded me of Dally, hoping my ears weren't red.

It seemed to take a long time to get to Troy. As I walked, the businesses got older looking, the paint on the buildings chipped and the people working them looking more tired. I noticed there were more guys sitting around, either on porches or right on the sidewalk, all of them eyeing me as I walked by. I fought the urge to close my eyes as I walked, knowing I'd run into somebody and probably start a fight or something. I had no idea what people up here were like, but based on the few suspicious looks I was getting, I figured they wouldn't take too well to me running them over.

I thought about how Two-Bit liked to walk backwards on the near empty sidewalks of our neighborhood and smiled a little at my feet. He'd have a time of it up here. But thinking about Two-Bit just reminded me of home which I was trying real hard not to think about, so I pushed that away and kept my head down, glancing up at the street signs when I passed them, and trying to read the addresses on the apartment buildings. The numbers were getting bigger, so I was at least going the right direction, but I could tell I was getting into a rougher part of town. In one alley, two guys faced off, both holding knives, and I hurried past, but a few streets later, I had to pause when I saw the couple between buildings.

The girl had the darkest skin I'd ever seen on a person, with big brown eyes that glared at the guy in front of her. He was older than me, and taller too, but that was nothing new. I looked forward to the day I finally grew as tall as my brothers. Maybe I'd never be as strong as Darry, but glory, it was the worst being so small no one took you seriously. The boy wore a leather jacket and boots despite the fact that it had to be at least 70 degrees out and climbing, his hand pressed against the brick wall where the girl stood. I didn't need to be getting involved in other people's problems. I needed to find this James guy, convince him to let me crash on his couch or his floor or...hell, his porch at this point, and then I needed sleep.

I needed to keep walking.

I couldn't hear what he was saying, but the girl didn't look too happy about it, knocking his hand away and attempting to walk past him. A guy in a suit bumped into me, swearing under his breath and pushing me off to the side of the sidewalk. I didn't bother retaliating, just moved over to the edge of the alley and tried not to be conspicuous as I watched. He smirked at her, grabbing her arm, and for a second, her eyes met mine.

I needed to keep walking.

I didn't need trouble, or for anyone to remember me.

But suddenly I wasn't seeing some pretty girl and a greasy guy in an alley in New York. I was seeing Lianne behind that bar. It had been so dark from where I'd stood under the lights, but I'd been too scared to take a step forward as I'd watched. She'd screamed, but not loud enough, and not for long enough...the sound had cut off in a cry when they'd hit her or kicked her...I couldn't see. I hadn't done anything...just watched as he'd pulled out a knife. She'd kept screaming, muffled like they had a rag in her mouth or something, and I knew what they were doing but I couldn't move. I'd let them hurt her...kill her...it was my fault.

The girl in front of me wheeled around, bringing an arm up and backhanding him, putting her whole body into it. The guy reeled, bringing up his hand quick as a snake and hitting her right back, knocking her against the wall.

I pushed myself between the guy and the girl, pulling back a fist and and getting him right in the nose, knowing that this was probably my only chance to hit him, seeing Richard instead of whatever greaser was probably about to beat the shit out of me. I hadn't helped Lianne, but I could help this girl. Why hadn't I helped Lianne? This was trouble. This was not using my head. This was everything that had gotten me into this situation in the first place.

The girl behind me gasped a little when the guy staggered once more, leaning back against the brick wall behind him, and I turned to the girl, saying what I should have said to my foster sister. "Go," I ordered, hoping she'd get out before he recovered, but she just gave me a look, eyes wide and incredulous, one eyebrow raised like Two-Bit's.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked instead of running as the guy in the leather jacket recovered, wiping blood from his nose and taking a step toward me. She seemed to change her mind about figuring out who I was, and before I could blink she took a step forward to meet the guy, getting right up against him and bringing up her knee. Hard. I flinched when the guy groaned, dropping to his knees, and she grabbed my hand. "Come on."

She pulled me out onto the street, me glancing back at the guy on the ground as we blended in with the foot traffic. "You okay?" I asked once we were a few blocks away, me still glancing over at the apartment numbers. The buildings ere were crammed so close together it would be hard to walk more than two at a time down the alleys. She dropped my hand, and for the first time I realized that we were getting some weird looks. I ignored them, turning to her.

"I'm fine. Who are you?"

Good question. Honestly, I didn't know anymore. No...I did know. I was the guy that let a group of men kill a little girl right in front of me. That's who I was. So what else mattered? Still, I shrugged.

"Nobody. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You know that guy?"

She lifted an eyebrow again. "We go to school together," she told me without a care as we walked, me glancing over my shoulder once more to make sure that guy wasn't behind us. I didn't see him. Nodding, I glanced over at the apartments we were passing again, hoping to catch the number. "You got somewhere to be?" she asked, pausing on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, actually. Um...you sure you're okay?" I asked, pausing in front of her. Around us, people parted and went around like a stream diverted by a boulder, glancing up but not caring. She was awful pretty, I realized all of the sudden, the thought making my ears go red. I never had been any good at talking to pretty girls. Or…well, any girls, for that matter.

She lifted an eyebrow again, crossing her arms and smirking just a little. "I'm sure. I could have handled it."

I wasn't about to argue with her...for all I knew, she was a better fighter than I was. I just wanted to find these apartments and get some sleep. Sure, a 'thank you' would have been nice, but I had places to be. Hopefully. Otherwise I really was gonna have to pick an alley to sleep in. "Yeah, alright...um...see you around then." I called, turning and hurrying down the street, hoping the guy from the alley didn't come after me and feeling like I was stuck in some kind of surreal dream.

I found the apartment building, a squat, one story brick building with tall porches with a set of stairs leading to each door. A few of the windows were boarded up, and on one of the porches was an old guy with a paper bag that obviously held a bottle in his hand. He leaned against the railing, his eyes tracking me as I climbed the steps to the apartment whose number Dally had written down. Bringing up a hesitant hand, I glanced over at the old guy before knocking.

The guy that answered the door looked like the kind of guy Dally might pal around with...the kind that Darry and Soda would want me to keep away from. He wore jeans and a stained tank top, his long black hair greased back, a few strands falling in front of his icy blue eyes, one of which was surrounded by a bruise. They reminded me of Darry, except Darry looked a lot nicer, even at his angriest. I thought back to the fight we'd had and pushed that memory away. We'd never even had the chance to talk about it and I wondered if we ever would. This guy was holding a cigarette in his left hand, the smoke curling around his head. He was tall and thin like Dal, and he looked mean like Dal did with strangers. On one bare arm was a tattoo of a woman, her head flung back with black silhouetted hair that reached halfway down her back. On the other arm was some kind of pattern surrounded by barbed wire.

"What?" He demanded, giving me a once over. I ran a nervous hand through my hair, swallowing and trying to clear my throat and make eye contact at the same time. It didn't really work.

"Um...I'm...Dally sent me," I managed to stammer. All this talking was making my face throb again.

He shook his head a little, like he was clearing it out. "What?"

"You're...you're James, right?"

"Yeah." He looked about five seconds away from closing the door on my face.

"Dallas Winston sent me...told me I could stay with you." He lifted an eyebrow, and I held out the piece of paper with Dally's phone number. "Here's his number." He stared down at the piece of paper I held out, then back up at me. "Told me to tell you to call him…"

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, enunciating each word and crossing his arms, ignoring the piece of paper. I let my arm drop and sighed.

"I'm a friend of Dally's. I...I got into some trouble and Dal sent me up here...said you owed him one and that I could stay with you."

"He did, huh?" This, James seemed to believe. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Give it here," he demanded, holding out a hand for the paper, then, after snatching it out of my hand, turning and walking back into the apartment. He left the door open, so I followed, shutting it softly behind me, barely taking note of the place. It had a roof and there was a sofa...that was enough for me. Heck, at this point the roof was optional.

Without another word to me, James grabbed a phone from the table by the sofa, dialing and holding the phone to his ear as he stubbed out his cigarette. I stood in the doorway, the bag dangling from my arm, struggling to keep my eyes open. For a minute, I worried Dally wouldn't pick up. "Dallas. It's James." He leaned against the wall, scratching his head with one hand and gripping the phone with the other. "Yeah, man, you send some kid up here?" I heard Dally's voice louder on the other line, and James rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't hurt the kid. Not yet." He snorted at Dally's angry sounding reply. "He does, huh? I'll keep that in mind." He glanced at me and I dropped my eyes to the carpet on instinct.

That didn't use to be instinct.

"Yeah, I know I do. I ain't babysitting though. Kid can look out for himself." There was a long pause, Dally's indistinct voice filling the silence, and the guy in front of me swore under his breath. "Yeah, alright. Here." Without warning he thrust the phone into my hands and walked off. Hesitantly, I put it up to my ear as he disappeared around a corner.

"Kid, you alright?"

"Uh...yeah," I mumbled, leaning on the wall and closing my eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" He almost sounded concerned.

"Just tired." That and my face was killing me. My side hurt something awful too. I needed to put more alcohol on it.

"Go sleep then. He's gonna let you stay. Call me from a payphone when you wake up, alright? He ain't gonna wanna pay long distance."

"Sure. Thanks, Dal."

"Sure thing, kid. Get some sleep." And with that, he hung up.

James was standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched me hang up his phone. "Use a payphone next time you wanna call home. I ain't paying for long distance," he ordered, and I nodded, wondering how Dally had known and not about to point out that he'd been the one to make the call to Tulsa.

"Alright," I mumbled, running a tired hand through my hair.

"You can sleep on the couch. I don't have any food so you'll have to take care of that on your own."

"Sure."

"Your name really Ponyboy?" I nodded and he snorted. "Well, don't tell anyone around here. That's a name people are gonna remember, and I'm guessing you don't want to be remembered."

"I told the guy at the gas station my name was Mike."

He shrugged. "That'll work." He grabbed a leather jacket from a hook on the wall, slinging it over his shoulder. "See you around."

And with that, he was gone.

Too tired to look around the place, I put my bag under the sofa, then dropped onto the cushions and was unconscious before I could even get comfortable.