I want to thank all of you for the reviews, follows, and favorites. I swear I had a smile on my face all day after Ch 1 was published. If you have an account, keep an eye out for a reply. Guests, I'd love to be able to thank you individually (and some of you had questions as well) and if you make an account we can chat.

Special thanks to Simona. I wasn't going to write this story, but when she heard the idea she wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter 2- Emergency

"Ponyboy! Jesus, Pony! Come on kid…"

Someone was frantically calling me, pulling me out of the darkness as I struggled to open my eyes. I tried to roll and found that I could barely even turn my head. One side of my face was pressed into the dirt and wet grass while the rusted metal of the undercarriage rested on the other. My right arm was pinned under my side and the left laid useless in front of my face, stretching out over my head so that I couldn't see past it or the hulking metal above me.

Something had happened, and for a minute, I wasn't sure what it was. Then I remembered. Sheer panic as I noticed the truck falling. Rolling half onto my side at the last minute. Trying-and failing- to protect my head with my arm. A scream cut off by the thump of metal collapsing into the soft ground.

Then nothing.

"Steve?" I asked dizzily. I was awful mixed up.

I was surprised that I could even get his name out past the crushing weight and pain that wrapped itself around me. I don't think he could hear me, though. My voice sounded strange; I couldn't get it any louder than a whisper. The weight of the truck was so heavy that I couldn't take in a deep breath, let alone speak well.

"Pony? Ponyboy! Answer me God damn it!" Steve's panicked voice came from somewhere above my head and once again I tried to turn towards it. I managed to move my head just enough that I could see daylight and the tips of his shoes before he was dropping onto his hands and knees near what had to be the front bumper.

I was staring at the front axle where it connected to the back of the wheel hub. The hub had dug deep into the earth when it had fallen, leaving me wedged between it and the ground.

He called my name again.

This time I only managed a moan.

"Jesus... you're alive... hang in there, Pone. I got to get help." Steve's pale face was pressed into the long grass. "You hear me? I'll be right back."

I could feel my pulse fluttering in my neck as my heart beat hard and fast…too fast, I thought. I wanted to tell him not to leave me, but I couldn't breathe, and the world was tunneling around me again. I blinked long and slow, and when I opened my eyes, he was gone.

"Steve! Steve…" I tried calling for him, but my voice was weak and strained. Every second I was alone felt like a lifetime. I was scared. Everything was blurred, but whether it was from unshed tears or the pressing darkness, I wasn't sure. I blinked again. Long. Slow. A battle to stay awake.

Time wasn't moving right, because the next time I opened my eyes Steve was there, and again had his face pressed against the unkept lawn, calling for me.

"…shit! Pony! Ponyboy Curtis open your eyes! Hey, kid, come on man...don't...help is coming, okay? Just hang on. The fire department and ambulance are coming…" He raised his head and hollered loudly, but his voice sounded off, like he was yelling down the street. "DARRY! TWO-BIT! DARRY!"

Then he was back against the ground again, frantically switching between calling for me and for Darry and Two-Bit. I hoped he'd phoned Darry, not just yelled for him. If Darry was still working, he might not hear Steve shouting for him clear down at the Matthews' place. I wondered if Steve had phoned Sodapop at the DX too. Things was feeling real bad and I wanted my brothers with me before it was too late.

Something wasn't right. Everything was vague and hazy, and even my slow blinking wasn't keeping Steve in focus.

Golly, it hurt. The truck was pressing me down into the dirt and I couldn't move anything other than my hands and my head an inch or two. I wondered vaguely if this was how an ant felt when it was squished beneath your tennis shoe. Did it feel prickles of fear rush down its limbs when it saw the looming shadow growing closer above it? Did bile rise in its throat when its body got crunched beneath the shocking weight? Did it have the feeling that it was going to die, long before its fluttering heart stopped beating?

I tried turning my head, looking up so I could look out from under what would be the front of the truck, but I still couldn't see much of anything other than waning daylight, which was further darkened by Steve's shadowed face as it blocked the sun.

Then I felt searching fingertips brush against mine and grabbed at them desperately.

Steve struggled forward on his belly, reaching as far under the truck as he could before his shoulder was stopped by the metal frame. He wrapped his fingers around my hand and squeezed. I could feel him shaking. I tried to squeeze back. I don't know if I did, my hands felt funny. Like they were asleep when they weren't.

"Pony! Pony...talk to me kid. How you doing man?"

I thought that was a stupid question considering our old Ford was sitting on me, but I still tried to take stock of how I felt. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the tingling numbness that had enveloped me when I awoke had been replaced with pain. A sharp pain moved through my neck and back before spreading with a fiery vengeance through my limbs. It ended with pins and needles in my fingertips. My head pulsed with an internal thunder, and I could feel what I assumed to be a trickle of blood running down my forehead.

"Not too hot Steve." I swallowed thickly and wondered when my lips got so dry.

Dust still clouded the air beneath the truck, kicked up from when the truck had hit the dirt, though it was finally beginning to settle. It fell like a dirty rain on my face and arm.

I tried to speak, coughed, and tried again.

"Steve? I think you need to get Soda. Please get Soda…" I was bawling now, and I wasn't even ashamed that he could probably see the tears. I could feel that something bad was about to happen, something worse than what already did. "Get Soda…Darry…"

"Shut up Pony." He was trying hard to control his voice, and it was only when I heard the strained tenseness in his tone that I realized he was still holding my hand. "I ain't leaving you. Not 'til help gets here."

XXX

Darry arrived with the sound of running feet and confused yelling. His deep, rich baritone shouts almost drowned out the high-pitched wail of a siren that had been steadily drawing nearer.

"Steve! What's wrong…were you yellin'? Two-Bit thought he heard—"

Steve didn't let him finish. He let go of my hand and was on his feet. "Help me Darry…Two-Bit…It's Pony, he's trapped. The jack collapsed…"

"What! Oh my God…" Darry dropped to where Steve had been. I could vaguely see Two-Bit's feet and knew that he was crouching behind him. Darry's eyes were real huge, and he had gone at least two shades whiter than I remembered him being before he left for work this morning. He reached for my hand, same as Steve had, and I could feel him trembling. "What the hell happened, Steve? Ponyboy, are you alright?"

I started to say 'I'm okay,' but I wasn't. I was dazed. My head and neck hurt, and every time I so much as breathed my back hurt something awful.

"Darry…please…" I didn't even know what I was asking. For him to do what he always does, I guess. Take control. Make a plan. Save me.

His thumb brushed my knuckles and I could hear his breath hitch before he spoke. "Hold tight, kiddo. I'm going to get you out. Steve, Two-Bit, help me."

His face was there, then it was gone, and his feet were moving towards the corner that had dug itself into the ground.

I thought of those ants again. Ants usually marched in a straight line, doing everything with the others from their colony. They were never alone. There was always another by their side, until the unlucky ones got caught under your shoes or beneath your thumb when they climbed on the kitchen counter. Did they know when they got caught that the others had abandoned them? Did they think the other ants would return to help? Did they die waiting for help that never came?

"Steve, get over here with me." Darry commanded. "Lift on three. Two-Bit, when we lift up the truck, you be ready to pull him out. Ready? One…two…three."

They lifted, and for one second the weight was off me. But it was barely raised above me, not enough for me to fully turn my head or even roll enough to pull my right arm out from underneath me.

Even over the siren that was steadily growing louder I could hear Darry grunting and Steve straining so noisily he was almost hollerin'. Two-Bit was doing his best to tug on me, but he was bigger than me and couldn't even get his shoulders completely under the truck. Every small movement caused excruciating pain to flash down my neck and back like lightening, burning its way across my shoulders and down my arms.

I cried out every time he pulled and could feel big tears making their way down my cheeks.

"Stop!" I cried. "Please stop!" I was convinced then that it would hurt less for them to leave me to die under the crushing weight of the truck rather than drag me another inch.

I didn't have to worry about that anyway. It seems that even superman has a limit to his strength because suddenly Darry and Steve were shouting, Two-Bit's hands were gone, and the truck was coming down again.

The second time it came down on me hurt more than the first.

I instantly regretted thinking that dying alone under the truck would be better than being dragged across the uneven ground. I screamed until I was hoarse. The feeling of claustrophobia was overwhelming, and I lost all rational thought. My face was turned sideways, and if the truck hadn't been so low on that side I could have looked straight out towards our house. But I couldn't see anything unless I tried looking up, and that just made the feeling that everything was closing in on me worse. I took the one arm I could move and banged against the undercarriage, tried to push it away. Screamed and cried until I couldn't anymore and was reduced to a sobbing, moaning mess. I was closer to freedom than I had been, but it wasn't close enough. I had to get out. I needed out.

"No no no no no…Pony. God, Pony I'm so sorry." Darry was on his knees, reaching in with a bloody hand. A deep gash crossed his palm where the truck's metal had bit into it when he had lifted it, and when he swiped at the hair that fell across my forehead his blood mixed with mine.

"Darry…no…more…don't…lift it…it hurts!" I begged. I couldn't stand for it to come down on me again. "Please…please, Darry…"

Darry's face was horrified. "I won't, Pone. Promise, okay? Glory Pone I'm sorry…"

He turned to look at the road when the siren finally got so loud that I knew that the fire department must have finally arrived. The siren wailed and screeched until I wasn't sure if it was coming from the approaching rescue vehicle or was part of the pain that was still coursing through me. The sound abruptly cut off. Darry turned back to me.

"They're here. It's gonna be okay. Steve…get Sodapop."

A dark-haired fireman nudged Darry out of the way. Darry stayed close, even though I couldn't see him real well I could tell he was there 'cause I could see the side of one of his broad shoulders. The fireman was laying on his belly where the others had, having removed his helmet so he could peer at me under the truck. "Hey there kid. I'm John. I'm a fireman paramedic. We're gonna get you out of there real quick, okay? Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

Everywhere, I thought. But somehow, I didn't think that was the answer he was looking for. "My neck hurts…and my back…my head. Where's my brother? Can I see my brother?"

"Yeah, kiddo, he's right here. You can see him real soon. We just got to get you safe first. Then you can talk to him."

The fireman's face disappeared. I could still see his knees though. He was wearing some of those thick yellow pants that I always saw the firemen wearing in movies and when I saw them up at the school talking to all the little kids. His pants were wet at the knees and as he sat there, I could see the mud start seeping into them. An ant crawled up his leg.

"Cap! We're going to need the blocks and the airbags! There's one patient, under the front axle, close to the hub. Get some wedges to stabilize the passenger side so it doesn't dip down or roll when we lift it…we don't want any more pressure coming down on this kid!"

Lift it? Oh, let's not do that again, I thought. I couldn't stand it if that truck came down on me a third time. I groaned.

"Hey, kid. Don't you worry none, okay? We will have you out in no time. These firemen are the best. They're going to get some stuff set up so we can safely lift this off of you. Okay?"

I only looked at him.

"Hey, you got to talk to me kid. That's my rule. I talk and you answer so I know you're doing okay."

"Is he alright? What's going on?" Darry was trying to peer down over the guy's shoulder.

"Yeah," John never took his eyes off of me, "he's got his eyes open and he's looking at me. He just ain't talking. Might be shock."

"He was talking earlier." That was Two-Bit.

"Yeah I know," The medic's eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth was turned down at the corners. He raised his voice again. "Cap? You got those step chalk wedges on the passenger side set up yet? We ain't got a lot of time here…"

I could feel small vibrations as he spoke, like someone was shoving something against the truck but trying not to move it too much at the same time.

"Yeah, John! Good to go here!" The voice answered back. I could faintly hear him shouting instructions as multiple pairs of black rubber boots and yellow soot-stained pants appeared on the driver's side.

The boots and pants gathered near where Steve and I had taken off the tire. Then two firemen were kneeling on the ground like the medic. They slid thick wooden boards between the ground and the truck, one near the back tire, and one near where the front tire should have been. The voice that I assumed was Cap was speaking again.

"Alright! We are building the lift stack midway on the truck. That's going to be here, under the B Post. That way we can lift it up from the middle. Stewart, Gordon, you keep building those capture stacks right where you are. They're going to stabilize this thing when we lift. Remember, we want a strong base so we can keep it completely parallel and even when we raise it. That means these will be 3x3 towers. Understood?"

I didn't know what he was talking about, but the firemen sure seemed to. They was using thick wooden blocks to make what looked like huge Jenga towers next to each wheel. They started with three blocks on the bottom. Those three were crisscrossed by three more. Then three more. What would happen if one were knocked loose? Would the tower fall? Would it bring down the truck again?

When no more blocks could fit beneath the frame, the firemen paused. There was the sound of air being forced through a pump, then the truck was lifted. It raised no more than an inch. It still weighed heavily on me. Then they were shoving smaller boards on top of their towers.

I watched it all as if it were a dream unfolding before my eyes. I was there, but I wasn't.

When there was just enough room for him to fit, the paramedic moved from his spot outside and near my head to under the truck with me, scooting between the block towers on his elbows and knees. There wasn't enough space for him to pull in his feet, but there was almost enough for him to get to me.

"John!" Someone yelled at him. "What are you doing? Get outta there. This isn't stabilized yet! It could come down on top of you."

Glory, I hoped not. Because if it came down on him it would be coming down on me too.

"Well then don't let it!" He yelled back. "I trust you, Cap. And don't relieve this weight off him 'til you get my say-so!"

Two I thought dizzily. This time the shoe would get two ants. Wasn't there a song about that? Something about ants marching two by two? I hadn't seen them walk like that, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe when one was hurt another would walk with it…

The medic turned to look behind him. I couldn't see what he was looking at, he was in my way, but I heard him ask for something in a low, steady voice and then someone was scooting a small red bag to him. The other men kept working around him. He looked at me and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry kid, I'm here now. I won't leave you. I'm going to get you taken care of before we even move you." His free hand searched his pocket for something, and he pulled a flashlight forward, he shined it quickly over me. His hands moved with the light, resting the back of his hand against my forehead, pressing it against my bones, pausing when I yelped or moaned and feeling around more. He felt my chest rise and fall as I breathed. He took my pulse. Asked me yes or no questions seeing as how those were the only answers I could mumble.

"Cap! I need you to relay a message to Tulsa General for me," his voice rose above the din of the men stacking the wooden blocks.

Tap. Set down a block. Tap. Set down a block. The pattern repeated in my head.

The medic waited until the other man, Cap, responded then said, "Alright… tell Tulsa we have a male patient, approximately fifteen, trauma alert. Patient has been pinned beneath a pickup truck for approximately fifteen minutes. Patient is awake and alert, however, verbal responses are minimal at best. PT is experiencing pain in the C6 to T4 areas of the spine with numbness and tingling in the extremities. PT appears pale with cool, moist skin. Pulse is 135."

A voice chirped back. I wasn't sure what it said, but he must have known because he was nodding. "Clear, Tulsa. Your orders are bilateral IV's with Ringer's, spinal precautions, and morphine following confirmation of blood pressure."

The man outside repeated what he said.

And then he took his flashlight and put it in his mouth like Dad used to do when he smoked cigars. Its artificial light was shining right at me. He reached back by his feet again and pulled up that red case, which he unzipped. From inside it, he took out a bag of clear fluid, tubing, and a needle.

I started to shake.

He spoke around the flashlight in his mouth, "No, worries kid. Quick stick here and we'll be close to getting you out, 'kay? Give you some fluid, pain medicine, a splint, and we'll get you to the hospital. No sweat."

"No sweat," I repeated. I think I was kind of mixed up, cause his words were running together and I wasn't really sure what was going on, I barely felt a pinch in my arm and he was wrapping tape all the way around it.

"Skin's slick," he said then, "we don't want this IV coming out."

Shouting from outside got my attention and I tried to turn again. Sodapop!

"Where is he?!" I could hear the anguish and panic in his voice. "Darry, where's Ponyboy?"

"Soda…here." Darry's voice was tight and quivering, and I could tell he was working hard to keep it steady.

"Oh, God no…Steve…what…no." Then Soda's sobs were closer, the spot where Steve and Darry had been before. Somewhere next to the paramedic's legs. I knew no fireman was going to keep him away, and I could feel his fingers in my hair. "Pony…"

"Soda!" I finally managed to mumble his name. But I was weak, and it felt strange on my lips. His fingers trailed down my hairline and strayed close to my cheek until he couldn't reach any further. He rested his palm against my forehead. I could hear him working to control his breathing.

His hand was warm. Gentle. Comforting. I sank into his touch as much as I could and closed my eyes…

"Pony! Answer me, honey, don't go to sleep!" Soda's voice made my eyes snap open, and I could almost feel his face crumbling with his desperate words.

I didn't think that I had been sleeping, but maybe I had. Maybe I just didn't remember.

Okay, Soda, I thought. I'm awake. But for some reason I couldn't get my mouth to form the words.

The medic was watching me close. He nodded at someone. Maybe Soda.

"Alright John!" Someone called from outside, "We're ready for you. Everyone get back!"

Slowly, the truck began to lift.

"Collar for your neck, buddy." The paramedic put a stiff uncomfortable collar around my neck. "It's there to remind you not to move your neck, okay?" He was talking as he worked, not stopping to be sure I was listening.

"Time for us to get you outta here, kiddo." He started to scoot back. "Okay, everyone, get ready. Once all this pressure is released, we will have to move fast. It could be holding pressure on an internal injury. We don't want him bleeding out on us."

I felt sick and let me tell you, listening to them talk didn't make me feel any better.

Then there were hands on my shoulders.

"One…two…three!" John called, and they were sliding me out from under the truck and onto a stiff wooden board, somehow turning me onto my back in the middle of the motion.

The movement hurt and made me dizzy. I think I cried out again. I don't remember.

I found it strange that the sun was already setting. Everything looked real pale in the waning light, and I wondered dimly why the sun wasn't warm anymore. I blinked at the sky and wondered why I couldn't bring the swirling stars into focus. The slight breeze on my wet skin was making me shiver. I could tell it was still hot out, everyone else was sweating something awful. But I was real cold.

My brothers shouldered their way through the firemen that were carrying me.

"Pony!" Soda wiped his eyes on his arm before grabbing my hand. "It's going to be okay."

I didn't feel like everything was going to be okay though. I thought that getting the truck off of me would make me feel better, but instead, I was starting to feel worse. "I…don't…think so, Soda."

Something wasn't right. I hurt real bad and I still wasn't breathing right. I could feel the sweat soaking my clothes and my hair even though I was freezing. I started to shake harder.

Darry was next to him. He looked real worried. His eyes were red and puffy like he'd been crying. But Darry didn't cry. Never. Not even when Mom and Dad died. "Please, Pony, don't talk like that…"

The medics and firemen didn't let him finish. They was loading me into the back of the ambulance. One said something to my brothers, then shut the doors, leaving them standing out there next to Two-Bit and Steve.

I thought of those ants again. Scared ants scurrying to get out from under your shoe. Ants with crumpled bodies. Ants twitching and shivering in the sun before they died alone on the sidewalk. Only later would the other ants come back to find them. But by then it was too late.

Then the medic was turned around talking to me…attaching me to wires and checking the bags of clear fluid that were hanging around me.

I wasn't listening to him. A deep fear had rooted itself in my chest, squeezing my heart, and making my breaths come short.

I was going to die. I could feel it.

I was alone with a stranger. A stranger, and a sense of impending doom.

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