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Chapter Text

When Ponyboy Curtis stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the cave system, he only had two things on his mind: striking it big and whatever Darry was making for dinner.

He was on the verge of something big. He just knew it. His Great Crystal Cave was doing all right from the tourist side of things, but it wasn’t making real profit. He needed something more. Something grander than Mammoth Cave. Something people would travel all over the country to see. Something that Ponyboy himself had discovered.

His stomach growled. Well. All that caving and crawling and digging always took something mighty out of him. He honestly didn’t care much what was for dinner, as long as it was food.

A nice car pulled up along the makeshift road they had been putting together for the tourists to use. Even then, it was a tough road to drive up. As five young men piled out of the car, Pony wiped his hands on his overalls and went over to greet them, expecting they wanted tours.

“‘Evenin’, folks,” he greeted. “I can direct you to the ticket office if you—”

“Oh, no,” one of the men said. He had a stack of papers in his hands to match his professional suit. “I’m here to lease your Crystal Cave.”

Ponyboy got offers like this from time to time, but he wasn’t interested. At least not until it was profitable. “Aw, yeah, she’s a beaut, ain’t she? But I ain’t interested in leasing. Thanks for the inquiry.”

The pen and papers were shoved right into his hands.

“You will sign,” the man said, sneering.

“No,” Ponyboy said. He tried to hand the documents back. “I said I wouldn’t. I appreciate your interest and all, but I ain’t willin’ to budge on this. Sorry, boys.”

He turned to leave, but one of them grabbed his arm. His heart lodged in his throat. Pony was pretty strong for sixteen years old, but not against five men.

The leader of the bunch stepped back, waving his hand. “Fine. He wants to play the hard way. Sign, or we’ll beat you to death.”

Ponyboy set his jaw and didn’t answer.

The leader waved his hand. “Have at it, boys.”

The first punch was delivered right to Pony’s face. He cried out, trying to bring his arms up to shield himself. A kick landed in his stomach, doubling him over. He gasped. He landed a few hits, but far more fell to him, mostly to his face and head. He tasted blood in his teeth. His entire body ached. He shouted for his brothers, but even though he was near the homestead, he had no idea if he’d been able to holler loud enough. Plus, Sodapop was out with the lumber, probably not even home yet.

And then—

The cold barrel of a pistol was pressed to his forehead. Pony barely suppressed a sob.

“You will sign,” the ringleader repeated, staring at Pony with cruel, cold eyes.

Ponyboy took a few heaving breaths, praying a silent prayer. He didn’t want to die, but he certainly didn’t want these boys to win, either.

“Hey!”

All six of their heads turned in the direction of the shout, and Ponyboy nearly slumped on the ground with relief.

His older brother Sodapop was running their way, aiming a hunting rifle.

The guy holding Pony cursed and let go of him, stumbling back. The rest followed suit, piling into the car and starting the engine as fast as they could. As the car began to drive, Soda fired one shot, then another and another. A few hit the car. He chased the vehicle until it was out of sight and he was out of ammunition. Then, he dropped the gun, seemingly remembering why he had it in the first place, and went racing back to Pony.

“Kid!” he shouted, dropping to his knees and taking Pony’s face in his hands, turning it every which way to check the damage. He wasn’t rough about it, but Pony still winced, feeling sharp aches and pains as he moved. “They really got you good, didn’t they?”

“Wanted me to sign a lease,” Pony rasped, spitting blood. “Wouldn’t.”

“Good for you. They didn’t mess you up too bad, did they?”

Nothing felt irreparable. But he was still shaking something awful. He shook his head, trying to fight back the tears that pricked his eyes.

Soda’s gaze softened. He always noticed the little things. He wiped some blood from Pony’s face with his thumb. “Aw, it’s okay. I’ll get you home, fix you right up, good as new. Whatdya say?”

Pony nodded.

He stifled a groan when Sodapop hefted him up, but he swallowed back the pain, stumbling back to the homestead with Soda supporting half of his weight.

“What did you do in the cave today?” Soda asked, clearly trying to get Pony’s mind off of what had just happened. But Pony was ready to oblige.

“Tried exploring one of the squeezes, but didn’t get very far.”

“Too bad. Do you think there are more passages to finish digging in there for more caves?”

“Oh, certainly. And I’m sure there’s a way to connect a passageway to Mammoth Cave. And then I’m striking it big, I’ll tell ya that. But I won’t spend too much more time on it now. I’d like to start looking somewhere else for an even bigger cave. Maybe there’s something on the other side of the ridge.”

“You think?”

“I can just feel it, Soda.”

Soda heaved a sigh. “I sure hope so.”

They’d been down on their luck recently. Crystal Cave had been doing as well as it could have, but the local cave competition was getting too bad. People on the main road were telling tourists that Crystal Cave was closed when it really wasn’t, so Sodapop had to stay on the road to tell people they were being misled. Worse, just the other month, they had returned from a short outing to Louisville to find that someone had burned the rooming house they had for visitors to the ground. They still didn’t know the culprit, and they probably never would.

“Hey!” Darry rushed out to meet them, looking at the rifle in Soda’s hands. “Who’s shootin’ out here?” Then, he looked at Pony. His eyes widened. “Pony! Glory, what did you two do? You all right?”

“Some businessy dingbats thought they could rough up our Pony to sign a lease for the cave.”

“And I wasn’t gonna,” Pony said definitively, wincing through his split lip.

“You ran in and out of the house like the devil was after ya,” Darry said to Soda.

“Sure had to. Even all three of us might not have been a match for five people. I knew a few shots would do the trick. Darry, they had a gun to his head!”

“What?” Darry looked to Pony in a panic. His head whipped back toward Soda. “You should’ve called for me—I was right there!”

Soda shrugged. “Sorry. Was hardly thinkin’ straight. Besides, I knew the gun would work, and it did. Didn’t even think to yell for help, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Darry dragged a hand over his face. “You boys are gonna be the death of me. Neither of you uses his head. You really all right, Pone?”

“Yeah.” Pony tried to still his shaking. “Just a little spooked.”

“I’ll bet. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

They got to the house, and Soda sat Pony right down at the kitchen table. “Wait there. I’ll be right back with some stuff to clean your cuts.”

Darry crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, staring at Pony strangely.

“What?” Pony asked.

Darry shook his head. “Nothin’. Just… Guess that spooked me a little, too, is all.”

Pony blinked, surprised. Darry, scared?

“I don’t think that’s gonna be our last call either. The diversions, the arson, and now holdin’ you at gunpoint? Look, I’m glad for this cavin’ business and all, and I know how much you love it, but nothin’ is worth your life, kid. Nothin’.”

“Those folks were extreme, Dar,” Pony said. “I don’t think it’ll happen again. Especially if Soda and I go out for an arrest warrant. It ain’t scarin’ me off. They can’t stop me that easily, you know.”

Darry sighed. “That’s what I thought. Just… be careful, all right?”

“Careful?” Pony beamed. “Who needs careful when you’re lucky?”

Darry chuckled and shook his head, ruffling Pony’s hair. “Sure, kid.”

When Soda came back with some supplies to clean Pony’s cut, Pony mentioned, “I caught a bit of information from what I saw on the lease. I think they’re from Munfordville.”

“Well, then,” Darry said. “You two had better walk to Munfordville tomorrow to swear out a warrant for their arrest.”

“But, Darry!” Soda cried. “That’s twelve miles away. Going there and back will take most of the day.”

“Yes. But it needs to be done. We can’t let violence drive out our business. I’ll take care of work tomorrow so you can go.”

“Darry’s right,” Pony said. “I’ll be damned if I let no-goods like that ruin our cave business.”

“Language,” Darry warned.

Pony shot him a guilty, puppy-dog look that made Darry roll his eyes.

Nothing came of the report Pony and Soda made of the incident. The men were never brought to court. But from then on, they were prepared for future unsavory visits.

Pony found cave business a lot rougher than cave exploring, but that was where the money came from, so he cracked down. He was good with deals and people both. He was the best guide around, and he knew it. He knew the cave systems like the back of his hand, it filled him up with enthusiasm, and he treated every visitor like a close friend.

There was enough of Crystal Cave to satisfy the tourists, but Ponyboy knew there had to be an extensive cave system on the lower levels, one with a big river, due to the nearby spring. But he just hadn’t found an entrance yet. Day after day, he explored mazes of tight crawlways and searched the hillsides for entrances, certain he would find it soon. He didn’t need to find it to open it to the public. It was pure curiosity at that point—the true reason why he did so much caving. Ponyboy loved the thrill of seeing things no man had seen before, of viewing peaceful majesty hundreds of feet under the ground. It filled him up like nothing else in life did. God made a deep longing inside of him that could only be satisfied by exploration like this. It was deep in a cave where he felt closest to God and glory.

Eventually, he did find the vast cavern system, full of twists and turns and caves and tight squeezes and adventure. Many days, he took Soda down with him to explore. Pony always led, spurred by the thrill of it. And Soda always had complete trust in Pony’s skill. At one point, they stayed down in the system for thirty hours, finding great wonders like a waterfall.

But most times, it was just Pony down in the winding cave systems, sometimes for two or three days on end. He’d take naps in dry passages, always pushing forward, forward, forward, as long as he had light to spare.

As much faith as his brothers had in him, he knew it scared them something awful sometimes.

“What if something ever happened to you?” Darry asked him one day. “How would we know you needed help? How would anyone get to you?”

“I’m always safe,” Pony defended himself. “If I know I can’t make a squeeze, I don’t push it. I never go further than I have enough light for.”

“But you can’t account for everything,” Darry countered. “What about that time you knocked over and broke your lantern in Crystal Cave? You waited in the dark for hours for Soda to come find you. The only reason he even knew you were in there was because one of the farm cats was hanging near the entrance for you.”

“Darry, please.” Panic rose in Pony’s chest. If he wasn’t allowed to do this anymore, he felt he’d just about die.

“We’ll set a rule, then,” Soda said. “You always tell us your plans for the day. Which cave system you’re exploring, where you think you plan to go. And how long you plan to be, if you know that. And if it’s going to be a long time, like, longer than a day, you set a general time to be back by. Something you can estimate, even underground.” He looked to Darry for approval.

Darry thought for a moment. “That’s… not a bad idea. Yes. That would make me feel better.”

He knew his brothers only let him do this to this extent because they had deep trust in his skill. He had been doing this for ten years after all, and he was better than cavers who had been doing this for decades and decades.

Pony explored his first cave at six years old, searching for artifacts. He’d been hooked since.

They all knew there was risk, but the adventure wouldn’t be so exciting if there wasn’t any. The neighbors thought him odd, but Pony didn’t care what they thought. All he knew was the exhilaration he felt whenever he was underground.

His neighbor Curly joined him for some of the more difficult explorations. On the easier ones, his brothers’ buddies, Two-Bit and Steve, liked to join as well.

One day, Pony found a mile-long passage in a very low level, covered in soft sand. He found a gypsum flower garden petrified across the ceiling, even more spectacular than the one he showed tourists on the upper level. He found bare footprints, absolutely baffled at how the Indians of ancient times had come down so far with only reed torches. There must have been other entrances somewhere that he had yet to find. It was discoveries like this that made him love caving.

Mishaps didn’t scare him, though they happened from time to time.

He took Curly with him into Crystal Cave one day. When they reached a breakdown, Curly was scared to go on, but Pony knew he could push further. So, leaving his friend behind, he went ahead.

It wasn’t long before he found himself caught between some rocks in an awkward wedge, one he knew he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of. He shouted. “Come and get me out! I’m hung!”

Any mere friend might not have come for him, but Curly was loyal to a fault. He crawled through the dangerous breakthrough, pulling Pony back, both of them emerging unhurt.

But as time went by, Pony’s brothers and friends grew more and more wary. Cave risks didn’t disappear just because you had skill.

The Curtis brothers had lost their parents several years before. Their mother to tuberculosis. Their father shortly after to pneumonia. Darry had been taking care of Pony and Soda since. The brothers were scared to death of losing someone else.

But despite his brothers’ warnings, Pony always countered that he knew the risks better than anyone else. There were still so many unexplored passages underground, and he wasn’t going to let his friends’ and family’s fear scare him off from exploring them.

Soon, that wasn’t enough anymore. He started to get the tug deep in his gut that he wanted to find another commercial cave. Something else to show off. Something even greater than Crystal Cave. Something to bring in money for his family, who had been struggling for money all their lives. The logging Soda and Darry did was never quite enough. Pony was about to find something big, and he knew exactly where it was going to be.

Only one hundred yards from the highway, he found a place that would be perfect for a commercial venue. On the other side of the ridge, he found a hole at the base of the bluff. It led to a narrow passage that twisted downward, filled with loose rock and debris. It was going to take a lot of work to clear, but Ponyboy was used to hard work. At the end of the tourist season that year, 1924, he made plans to explore it.

He just knew a great cavern lay somewhere below, and he was going to be the one to find it.

Chapter Text

“Can I stay with the Mathewses for a while while I explore the new cave?” Ponyboy asked hopefully. In mid-December, he struck a deal with them, the Randles, and the Holdens, since it seemed the cave system would run under all three of their properties. If he found anything, he’d get half the income, and the three families would split the rest.

“Have you asked them first?”

Ponyboy nodded. “They said they’d be happy to have me.”

Darry exchanged a look with Soda. “Well, it’s all right with me,” he decided. “So long as you visit every once in a while.”

“Of course!”

Soda pouted. “You have to come back for Christmas. It’s only two weeks away.”

Pony smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be back for Christmas, don’t you worry.”

Ponyboy worked in the cave by himself. Each morning, he’d enter the hole, drop through the crevice, make his way through the tunnel, and crawl and slide down the corkscrew-like passage until he’d gotten to the place he’d stopped the day before, starting the digging process again. All day, he’d lie in the mud and gravel, picking at the loose rock, moving forward inches at a time, always in a cramped position. He always worked tirelessly, his mind only on his job.

Only once had his work ever scared him.

Ponyboy often had nightmares, mostly about his parents. Only once had it been about a cave. He had dreamt that he was trapped and could not escape. He woke up screaming, in a cold sweat. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. His brothers had comforted him, but it was clear it had scared him something awful. Especially Darry. Because Pony never worried about caving. If he was, something was surely wrong.

Darry had said as much that night. “This doesn’t feel right. Pony, I worry something’s going to happen to you.”

But Pony had brushed off that worry, like he had all the others. He was careful. He was lucky. And aside from that one incident, he wasn’t scared. He was excited.

Weeks passed down in what Pony had dubbed Sand Cave, but he had not broken through. He encountered narrow squeezes that halted his progress considerably. But Pony was used to months of work like this through his time in Crystal Cave. He was not discouraged. He kept making progress. He pushed on, working six days a week, returning home on Sunday to his brothers. Six weeks passed in that grueling work.

On January 25, 1925, Pony spent the day at home.

“I’m so close!” he gushed to Darry and Sodapop. “I’ve worked for so long, I’m sure I’ll break through next week.”

The next day, on the five-mile walk to the Mathews house, Soda accompanied him, because he was heading toward Louisville with Steve to check out a new car they were hankering to buy. But as they walked, Ponyboy thought how great it would be if Soda came down with him that day. A little extra help would open that passage for sure.

“Soda? I’m going to open a big cave any day now. Won’t you stay and help me?”

Sodapop shook his head apologetically. “The car is more important right now, Pony. The guy is available today for us to come by. Maybe I can help you later this week. Besides,” he wrinkled his nose in a joking manner, “no offense, but Louisville sounds a biiiiiiit more inviting than a dark, grimy cave.”

Pony chuckled and gently elbowed him, trying to push down his disappointment. Well, it didn't matter. He’d easily be able to finish the job himself.

Once they got to the cave opening, Soda held up his hand. “Hold on.” He tugged off the heavy four-buckle boots he’d been wearing to walk through the snow. Pony was just wearing low-cut rubber overshoes. “These will be of more use to you. Wanna trade?”

Pony nodded, and they switched shoes.

Sodapop hugged him quickly. “You’re gonna do so well. Gonna burst right into that big cave. I just know it. I’m so proud of you.”

Ponyboy hugged him back hard. “Come back with a swell car, okay? I wanna see it, too.”

“Sure thing, Ponybuddy.” Soda pressed a kiss to Pony’s head, and Pony squirmed out of his hold, pretending to be annoyed. “Love you. I’ll be back when the trip’s over, hopefully with a car in tow! I’ll show ya, take ya for a joyride. But Steve and I might be there most of the week, depending on weather and how other things go.”

“Can I drive the car?”

Soda laughed so loud, Pony was quite offended. “Hell, no! Even after Darry’s driving lesson, you ran the old car into the side of a barn!”

Pony rolled his eyes, even though he knew it was true. He ducked his head, his ears burning. “Whatever. Have fun.”

Pony gathered his equipment he’d left at the Mathewses’ house and kept on digging. It was strenuous work, but the knowledge that he was so close spurred him on. There was still a great deal of debris to clear out of the narrow squeeze.

About the middle of the week, he spent thirty hours in the hole without coming out. About twenty-four hours in, he heard a shout far behind him.

“Ponyboy!” Two-Bit called. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah!” Pony called back. Two-Bit knew he could work this long sometimes, but it was probably scaring him because he knew how dangerous working in this cave in particular could be. “Everything’s fine! Just want to finish the job before coming back.”

“All right,” Two said uncertainly. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Always am!”

After Two-Bit left, Pony returned to his task. At the farthest end of the passage, there was a small vertical chimney, about ten feet from top to bottom, where Pony had been working. He finally managed to enlarge the crevice sufficiently to squeeze through, and upon reaching the bottom, he found a cubbyhole about the size of a salt barrel. Squatting in that small space, he saw there was another crevice below him. It was not vertical, but it sloped downward at a steep angle, dropping off into a large cavern. The space was much too small for him to get through, and there were many loose rocks overhead.

But this was it. The last obstacle between him and the cave he’d been seeking. But it would require the utmost caution to get past this point. Before returning to the surface for a badly needed rest, he scoped out the situation to decide what he’d need to accomplish the following day.

Friday morning, January 30th, Pony sat at the breakfast table with the Mathews family.

“This is the last day,” Pony told them, shoveling pieces of johnnycakes into his mouth and swigging coffee. “Before nightfall, I’ll have that cave open. I couldn’t be more excited. I’m so close. The opening is there. I just need to make it large enough to squeeze through, and be careful about that hanging rock, but it’s nothing I can’t work around, so long as I take my time.”

Two-Bit peered at him with concern. “That sounds dangerous, Pony. Are you sure about this?”

Pony nodded. “Don’t worry. I cleared most of the loose rocks yesterday. This trip will be merely a matter of squeezing through the final crevice into the big cave.”

“I don’t like this,” Two went on. “It’s a lot of risks you’re taking. Think of Darry—would he want you doing this?”

“Finding a big cave? Oh, yeah. This is gonna make us rich, Two, you can’t even imagine.”

“A cave is not worth your life, kiddo.”

Pony shook his head. “You don’t get it. I’m so close. I can’t have worked this hard for nothing. It’ll be all right, you’ll see. I know the risks. I know what I’m doing.”

“You have to be careful. You have to be. I don’t want to come out on the other end of this carrying your coffin. Aren’t you exhausted? Are you sure you’re fit to do this?”

Pony didn’t like the way Two-Bit was talking. It was strange to see him this serious, no jokes glittering behind his eyes.

“Sure, I’m sure! Trust me, I could not feel more energized about this right now.” All he could think about was that big cave below. He was practically vibrating with happiness about his accomplishment. He couldn’t wait to see it. He wasn’t worried at all.

He went into the cave at about 7 o’clock that morning. He crawled and slid through the rock-strewn passage, working his way deep into the ground. Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the small hole that led down to the cubbyhole and the final crevice. He started into the hole above the cubbyhole feet first, forcing his way down until he was in that barrel-like space. That chimney was no bigger around than his own body, rocks digging into his skin as he slid down. Once he reached the cubbyhole, then, the real work began.

He squatted, surveying the situation. He fed his rope through the crevice, moving a few rocks out of the way. He tugged on the rope for one last check before starting through the crevice. Again traveling feet first, he worked his way through.

He had to shove with all his might to get through. At the same time, he had to do so with utmost care lest he dislodge some of the loose rocks. The sound of gravel bouncing on the rocks below him gave notice of the drop he was approaching.

The occasional crash of a larger rock, dislodged by his feet, resounded through the cavern. Like the opening above the cubbyhole, this one, too, was no larger than his own body. He couldn’t see into the cavern below him, since his body was in the way. The rocks pulled at his clothing, making it difficult to force himself downward. At the same time, he had to hold the rope, ready for the moment he emerged from the crevice to make his descent into the cavern.

There were some rather large rocks overhead. Particularly the one he had been worried about the day before. There was one several ton limestone boulder above him, but that one was solidly in place, so he wasn’t worried. The one giving him pause was a smaller boulder, easily weighing less than a hundred pounds. But it looked very loose. And it hung in a very narrow part of the opening which he had to pass. He took the greatest care not to knock it loose. He proceeded cautiously until, at last, his body was free of the binding crevice.

Grasping the rope in his hands, he quickly lowered himself into the cavern. His excitement grew as he found himself in a large space. Looking up from the slope he had just come down, he found it incredible that he had possibly wedged himself through such a small crack in the ceiling. Judging from the amount of rope he had let out, he figured that he had dropped down about eighty feet.

He lifted his lamp, eager to explore the space he had worked so hard to find. He saw no formations. The walls were barren, and they looked smoked. But he wasn’t sure of this. If they were, perhaps it had been used by Indians, or maybe it was connected to Mammoth Cave, where the tour guides used torches to guide people through. But the more he looked, he believed that was not the place. If this place had ever been seen by human eyes, it had not been for hundreds, or even thousands, of years.

What if he really was the first?

The silence felt reverent as he stood in awe of God’s creation. As he stood there, perhaps the first man to ever lay eyes on it. Oh, what a gift, what a gift!

“Welcome to Ponyboy Curtis’s Sand Cave!” He let it echo, then he frowned. “Naw…” A big grin formed. “Welcome to Ponyboy Curtis’s Great Sand Cave!” The sound echoed around him, and he couldn’t help but beam, spinning and dancing, arms spread wide.

As he looked around, the weeks and weeks of hard labor drifted from his memory. It was the indescribable thrill of finding a virgin cave after the obstacles that had hidden it for ages. This was the great reward of his hard labor. Discovering the beauty of a great cave made it all worth it, every time, and this felt like the greatest discovery of his life yet.

Oh, he could see it now. A family attraction. Postcards. Enough money to finally keep his family afloat. His name in the papers. Everyone coming far and wide from across the country to see his cave.

Ponyboy threw his head back and hollered, exhilaration rushing through him as it never had before. This was what he had been made to do. His calling. God had built him nice and small, wriggly as a worm, loose as a cat. And he was about to be famous.

Oh, Soda was going to just burst when he heard about this.

Pony let out a yodel, hearing it resound around him. Then another. Another, another. Until it sounded like a chorale of voices, each one building off of the other.

As he examined the cave, his lamp flickered. Ponyboy looked at his lamp, finding it quite low on kerosene. Well. That meant it was time to leave. He could come back when he had more light. Turning toward the entrance, he bubbled with excitement as he thought of telling the Mathewses what he found. Of bursting into his own home and telling Darry the news, maybe Soda, too, if he and Steve were back from their trip.

He reached the slope and climbed up to the crack in the ceiling. There were so many handholds and footholds, he didn’t even need the rope.

Arriving at the hole, then came the difficult matter of getting himself through again.

It was a slow process, and he was anxious to get out and tell everyone about his discovery. Holding the lantern in front of him, he slowly drew himself upward so he could lie on the floor of the crevice. In the narrow crevice, it was impossible for him to carry his lantern. He pushed it in front of him as far as possible, set it down, then followed behind. The cubbyhole was then almost within reach. Before advancing the last few feet, however, he had to push the lantern through. He managed to shove it into the open space, but the lantern fell on its side, plunging everything into darkness.

Pony cursed half-heartedly. But he wasn’t too worried. By the time he got into the cubbyhole, he could light the lantern again. If not, he would have to feel his way out, but he knew the space very well from working in it for a month and a half. His main concern at the moment was getting himself out of the crevice in which he was wedged.

The shape of it was such that he had to place his arms at his sides to move forward. Bracing his feet against the rocks, he pushed, twisting and turning, trying to find the best position for his body to move forward. His face was pressed hard against the rocks as he struggled to advance.

Straining with all his might, he kicked with his right foot and struck a rock that hung loose over his legs.

The same rock that had given him concern on the way in.

It had been hanging there, ready to fall at the slightest disturbance. Without warning, it broke loose and fell.

Pony’s left leg was at the bottom of a V-shaped crevice, and the rock, pointed end downward, lodged in the crevice just above his ankle. He wasn’t hurt, but his foot was completely caught by the rock, and he found himself unable to move.

The rock itself wasn’t very large. It easily weighed under fifty pounds. But it was wedged tight. His foot wouldn’t slide past it.

“Yer all right, Pony. Now, use yer head…”

His right leg was still free, so he used it to try and kick himself loose. But it seemed the more he kicked, the more wedged the rock became. At the same time, the kicking dislodged more rocks from above, trapping his right foot, too. Irritated, he tried to draw his left foot past the wedged rock, but the heavy boots Sodapop had given him made it impossible to do so.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.”

He wasn’t able to move backward to shove the rock into the room below, since it was wedged too tightly. His arms were pinned at his side, so he couldn’t reach out in front of him to draw himself upward. His struggles were futile. Each movement seemed to wedge him tighter.

“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, please, help me. Help, help, oh, God, please, someone, someone, help!” He screamed, the sound piercing and full of terror. He couldn’t move his arms. He couldn’t turn.

But screaming wouldn’t help. Getting scared wouldn’t help.

Ponyboy had never experienced claustrophobia before. He couldn’t, not with a job like his. But he was starting to understand the concept behind the fear. The walls felt like they were closing in. He felt like he could hardly breathe. It seemed like the ceiling was about to collapse and bury him alive any moment.

Taking deep breaths, he assessed the situation. He was going to need help. But it was only about 10 o’ clock, by his estimate. He wouldn’t be missed until the night. Even then, Two-Bit knew that he worked long hours sometimes, like his 30-hour stint the day before, so he wasn’t likely to come after Pony for a long while.

It was cold and wet. The jagged rocks made it impossible for him to lie in a comfortable position. It was bad enough to even lie there for a few minutes, mostly face up, almost on his side, though.

If he could only get his damn boot off! There would be a chance to draw his foot past the rock. He dreaded being stuck there for hours longer. If he could just pull his foot out of the boot, it would get all scraped up and bloody, but that was better than lying in the darkness for hours, maybe even days, waiting for help. But he couldn’t reach his boots. And every movement sent more gravel down, packing tightly in the small space around his body.

His hands were torn from clawing at the rocks. His muscles ached from the effort and the cramped position. The dead silence was only broken by the sound of gravel occasionally raining into the cavern below.

Realizing that all movement was useless, Pony realized there was nothing he could do but wait and pray. He was going to have to be patient, with no way to tell how much or how little time was passing. Every minute felt like an hour. He was cold and aching and scared.

“Dear God,” he whispered, “please send help soon.”

Chapter Text

Two-Bit didn’t sleep at all that night.

Pony hadn’t come home for dinner, but that wasn’t unusual. But he was worried, given how long Pony had worked the day before. The storm outside wasn’t helping. He tossed and turned as the thunder and lightning kept him up.

Saturday morning, he checked to see if Pony had come in during the night, but his bed was untouched. Before eating breakfast, he hurried over to the neighbors’ house.

He’d check with the Holdens first. He doubted Pony would be by there unless he had to be, certain Darry had given the boy strict instructions not to stay with them unless necessary.

Paul and Darry had once been pretty close. But after a messy scuffle and falling out after the Curtis parents died and Darry began caretaking for his brothers, whenever the two met nowadays, the air seemed to prickle like a lightning strike in a storm.

Two-Bit usually kept his distance, too. He had never liked Holden all that much, sure that he was using Darry, usually a selfish thought on his mind. But they still were neighbors, so there had to be some civility between them. And he knew that no matter what had happened between Paul and Darry, Paul wasn’t heartless. He still cared for the well-being of Ponyboy. It was nigh impossible not to. When that kid got to talking about caving, he held everyone rapt as they latched onto his sunny, innocent demeanor.

Two-Bit knocked on the door, shaking in the cold.

Paul opened the door, confusion crossing his face. “Can I help you?”

“Has Ponyboy been by?”

“No,” Paul said. “Thought he was staying with you.”

“He was. But I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. I’m worried.”

Paul shrugged. “It isn’t unusual, though, is it?”

“No… I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling.” Two sighed. “I’ll check with the Randles. I might be back.”

“All right. Hope you find him.”

Steve still wasn’t back from his Louisville trip with Soda, so all Two-Bit met at the door was a disgruntled Mr. Randle saying he hadn’t seen Ponyboy since they’d struck the property deal back in mid-December.

Eating breakfast that morning, Two-Bit grew more and more uneasy. He knew he wouldn’t get far down that hole, but he had to try. At least try to get within shouting distance of the kid.

He found Ponyboy’s coat and hat at the entrance of the cave. So, he was still inside.

Two-Bit took a deep breath, steeling himself before entering. He hadn’t gone into many caves, despite living in Cave City. He just didn’t have the lithe build that people like Sodapop, Ponyboy, or Curly did. But who else was going to go in and check on his friend?

He started crawling in. It was easy going at first, until he came to the first squeeze. He didn’t know how he’d be able to fit himself through, but he was sure going to try. “Ponyboy? Ponyboy!” No response.

It took some shoving and maneuvering, but at last, he emerged on the other side of the squeeze, shaking and breathing hard. He didn’t like this at all.

He moved ahead, eventually coming to an even tighter squeeze he knew he had no chance of fitting into.

“Poooooonybooooooy!” he shouted as loud as he could, hearing the sound echo. He went quiet and listened. He almost cried out in relief when he heard a response.

“Here! —me! Help—stuck!”

The voice was far off still, but he could make out a few words here and there. Still, his stomach sank at what he heard.

“I hear ya, buddy! You okay down there? Are you hurt?”

“No! —foot—trapped—a rock—can you—fell—my brothers—get help—Sodapop—small boys—get down here!”

“I only caught like half of that, kiddo!” Two-Bit shouted back. “But we’ll get you some help, little guy, don’t ya worry! Someone will be back soon!”

As Two-Bit scrambled out, he tried to process the little he’d heard. He felt sick wondering how long Ponyboy had been trapped for. Maybe only an hour. Maybe over a day. Maybe he had been down there all night, unable to sleep, cold, wet, scared, and waiting for help.

He had to get him help quick.

He rushed back to the Holden house, breathless, asking if he could borrow one of their mules to get to Crystal Cave. Paul obliged and headed for the telegraph office to send a telegram to Sodapop, urging him to get home quickly.

Two-Bit didn’t find Darry inside the Curtis home, so he ran down to the river, finding him with several other men, tying logs together.

“Darry!”

Darry looked up from his bundle. “Huh? Two-Bit?”

“Ya gotta come right now, man! It’s Ponyboy!”

Darry was on his feet and running in an instant. He grabbed Two-Bit by the shoulders, fire in his eyes. “What happened? Where is he?”

“Couldn’t hear him well from where I was, but he’s stuck down in the cave. I think he was sayin’ his foot was trapped?”

Darry’s eyes sparked with panic. “Lord, no. Is he hurt?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You said you couldn’t hear him well. Could you not find him?”

“No—couldn’t get to him. Those squeezes are tiny, man. I don’t know how I even made it through the first one. Panic, probably. I don’t know if I could do it again. Even so, there must be a couple more to get to wherever he’s at. Knowin’ Pony and the places he squeezes himself into, it’s gonna take Soda to get him out. I dunno if anyone else is lithe enough and brave enough to get down there. Are Soda and Steve back?”

“No. I’ll send a telegram,” Darry said.

“No. Come back with me. I had Paul send one just in case.”

Darry’s mouth tightened, but he only gave a curt nod. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll round up some of the local boys. Try to organize a rescue party. You should try that, too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They found several smaller teen agers who lived right in Cave City, some with a bit of caving experience, but even then, as Two-Bit examined them, they didn’t quite have the build or talent of Sodapop or Ponyboy when it came to excelling at caving. But they would have to do.

Those few young men surged ahead into the cave with their lanterns, and Darry tried to follow them through the first squeeze.

“Wait,” Two-Bit warned him, a hand on his arm. “You won’t make it through. I hardly did. Let’s wait here for news.”

“You may be smaller than me, but not by much; you’re still kinda stocky,” Darry said helplessly. “I can get through. I have to talk to him. He must be scared.” But no matter how much he wriggled and tried to force himself forward, his feet scraping against the rocks, his shoulders would not fit through. He cussed. “Come on! Pony!”

Two-Bit put a hand on his back. “It’s okay. The boys know what they’re doing. They can dig further to reach him.”

“It’s not okay!” Darry shouted. “I can’t even talk to him!” He was breathing hard, his voice on the verge of breaking. Two-Bit’s heart twisted inside his chest.

“We’re gonna get him out,” Two-Bit promised, squeezing Darry’s shoulder. “He ain’t hurt. I’ll bet he ain’t too scared, neither. Look, Soda will be back soon. He’ll be able to pull him free.”

Darry nodded, though there was still anger, uncertainty, and fear behind his eyes. “Okay. Okay. Yes. That’s right. He’s lucky, just like he always says, right?”

Two-Bit smiled genuinely, even though there was still a sinking feeling in his gut. “Exactly.”

They waited for a couple of painstaking hours before one of the boys came crawling back. Darry gripped the poor thing so hard, it was probably going to leave a mark. “Did you find him?”

“Yeah, we eventually found him, all right,” the boy said. Two-Bit recognized him as one of the “trailers” from Mammoth Cave, a guide who would stay at the back of the pack to make sure no tourists straggled. “We can talk to him real good. But there’s a shaft separating us from him. It’s probably only about ten feet top to bottom, and we’ve started digging. But we expect it’s fallen in some. That, or it was so narrow to begin with. None of us will be able to fit down to get to him.”

“But he’s unhurt?” Darry’s voice broke.

“Yeah, he seems fine. Just yappin’ our ears off while we work.” The boy gave a little smile. “I say you don’t have to worry none. He seems in great spirits for someone who got his foot wedged like that.”

Two nudged Darry, grinning. “See? What’d we say? Lucky. How ‘bout you and I wait up above, ‘stead of in this dank hole?”

Reluctantly, Darry agreed.

Already, a crowd of spectators was forming. Someone had started a campfire, icy water running over the bluff.

“Sighseers,” Darry whispered, looking sick to his stomach. Anger blazed in his eyes. “They think this is some sort of spectacle?”

Two-Bit cursed, drawing Darry away from the crowd. He spotted Tim Shepherd sitting away from the crowds, though he glanced over with concerned interest.

“Heard your brother got himself into a sticky spot,” Tim remarked. “What’s happenin’ over there?”

“There are some boys down there to help get him out now,” Darry said. “Is Curly around? He’d be a big help.”

Tim shook his head. “He’s up with our aunt for the day. But I’m sure he’ll be right down to help, soon as he’s back and he hears the news. Pony okay?”

“Seems okay as he can be,” Darry said in a strained voice. “He ain’t hurt, if that’s what you’re wonderin’. But he’s usually able to get himself out of scrapes like this.”

Two-Bit waved his hand. “And he will again! That kid’s a hardy one. And any of us has been through worse at some point. A little ol’ rock can’t take down Ponyboy Curtis, no siree.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tim said. “Back, say… ten years ago, maybe? Back when I was little enough to go wormin’ around caves like that, I heard an awesome sound when I was down there. Thought for sure I’s dead. Boulders, sand, mud, all’a that came rainin’ down. I cursed and screamed and thought I’d never get out. Near about tore my arm off, but I got outta there eventually, all in one piece. It weren’t no picnic, but by damn, it was done ‘tween a rock and a hard place, literally. I’ve no doubt baby Curtis turns out on the other side o’ this right as rain.”

“Oh, you think that’s something?” Two-Bit spread his arms wide, setting up the story. “Was on my fishin’ boat once, fell asleep and floated right down the river.”

Tim snickered. “Like a baby in a cradle.”

“Shh! I ain’t got to the good part yet! Anyway, I woke up in the rapids! Took all my might to keep from flippin’ as that little boat turned ‘round and ‘round and ‘round. I was headed right for a waterfall, one hundred fifty-five-foot drop!”

Darry rolled his eyes. “Exaggeratin’.”

Two-Bit crossed his heart. “Nuh-uh! I swear it. But I managed, had a good landin’, because I’m right here, alive, am I not?”

Darry shrugged, smirking. “Coulda been ‘Ghost-Bit’ all this time, for all we know.”

Two-Bit bopped him on the head. “Don’t be stupid!”

“How ‘bout you, Darry?” Tim asked. “Any near-death experiences to share?”

“Well, last winter,” Darry said, “me and the men and Ponyboy and Soda were logging. Heading down the river. Balancing on the raft to keep them movin’ along. My raft struck a rock and threw me off. I plunged into that icy water, certain I was about to drown and be swept away. Then Pony was hauling me back up, wet and gasping on the floating logs. Terrifying, let me tell you.”

Two-Bit snapped his fingers. “I remember! Ponyboy was braggin’ about savin’ your life for weeks. See, Dar? We've been in tough spots plenty o’ times, and so has Pony. I trust he comes out of it unharmed again.”

“Maybe so,” Darry said. “But even then, he'd better hope to high heaven I ever let him set foot in a cave again, because I sure as heck think I won’t be.”

Two-Bit mimicked raising a glass. “And I’d drink to that. No more caves!”

“No more caves,” Darry agreed softly. “Lord, please let Soda get here soon…”

Chapter Text

After leaving Ponyboy at the cave, Soda met Steve and headed to Horse Cave, where they’d catch the train to Louisville. However, they were late for the train, requiring them to stay with the Shepards’ aunt for the night. Curly was around, too, so they spent some time talking about the recent business at Crystal Cave and the ended tourist season.

They took the train to Louisville the next day, stayed with another friend that night, then bought the used car they’d been eyeing on Wednesday. They decided not to leave for home right away, staying an extra few days.

On Friday night, Sodapop hardly slept. He tossed and turned, confused. He usually had no trouble getting to sleep. But that night, it was not to be.

By Saturday morning, Soda decided to follow the feeling in his gut. “Steve, we’ve got to get home this morning.”

“Huh? Why? It snowed. The roads are going to be awful. Let’s stay a little longer.”

Soda knew it was going to be dangerous, but that restless feeling wouldn’t go away. “We’re going anyway. Please, Steve. Something doesn’t feel right. I’d feel better if we were home.”

“I’d feel better if we didn’t die.”

“Steve!”

“Fine, fine, we’re going!”

It was over one hundred miles to home, and the roads were awfully snowy. Soda had to drive at a snail’s pace. It took them the better part of the day to reach Cave City. It was the last day of January, and night fell early. It was just beginning to get dark as they reached the city limits.

They had to stop at a filling station in Cave City before reaching home. As the car was being filled, Soda couldn’t believe that he and Steve were driving back in their brand-new used car. Man, was she a beaut! Ponyboy was going to just love it. But Soda’s happy thoughts were rudely interrupted by a little kid shouting at his face through the window.

“Have you got your brother out of the cave yet?”

The words came out like an explosion. Soda blinked, stunned. “What?”

“Ponyboy! They say he’s trapped in a cave.”

“Pony?” Soda’s voice pitched. “What happened? Is he alive?”

The kid shrugged. “Last I heard, yeah.”

Soda shouted at the gas jockey that they needed to go, and within a minute, Soda was speeding far too dangerously through the snow.

Fears poured out of Soda’s mouth. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Steve, what if—what if he’s not even alive by the time I get there? What if I find him crushed beneath tons of rock? Or—Or maybe he’s just sealed off by a passage block? If only I’d stayed—Oh, Steve, he asked me to stay and help him, and I said a stupid car was more important than him!” Terrified tears pricked his eyes.

“Hold on,” Steve said. “Hold on. I know you. You sure as hell didn’t say that. What did you tell him, Soda? Word for word.”

Soda sniffled. “He asked if I would stay to open the passage. I said no. That the car was more important right then. I thought he’d be fine. I—I mean, we had arranged a time with the seller and everything. And I knew Pony could do it on his own.” A few tears slipped. “This is all my fault. This would have never happened if I’d only—”

“Woah. No. No. Shut up, it is not your fault. You didn’t know this was going to happen. And whatever did happen, you probably could not have prevented it. This is not your fault.”

Soda didn’t answer. He only gripped the wheel harder and kept driving.

Upon arriving at the Mathewses’ place, Soda parked the car on the side of the road, and he and Steve ran across the field. It wasn’t hard to find the entrance of the cave, given that a crowd of people had already begun to form.

It was clear that most of the people weren’t there to help. Most were bystanders adding to the confusion. There were probably around fifty to a hundred people. Numerous campfires were burning. The snow that covered the ground was being melted by the fires, and water ran over the bluff. Soda’s chest hurt as he looked around for Darry or Two-Bit, someone who could tell him what was going on.

“Soda!”

He caught Darry’s arm waving him over.

“Darry!” Soda dashed into his older brother’s arms, breathing hard. “Tell me he’s alive. Oh, God, help us, tell me he’s alive!”

Darry gripped him hard. Soda could feel him shaking. “He’s alive, little buddy.”

Sodapop slumped in Darry’s arms, a broken noise bursting from him. “I—I didn’t know. I didn’t know. What happened? Is—Is he okay? Tell me he’s okay. He’s still trapped?”

“Still trapped. He’s not hurt. His foot got caught by a fallen rock. He can’t get himself loose. And no one’s small enough to quite get down to him. But they can get close enough to talk to him. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Soda nodded, brushing away his forming tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go right down. I’m going now.”

Darry pressed a kiss to the top of his head and squeezed his shoulders. “You got this. Go bring our brother back.”

“I will.”

Soda grabbed a lantern near the entrance, but someone grabbed his shoulder before he could head in.

“You can’t go in there with those good clothes on,” the man told me. “You’ll tear them to pieces.”

Soda wrenched his shoulder free. He was wearing a new suit that he’d bought in Louisville, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. “Clothes don’t make no difference. That’s my brother down there.” Steve followed him in.

On entering the hole, they found that it made a vertical drop of about eight feet. From there, it sloped steeply downward, and they proceeded feet first. The floor of the passage was covered in mud from the water that was running.

They came to the first squeeze and found about a dozen would-be rescuers who would not or could not get through it. There were some whiskey bottles on a ledge, and the space smelled of smoke. By the way some of the men were talking with each other, Soda could tell they were drunk.

Did they have no respect at all?

“Have any of you been to Pony?” Soda asked.

They all answered in the negative, so Sodapop and Steve pushed on. They wriggled through the squeeze. The passage turned and dropped down into a corkscrew passage. Finally, they reached a stretch of tunnel with a pit at the end. Several young men from around town were huddled around the small opening, digging. They were the only men Soda had encountered since leaving the first squeeze.

Soda scurried forward, and the others crawled backward to let him through. “Ponyboy?” he called down through the shaft. “Ponyboy, are you all right?”

A delighted, relieved laugh rang up to greet him, and it was the sweetest sound Soda had ever heard. “It’s my old buddy Soda! I knew you’d be coming down to help me. I’m not hurt, but my left leg is caught in a crevice. Watch out for loose rocks up there. My head is right at the bottom of the pit you have to come down through.”

None of the others had been able to squeeze down into the pit, but Soda figured that if Pony had, he must be able to, as well, given that he and his brother were the same size.

Steve looked at Soda uncertainly. “I don’t think you’re gonna make it down.”

“No. I will.” Soda backed up to a place where there was enough room to sit up and started to remove his suit. He stripped to his underwear, even removing his shoes. Then, he started down into the pit, leaving his lantern at the top so it could be lowered to him.

It was very difficult to get down. Rocks jutted out on all sides and dug into his skin. But he kept slipping down, knowing pain didn’t matter when his brother was at stake. He winced as rock scraped against flesh, feeling around with his feet.

He shuddered when they finally touched Ponyboy’s head. Carefully, he moved his feet to the space right behind it, finding just enough room to half-crouch in the barrel-sized cubbyhole into which Pony’s head protruded. It was an uncomfortable, cramped position, but probably nothing compared to what his brother was experiencing. Soda called up for the lantern, and it was lowered to him from a rope Pony had left above.

When the lantern arrived, Soda saw for the first time how completely helpless Ponyboy was. His face was lying against a rock that pressed his nose to one side. Both of his arms were pinned in the crevice alongside his body so he could not use his hands, which were completely out of sight. Gravel and mud had poured into the crevice around his body. He was lying on his left side, turned somewhat on his back. Water dripped steadily on his face from above, and there was no way for him to avoid it. His lantern lay on its side in front of him, the globe broken.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s sure good to see your face,” Soda said, relieved to be down with him at last. “How come your lantern is up here while your hands are caught at your side that way?”

“I pushed it through first before trying to get through myself,” Pony said. “Boy, it’s good to see some light again. And you, too. Did you get that car?”

Soda laughed in spite of himself. “We did. You can come up and see it soon. But this is a liiiitle more important right now.”

“If you can dig away some of this gravel and enlarge the crevice, I’ll have my hands free,” Pony said. “It’s my left foot that’s caught by a rock. Once I get it free, I can get out of here.”

Soda started to dig around him, quickly finding that he had no place to put the disposed gravel. “Hey!” he called up to Steve. “Get me a bucket down here! I need to raise this gravel out of the pit.” The message was relayed outside, and a small bucket arrived pretty quickly.

“Soda? I’m awful hungry,” Pony said miserably. “I’ve been stuck since yesterday morning.”

“And send for some food!” Soda also called up.

About an hour after he sent up the message, some food cooked by Mrs. Mathews arrived. Nine sausage sandwiches and a pint of coffee.

Despite all the gravel Soda had removed, Pony still couldn’t get his hands to his mouth, so Soda held his head up for him and fed him like a baby.

The odd meal was like a feast to Pony. Soda held his head away from the rock. His little brother had lost a great deal of energy and was famished. From that length of time with him, Soda could tell he was actually in some pain, and his strength was diminishing. But in spite of his suffering, he didn’t complain. Soda could not help crying as he fed Pony bite after bite.

After feeding him, Soda dug furiously at the gravel, piling it at his side of the cubbyhole. He filled the one-gallon syrup bucket over and over to be pulled up. There was another hole near the men up top that Pony had tried digging before moving to the one they were currently in. The gravel was piled into the dead end hole.

“I can move my right foot a little,” Pony said. “I’ve worked my boot off the right one, but I can’t get to the other one. If I didn’t have that heavy boot on, I believe my foot would slide through.”

Soda felt sick. He had given Pony those boots. If he’d just left him with those rubber shoes, his brother probably wouldn’t be trapped right now. This was all his fault. He dug faster, but it seemed the more he dug, more gravel just kept piling in to fill the space again. Meanwhile, Ponyboy remained perfectly calm. Soda was glad for it. He didn’t know how he’d stand it if his brother was in hysterics for this.

“It’s a venturesome thing to explore,” Pony was saying, as if he were talking about something as nonchalant as the weather. “I guess we’re all subject to it.”

“Did you find anything down there?”

“Oh, my, yes.” That darling smile Soda loved so much appeared on Pony’s face. “I’ve been in a big cave, but there’s no formations. It looked to me like the walls were smoked.” He shuddered. “But if I ever get out of here, I’m never going back in it again.”

If he ever gets out of here, I’m never letting him in a cave again, Soda thought wryly.

The icy water dripping on Pony’s face seemed to be maddening. He suddenly gave a tiny, sob-like sound. No matter how he turned, he could not avoid the dripping water. “Where’s all this water coming from? It was not nearly so wet when I came in here.”

“It’s from the snow melting outside,” Soda explained. “There’s a big crowd of people around the bluff, and they have bonfires. I suppose the water is running over the bluff into the cave.”

For the first time since Soda had gotten down there, Pony looked scared. “The way that water is coming in, I’m afraid it’s going to fowl up the tunnel that I dug. It will have to be timbered up to keep from caving in.”

Soda remembered from his way in that one side of the tunnel was solid rock while the other was loose material from the talus, a sloping mass of rock fragments that was typical in bluffs or caves. When Pony dug the tunnel, it would have been dry, with very little danger of the wall caving in. He’d also been the only one using the tunnel, so there would have been no blundering against the wall, knocking loose rocks, making it unsafe and unstable. But it was wet now, and with so many inexperienced people passing through, there was considerable danger of a slide blocking the tunnel. Already, the floor had turned into an ooze of mud and gravel. This was bad. Soda felt a pressure on his chest, knowing that they might not have as much time to do this as he’d first thought.

Pony had used a number of burlap sacks to haul material out of the tunnel he dug through. Soda draped one over Pony to shield him a little from the ever-increasing flow of water. He tucked it around as much of Pony’s body as possible, around his shoulders and over his face.

Pony nearly sobbed in relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to go mad. You can’t imagine how awful it’s been to have that dripping on my face all day.”

At one point while Sodapop worked, Pony asked, “How is Darry?”

“I think he’s real scared, honey. Bet it’s killin’ him somethin’ awful that he can’t get down here, too.”

“Can you tell him not to worry?”

Soda chuckled. “I can tell him, but you know our brother. I don’t think it will make much difference.”

“Just tell him.”

“Okay. I will, colt. Now, you just relax now. Your big brother’s gonna get you through the night.”

Soda was down there for eight hours trying to free Ponyboy. Soda was cold, wet, tired, and bruised. Pony noticed his exhaustion as well. Soda was becoming physically unable to work. He was shivering in his underwear. His hands were scraped from digging at the rock. His body ached from crouching in the cramped space, hardly able to reach much of Pony past his shoulders.

“You ought to go,” Pony gently urged Soda. “You’re so tired. I mean this in the best way, but you won’t be much use to me goin’ on like this. We need more people. Someone not workin’ constantly. You can’t take much more of this. Please, Soda. You have to rest. See if you can get Curly. He can help me.” He listed a few more men to bring who were experienced with caves. “And when you come back, bring an oilcloth down to keep this water from dripping on me.”

Soda swallowed back a sob and blinked back his tears. He didn’t want Pony to hear him crying anymore. He didn’t want him to be any more scared than he had to be. “Okay,” he choked out. “I love you, baby. You’re taking this so well.” Soda couldn’t crouch down any further, so he pressed a kiss to his fingers, brushing his hand against Ponyboy’s hair. “I’ll be back soon with more help. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I know you will.”

Soda almost broke then and there from the amount of genuine trust in his baby brother’s voice.

Steve helped Soda back up out of the pit. He put his clothes on and returned to the surface. By the time they stepped out of the cave, it was already Sunday morning. He’d spent eight hours trying to free Pony, but his arms were still pinned in the crevice. More gravel had slid in to replace the buckets he’d removed. But at least he’d gotten Pony into a more comfortable position, and he’d eaten.

Soda’s new suit was muddy and torn, but that loss was nothing compared to the ache that clawed at his chest for Ponyboy.

He and Steve silently headed into the Mathewses’ house, not very far from the cave. Steve practically had to hold him up on the way over.

They found Two-Bit and Darry awake in the main room, talking in hushed voices. Their heads snapped up when Steve and Soda came in.

Darry’s eyes went wide as he pushed himself to his feet. “Soda. Are you—”

“I’m okay,” Soda rasped out, but it probably didn’t help his case the way he immediately burst into tears.

He was immediately enveloped in Darry’s arms, listening to his quickly beating heart. “What happened?” Darry asked roughly. “Is he still alive? Is he all right?”

Soda nodded. “He’s alive,” he said after a hiccup. “He’s okay, I swear. I was with him all night. He’s not his best, but he’s as well as he can be. He can’t be comfortable at all, but it could be worse. But I worked so hard, and nothing I did seemed to help. More and more gravel just keeps packing in around him. I don’t know what to do.” He dissolved into sobs, and Darry rocked him gently.

After a few minutes, Darry asked softly, “Can we clean your hands?”

Soda pulled back, looking at his burning, bloodied and scraped hands. Numbly, he nodded, letting the others treat his hands, as well as the rest of the cuts across his body.

As they helped him, Darry swallowed hard and asked in a low voice, “Tell me the truth. Do you think he can be rescued?”

Soda nodded. “Y—Yeah. My biggest concern is time. Those people, those fires, those inexperienced cavers. It’s the recipe for a cave-in. I’m scared of the tunnel falling in and us not being able to reach him. But if I can just get all that gravel out from around him, I’d think we can pull him out or pry the rock trapping his foot off. I just need to be able to get to his leg.” He sniffled. “There was water dripping on his face all day, Dar. All day. He couldn’t move. And the sack I put over him will only help so much. I need to get him an oil cloth.”

“You need to rest,” Darry countered. “You look like someone chewed ya up and spit ya back out. Yer exhausted.”

Sodapop shook his head. “No. No. I need to get some old clothes on, and I’m going back down.”

“You are not. You will sleep until the sun comes up. Then we’ll figure out what to do. You’ll be no use to him asleep on your feet, Pepsi-Cola.”

Soda brought his hands up to his face to hide the tears that kept falling. He felt too scared and guilty to even be embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Darry. I’m so sorry.”

Darry rubbed his shoulders, steering him toward the bed Pony had been sleeping in. “You’re doing so much for him, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Soda shook his head, frenzied. “You don’t—You don’t get it. He asked me to help him. I said no. And then I gave him my heavy boots. And he says if he wasn’t wearing them, then he thinks he’d be able to pull his foot out.”

Darry was silent for a moment. “And he blamed you for that?”

Soda shook his head.

“End of story, then.”

“No!” Soda cried. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“Sodapop.” Darry looked him straight in the eyes. “You are the last person in the world who would ever intentionally hurt Ponyboy. This. Is not. Your fault. You are going to be the essential person in this rescue, too, I know it already. It’s thanks to you that anyone was even able to get down to him. None of this is your fault, and you are the biggest help to him right now. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Soda took a gasping breath, tucking himself into Darry’s chest another time to try and get himself back under control. Then, he let Darry lead him into bed, getting tucked in like a young child. It made him miss Mama.

“Go to sleep, now,” Darry soothed, wiping back the grimy hair from Soda’s forehead.

“Pony wanted me to tell you…” Sodapop yawned. “...Not to worry.”

“Okay.” Darry’s voice cracked a little.

“Will you rest, too?” Soda murmured, half-asleep already.

“Yeah, baby. Close your eyes, now.”

That was the last thing Soda remembered before drifting off.

Chapter Text

“Get out!” Sodapop screamed at the crowds. “If you’re not here to help, get out of the way! LEAVE!”

But no matter how much he screamed, nobody listened. Nobody moved. Didn’t they get it? They were hindering a rescue! A sixteen-year-old boy was down there, and because of their negligence and stupidity, this was going to be much harder and more dangerous than it had to be. Soda’s brother was not a spectacle to gawk at. He was a human being. A child.

It was Sunday morning, and since Soda, Steve, and the others had left the cave in the early morning, no progress had been made.

He trembled with fury as he watched the meandering people. As he spotted the first reporters on the scene. How dare all these people stand idly by up there while his brother was suffering?

“Are you Sodapop Curtis?” one of them asked him, leaning far too close, scribbling on a notepad.

“Don’t talk to me,” Soda snapped.

“You were down in the cave with him. Is it true there’s a seven-ton rock trapping Ponyboy’s foot?”

“What? No! I—”

“Sodapop Curtis!” another one shouted. “What is Ponyboy’s condition?”

“Go down and see for yourself,” Soda snapped, pushing his way past them.

The reporters flocked everyone who came out of the cave, mostly men who obviously hadn’t been past the first squeeze, given their responses.

“Oh, yes, thirteen years old.”

“Been crying for his dead parents all night long.”

“He’s delirious and calling out to God for rescue.”

“Stuck nearly upside-down!”

“I was in there! Fed him, comforted him, held his head.”

“Shut up!” Sodapop shouted, but he knew he was powerless against the hungry press and people eager to lie for their second of fame. “That’s not true! I was with him all night! Go away! Leave us alone!”

He ached to go back down, but he could hardly move his body, he’d worked so hard the night before. But no matter what, he knew he’d go back down soon.

“Soda!”

That afternoon, he looked up to see Paul running his way, waving his hand. “There’s a girl who dropped a message at the telegraph office. A Cherry Valance from Chicago?”

Soda’s mouth dropped open. “Cherry Valance?” The girl’s father was a famous opera singer, and she had traveled from Chicago the previous summer to tour Crystal Cave. She’d taken quite a shine to Pony, as most people did, from what Soda remembered. “What does she want?”

“To talk to one of the Curtises. She gave her number. Give her a call back at my place.”

Soda headed back with him to drop the Valance girl a call. He couldn’t imagine why she’d want to talk to him. She lived such a ways across the country. She was loaded with money. She’d only met Ponyboy once. Had news really spread so far so quickly?

He held the receiver to his ear. “Miss Valance? This is Sodapop Curtis, returning your call.”

“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m glad you called. I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help? Anything I could send that might aid in your brother’s rescue?”

Soda thought, but all he could think about was the way he had been trying for hours to organize a rescue party that morning, but no one had been willing. Not even the young men who’d been down there with him before. One had even scoffed, saying, “I wouldn’t go back in there for a cold thousand, bad as I need money.”

“What we need is some daredevils to go down and get Ponyboy out,” Soda said shortly. He regretted his tone, Cherry hadn’t done nothing wrong, but he was about hysterical with the way his day had been going.

Cherry answered graciously. “Here’s what I can do. I’ll send a doctor to the scene. He’ll come by plane and can give you any medical assistance needed.”

Sodapop thanked her, baffled. Was she really that generous, or had Pony really made that big of an impact on her the short time they’d met?

He went back to the cave entrance, trying to organize a party. Some people kept going in and out. One group claimed to have gotten down to talk to Pony earlier in the day, but they couldn’t get down beside him. Others claimed to have been all the way down, but Soda knew they were lying since they were too large to do so. With some other people, it was much harder to tell what was the truth or not. All Soda knew was that his brother needed help, and no one was getting him any.

He’d been looking for Curly Shepard, too, or one of his siblings to fetch him, but he’d had no luck so far. Only luck enough to send someone to Horse Cave to pass along the message.

Darry, Two-Bit, and Steve remained close by around a fire. Darry was just as persistant at trying to find wiry men willing to go down and try to dig Pony out. He had just as little success as Soda. The reporters kept trying to pull Darry aside, asking him question upon question upon question. “Don’t talk to them!” Sodapop all but shoved Darry away.

A doctor from Horse Cave arrived on the scene, asking one of the rescuers what he could do to help. To Sodapop’s disgust, the man said, “The situation is hopeless. Don’t do anything.”

That statement caused such a ruckus of shouting and swearing amongst the hundred bystanders, that they thoroughly frightened the doctor, scaring him away.

Moonshine made its rounds. Bystanders got drunker and drunker. Fights, arguments, and shouting matches raged all around. It was pure chaos.

And then came the worst announcement of all. “Ponyboy Curtis is dead!”

Soda’s blood ran cold. Darry made a choked cry that sounded close to a sob.

Soda looked at the local neighborhood man, willing every ounce of himself not to break down right there. “What.”

“I saw him dead!” the man announced. Steve ran forward to grab him, but the man just kept spewing much of the same nonsense. Soda felt sick to his stomach.

Two-Bit began to pray aloud. Steve cursed. Darry collapsed to his knees next to the fire. He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders began to shake, like he was weeping.

Darry.

Weeping.

He hadn’t even done that at their parents’ funeral.

Soda stepped forward to the man, unable to believe it. “How? How do you know he’s dead?”

“I saw his body. Unresponsive. I felt for a pulse. I got all the way down.”

The man was small enough to be telling the truth, but he had no proof. He couldn’t have any proof. That didn’t make any sense. Ponyboy had been trapped for a few days, but he’d been given water and food. He wasn’t hurt. He was cold but not freezing. He couldn’t be dead. But dread filled him from head to toe.

The town’s acting coroner stepped forward. “I need someone to check the story.”

Soda started to raise his hand, but Steve pulled it right back down. “You’re in no shape to!”

“Hey.” One of the local boys hurried over. “I’ll go.” He was called Tennessee, from where he came from, and he was trusted. Soda waved his hand, just ready for this nightmare to be over.

The boy headed in with another young man, and they emerged about an hour later. Tennessee’s expression was livid. “Where is that man? He’s a damned liar!”

Darry looked so relieved that he could hardly breathe. Soda felt like a hundred pounds had been lifted from his shoulders. But that was quickly replaced with fury for the man who had announced falsely that their brother had died.

Of course, by that point, the neighborhood man was nowhere to be seen, and the coroner’s inquest was abandoned.

Hours more passed. More announcements spewed.

“He’s unconscious!”

“He’s unresponsive!”

“He says the rock is crushing him!”

“The ceiling’s fallen in! He can’t have survived!”

Soda had never seen Darry in such a panic. “Five hundred dollars!” he suddenly shouted. “To anyone who can go down there and bring him out. Who can tell me he’s still alive!”

Soda felt like his heart stopped. Five hundred dollars? That was their life’s savings. Money they had put aside for Ponyboy’s future, for whenever he wanted to live somewhere on his own. Darry couldn’t do this.

He tugged on his brother’s sleeve, shaking his head. “No. No, I’ll go down again, I’ll see—”

“Look at you!” Darry all but screamed. “Your legs are shaking, you can barely stand! If you go down there again right now, you’ll hurt yourself, or worse. I’m not risking you.”

“I’ve got one hundred,” Two-Bit said softly. “It’s yours.”

“Me, too,” Steve said.

Soda shook his head, blinking back tears. “No, no. Guys—”

“He’s our brother, too,” Two-Bit said, and his voice broke a little.

“I’ll go!” a local man shouted. Despite Soda’s desperate protests, Darry shook the man’s hand, and down the guy went.

About a half hour later, the man reemerged with a solemn look. “There was a cave-in.”

Steve, Darry, and Two made exclamations of horror, but Sodapop didn’t believe it for a second. He stuck a finger in the man’s chest. “You’re a damned liar, you know that? I know caves. Maybe a few rocks fell in, but not enough to make it impossible. You disgust me.”

Darry was pale. “You mean he isn’t—”

“Not a chance,” Soda snapped. “He’s fine. Reachable. I’m positive. No doubt in my mind. I’m sick of this crap. I’m goin’ in to find the facts.”

Darry looked too frightened to argue. Numbly, he nodded.

By that point, it was late Sunday afternoon. Sure enough, some rocks had fallen, but there was no cave-in. The passage was still open, but just as Soda had predicted, so many inexperienced people going in and out had already done some damage.

He had to get Ponyboy out, and quickly. No more use wasting time trying to organize parties. Clearly, he was the only rescuer who even remotely cared about Ponyboy.

He crawled back down to him, and although he’d known for a fact that Pony would still be alive, it was one of the biggest reliefs of his life to see his little brother’s face as lifted up the tarp. “Hey, hon. How ya doin’?”

“Soda!” the relief cracked in Ponyboy’s voice. For a boy stuck in a cave for three days already, he seemed in good spirits.

“Anyone been down to see you?”

“Nah. I’ve been waitin’ forever. Just a few got close enough to talk. Ya here to finally dig me out?”

“That’s the plan, buddy.” Soda put the promised oilcloth over Ponyboy’s face to protect him from the dripping, which had already grown so much worse. He fed him again. Then, he started to dig.

It was difficult to work with the dripping water. And although he’d found a small crowbar Pony had brought into the passage, it wasn’t doing much good.

“If you can slide that crowbar into my hand, I think I can get the rock loose,” Pony said.

“Your arms are still pinned.”

“At my sides, sure, but you cleared most of the gravel away. I can move ‘em. Hand it over.”

Soda had to poke the crowbar into the crevice along Pony’s body until it was in Pony’s hand.

Pony started to work at his foot. He grunted in pain with every movement. He was trying his best to move the rock, but in his awkward position, the lack of space, and his weakened condition, he eventually had to give up.

Soda tried to chip away at the rock above Pony so that he might slide over him and reach his legs. It was a several-ton limestone rock, and Soda had brought down a hammer and chisel to begin working away at it.

Pony quickly stopped him. “That boulder is just wedged in there, Soda, and if you hammer on it, it may move. I’m afraid that if you jar that rock, it will crush me.”

Soda stopped immediately and started working at the gravel again. It was exhausting work. Even though Darry had urged him to sleep a little the night before, he had gotten maybe twenty minutes before waking and lying maddeningly awake for the rest of the time. So he’d had hardly any sleep over the past couple of days. It was starting to do its damage, but he couldn’t quit. Not when Pony was helpless like this.

As Soda worked, he thought of the other countless men who had attempted rescue. Those who had gotten down to the chute. Those who had turned around at the first squeeze. He realized, if Pony were not his brother, he would never go to such lengths for a stranger. Not even a neighbor, probably. For those who did get down close to him, Soda already had the greatest admiration.

When it became clear that Soda was not going to get Pony loose on that trip, Pony said, his teeth chattering, “I’m awfully cold, Soda. You know those bitters Two-Bit makes? That would help me out. Don’t get me no moonshine, either. I want the good stuff.”

Sodapop chuckled. “Darry wouldn’t want you drinkin’ none.”

“Well, he oughta let it slide for once.” He gave a mocking pout. “Tell him his baby brother is about to freeze to death, and it’s the only thing that can help the poor boy out.”

Soda laughed again. “Okay. I’ll do my best, Ponybuddy.”

So, after about eight hours, Soda came up to the surface, finding it to be Monday morning. He prayed Pony could hold out just a little longer.

He found more reporters at the cave entrance. Soda looked at them all with loathing, pushing his way past as he was attacked with questions.

“Is Pony still alive?”

“Is he free?”

“Our sources say—“

“There’s been a cave-in! Tell us about it.”

“He’s dead, right?”

So many conflicting sources. So many people. All of them making this already difficult rescue so much more impossible.

As he pushed his way away from the people and started to dry off, a kid ran up to him, looking at him with big, curious, black eyes. He had sun-darkened skin and hair as black as night. He was a tiny thing, and he held a reporter-like notepad in his hands. “I hear you are the brother of the fellow who is trapped in the cave?”

Soda ignored him.

“My name is Johnny ‘Skeets’ Cade.” The boy stuck out his hand.

“Uhh… you lost, kid?”

“No, sir, here to report for the Louisville Courier-Journal.”

Soda balked. “Report?” This guy couldn’t be older than Pony! “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

His age?! Glory, but he’d rarely seen an adult man this small.

Sodapop sneered. “Now if you want some information about this thing, there’s the hole right there. You can go down and find out for yourself.”

To Sodapop’s surprise, the boy marched right past him for the cave opening. “What—What are you doing?”

Skeets looked over his shoulder. “Going down and finding out for myself.” He waved his notepad. “How else would I get the truth?”

Soda rushed back over to him. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re going down there? Really? It ain’t easy. Have you ever caved before?”

Skeets shook his head. “No, but… say, how much do you weigh?”

Soda’s brow furrowed. “About 160.”

“Your brother, too?”

“Yeah, probably. Maybe a little less.”

Skeets nodded. “Well, I may not have caved before. But it seems like all these other dingbats aren’t gettn’ far because they’re either too big or too scared. Am I correct?”

“Y—Yeah?”

“Well, Mr. Curtis. They don’t call me ‘Skeets’ for nothing. All 117 pounds of me are at your service.”

One-seventeen? Gosh, but this kid was little. And that was exactly what they needed. If this kid truly had the guts he claimed he did, he would have no trouble at all getting down to Ponyboy.

Skeets was already heading into the hole with a lantern.

“Hey!” Soda cried. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

The boy looked more excited than anything. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You—You don’t know where you’re going!”

“Then follow me in for the first part. I’ll manage.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No crazier than a boy who makes a living diving in caves.”

“At least let us get you into some overalls! You won’t get far with all those clothes on.”

As soon as he shuffled into some better caving clothes, Skeets went in head-first.

Soda groaned. Rookie. “All right, then.”

Chapter Text

Johnny “Skeets” Cade only expected this journalism gig to be a temporary thing.

It was a job that satisfied his curiosity, gave him a paycheck, and gave him a way out of that house he’d grown up in. But he had a fine voice. One that belonged in a concert hall. Or on one of those newfangled radio broadcasts. In any case, it wasn’t a voice that was meant to hide away behind written words.

Maybe it was a silly dream. The moment he imagined singing in front of people or reading a broadcast announcement live, his body stiffened. So many people would be listening. But at the same time, it excited him. Besides, if it really was the radio, no one would see his face.

Someday.

But today was not that day. Skeets was a sports and obits writer for the Louisville Courier-Journal. It was a slightly better job than his gig the year before as police reporter with the Evening Post. And he wasn’t making much even now, since he wasn’t a seasoned reporter. But it was a start.

It was competitive work. He was always competing with the other paper in town for the better story. He went to his informants all the time. He embellished as much as truth would allow, or, at least as much as you could do in the sports section. Every once in a while, he was granted a different beat.

But the news had slowed recently. There were no events exciting enough that people wanted to read about them. And since it was winter, even sports writing was in the doldrums. The football season was over, and baseball had not yet begun.

When news was so meager, the reporters raced to be on the streets first. The losers compensated by making their stories fuller and more intriguing. Sometimes, when an interesting story didn’t exist, they invented it. But Skeets had sworn to himself never to go that far, even if his employer pushed him to. News was about truth. Not entertainment. No matter what sold best.

On Saturday night, January 31st, correspondents began phoning in their accounts of a boy named Ponyboy Curtis who had become trapped in a cave.

It was no news, really. They lived in cave country. A man getting caught in a cave happened all the time. While it was enough for a brief account in the Sunday morning edition, that was all Skeets thought would come of the incident.

On Sunday morning, the small headline ran. The Herald-Post, the competing paper, ran a nearly opposite headline: “Curtis Free—Says Never Again.” The accompanying article told of what Skeets assumed was a completely fictitious story about a rescue centered around a man named “Too-Bit Matthew.”

The city editor of Skeets’s journal didn’t like that at all. He called their local correspondent in Cave City to complain about being scooped. The correspondent replied that Curtis was indeed not free.

The city editor hadn’t even hung up the phone before turning and pointing at Skeets. “Johnny. You need to go to Cave City to investigate this story. Curtis is still alive and trapped. But you need to take the special rescue squad of the police and fire departments to accompany you. It will be an excellent promotion scheme for us to sponsor a cave rescue.”

“Yes, sir!”

But when Skeets contacted the police and fire department, they refused to send the rescue squad, claiming that it would be a waste of the Louisville taxpayers’ money. But Skeets was far too intrigued about this boy in the cave to let the story go by this point. After a bit of begging, the city editor decided to send him on alone.

He rushed home, packing a bag. His housemate, Dallas Winston, a long-time childhood friend of his was already home. His brow furrowed when he saw Skeets packing in a frenzy.

“Where ya goin’?”

“Cave City. There’s a boy trapped in a cave. Apparently it’s serious. They’re lettin’ me report on it!”

“And you’re goin’ alone?”

“Sure. And before you say nothin’, no, you ain’t comin’, you can’t miss work.”

Dally rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine. But if you worm down into a little cave and turn into a mole, don’t come cryin’ back to me.”

Skeets grinned.

He caught the late train that night to Glasgow Junction. He hired a car to take him the rest of the way to Cave City. He arrived at 7 a.m. the next morning. He inquired about the Curtises at the Dixie Hotel. He was informed that the boy was still trapped, but his brothers and friends were trying to get him out. After briefly having breakfast, his taxi driver took him the remaining six miles to what they were calling Sand Cave.

It was a dreary sight out the auto’s window. An occasional farmhouse dotted the monotonous, empty landscape. The sky was gray. The whole world seemed gray. Where were all the people? Where were all the buildings? They were really in the sticks.

They got to the rescue site at 9. Patches of snow littered the ground. Exiting the car, Skeets was told that Sand Cave was just beyond a field of low brush bordering on the right edge of the road. He followed a broken path for three hundred yards that twisted through foliage and hugged a slope. Then the trail dropped away into a natural amphitheater, fronted by an overhang of stone in the shape of a crescent. Immediately in front of the rock stood a swell of earth. To the left of the mound, there was a campfire with an enormous coffee pot hanging over it. About fifty men sat around the fire or stood in several inches of muck off to the side. The rain from the night before had stopped, but it was growing very cold.

Skeets scanned the scene, realizing that he knew nothing about what the brothers looked like. He cursed himself, wishing he’d asked back at the hotel.

Then, a man emerged from the cave.

Skeets had never seen a man look so tired. He seemed young, about Skeets’s age, if he had to guess. He was lithe and towheaded. And there was a grief set behind those exhausted eyes.

Bingo.

Skeets rushed up to him, hoping to get his attention before the other reporters prowling the scene could. “I hear you are the brother of the fellow who is trapped in the cave?”

The man didn’t even look at him. Maybe he had gotten it wrong, after all. Maybe this was some random rescuer.

“My name is Johnny ‘Skeets’ Cade,” Skeets tried again, sticking out his hand.

The blond man finally looked his way, more confused than aggravated. “Uhh… you lost, kid?”

“No, sir, here to report for the Louisville Courier-Journal.”

The man balked. “Report? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

The man scoffed antagonistically. “Now if you want some information about this thing, there’s the hole right there. You can go down and find out for yourself.”

Good enough for him. He started over.

“What—What are you doing?”

Skeets looked over his shoulder. “Going down and finding out for myself.” He waved his notepad. “How else would I get the truth?”

The young man rushed back over to him. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re going down there? Really? It ain’t easy. Have you ever caved before?”

Skeets shook his head. “No, but… say, how much do you weigh?”

The man’s brow furrowed. “About 160.”

“Your brother, too?”

“Yeah, probably. Maybe a little less.”

Skeets nodded. “Well, I may not have caved before. But it seems like all these other dingbats aren’t gettn’ far because they’re either too big or too scared. Am I correct?”

“Y—Yeah?”

“Well, Mr. Curtis. They don’t call me ‘Skeets’ for nothing. All 117 pounds of me are at your service.” He grabbed a lantern from the ground and looked around for the hole.

“Hey!” the brother cried. “You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You—You don’t know where you’re going!”

“Then follow me in for the first part. I’ll manage.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No crazier than a boy who makes a living diving in caves.”

“At least let us get you into some overalls! You won’t get far with all those clothes on.”

So, as soon as he got into some better caving clothes, Skeets went in head-first.

The first thing he noticed on the way down was the sandwiches and blankets that had been stuffed into the cracks in the wall. He had no idea why they would have ended up in there.

Too excited, Skeets barely listened to the directions and advice offered by the brother, who, with a flashlight, followed for a short distance. At the very beginning it was necessary to get down on hand and knees. He crawled through ooze and slime. The way was downward, not sharply at first, but gradual.

Soon after the brother left, Skeets wiggled through the twisting pathway. It became necessary to get down on his stomach and slide and squirm along, using his fingers and toes to propel himself, and occasionally to slow up when he slid along too quickly.

He was wet all over, and it was cold. His teeth began to chatter, and his body had the shivers. He was starting to get nervous. He had to stop for breath several times. The passage twisted, turned, and, in spots, was so blocked that it was necessary to expel his breath to squeeze through. At other points, hanging rocks barred the way. It was so still. A terrible feeling of aloneness enveloped him. With nothing better to do, he called out: “Ponyboy! Ponyboy! Hello, Ponyboy!”

There was hardly an echo. Again he called. Then, he thought he heard a sound. Eagerly, he elbowed forward, calling. Before he knew it, he reached a sharp incline and could not break his speed. The incline made an elbow turn, and Skeets careened head-first into a wet mass. It groaned and moved.

In panic, Skeets tried to push back off the thing, but the steepness of the incline prevented it.

Along the slippery sides, he couldn’t get a hold, and for minutes, though it seemed much longer, he was pressed against that horrible mass of wet something that moved a little and groaned pitifully, weakly.

Finally his groping hands found a crevice, and he pushed back off that thing and tried to get back up around the turn. Head-down, his feet and arms seem to have multiplied, The more he struggled, the tighter he lodged. He was hot and cold and surprisingly weak. He struggled and pushed, to no avail.

Gradually, reason returned, and Skeets knew that below him was Ponyboy Curtis; that he had landed on him with his full weight, light as it was, and that that other human being, though pitiful and weak, was still alive.

Skeets stopped struggling and, miraculously, it seemed, he was not stuck. Slowly, he tried to work his way back up the passage, and, at the elbow, to turn around and get his feet down. Once or twice in this attempt to turn around, panic again seized him, and each time, he seemed to puff up toad-like, and he would become tightly wedged. Each time he relaxed, he was free.

Despite knowing his full situation at that point, it was difficult to remain calm, especially with his right knee wedged against his chin, pushing his head tightly against the low roof. But finally, he was upright with his feet down. The manner in which he had entered the cave was a foolish one, though a natural error. How could he have known he was doing it the wrong way? Skeets would never again start head-first.

Cautiously, he worked back down the elbow. He managed to push his right foot alongside Curtis’s body. It was impossible to get much beyond his shoulders, although he did work one arm down to Ponyboy’s hip despite his groans and pitiful, inarticulate sounds.

It was impossible to get past him, so Skeets pushed his right foot as far down as he could and then doubled his left leg. He lifted Ponyboy's head, placed his knee down where his head had been, and rested Ponyboy’s head on his knee.

The sharp elbow turn made Skeets have to crouch down under the ledge it formed. He moved the wet, soggy burlap sacks from around his Ponyboy’s face.

“Oh, please, put it back on,” Ponyboy begged. Or, at least, that’s what Skeets thought he was saying. It was difficult to tell given that his words were so slurred. “I had it dripping on me forever. I can’t take it again.”

“Sorry,” Skeets said, laying the oil cloth back where it was, suddenly realizing the tortuous stream dripping onto the poor child’s face. “I just wanted to see who I was with, that's all.” His voice trembled. His skin crawled. He wanted to get out. He couldn’t be down there any longer. “Um. Uh. I have to go. Sorry. Bye.”

“Wait!” Ponyboy called, but Skeets was already scrabbling back up the shaft, breathing too hard.

On the way in, the route was downward for the most part, and the ooze didn’t hurt the traveling, excepting at the squeeze places. But going out that same ooze made the climbing slippery, and it took a great deal of effort and time to find his way out.

What with the slime, the cold and chill, he was insanely grateful to get out of the horrible place.

The very moment he was out, Skeets fell into a crouch, burying his head in his hands. He began to weep, his entire body trembling. How had he done that? How had he possibly done that?

He couldn’t get the feeling of Ponyboy’s body out from the way it crawled under his skin. He hadn’t been expecting it.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a pale, limber, dark-haired boy, the blond brother at his side. “Are you all right?”

Skeets opened his mouth, horrified and embarrassed when all that came out at first was a sob. He was shaking so hard. He couldn’t stop. “I—I landed on him!” he gagged, fighting to keep his breakfast down. “Oh, God, I landed on him. Alive. Moving. Oh, God!”

The blond brother grabbed his friend’s shoulder. He looked intently at Skeets. “You got down to him? All the way down?”

Skeets gagged again, pressing a fist over his mouth. “Yes.”

The blond brother threw his hands up in the air and lifted up his face. “Oh, thank God! Thank God, thank God, thank God. You’re the first one.” His tired, bagged eyes were suddenly bright. “Other than me, of course. I’ve been waiting for someone like you. You made it. You really made it. Can you help? You have to help me!”

Skeets was still doing his best not to throw up. Go back down? No. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t ever go back down there. Feel that flesh under his hands. Feel those walls closing in.

He had no intention of going back in. Once was enough. He’d seen the predicament. Nothing would accomplish the release of Ponyboy Curtis. Reaching him with food would only prolong his agony. There was only a slight chance of release. The chill and dampness was weakening him. Hardly anyone could get to him. It was useless.

But as he was fed and warmed up, he thought of that boy’s face. Ponyboy. The desperation in it. The youth. The hope. That someone else had finally made it down to him. That he was going to be rescued.

And there was something else.

Skeets found himself horrified to be wanting to go back and talk to him again. To listen to whatever he had to say, newsworthy or otherwise. Something drew him to that boy, and he didn’t know what it could be. The last thing he wanted was to be down in that cave, but from the moment he’d first seen Ponyboy, that poor kid stuck in that crevice, it felt like something had inexplicably tied their souls together.

He had to go back. He had to know why that was. He had to see Ponyboy again. He had to get that child out.

“Okay,” he stammered. “Okay. I will. Just… gimme a bit.”

Chapter Text

Fire Lieutenant Robert Sheldon arrived in Cave City shortly before noon on Monday, February 2nd. He expected his job to be an easy one. He was a member of the Louisville Fire Department and also the city’s special police-fire rescue team. He’d volunteered to accompany a compressed- air drill to cave city to aid in a rescue.

The event had come out of the blue, and in perfect timing. He’d been waiting a year for a promotion to Captain, but the only way the department would grant him that merit was through great rescue work.

Captain Sheldon sounded so much better to his ears than Lieutenant Sheldon did.

Once he got to the rescue site, he found a mob of people. After some questioning, things made less and less sense. Apparently a Louisville reporter had just left the cave after getting down to the trapped boy. The boy’s brother had just gone back in. But nearly everyone else Bob talked to claimed that they had been in the cave, too, to talk to and feed the boy.

It couldn’t be true, because if even half of them were telling the truth, that entombed kid’s ears must be ringing and his stomach bloated. He also noted the strong scent of liquor on the breaths of most of the men he spoke with.

It figured that he would just have to go down and see things for himself. Despite protests, he plunged down the mouth of the hole.

He found the older brother in the crouching upper passage right above a chute. The blond boy fixed him with a look.

“Get out,” the brother snapped. “If you go on, there’ll be just another fool caught down there.”

“No,” Bob countered. “I have no intention of stopping, and I’ll bet I’m even more fit to do a cave rescue than you are.”

The boy looked affronted, his eyes widening. “Now, see here. I been cavin’ all my life. Maybe I don’ get paid to do it like yer fancy fire company does,” he remarked, looking at Bob’s uniform, “but it’s my brother down there, not yers. I’m more fit than anybody.”

Bob sighed. He was going down there no matter what. “Maybe so,” was all he said. He surged ahead, pointing his flashlight down the chute.

Although he was six feet tall, Bob only weighed one hundred and forty pounds, easily fitting into the chute. Twisting down, he reached the trapped by, and he was stunned by the situation. He’d never seen anyone caught like that. And when the breeze in the cave stopped, a fearful stench assaulted his nose. Probably the kid’s excreta, if he’d really been stuck down there for three days already. Bob nearly gagged.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “My name is Lieutenant Sheldon. I’m here to help get you out. Can you tell me how you got into this fix? How many people have been down to see you?”

Ponyboy, as Bob had heard the kid’s name was, groaned. But he seemed fairly coherent as he answered, “Came back up from the cave below. I broke my lantern. Knocked this hanging rock loose in the dark. Now it’s wedged on my left foot. And only my brother Sodapop and some other guy been down so far.”

“Skeets Cade,” Soda reminded him from above.

Ponyboy made a sound of affirmation. “Skeets Cade.”

“Is there another way out of the cave?” Bob asked.

The kid shook his head.

Bob shined his flashlight around the space once more. “We got a helluva problem here, but I think we can get you out with a rope.”

“I’ve thought about that myself,” Ponyboy said.

Bob reflected on the situation, looking along the kid’s body. “We might pull your foot off.”

“Pull my foot off, but get me out.”

Bob nodded. It was settled, then. “I’ll do that, partner.” With that, he made his way back out of the cave.

By the time he got out, he was already shouting rescue plans to the first people he came across. But he knew the only people that really mattered concerning the decisions were the Curtises. The middle brother, Sodapop, had emerged from the cave behind him, too. He followed the brother to a small flock of people.

“Curly!” Sodapop exclaimed, running up to a kid and grabbing his arm. “You’re finally here! Thank God. I was afraid you’d never come.”

“Didn’t realize he was stuck-stuck,” the kid replied. “Thought it was one of the same-old situations. Sorry about that. I’m here now.”

“And I just filed an account of my trip in the cave this morning,” an extremely tiny kid with dark hair remarked. An account? Surely this guy couldn’t be old enough to be a journalist! “Ready to help again, now.”

“All right,” Bob inserted himself into the conversation. “The air drill arrived with me in Cave City, but I know now it ain’t gonna help a lick. There’s too little room in there to help.”

“I agree,” Sodapop said, “but for different reasons. Everything’s too loose down there. The gravel, the rocks. A drill down there would be a disaster. The entire thing would cave in and crush him. Maybe us, too.”

“Then the surest way of reaching him would be sinking a shaft. But that’s impractical.”

“Right,” said Sodapop. His older brother and Curly mumbled their assent. “The formation of the hillside isn’t suited for shaft sinking. Besides, Pony’s mental and physical condition are deteriorating. He doesn’t have enough time for us to sink a shaft. I think enlargement of the hole is a better possibility, but that would require relay teams of small men working away at it, and I’ve had no luck assembling any such thing. But so much traffic would also make the cave more unstable. I see no good methods here.”

“Amputation?” one of the other boys hesitantly suggested.

“No,” the oldest brother said, his face hard. “Not yet.”

Sodapop nodded. “Not yet. Not that I think it’s even possible. There’s no room down there to even do it, but… yeah, I don’t want to have to think about what that would entail.”

“Then there’s only one other possibility,” Bob put forward firmly. “We pull him out.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” the small-maybe-reporter boy said.

Sodapop exchanged an uncertain glance with his brother. “I don’t know…”

“No fucking chance,” Curly spat at Bob, fire in his eyes. “You all remember the guy that died years ago when people tried to pull him out of the Salts Cave shaft. Pony’s foot is stuck. It will tear off, and he will bleed to death before he ever reaches the surface.”

The locals who were listening to the conversation started to agree.

“He’s right!”

“It’s impossible.”

“You’ll kill the boy!”

“Excuse me.” Two doctors pushed their way forward. One told the Curtis brothers, “You can’t do this. The boy’s leg might rend at the ankle or the knee, but more likely, his shoulder and chest muscles and some of his internal organs would tear first. In either case, Ponyboy will die.”

The brothers were pale with fear, stunned speechless.

Bob pressed his finger in the doctor’s chest. “Yes, pulling represents only one chance in a thousand. Maybe his vital organs rupture. Maybe. But if that doesn’t happen, if he can be moved just far enough to get someone behind him, he might be brought out alive. That boy is gonna die for sure in that goddamn hole unless we drag him out.”

“No,” Curly snapped again. “No. No way in hell. You ain’t touchin’ him, you fuckin’ outlander.”

“I’m telling you, there are two things that could happen,” the doctor repeated. “One, it could tear his leg off. He’d die of blood loss before you ever got him to the surface. Or two, and even worse and the more likely possibility, the strain would be on his torso and organs. He would literally be pulled in two.”

The oldest brother looked like he was going to throw up.

“See?” Curly shouted at Bob. “It will kill him.”

“Or it could just pull him free!” Bob threw up his hands. “I’m telling you, this is going to work.”

“If he dies because of this, I am going to kill you.”

Bob looked at the brothers. “This will work. I assure you. I’ve been in the rescue profession for years. Years. I wouldn’t do this if I thought it would kill him. A lot of force will free his leg or the rest of his body, and you’ll have him home safe and sound instead of rotting under there, just waiting for a cave-in. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I really think there’s something to this,” Skeets put in. “If it doesn’t work, we can stop before he’s harmed.”

“But what if…” the words died on Sodapop’s lips. He tugged on his brother’s arm. “There is no other option. I can’t get enough people down there for relays. And that’s the only alternative. Maybe he’s right, Darry, maybe it will work. I can’t think of another way.”

“I ain’t touching that rope,” Curly snapped. “I won’t have a hand in killing him.”

Soda flinched like he’d been struck.

Curly stared Bob down with murder in his eyes. Bob shot him an equally cruel gaze back. This kid would not stop him from completing this rescue.

Darry swayed on his feet. The two other boys with him barely caught him before he hit the ground.

“Dar!” Sodapop yelped.

The doctors knelt at the man’s side, reviving him quickly. Darry blinked a few times, looking at his little brother in absolute misery. “Do what you have to,” he murmured in defeat.

“I’m heading to Cave City,” Sodapop said. “I’ll have someone fabricate a harness. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Hey!” Bob yelled at the crowd. “I need a rescue party, now! We pull as many rocks and and as much gravel from the kid as possible until he returns. Keep constant voice contact with the boy.”

“You’ll kill him,” Curly told him once more, his voice low and full of hate.

Bob looked at him levelly. “I’ll be the one to get him out. And you, pest, will stay out of my way, or you’ll regret it.”

Chapter Text

At about 5 p.m., Sodapop returned with a harness designed to fit around Ponyboy’s shoulders and chest. It had two straps and a ring attached on the back. Before descending, Soda packed two ham sandwiches, some hot coffee, a sedative pill from one of the doctors, and a little whiskey.

That very morning, he had gotten some bitters off of Two-Bit to take into the cave with him to fulfil his promise to Ponyboy. At the entrance of the cave, Soda had been fiddling with a container to put it in, seeing no reason to hide it, as it seemed every other man on the site had some whiskey, and no one was doing anything about it.

But an officer had snatched the bottle from his hands. “There will be no whiskey going down there.”

Sodapop gaped at him. “But—But Ponyboy specifically requested it. He’s so cold.”

“No can do.”

Soda fumed. He had promised to bring down Pony a drink, and he was going to fulfil that promise. “You’re supposed to be the law. Why don’t you get these people away from here? Look how their campfires are melting the snow. The water is running over the bluff into the cave, and Ponyboy is down there, helpless. We’re trying to do something for him. These people are hurting him.”

His plea was useless. The officer had determined to stop the drinking that had gotten out of hand around the cave. In desperation, Sodapop knew there was nothing he could do.

He went into the cave with Steve. Since Soda and Pony both were too tired to talk, Soda dug around his brother in silence. But as Steve had hauled up gravel at the top of the chute, Soda heard him praying aloud: “Oh, God, help us save him.”

Soda had removed enough gravel that he was beginning to be able to work over the top of Pony’s body. All the while, Steve continued his desperate prayer.

As Soda listened, he remembered what Pony always said about God and caves. They were God’s handiwork through nature. By that point, Soda knew it would take nothing but God to free him now.

Ponyboy stayed calm throughout the entire process. He had a complete faith that Soda would get him out that made Soda’s heart ache fiercely.

Ponyboy had suggested getting a rope to pull him out. Given that Soda had cleared the space around his chest, it didn’t seem like a bad idea. With a rope attached to a harness, an assembly line of men could work through the tunnel to pull him out. It would undoubtedly mean a broken ankle and extreme pain, but Soda’s brother would be alive and free, and anything was worth that.

Lieutenant Sheldon eventually came onto the scene after Steve left, and they had the following conversation up above the surface about rescue methods, soon reaching the uneasy conclusion that the pulling method was their best hope.

As Soda crawled back down with Sheldon, Steve, and Skeets behind him, new harness in hand, there was an uneasy feeling in his gut. He kept picturing the way Darry had fainted. Kept running the doctor’s words through his head.

Was this the right decision? He could only hope and pray.

When he reached Pony, the others stayed at the top of the chute on their bellies. Soda knew that behind them were many other men, all the way to the entrance.

Pony was in a daze when Soda arrived, and his face was lined with pain. He was using his newly freed hand to use the crowbar to try and work the rock off his foot, but it was to no avail. He seemed to have exhausted himself and was in worse and worse spirits. Gently, Soda reached over and worked the crowbar from his hand. “That’s enough, colt,” he said softly, using his other hand to brush back Pony’s hair. “We’re gonna get you out of here in a few minutes.”

Soda propped Pony’s head and fed him the food, whiskey, medicine, and coffee, talking to him gently all the while. Once that was over, Pony’s spirits seemed to have rejuvenated. The coffee, in particular, seemed to have warmed him up again and sharpened his mind.

As Soda fed him, Skeets called down from the top of the chute, seizing the occasion to talk with Ponyboy.

“Pony, tell me how you got caught.”

Pony proceeded to tell Skeets how he’d been exploring Sand Cave and how he had discovered a beautiful cavern down below. Then, he told of how Two-Bit had finally found him. Soda felt ill listening, imagining himself back in Louisville, oblivious to his brother’s terrible night alone.

“Hey!” Sheldon snapped. “Hurry it up down there! It’s cold!”

“Slow your impatient ass down!” Soda shouted back, sick of that guy’s aggressiveness. “He’s been stuck down here and cold for three and a half days. The least you can do is wait five more minutes. At least you have the option to move.”

He looked back down at Pony. “Hey, baby,” Sodapop said softly, starting to fasten the harness around Pony’s chest with a bit of difficulty. “This is what we’re gonna do. We got the rope all the way up the tunnel. I’m attaching it to the ring on the back of the harness. Skeets, Steve, and Lieutenant Sheldon are right above us, and there are people all the way to the entrance. Are you okay with this?”

Ponyboy nodded. He tried to help Soda with getting the harness on, but he wasn’t proving to be much help. It was a difficult task. It took a long time to work the straps under his back and down to his waist. There was little space, and Pony couldn’t move much to aid the process.

As the preparations neared completion, Pony was growing more concerned. “Soda, you won’t pull my foot off, will you? Oh, God, you can’t pull my foot off?”

“Now, Pony, we won’t even try if you say so.”

That suggestion seemed to work Pony up even more. He shook his head rapidly. “No! Sweet Jesus, no, don’t leave me here again, Sodapop, pull me out, then!” Pleas and moans spilt simultaneously from the trapped boy. Soda felt like his heart was breaking. They had to do this quickly. His own morale was low. He was becoming more and more unnerved.

Oh, God, please let this be the right decision, he prayed.

Soda completed tying the hundred-foot rope to the harness ring and fed the other end up the passageway to Skeets, who passed it down the assembly line. Haltingly, Soda shouted, “All right, now! PULL!”

Soda strained against the rope. The harness tightened around Ponyboy. His body moved. His face tightened in agony. He began to scream. “You fellas can’t do it! Don’t do it!”

“Keep going! Keep going!” Sheldon bellowed.

Soda pulled, but his will was cracking as he heard the most awful screams coming from his little brother. “Stop! I can’t stand it!” Ponyboy screamed in absolute agony. “It’s pullin’ me in two!”

Soda immediately let go of the rope, feeling his heart drop to his feet. He hauled on the rope in the other direction, desperate to get the others to stop. They didn’t know. They didn’t know it wasn’t working at all. The doctors had been right. If they didn’t stop now, Ponyboy would literally be torn in half. “STOP!”

His tugs did nothing to match those who were still pulling above.

“It’s breaking my back!” Ponyboy gasped in a sobbing scream. “Stop them! Oh, God, stop them!”

In a frenzy, Soda jerked the rope even more violently, knowing his brother’s life depended on it. “STOP IT! STOP IT! YOU’LL KILL HIM!”

After a few more moments, Sodapop was finally heard. The rope slackened.

Below him, desperate, anguished sobs ripped from Pony’s throat, one after another. Soda collapsed to his knees, surveying the damage in horror as Pony’s tortured cries assaulted his ears, making him want to sob, too. Pony’s foot was in the exact same place. But his body was now three inches further along.

Good Lord, no, had they literally stretched him out?

Soda pressed a hand over his mouth, swallowing back bile. Ponyboy’s cries of pain—nothing had scared Soda more in his life. His poor little brother whimpered. As well as he could, Soda cradled Pony’s head, unable to keep the tears back any longer as guilt rushed through him. He had chosen this. He had almost killed his own brother in the most torturous way imaginable.

“I’m so sorry,” Soda wept. “Oh, baby, oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Soda,” Pony finally made out in a hoarse, broken voice.

“I know. I know, I know. I’m here. Oh, little one, I’m sorry. We’ll never do it again, I swear to you. Oh, God, help up, we hurt you. I hurt you. I’ll get you out another way. I’ll get you out, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll get you help.” Soda began digging again, choking on sobs.

Above him, at the top of the chute, he thought he heard Skeets making similar, unnerved gasps and cries. He must’ve heard Ponyboy’s screams loud and clear, too.

Soda knew he would never get them out of his own head.

“We have to try again!” Sheldon shouted.

“Hell, no!” Soda screamed back up. “He will die if we try again!”

After a few minutes of digging, things seemed hopeless. Pony was still snivelling with pain. Soda was exhausted and terrified and filled with guilt. The men above seemed cold and unnerved. Soda crouched back, realising there was nothing more he himself could do right then. They needed some other men to work in shifts.

Pony must have realised that they were about to depart. He craned his neck and gasped out, “Don’t leave me. Sodapop! Please, don’t leave me. Dope me and pull me out. Oh, God, please!”

Soda heard the others above leaving. But Soda decided he’d stay to soothe Pony. He just couldn’t leave him like this. But his own fear and anxiety were mounting.

He stroked Pony’s hair, making gentle shushing sounds. “I’m right here, baby, ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m here. I’m here.”

“Mama!” Pony cried. “Papa!”

Soda squeezed his eyes closed. This was torture to listen to. Torture. He didn’t know how much longer he could stomach this. But Ponyboy needed him. And so he would stay and comfort him.

“I want Darry,” Pony wept.

“I know,” Soda gasped, doing all he could to keep from sobbing again. Pony didn’t need his crying mess of a brother here to only work him up more. Of course he needed Darry. The brother who could never come down to help him or soothe him. “I know, I know, I know. I’m so sorry, Ponybaby. I’m just so damn sorry.”

He spent several more minutes brushing his fingers through Pony’s hair, whispering useless comforts as Pony calmed down a little more. Finally, once he thought Pony could manage it, Soda said, “I have to rest. I just have to if I’m going to be of any help to you.”

“Rest here.”

“I can’t, little love, I—guess what?” He tried to perk his voice up.

“What?”

“Curly’s here. I bet he’s dyin’ to come down and talk to ya. I’m gonna have to go rest for a bit, but I promise it’s not me leavin’ you. I’ll be back so, so soon. I won’t let you be alone for long. And I swear to you, I wouldn’t leave right now if I thought I could be any more use down here tonight.”

“I need you,” Ponyboy whispered, his face scrunched in fear and grief. Soda held his head, terrified that he’d fall to pieces then and there.

“I need you, too, baby, more than you’ll ever know. That’s why I have to leave now, so I can help you later, okay?”

“I can’t be alone!”

“You won’t be. I swear, if a rescue party doesn’t come down on its own after I leave, I will send one down to you. You’ll at least have someone to talk to. Someone nearby. You ain’t gonna be alone again. I won’t let you.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.” He pressed a kiss to his fingers and touched them to Ponyboy’s temple. “So you’re gonna be all right if I go now?”

Wordlessly, Pony nodded. Soda could’ve wept in relief. “You are so brave. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Soda crawled back up, hearing the memory of Pony’s pained screams following him the entire way.

By the time he reached the surface at last, he desperately scanned the crowd for Darry. When he spotted him, Darry’s expression cracked with grief, and Soda ran into his arms, breaking down completely.

“We almost killed him!” Soda wailed. “I almost listened to him be—be torn in two! Oh, Darry!”

His brother’s arms just tightened around him, and Soda felt him shaking. “It’s over now,” Darry choked out. “It’s gonna be all right, it’s over.”

But it wasn’t, really. Not even close.

Chapter Text

Darry held the end of the rope. Two-Bit was right in front of him. Under a tree off to the side sat Curly, his face hard.

Darry felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t get what the doctor said out of his mind. They could literally split Ponyboy apart.

“Hey, Zorro,” Two-Bit joked, looking over his shoulder. “It’s gonna be all right.”

“What if we hurt him? What if we really, really hurt him?”

Two-Bit shook his head. His face clouded with sympathy. “We probably break his ankle, but he’ll be out. Or, if not, Soda will stop us before he gets hurt.”

“How would we know? We can’t hear him.”

“There’s a hundred feet between us and him, and any order he sends would be relayed to us quickly.”

Darry nodded uncertainly.

After a few minutes, the command to pull was issued. Darry strained with all his might, years of logging put to the test. He was going to get his brother free. He was going to finally see him, after days of agony.

He hadn’t even seen him in a week. Had he said anything to him the morning Pony set off for the Mathews’ home? Had he reminded him he loved him? Had he told him anything?

His feet scrabbled against the muddy ground. Were they making any progress? What was happening down there?

Then, frantic shouts were relayed down the line. “Stop! Stop pulling!”

At once, Darry dropped the rope, muscles aching, breathing hard. What happened? Did they do it? Or—

He collapsed, his chest heaving in panic.

What if they’d killed him?

A desperate sob clawed its way out of his chest before he could stop it. Two-Bit dropped to his side, taking hold of his shoulders. “Breathe, breathe—”

“Pony! We’ve—What if—!”

“We don’t know anything! Maybe they just stopped. Maybe he’s free!”

No. He wasn’t free. Darry had a sick feeling in his gut.

I’ve killed my brother, came the horrid thought.

“What happened?” Two-Bit shouted down the line, but as men began trickling out of the cave, no one had an answer.

Someone down the line finally answered, “It didn’t work.”

That only made Darry feel sicker. “What does that mean?!” Even the man didn’t know.

At long last, Steve crawled out of the cave, his face grim. Darry dashed forward, grabbing Steve by the arm. “What happened? Is he—”

“He’s… well, he’s alive,” Steve choked out. He was pale. “I—Oh, God…”

“WHAT?!”

“He—” Steve’s expression scrunched in a sort of agony. “God, we were pulling him apart. The way he screamed—”

“How hurt is he?”

Steve was shaking something awful. “I don’t know!”

“Where’s Sodapop?”

“He’s still with him, man, I dunno, I dunno.”

Skeets came out right behind Steve, Sheldon right in front of him. Darry immediately slugged Sheldon in the face.

The man stumbled back, holding his jaw in shock. “Wh—What the fuck, man?!”

“You almost killed him!” Darry screamed, seizing him by the collar. “We would never have done this if you hadn’t insisted.”

Steve stared daggers at Bob. “Darry, he even insisted we keep going after it was over. After we heard Ponyboy like that.”

Bob spat blood, pulling away before Darry could get another hit in. “It would’ve worked! If your damn brother hadn’t gotten his fuckin’ emotions in the way, I swear I could’ve pulled him out.”

Darry slammed Sheldon against the cave wall. “Don’t you dare,” he spat. “I don’t care how ‘essential’ you are to this rescue, address either of my brothers that way again and I will bash your brains in.”

Bob spat in Darry’s eye. “As fucking if. I could already have you arrested for assault. You’re lucky I’m showing mercy.”

“Mercy? Mercy? I’ll show you fuckin’ ‘mercy’, you—”

“Darry, stop!” Two-Bit forced himself between them, shoving Darry away. “You can’t.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ can—”

“No! Trust me, I want to beat him into the ground, too, but it ain’t worth it. It ain’t worth it. Soda and Pony need you here. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Darry shook, but after a moment, he backed off.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Skeets said softly. “I would never have suggested—If I’d just listened—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve insisted. “We… We all made this decision. Even Ponyboy. We knew the risks.”

“Hey!” Curly screamed, having joined the mob of people. “From now on, not a single outlander goes into that cave! What did I tell you? For the past hour, you people have been coming to me for advice on this rescue! You see where following outlanders got you? I’m organizing a rescue party. If you’re small enough to help, come with me. We’re getting him out the right way.”

Skeets looked panicked. “He can’t do that. He can’t do that, can he? I—I have to go back in! I ain’t gonna leave him there.”

Two-Bit put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “He doesn’t understand. You did nothing wrong, Skeets. Don’t worry, you won’t be barred from the cave. Aside from Soda, you’re gonna be the most essential person to Ponyboy’s survival. Both for morale and gettin’ him out.”

“But Curly—”

“I’ll wallop Curly if he keeps you out. Promise.”

Darry wouldn’t move from the entrance as he waited for Sodapop. Finally, his brother emerged from the ground, looking around frantically until their eyes locked.

Darry held his arms open, and Soda nearly tripped over his own feet dashing into them. He sagged in Darry’s embrace, his chest hitching with immediate sobs.

“We almost killed him!” Soda wailed. “I almost listened to him be—be torn in two! Oh, Darry!”

Darry trembled, locking his arms tighter around Soda. “It’s over now,” he choked out. “It’s gonna be all right, it’s over.” It wasn’t close to over, though, he knew that. The horrific pulling operation was over, but their little brother was still down in that hole, likely traumatized. They hadn’t even helped the situation; they’d only made it worse.

“I thought he was gonna die in front of me,” Soda said, his words breaking. “I’ve never heard a person scream like that. Never. I thought I wouldn’t be fast enough. I thought they wouldn’t hear me and be able to stop in time.”

“But you did,” Darry said, cupping the back of Soda’s head. “You did. You saved his life.”

Each of Soda’s sobs tore through Darry like a knife. As much as he yearned to be down there with Pony, he was selfishly thankful he didn’t have to hear Ponyboy like that. Darry wished he could pluck the memory from Soda’s and Steve’s and Skeets’s heads, but life just didn’t work like that.

Those other two boys were sitting in a daze. Shivers wracked Skeets’s body. There was nothing behind Steve’s eyes.

God, why did any of this have to happen?

Chapter Text

Curly Shepard caved less for the thrill of it and more for the business aspect. He was quite good at that kind of stuff. He’d just gone into both the real estate and auto businesses, finding himself to have a knack for selling. However, he understood why Ponyboy Curtis liked caving so much, and Curly did find himself having fun on the trips he accompanied his friend for.

For the past few months, actually, Ponyboy and Darry had been considering selling Crystal Cave to the Shepards, although that deal in the making had fallen through recently. Despite Darry’s misgivings, Pony had just been too attached to the cave to sell, even if it wasn’t as profitable as they’d expected.

On Saturday afternoon, January 31st, on his way from Horse Cave to Cave City, he visited a neighbor he hadn’t seen in awhile.

“You heard about Ponyboy Curtis stuck in the cave?” the neighbor asked.

Curly hadn’t. Once he reached Cave City, he started asking around about Pony. Ordering a cup of coffee at the local restaurant, he was told that Ponyboy was caught in a hole on Flint Ridge but would probably be out by dark. So Curly thought little more about it. Pony was lucky. He’d be just fine.

Tim mentioned the situation when Curly got home, but he didn’t seem to think much of it either, so Curly didn’t worry.

Curly slept most of Sunday, but at 4:30 p.m., he went back to the restaurant to see if there was any news about Pony. Told that Ponyboy was still trapped, he gathered up several friends and headed for Sand Cave.

They arrived about dinnertime, finding almost a hundred people present.

“Hey! Curly!” Steve Randle waved his arm, running over. “Ponyboy’s been asking for you.”

Curly cursed. Pony had been asking for him, and he hadn’t been there? He could’ve arrived so much sooner if he knew Pony was really stuck-stuck. “I gotta go in.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re too stocky to get past the squeeze. I don’t think Pony realizes that. I think you’d better stay out here for now.”

After about an hour of listening to descriptions of exactly how Ponyboy was caught, he drove back to his home in Cave City and went to bed.

During the night, Curly began formulating his own rescue plans. The next morning, he borrowed an air drill and hired a truck to take it to Sand Cave. But when he got there, he found that there was already a fireman who had brought one!

Fucking outlander.

He found Two-Bit, Steve, and Darry huddled around a fire, talking in low tones.

“Hey, fellas,” he greeted. “Any changes?”

Darry shook his head. “No. But some fireman went into the cave not too long ago. Soda’s in there now, too.”

“Speak of the devil,” Two-Bit remarked.

The slight but tall fireman came out of the cave, Sodapop on his heels. The fireman looked testy and arrogant. He began barking orders at people like he was in control of the place. Curly immediately disliked him.

And for good reason, it turned out. The following conversation about a pulling rescue sounded like the worst idea Curly had ever heard. He was sure the argument would be past them as soon as the doctors gave their input on his side, but that weasely fireman had convinced the Curtises, and that was how Curly was about to watch the pulling operation that would certainly rend his friend in two.

Curly stood sullenly by while the fireman organized the rock-clearing party. He watched, sick to his stomach, as men pulled on that rope. He had a sick sort of satisfaction when he realized it hadn’t worked. After he learned that Pony was whole, of course.

Of course, he wanted Pony free. And if the harness had done it, so be it, free was free. But Curly had known before the whole ordeal with complete certainty that it wasn’t going to work.

Ponyboy was lucky to be alive after that. They all knew it now. Curly was going to get him out safely. In one piece. Far better than any outlander could. He knew the caves. They didn’t.

So, he organized a party. Some other cave country men accompanied him down.

Thirty minutes after the harness attempt failed, Curly entered the cave for the first time with his personally selected crew. He had been told he might not make it through some of the smaller squeezes, so he let a smaller man lead the way.

But as they reached the turnaround chamber, Curly yelled for the man to let him pass. Curly called down the final chute, and then, he heard Ponyboy’s voice respond.

“That you, Curly?” It was a plea more than a question. “Is that you?”

“You betcha! I come to get you out.”

A small laugh bubbled out of his friend. “That’s Curly Shepard; he’s my friend. Let him down here! Let him down here!”

Curly peered down the chute. “Is there another way in there?”

“No. Come on down, Curly.”

“Did you go through this hole?” Curly asked, aghast. He couldn’t imagine anyone fitting through a hole this small.

“Yep.”

Curly shook his head. “I don’t see how ya done it.”

“Wal, I done it, but it was awful tight.”

Curly knew he would never make it without some digging.

“I’m thirsty, Curly. Got somethin’ to drink?”

Curly grabbed the bottle of milk one of the other men had brought and asked for a piece of string. He tied it onto the bottle and lowered it into the pit before realizing Pony couldn’t move to reach it. Wrapping the string’s loose end around a rock, he said, “That’s the best I can do now.”

His immediate problem was how to widen the chute’s mouth so he could get in. He first thought that if he removed two of the largest rocks forming the lip of the pit, he might force his body through. He passed back the rocks, but still he could not squeeze through. He dug away more rocks. Still couldn’t. Finally, after a discussion with the others about what to do, he called to Pony, “I’ll be right back! I’ve got to get me some gloves and tools.”

As he left the cave about 9 o’ clock, he noticed a growing rowdiness among the hundred and fifty or so persons still gathered at the cave. The crowd had seemed restless earlier in the evening, but nothing like now. Drunken men lurched and reeled. Voices were louder. Two tents had been pitched at the cave entrance—a first aid station and a station with snacks and coffee for the rescuers.

Other newcomers had arrived, some of them workers from an asphalt company. They were starting to shore up the cave’s entrance, by whose authority, Curly had no idea.

Well, damn, Curly thought. None of these people could help the situation where it mattered most—at Ponyboy’s side. At best, they were useless. At worst, dangerous. Their tramping around could trigger rockfalls in the passage. If these outlanders would only leave, it would be better for everyone. It was obvious the other natives felt the same way. Profane shouting matches were developing between them and the newcomers.

At ten, Curly went into the cave for a second time with his men. At the chute, he asked one of them to hold his feet while he reached down to pull out some larger rocks. One was over thirty pounds, and the thought he’d tear apart trying to wrestle it up. The second one, sixty pounds, required a rope to be hauled up. He removed several smaller rocks, and, at last, the chute opening was big enough for him to drop in.

While assessing Ponyboy’s desperate situation, Curly gave him the milk. He tried to hold his flashlight and feed Pony at the same time, causing some of the milk to spill and Pony to gag.

“Shit!” Curly cursed himself loudly. He shifted to a new position, and the feeding went much better.

Pony seemed relieved to have Curly there. Between swallows, he told him the story of how he’d been caught.

Taking up where Sodapop left off, Curly began the slow process of digging out gravel and dirt from around Pony’s body. His plan was to wedge in over the top of Pony after the loose gravel was cleared from his upper thighs and under his back and bottom. In that position, he could remove the gravel from around Pony’s knees and lower legs. With a crowbar, he could then lift the rock off Pony’s foot. He would be free.

Curly worked patiently and silently. But after two and a half hours, he was exhausted, and the men above were stiff from the cold breeze and miserable from the wet. But he had made progress. The space was enlarged between the limestone ceiling and Pony’s chest, and Pony was again able to move his upper right leg.

“Curly!” one of the men shouted from the top. “Your energy is declining. You need to rest at the surface for a while.”

“Fine,” Curly said. He placed a rolled-up blanket under Pony’s head and covered him with a dry quilt. Pony was mercifully asleep when he left.

Conditions on the surface hadn’t changed.

People flocked him as soon as he emerged, asking if Pony had any chance. Curly described his plan and asked them to keep unauthorized persons out of the cave to help him.

Quarrels between the locals and the outlanders continued to erupt around him. As he collapsed down by a fire, someone asked him if there was anything he could do. In exasperation, Curly shouted, “Shit yes! Keep those damned drunks out of the cave.”

Around 3 a.m., he went in for the third time with his med. Pony was awake, and he and Curly talked briefly about what he hoped to accomplish. Then Curly reached down and around Pony’s lower waist, removing gravel and loose dirt handful by handful. It was time-consuming.

Impatiently, he tried to crawl over Pony a few times, to wedge his head and shoulders into the space above Pony’s chest, but his bulk always prevented it. But he kept reassuring his friend.

“It’s workin’, Pony. It’s comin’. Yessuh! Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop us, Pony. You’re shore hung up, but by God, we’ll get you free.”

But the hours passed without success. Pony was becoming torn by doubt. His bubbly, ‘How’s it comin’, Curls? How’s it comin’?’ gradually changed to ‘What’s the matter. What’s wrong?’ Then, his comments shifted altogether.

“You’re hurting me!”

“I—Pony, I’m not doing anything different.”

But Pony continued to mumble pitifully, and the smallest stone falling caused him to moan. He grew more and more distressed, groaning in almost constant pain.

Curly was truly frightened when Pony just started sobbing.

“Get some coffee for him!” Curly shouted up. “I have to calm him down!” He washed Pony’s face with a wet handkerchief, desperate to make him feel better.

The men above continued to haul out the gravel Curly was removing. Curly had succeeded in clearing the gravel from Pony’s thighs. But his left leg remained immobilized, and no matter how Curly tried, he could not squeeze in far enough to work below Pony’s knees. He was perspiring profusely, but he was also so cold. His hands trembled, and his body shook. Pony noticed.

“Curly, why don’t you go out and rest a minute and then come back?”

“I reckon I’d better,” Curly replied wearily. “But Pony, I don’t want others a-comin’ in here. They’ll destroy what I’ve done. I wanta keep them out.”

“Ya know, Curly,” Pony said, looking at him, “I’d ruther you get me out than almost anyone else in the world.”

Curly patted his shoulder. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get you out.”

“Wrap me up afore you go.”

Curly pulled the quilt into place and adjusted the oilcloth. “Will that smother you?”

Pony shook his head.

“I won’t be back for a spell,” Curly said. “I’m really tired. You gonna be all right?”

Pony managed a wan smile. “I can live here two weeks if someone’ll jes’ feed me.”

Curly and the others moved out. It was 6:30 a.m., Tuesday morning, February 3rd.

Chapter Text

After the harness rescue attempt, Sodapop had never felt more exhausted in his life. Skeets and Sheldon had both collapsed soon after exiting the cave and had to be helped away. Sodapop was hardly able to stay on his own feet, and it seemed like Darry wasn’t either.

“Hey,” Curly Shepard called, running up to them. “I’m goin’ in now. Anythin’ I should know?”

“Keep digging. I think we’ll reach his feet soon. I also think there’s a hole down beyond Pony. He keeps mentioning it. He hears gravel falling down it. He found a cave down there. I think if we can work that hole bigger, we may be able to un-wedge that rock.”

After that, Soda and Darry were driven to the Dixie Hotel in Cave City, ordered to beds. A physician also came into their room.

Darry wasn’t looking well at all. Soda felt ashamed for not noticing it earlier, but it was clear he hadn’t fully recovered from his fainting spell.

Sodapop knew he himself wasn’t doing too well either. He was badly shaken from the pulling ordeal, and he was covered in cuts and bruises. His stamina was nearly depleted. Lack of sleep was taking its toll. He felt like he was on death’s doorstep, and Darry didn’t look too much better.

The doctor looked over Soda, remarking, “You better stay out, or there’ll be another Curtis boy trapped in there.”

His cuts were treated, and Darry was given some medication for the fever he was developing. Soda knew he’d been sporting a cold over the past week, but the situation of the past few days seemed to have made him more sick than either of them realized.

In the hotel bed, Soda curled into Darry’s side, losing himself to sleep for a couple of hours.

Until there was a frantic knock on the door.

Soda jumped, hardly feeling rested at all. He climbed out of bed, aching from head to toe, opening the door to find a reporter.

“Ponyboy’s been released!” the man exclaimed, and he hurried off before Soda could even get a question in.

Released? Could it really be? Had Curly done it?

Soda hastily finished dressing then went to the bed. He hated to wake Darry, but he shook him by the shoulder anyway. “Dar. Darry, wake up.”

“Huh?” Darry stirred, but his face was pale with sickness. Sodapop knew he wasn’t going anywhere for some time.

“A reporter just stopped by. He told me Pony’s been released.”

Darry’s eyes opened wide, shiny with fever. “What? Izzit true?”

“I don’t know. But I have to go and see.”

“M’comin’, too.” Darry moved to throw off the covers, but Soda pushed his shoulders down. Darry was too weak to even fight back.

“Honey, you’re real sick. I don’t think you’ll be movin’ for the next few days. You should’ve told someone.”

“I—I didn’ really know,” Darry mumbled. “Thought… jus’ a cold.”

“It was, at first.” He brushed Darry’s hair back from his damp forehead. “I’ll see if I can send Two-Bit to come stay with ya."

“I want to be there,” Darry whispered.

“No, hon,” Soda said softly. “The only help now is people who can get down there, and Curly’s here, now. Everythin’s gonna be okay.”

“I dunno if it is, Sodes.”

Soda swallowed hard. Neither did he.

“God, I just wanna see him,” Darry cried weakly.

Soda felt like his heart was shattering. “I know. I know, baby. I would do anything to make it happen for you. But you need to sleep now. I need you to get better. I can’t be worryin’ about you both.”

Darry held onto Soda’s wrist, an equal concern in his eyes. “Don’ work yerself sick.”

Soda didn’t know how he couldn’t. He would die if that’s what it took to get Pony out. He felt awful, but he knew Pony must feel even worse. Soda was one of the few people who could actually do anything.

And maybe it was true. Maybe it really was over. Maybe Pony was out.

God, let it be true.

He kissed Darry’s head, then straightened. “I’ll send Two-Bit,” he said again. “I’ll see you later.”

There were no cars or wagons he could take at that hour, given that it was the middle of the night, so he hitchhiked to Sand Cave.

There was still a large crowd when he got there. Soda ran up to the first person he saw. “Have they gotten Pony out yet?”

“No.”

His heart sank. “Well, are they bringing him out now?”

The man looked at him in bewilderment. “They can’t bring him out. He’s still trapped.”

Sodapop cursed. He’d known not to trust it. He’d known. But the devastation still hit him like a brick to the chest. “Then I’m going back in the cave again to get him out!”

The man grabbed his arm when Soda started to move. “There are quite a few men in the tunnel, and you can’t go in. You are in no condition to go into the cave. You’re too weak. You’d better rest up for a while if you want to do any good.”

In a tizzy, Soda knew he could do nothing but obey. Curly was down there, he knew that, and only one person could be beside Pony at a time. He headed to the newly pitched first aid tent and lay down on a cot there after finding Two-Bit and telling him of Darry’s condition.

Soda woke when Curly blustered into the tent, around sunrise. He found Steve also there, sitting next to his own cot.

Curly looked exhausted to his core, but Sodapop was anxious for news. “What’s the latest?”

Curly collapsed onto the other empty cot. “I’m sure we’re almost there. It’s only that I’m so exhausted that we can’t get him out right away. But Pony’s release is certain, I’ll tell ya that. But the only way we can get him out for sure is if we keep this damn excess traffic out of the cave. Nobody but us can enter.”

“Excuse me.” A man entered the tent and approached Curly. “Are you the one in charge of operations? We’ve been waiting to speak to the one in charge.”

Curly nodded. “Sure. Me and Sodapop here can answer anything.”

“We’re here with our expert stonecutters. With Woodson and Kratch Monument Company of Louisville. We want our men to dress in thin garments and get through the squeezes. We’ll run a survey, then chisel away the limestone rock above Ponyboy’s head. In return, I ask that no one be allowed to enter the cave or interfere with them until they’re finished.”

“That’s a good idea,” Steve said.

“No fuckin’ way,” Curly countered. “And my ‘no’ means ‘no’. I ain’t got any energy to argue with outlanders. You Louisville men know nothin’ about caves or their characteristics. You’ll only fill up the crevice around Ponyboy again and make our job more difficult.”

“No, we know what we’re doing,” the stonecutter argued. “We’ve been in this profession for years. Do you want your friend out or not?”

“Absolutely. And I don’t want your ‘help.’ Everyone’s only made it worse so far. Get the fuck out.”

The stonecutter bristled. “Watch your mouth, boy. You ain’t as high and mighty as you think you are. What are you, sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Old enough to know what the fuck I’m talking about. Out.”

The stonecutter flipped him off, sneering. “You grossly incompetent boy. Your actions are going to get that boy killed.” The man left.

Steve turned to Curly, his mouth agape. “Curly. Come on! You’re making a mistake. A real rescue opportunity is being lost. Ponyboy needs this.” They argued for about another ten minutes before Steve left in a huff. “I’m going to get those stonecutters back.”

Sodapop stayed silent the entire time. He didn’t know what the right decision was. It seemed like there was no right decision.

Then, before they could get another wink of rest, another controversy erupted. A local boy burst into the tent, panic in his eyes. “Sodapop! Curly! Come quick! Lieutenant Sheldon is trying to initiate another pulling scheme!”

Without another thought, Soda leapt out of his cot, Curly hot on his heels.

Sure enough, a fire-hose hoist had just been delivered to the rescue site, and Bob was busily moving it into place.

“What are you doing?!” Sodapop cried.

“It’s going at the mouth of the cave,” Bob explained. “I’ll attach a long rope to it and winch Ponyboy out, with or without his foot.”

Many of the natives screamed loudly. Soda was aghast. Curly started arguing with Bob immediately.

“No, you’re the one who’s doing it all wrong!” Bob shouted at Curly. “Your method isn’t aggressive enough!”

“Fuck you!” Curly screamed back. “You’re batshit crazy! That’s a dangerous rescue method, and you know it. You were there last night. You nearly killed him! Pony will come out with his foot attached if people like you stay out of the way!”

Bob’s face was red with anger. “You all do understand what will happen if he’s left in there, don’t you? Here are the alternatives if we don’t drag him out. His body will be crushed by the limestone above him. It can cave in at any moment. He will die in extreme agony, alone. Or worse. There will be a cave-in further up the tunnel, and Ponyboy will be left to rot and die of exposure, in the dark, unable to speak to anyone, and he will die with no one by his side, sobbing for his brothers until he takes his last, horrible breath when his body finally gives up.”

Soda burst into tears. He hid his face, absolutely appalled.

“NO!” Curly screamed again. “There’s no way to drag him out without killing him.”

“You all are sealing his demise!” Bob shouted at the locals. “He will die because of you!”

More insults were hurled back and forth between him and the natives, until finally, he was forced to abandon his plan. Bob whirled toward Curly, hatred in his eyes. “You will regret this, you little bastard.”

Curly threw up his hands. “I’m going to Cave City. I won’t be able to get any rest here.” He stormed off.

With Curly’s departure, rescue work halted. A few people continued to remove rocks from the upper passageway. Steve returned, telling Soda he hadn’t caught the stonecutters in time. They were already on their way back to Louisville.

Soda was about dead on his feet, so Steve ushered him back to the cot, urging him to sleep for the remainder of the morning. He’d wake him if there was any more news.

Soda complied, knowing he needed at least a little more rest before being capable of going down in that cave again.

Chapter Text

Randy Adderson first learned of the Ponyboy Curtis incident while reading the Courier-Journal on Monday evening.

Immediately, he knew he was in a good position to help. He had recently been promoted to superintendent of the local asphalt company. He ordered ten of his volunteers to go to the cave and help.

Clearly, they hadn’t made much progress, because one of the men called Randy on Tuesday morning. “Mr. Adderson, we don’t know what we’re doing. There’s no one in charge here. We don’t know how to help. It’s just complete chaos. You have to come over.”

Randy came prepared to work. He’d been in school as a civil engineer, so he was trained well for work like this. He dressed in a well-worn sheepskin coat, high top boots, and an old felt hat.

Upon reaching the site, he quickly realized his men were right: there was no one actually in charge of the rescue, and the previous attempts had been unstructured, desultory, ineffectual, and chaotic. They needed efficiency and orderliness, and he was going to provide it.

He learned that Ponyboy was trapped about sixty feet under the ground through about a 150-foot passageway. He learned how Ponyboy was stuck and that while there had been many rescue parties, only a few people had reached his side.

Randy immediately began to put together a coordinated operation. He brought 20 of his volunteers on site. Then, he made a list of crew members who could relieve each other in making deep trips into the cave. Finally, he assigned gangs of men to work in the upper reaches of the passageway, handing out rock and gravel. His objective was to use people efficiently. He’d also have his men shore the entrance room of the cave and move on down. He would scout the area for a possible rescue shaft sight, meanwhile.

His plan was fully underway by Tuesday afternoon. He found a likely spot for a shaft, and seven of his drillers prepared to drill. However, this produced a storm of protests from the natives.

“I absolutely forbid you from beginning,” a sandy-haired young man scolded him.

“And who are you?”

“I’m his brother, you idiot! I know this cave better than anyone. You can’t drill a shaft. The jarring would weaken the roof of the passageway, causing it to collapse and destroying any further chance of rescue. Even if you did begin a shaft, Pony won’t live long enough to benefit from it.”

Randy sighed. “If you’re sure. Fine. Then we concentrate all rescue efforts through the existing passageway.”

While he’d been facing a lot of opposition earlier in the day from the locals, by late afternoon, they seemed to be warming up to his efforts, given that they didn’t have any better ideas.

Ponyboy dreamed of home.

He imagined breakfast cooking on the stove, of his brothers tickling him awake, of his friends playing football games in the yard. He smelled apple pies and listened to sweet yodeling and tasted hot sausage wafting in the air.

When he woke, he didn’t know what time it was. All he knew was it was cold, it was wet, it was dark, and he was alone again. He moved his right leg a little. But when he tried his left, it was as stuck as ever. His body felt like it had been manhandled on a washboard and hung to dry. He tried to remember who had been with him last. Curly, maybe? Or had it been Sodapop…

“Helloooooooooo?” he heard someone call from above. The persistent knot in his chest loosened a little. Thank God. Company.

A new man wormed his way down the chute to feed Ponyboy a pint of coffee and potato soup from a bottle. The warm soup tasted like heaven on earth. The man remained with Pony for almost thirty minutes, talking his ear off the entire time, jabbering useless small talk. Pony got the idea that he was scared to death of being in the cave, and talking like that was his only distraction.

After that, someone else wriggled to the top of the shaft to speak with Pony for a few minutes. From the sound of that guy’s voice, he sounded even more scared than the first and was out of there by the fifth minute.

An hour or so later, Ponyboy heard movement again, then a new voice from the top of the chute. After a minute, there was someone new by his side. “What ‘n hell you don’ in this hole in this fix?” the man exclaimed, peering at Pony’s perilous situation.

Someone else immediately chided him. “Dammit, man, why’d you say that?”

Ponyboy bristled. “I wish you’d do less jawin’ and more workin’.” Nodding toward his feet, he demanded, “Move that there rock jus’ three inches, an’ I’ll be free.”

The man didn’t get it, instead gaping at the slab of limestone above Ponyboy. “Shit, no! You move that rock, and it’ll all come down on us. We’ll have to get you out another way.”

Too weak to argue, Ponyboy groaned.

“What else can we do for you?” the man asked, all jittery-like.

“I want some warm water and some milk and a damp warm rag and a pair of gloves.”

When the water arrived, Ponyboy found it difficult to swallow. The gloves were slow in coming, so the man removed his and gave them to Pony. He insisted on putting them on himself. He held each one close to his side while he wriggled his fingers in. Then he displayed his gloved hands proudly. “See that? I got pretty good nerves, haven’t I?”

The man smiled. “You sure have.”

“This isn’t hard on me like it is on you all,” bragged Ponyboy. “Ya know, in my own Crystal Cave, I was hung up once for twenty-four hours and freed myself.”

The man began moving gravel from around Pony’s legs. Pony relayed to him how he’d gotten caught, how Two-Bit found him, and about the work Sodapop and Curly were doing for him. He even mentioned the curious Skeets Cade, wondering aloud if he would be back, that he hoped he would be. He talked about the people he knew coming down, and about the countless people he didn’t, many, many men who had talked to him, and he didn’t even know their names.

The milk he’d requested came down, and the man fed him. But Pony decided he didn’t want it anymore, finding he’d rather just keep talking. Because if he stopped talking, the man would leave. And he didn’t want the man to leave. He didn’t want to be alone again.

Then, the man’s lantern flickered. The man above beckoned his companion to come out.

“I…” the man hesitated, looking at Pony pitifully, as if he could sense that Pony really didn’t want him to leave. “Okay.” He patted Pony on the shoulder and climbed out of the pit.

Pony swallowed thickly. It wasn’t fair. He was through being lonely.

“Goodbye, Ponyboy!” the man called.

“Goodbye,” Pony said, despondent. They were both leaving. “I’ll see you all in heaven.”

Chapter Text

“Johnny!”

Skeets winced as his editor yelled over the phone at the local hotel. “I had to, sir, the story had to get out quickly. Besides, I gave the story to the Times. That’s our sister paper, not a competitor. A story this big had to go in an evening paper, not wait for the morning edition. We were going to be scooped by a wire service otherwise. That was a risk I was not willing to take.”

The editor sighed. “I’m not happy at all with you, Johnny.”

“I know, sir, but you don’t understand what it’s like out here. I’ve never seen competition like this.”

“Well, kid, as furious as I am, that story you wrote was incredible. Visceral. I took a chance on you, and it’s clearly paying off; I won’t discount that. But to prevent this from happening again, you must send all your subsequent cave stories directly to me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

That was Monday evening. After the harness attempt, Skeets called his editor again with his account of it. And it was run in the Tuesday morning edition of the Courier-Journal under the banner headline: “C-J REPORTER, 3 OTHERS MAKE FIRST GAIN IN EFFORT TO SAVE VICTIM.”

That same morning, the opposition Herald also described the harness attempt but emphasized the role of Sheldon and hardly mentioned Skeets at all.

But Skeets’s two initial eyewitness reports sparked a butterfly effect on the Curtis story that even he could not have predicted. The Associated Press pounced on his accounts and began distributing them nationally. City editors all across the east and midwest sent their reporters to Sand Cave to cash in on the publicity. The railroad became a major communication and news artery. Reporters and information flowed in and out of central Kentucky by rail.

On Monday, big city papers were printing stories about Ponyboy, but they were short and garbled. None of them lined up.

One paper claimed a landslide had trapped Pony. Another that he was moaning and begging for a knife with which to cut off his left foot. One said he was trapped in his own Crystal Cave. Another that his lantern exploding caused the cave-in. That the cave was sixteen degrees. That workers were tunneling to him. That he was twenty-one years old, ten, twelve, twenty-eight, thirty-two, and that Sodapop was twenty-five, eighteen, thirty, thirty-nine.

By Tuesday morning, the tragedy of Ponyboy Curtis suddenly pushed Nome’s diphtheria epidemic into second place in the nation’s press, when that had been the headlines over the nation for a week, telling the stories of Gunner Kaasen and Balto, an Alaskan Malamute.

Now, a lone Kentuckian boy grabbed top attention. It was the biggest national news, as far as Skeets had heard. As Curly Shepard fought to keep Pony’s rescue a local matter, Ponyboy Curtis was becoming a household name.

At 5 p.m. on Tuesday, February 3rd, a pair of men exited the cave. Throughout the course of Tuesday afternoon, Skeets had been formulating his own plans for a new assault on Pony’s prison chamber. While a new man named Adderson organized a rescue effort, a Skeets and a Cave City garagemen had rigged up an electric drop cord with several light bulbs pigtailed along it. Skeets hoped to string these lights in the passageway. The cave entrance end was to be wired into a thirty-two-volt generator supplied by the Delco agency manager in Munfordville.

Also, with Lieutenant Sheldon’s assistance, Skeets had gathered together an assortment of jacks, crowbars, and tools to be used to enlarge the opening around Pony and pry the rock off his foot.

Skeets came to the cave on Tuesday with the announced intention of either getting Pony out or staying in with him. Although he dreaded the idea of going back in, he wasn’t the amateur he’d been the day before. This time, he wore gloves, heavy shoes, leggings, warm clothes covered by overalls, and a wool hat pulled over his ears. At 5:30 p.m., he disappeared into the cave as the lead man in a large crew. Sheldon was second. The two of them were the first links in a chain of 10 men that extended from Pony almost to the surface.

Dragging the terminal bulb of the light cord with him, Skeets could see the passage clearly for the first time. The light made it a little less scary. There was an amazing amount of loose rocks and debris everywhere—loose boards, broken glass, cigarette butts, spent chewing tobacco, clothes, blankets, and food.

Arriving at the chute, Skeets dropped the light in and followed behind. To his surprise, he found the pit clean. The rubble was gone. It was much easier for him to move around this time. Pony was still in the same impossible position, but progress had been made. Ponyboy was able to twist from side to side, and he could use his hands and arms.

Skeets felt a surge of hope. He talked excitedly up to Sheldon, relaying the situation to him. Bob looked equally impressed.

Skeets put his attention to digging away more gravel from around Pony’s legs, trying a new digging technique. He put his left foot over the top of Pony’s head and maneuvered it along Pony’s right side until Pony’s head was at his belt. Then he shifted weight to his left knee, moving his right leg along Pony’s left side and sliding his lower body horizontally in on top of Pony. Ducking his head down and to the right and reaching back with his right hand, Skeets could pull handfuls of gravel up from around Ponyboy’s left leg. The width in which Skeets had to work was about that of a dining room chair. The vertical distance above Pony’s body was only about five or six inches. It was impossible to push in headfirst over Pony’s torso, so this awkward position was Skeets’s alternative.

“Sorry,” Skeets immediately apologized to the kid. “This can’t be comfortable for you either.”

Ponyboy snickered. “Take me for a tumble for all I care, just get me out.”

Skeets couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him, then winced from the strain it put on his already straining body. “Don’t—Don’t make me laugh. That’s gross, man.”

Pony just chuckled, clearly amused.

Skeets worked tirelessly, eventually freeing Pony’s left knee. But try as he might, he just could not get down farther than his left calf. The work was agony, and Skeets was soon drenched in sweat. Time dragged as sharp shards of rock sliced through his gloves. Finally, he could take no more. He sat back, panting. Those above him, numbed by the cold. Heading back to the entrance to get warm. Before they left, they passed down a quart of coffee, a pint of milk, and a half pint of whiskey for Skeets to give Pony.

For the first time since they’d met, Skeets was alone with the trapped boy again. Skeets fought down his weariness and frustration. The electric bulb glared harshly in the muddy enclosure, reflecting sparkles of reflected light on the dripping walls.

In the light, Skeets could clearly see the weariness and pain lines in Pony’s face. The beginning of stubble on cheek. His face seemed sunken.

Although it was still difficult to feed Pony, at least with the lightbulb casting its glow, Skeets could use both hands. He arranged Pony’s head on his knee and started with the whiskey. Then he fed him the milk with a soda straw, regulating the flow into Ponyboy’s mouth by pinching the straw shut when the kid needed to swallow.

Though the boy was only a few years younger than he was, it felt almost like feeding a baby.

When he was done, Pony sighed in meager relief. “I was mighty weak a few hours ago—mighty weak, but now I feel better. I’m glad yer back.”

“Yeah. I am, too.”

Pony gave a drowsy chuckle. “Thought I’d scared ya off fer good.”

“Wasn’t you. It was this cave.”

“It was—It was kind of me, though, too. Right?”

“Well—I—I didn’t expect to feel a living, breathing person down here. It was dark. Didn’t know what I was doin’, and suddenly I just felt… you.” Skeets shuddered. “Ain’t nothin’ against you, but when ya ain’t expectin’ it… You can’t imagine.”

“Eh, my brothers say I got a pretty good imagination. But I’ll take yer word for it. Hey, I’ve been wonderin’. Why do they call ya ‘Skeets’?”

“Cus I’m no bigger than a mosquito. 5’5” and 117 pounds. I look it, too.”

“Wow,” Pony marveled. “You’re even smaller than I am. You ever cave-dived before?”

“No. This is new.”

“Glory, that nine-inch squeeze up there is no joke for a greenie! You must be pretty brave, huh? Hardly anyone up there gettin’ past a squeeze like that. No siree, they’ll wet their pants and cry for their mamas.”

“Trust me, I sure wasn’t feelin’ brave that first time down.” Johnny chuckled. “You sure are funny for a guy stuck in a cave.”

“Might as well keep my spirits up, don’tcha think? Not much I can do about it now. S’just been you and Soda and that fireman, another guy, and Curly. He ain’t scared o’ nothin’. He and I have been cavin’ together forever. We’re real good buddies.”

“Oh, yeah? How many people you go caving with?”

“Mostly Curly or Sodapop. Soda’s friend Steve comes along every once in a while. Our buddy Two-Bit’s brave enough to do it, which can get you pretty far in a cave. But brute strength ain’t always everythin’, and he’s a bit stocky to come down anywhere this far. Have you seen my big brother Darry? Ain’t no way he’d make it even as far as Two-Bit could. He wouldn’t like caves, anyway. He don’t mind the big open touristy kind—I do give tours an’ all—but he wouldn’t like it much to worm around and not see the sky above ‘im.”

“Do you mind that I’m here to write your story? I don’t know if I’d be this peachy if it were me.”

“Nah, it’s okay. If it was some persnickety guy come down here to ask me questions, maybe I’d mind. But you seem mighty fine, Skeets. Johnny? Which do you prefer? Honestly, anyone who comes all the way down here gets my respect. Boy, you don’t know how much I want outta here.”

“I can’t imagine,” Skeets said with a shudder. “And Skeets is fine. Or Johnny, really. I don’t mind. I like both.”

“Okey-doke, Johnnyskeeter.”

Skeets snickered. “Maybe not that.”

“Just teasin’ ya, Skeets.”

Skeets smiled. “Sure, Horsefella.”

“Hey!”

“What? I had to pay it back. Why did your parents name ya Ponyboy, anyhow?”

“Well, I was born in 1908, see. And a Broadway show came out that year, was revived the next year. Was real popular or somethin’, I dunno, don’t know much ‘bout New York. And my parents didn’t neither, but there was a real popular song from it. And my Mama and Papa, about ten months after I’s born, walked into a fancypants store for some flour, and they had a record player in there. They had never seen one before. They oogled and goggled that thing, and there was a brand-spankin’-new record playin’. Some funny song a quartet sang, called ‘My Pony Boy.’ Well, my daddy was a real ‘riginal person. Named my big brother Sodapop, after all, and was just waitin’ for inspiration to strike for his new babe. And one little love song was all it took. A love song, Skeets! How will I ever live it down!” His tone was all laughing and joking.

Skeets gaped. “You were nameless for ten months?”

“Sure. Jus’ called me ‘baby,’ or 'the baby.’ And trust me, it annoyed my mama to pieces. But Papa said he was waiting for the perfect name, no matter how long it took. But I bet if he’d gone much longer without the inspiration, Mama would’ve put her foot down and named me whatever she wanted. Or would’ve scared Papa with the proposition of lettin’ my brothers name me or somethin’.”

Skeets couldn’t help but chuckle. “At least you aren’t called after an insect. A pony’s sure nicer than a mosquito, I’ll tellya that.”

“I been jabbin’ off yer ear,” Pony said. “Maybe you oughtta tell me some about you, now.”

“Well, okay… I ain’t all that interestin’ though.”

“Callin’ yer bluff.”

Skeets smiled. “Whatever. I’m from Louisville. I—”

“Woah!” Ponyboy interrupted almost immediately. “Big city boy.”

“You knew I was from there! That’s where the Courier-Journal is!”

“Oh. Go on.”

“You won’t interrupt?”

Pony snickered. “Just go on. I ain’t makin’ no promises.”

“Anyway. I—”

“Got any family?”

Skeets sputtered. “I said not to interrupt!”

“I’m just askin’!”

“Ugh! Fine. Sure, but they don’t care a lick about me.”

For the first time, Pony was stunned silent. Skeets worried he’d said too much. This kid didn’t want to hear about any troubles. Of course he didn’t! He was stuck in a cave! He wanted to hear about nice stuff, didn’t want to hear non-stuck people moan and groan about their family life. Come on, Skeets!

Then, Pony said softly, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Skeets swallowed hard. “That’s why I gotta write this story. Then maybe they’ll finally notice me. Maybe they’ll finally care.”

“It shouldn’t take a good story to care about you.”

Skeets clicked his tongue. “Well, nothing else has worked.”

“It shouldn’t! Who is it, yer parents? They gotta love ya, they just gotta!”

Skeets blinked back the tears that stung his eyes. “No. They don’t. And they probably ain’t never gonna. But I gotta try anyway.”

“Don’t you… don’t you have nobody?” Pony all but whispered, his voice sounding so miserable and baffled. For Skeets’s sake, of all people.

“I got Dally. That’s it. But that’s different. He’s my buddy. Ain’t my family.”

“Who’s Dally?”

“Dallas. He’s been my buddy since… well, since forever. We kinda look out for each other. He don’t really got no one neither. We stick together. I ain’t got any more than him.”

“Is he nice?”

Skeets almost burst into laughter. “Anything but. He’s tough. Mean.”

“Why ya like him, then?”

Skeets thought for a moment. Why did he like Dallas Winston? “I… Well, I don’t know. It kind of just… happened. You ever known someone like that? Known them for so long, you can’t imagine not knowing them? Not being ‘you’ without them? I’ve just known him forever. He ain’t… he ain’t mean with me. He’s a good buddy, once you get to know him. Most loyal guy you’ll ever meet. And I mean that.”

“My buddy Curly’s kinda like that,” Ponyboy remarked. “Can’t tell you how many fights I seen ‘im brawl. He’ll pick one over nothin’. But we just… grew up together, I dunno. It takes a brave kind of person to go into a cave, and that was the kind of person I needed, you know?” He chuckled. “Even if he is as much of a ‘brat’ as it gets, as Darry would say.”

“Darry. Your oldest brother, right?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I heard from… Well, I heard some stuff from the other reporters, but it’s impossible to know what to believe up there. But I heard… Well, I heard that your parents are dead. That your brother takes care of you now. Is that true?”

Pony was silent for a moment before answering. “Yeah. They, uh, they died a few years ago. My mother took a while to go. Tuberculosis. It’s an awful way for someone to go, Skeets, if ya never seen it. I hope ya never have to. Then my daddy died of pneumonia shortly after. But I’ll tell ya somethin’.” His voice wavered. “I think it was half the sickness and half a broken heart. Mama was his everythin’. His everythin’.” He swallowed, trying to collect himself. “I know he wouldn’ta left if he had a choice. He loved us a lot. But you can’t always choose when ya go. Rarely can, actually.” He paused, like he was remembering his own situation for the first time in a while. He cleared his throat. “Enougha that. Anyway. Darry’s a good guardian, yeah. Lets me cave. Helped me with the Crystal Cave business. Sets down rules to keep us safe. He looks real big and scary, but I promise ya, he’s real kind once ya get to know him. I didn’t understand that all too well the first year after Mama and Papa… but I get it now. He gives up a lot for us. We used to fight all the time, but we’ve worked things out. And when we get bad about it, Soda helps sort us out. He’s real nice that way.”

“Soda. He seems like a good guy.”

“Oh, he is. The best guy I know. You’ll never meet someone better. Knows people like the back of his hand. Loves ‘til it kills him. He pays attention. He just… he just always knows, you know? Knows how to make someone better. How to have fun. How to make someone laugh. How to live life to the fullest. I promise ya, you’ve never met no one like Sodapop, and you’ll never meet someone like him again. He’s one of a kind.”

“He looks like he could be in the pictures.”

Ponyboy chuckled. “That, too. Thankfully, he doesn’t let it get to his head. I don’t know what we’d do if he did.”

“Hey, I’m gonna start interviewin’, but it’ll just be like our conversatin’ so far, all right? And if you don’t want anythin’ on the record, tell me to strike it.”

“Strike it?”

“Tell me you don’t want it written.”

“Oh. Okay. Have at it.”

“All right. Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me about your history in caves.”

Pony answered his questions in great length for an hour. Sometimes, Skeets was so engaged in his way with storytelling that he forgot to take any notes or quotes.

He described what it was like to be trapped and unable to move, how his spirits had risen and fallen with each rescue attempt, what he thought about in the dark, and how he begged God for deliverance.

“I yelled on Friday night until my voice gave out. I knew my chance was slim, but I couldn’t give up without doin’ somethin’. I prayed as hard’s I could. I begged God to send help to me. I was so relieved when Two-Bit found me on Saturday morning. But when Sodapop tried and failed to free me, I was so discouraged. On Sunday night, I lapsed into a stupor. I couldn’t tell reality from my dreams. I saw white angels and trays of chicken sandwiches and smelled fried onions.

“Monday was hopeful. Strangers came down to me, and I felt a little better. In between the times when rescuers were with me, I tried to muster the strength to free myself. I’d grab at the ground, hunch my shoulders, and draw up the muscles in my belly to try and get my leg free. But it didn’t work. Sometimes, I would hear stones rolling down the incline and plunging down below. I wondered what would happen if the limestone above me were to fall. I kept tryin’ to drive my mind to somethin’ else, but it wa’nt much use. How could I? You been here and you know—you know why.

“Monday night was agony, Skeets. Agony. My foot was in terrible pain. I felt like it was going to break off. Sodapop brought me food. Sometimes, I just cried unconsolably. I couldn’t stop. As one attempt and another failed, I began to pray almost all the time. Fortunately, I would become unconscious or fall asleep a lot.

“This morning, my first thought was: Four days down here and no nearer freedom than I was the first day. How will it end? Will I get out, or—? I couldn’t bear to think of it. I’ve faced death afore. It don’t frighten me none. But it’s so long—so long.

“I’m achin’ all over, but my head’s clearer now than at any time since I been here. I’m still a-prayin’ all the time—prayin’ that God’s will be done. I believe in heaven. But I know I’m gonna get out. I feel it. Somethin’ tells me to be brave, and I’m gonna be.”

Pony’s words came spilling out, naturally and passionately. Skeets hardly had to prompt him with questions.

Then, Skeets asked, “Are you scared at all?”

Ponyboy paused for a moment before answering. “Scared of what?”

“Well… bein’ stuck down here, I guess.”

“Bein’ stuck? Nah. I hurt like hell, and you can’t imagine how achey this is. I’d kill to move, even for a minute. I ain’t scared of bein’ stuck. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again, if I ever go cavin’ again, which I don’t reckon I will. But there’s more to be scared of than just a cave.”

“Like what?”

“Are you scared of death, Skeets?”

The bluntness of the question shook Skeets to his core. It felt as if, for a moment, someone had sucked the air out of the crevice.

Was he scared of death? Of dying, maybe. There were a few times his father had beaten him so badly, he was sure he was about to die on the kitchen floor. But was he scared of death itself? He went to church every week. He enjoyed hearing about about God, about Jesus and grace and repentance and heaven and the new earth. In the least morbid way possible, he wasn’t ready to die, not by a long means, he wanted to live a long, long life, but he looked forward to death and passing into heaven next, when it was all over and done with. When he’d written amazing stories. When he’d lived the life he thought God had for him to live. When he got Ponyboy out of this cave.

“I ain’t,” he decided. “But I think I’d be scared of dyin’.”

“Yeah. Like I’s said afore, I feel the same. I don’t wanna die. Not really. And it scares me somethin’ awful, the thought of dyin’ down here in the dark. Alone. But God has a mysterious will sometimes. I read my Bible lots, and it says his ways and thoughts are higher than ours, so I think I gotta believe that. But I sure hope his will is gettin’ me out from under this rock.”

“I sure hope so, too.” Skeets squeezed Pony’s shoulder. “I want you to know I ain’t just down here for the story no more. I’m here to get ya out. I’m gonna get you out, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Wryly, Ponyboy said, “I sure hope that’s true, Mosquito. I sure hope that’s true.”

“How do you… How do you feel after… after the pulling attempt?”

Ponyboy was quiet for the longest span yet. Skeets was about to take the question back when Pony answered softly, “I told yas it was agony. I ache all over. I feel funny. And… shit, Skeets, maybe I lied to ya. I am scared. I wasn’t before. But I think I really am, now. Not of death, but… but of everything else that comes afore it.” He swallowed hard. “Tell me the truth, buddy. Am I gonna die down here?”

“I—” Skeets choked on his own words. “I don’t know, Pony. But I swear to you, Soda and I are doin’ everything we can. If there’s a way to get you out, we’ll find it.”

“And if there isn’t?”

Skeets was silent for a long moment. “I think you know what happens if there isn’t.”

Pony’s breath hitched.

Skeets crouched even more, stretching his arm across Ponyboy until he reached his hand. Pony’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Pony whispered.

“I brought somethin’ else for ya.”

Pony perked up. “What is it?”

“I don’t think there’s a person who ain’t know your name now. Not in this whole country.”

“Yer kiddin’.”

“I’m not. Thousands of prayers are being said for you, even right now. And people all over the country are sending you telegrams.”

“To me?”

“Yeah, to you! I brought a few your brother said you might like.”

“Yer gonna read ‘em?”

“Course I am. That’s why I brought ‘em. Okay, the first one is from a… Cherry Valance.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

A laugh burst out of Skeets. “What? Who is that? Valance… I swear I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yeah, ‘cus her dad is famous! Gosh, Skeets, but she was a looker. Came to visit Crystal Cave last year. I gave her a tour. What did she say?”

“‘Dear Ponyboy,

‘I’m very sorry to hear what’s happened, and I only wish there was more I could do to help. You’re a good kid. You have this light that just brightens a whole room. I hope you can keep your spirits up. Once you’re out, I would love to visit Cave City again someday. And you can show me more of Crystal Cave. I remember we saw the sunset so well from the top of the hill afterward. Whenever I’m sad or worried, I close my eyes and pretend I’m right there. Where it’s quiet. Sometimes, I see the sunset over the Chicago skyline, and I think of you. I know you can’t see the sky right now, but please don’t forget that it’s still there.

‘With many prayers,

‘Cherry.’”

When Skeets was finished, he said, “Damn, Ponyboy, I didn’t know you got a famous girlfriend!”

“I don’t!” Pony huffed. “You have a girl, Skeets?”

Skeets flamed. “Nah. Maybe someday.”

Pony smiled a little to himself. “Yeah, I think that, too. My brother had a nice girl once. I think I’d like someone like her. My age, kind, thoughtful, someone who won’t mind if I talk her ear off a little too much. Maybe someone with pretty blue eyes. Whole galaxies in them. Yellow hair—Oh! You know how girls wear their hair in ringlets sometimes? I think that’s real nice. And I…” He swallowed hard. “It’s silly to think about stuff like this. I know. And—And I know it ain’t my choice anymore. I know God might take me down here. And he’s allowed, of course. I’m his, first and foremost, but it’s just… it’s nice, sometimes. To wonder. Maybe I do get a life after this. A home. A girl. Kids. I dunno. I feel like… I wanna be more than the boy stuck in the hole to people. I just wanna be a… a person.”

Pony gave a watery chuckle. “Y’know, before this, I wanted to be famous. So bad. I wanted to find a cave, and for everyone to know my name, and for them to see a cave the way I do. I don’t care about that anymore, Johnny. I just wanna see the sky again. I just wanna see Two-Bit and Steve. I just—” his voice broke. “God, I just wanna see Darry.”

“Guess what?” Skeets said softly. “Well, first, actually, I need you to know that you are still a person. No matter what anyone up there thinks, you always gonna be a person to me. You aren’t some story to me, no matter what I write. You’re far more important than anything I could possibly write.”

“Thanks,” Pony whispered.

“But there are a bunch more telegrams for you. People from all over, telling you how they’re praying. But I think there’s only one more that will really matter to you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a letter. From Darry.”

Out of nowhere, a sob ripped from Pony’s throat. “Read it. Johnny, read it!”

“‘Ponyboy,

‘I’m having Two-Bit write this out for me, because I’m hardly well enough to even speak right now. I’m at the Dixie Hotel, but I swear, before this, I was right up above you, waiting and praying and doing all I could for your rescue. I’m a little sick right now, been developing a bad cold this past week, but I promise you, that’s all it is. I’ll recover, I just need some time to rest. I promise. It’s not like Mama or Papa. I’ll be well again soon.

‘Trust me, kiddo, being sick is nothing compared to not being with you. It’s killing me, being up here with no way to get down there. If there was anything I could do to see you, I would do it, even if it cost me the entire world. There ain’t been an hour I don’t pray for you.

‘I wish more than anything that I could be there with you right now, holding you, telling you it’s going to be okay, and making sure you know that I’m not leaving your side—not for a second. I hate that I can’t see you, that I can’t do anything but hope and wait, but I need you to hear me, really hear me: you have to hang on.

‘I know it’s dark and lonely, and I know it hurts, but I swear to you, Pony, you’re stronger than any of this. You’ve always been strong. And I’m always thinking about you, even when you feel like nobody’s there. I am. I’m beside you, heart and hand, little buddy. You’re smart, stubborn, and brave—more than you probably even realize. I keep thinking of all the little things—your laugh, your stupid jokes, the way you always try to make me smile, even when I’m mad at you. And the way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when something excites you, the way you’ve got this little spark that no one else can touch. I need that spark to stay. I need you to hold on for yourself, for me, for Sodapop, for everyone who loves you.

‘I promise, the moment you get out, I will be the first one there to meet you. I can’t wait to give you a hug and tell you how proud I am of you for all of this. That day is coming, Pony. I’m holding onto that, and you hold onto it, too. Please. Don’t give up. I promise I’m not going anywhere.

‘I can’t wait to see you soon, baby. I love you more than I could ever put words to. You can’t even imagine. And I’m sorry I don’t tell you enough. I’m sorry we still fight too much. I’m sorry you’ve gone through so much when you’re only sixteen years old. But you still got me. You still got Sodapop. And we need you. Please, hold on, colt.

‘I love you, Ponyboy. I love you. I love you.

‘Always,

‘Darry.’”

Skeets put down the letter slowly, swallowing back the lump in his own throat. It ached, how much these brothers loved each other. He hated to envy the boy stuck under a rock, but Pony had the family Skeets had always wanted. The unconditional love he’d craved since he was born. But he pitied Pony for it, too. If he never got out of here… Well, Skeets didn’t want to witness his poor family’s fallout.

Pony was weeping. Skeets didn’t have anything to say. There was nothing he could do to make it better. So, he carded his fingers through Pony’s hair, waiting for the tears to abate.

“Can I have it?” Pony choked out. Skeets nodded and pressed the letter into his hand. Pony held it to his chest, tears streaming for another few minutes until he got ahold of himself, sniffling. “It’s mighty fine to know so many are pullin’ for me,” he said, managing a smile. “Tell ‘em I love ‘em all.”

Skeets nodded. “I will. They’ll know.” He squeezed Pony’s shoulder. “I’m gonna be back soon. I’ve got a good plan to get you out, but I’m gonna need some more tools down here.”

“You’ll really be back soon?”

“Truly. Give me thirty minutes.”

Pony sighed in relief. “And you’ll keep this bulb down here?”

“Yeah. It’s for you.” He smiled. “Back in a jiffy.”

“Wait.”

Skeets paused.

“This has been real nice. You’re a good friend, Johnny Cade.”

The corners of Skeets’s mouth pulled. “Friend, huh?”

“Don’t you think so? I literally jus’ gave you my life’s story. Ponyboy Curtis’s deepest darkest secrets. Least ya can do is say we’re friends. Ya can even lie about it, I won’t have to know.”

Skeets smiled genuinely. “It won’t be a lie. You’re my friend, too. Honest to God.”

Ponyboy grinned. “Honest to God, Johnnycake.”

Skeets laughed. “You’re full of ideas, aren’t you?”

“My friends and brothers have called me every name in the book they can possibly come up with. It’s high time I return someone the favor.”

Skeets rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Thirty minutes. I’ll be back.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Skeets scoffed, mussing up Pony’s hair. “Right. See you soon, Ponyboy.”