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“Your best time yet, kid!” Soda shook Pony’s shoulder on the way home from the indoor track meet, laughing that bright, contagious laugh of his.
“It was just a quarter second,” Pony said, his ears red, but Darry could tell how pleased he was, too.
The snow was picking up. The report looked nasty for that night, but the indoor meet had still been on. Ponyboy had told his brothers they didn’t have to come, and if the weather got bad enough, he and his track friends would hole up in a motel for the night. But Darry and Soda had insisted on coming to support him, and when the roads looked clear enough when the meet let out, Darry had felt certain they’d be all right for the ride home. And he didn’t feel like staying the night in Stillwater.
Pony nodded off, and Soda turned the radio on. The main road was backed up, so Darry decided to go a back route.
About an hour into their drive, the mood was quiet. The heater hummed, a Marvin Gaye song played softly on the radio, and Soda stared out the window, bouncing his leg. Ponyboy was asleep on Soda’s shoulder.
The snow had just been getting worse.
Sodapop frowned. “Road’s goin’ fast,” he muttered as he and Darry watched the lines disappear under the powder.
“Turn the radio off,” Darry said. “I need to concentrate.”
Soda did so, his leg only bouncing more rapidly. “Do we need to pull over?”
Darry shook his head. “No. Not yet. Nothin’s around. But I might at the next town.”
A gust of wind shoved the car sideways, and Pony jerked awake. “Wha—Are we still on the road?”
“Yeah,” Soda said. “Just snowin’ a little.”
“A little?” Ponyboy gaped, looking out the window where snow swirled heavily. “It looks like we’re driving through milk.”
Darry exhaled sharply. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Just takin’ it slow.”
They drove in silence for a few more minutes as the snow kept on in droves.
Pony bit his lip. “Maybe we should turn around?”
“We’re too far now,” Darry murmured. “Home is closer.”
Another gust slammed the car. The tires skidded. Darry’s breath caught.
“Darry?” Ponyboy whispered.
“It’s okay. We’re okay.” But Darry felt himself shaking. He didn’t know what to do.
The headlights caught a wall of blowing snow, erasing everything ahead. Darry’s vision cut to maybe ten feet.
Soda’s voice came out small. “Darry… maybe you should pull over.”
“No good pullin’ over here,” Darry replied. He gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale. “We’ll get stuck. We keep moving as long as I can see the road.”
“But we can’t see the road,” Pony said softly.
Darry pressed forward anyway, staring hard at the vague contrast of white-on-white on the ground. His heart pounded. His brothers were quiet then, staring ahead. “Just a few more miles,” Darry murmured.
The snow built faster. The wind howled. The truck shook. The road disappeared completely. Then, the tires lost traction.
Soda gasped. “Darry—!”
The world tilted sideways as their truck skidded. Darry pulled the wheel the other way, fighting to keep the vehicle under control as his heart flew into his throat.
Pony screamed.
The truck careened off the road, skidding headfirst into a snowy ditch. With a sickening crunch, the truck jerked to a stop. Pony, being in the middle seat of the bench, only had a seatbelt across his lap, and he knocked his head against the dashboard. The engine died.
Darry grabbed Ponyboy’s shoulder, breathing hard. “Are you all right? Is everyone all right?”
Pony rubbed his forehead, wincing, but he nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t going that fast. I didn’t hit it too hard.”
Darry looked over at his other brother. “Sodapop?”
Soda was visibly shaking, but he said he was fine, then gave Pony and Darry a quick once-over. When he was satisfied that they were mostly unharmed, he fixed Darry with a furious stare. “I told you. I told you! I said we never should have even started the drive. We should’ve stayed there overnight. But no!”
“The weatherman didn’t say it would get this bad this quick,” Darry defended himself. “How was I supposed to know?”
“You’re supposed to listen when I tell you things!” Soda burst out.
“No! You’re supposed to listen when I tell you things.”
“Guys!” Ponyboy looked panicked. “It doesn’t matter right now. We’re here, and it’s no one’s fault, but we have to do something!”
Darry sent an apologetic glance at Soda. He didn’t mean to get worked up, but he was sincerely panicked, much as he was trying not to show it.
“Okay, okay, everyone, just take a deep breath, it’s gonna be fine.” He turned the key in the ignition, but the engine only sputtered. “Come on.” Again, that infuriating ch-ch-ch sound. He looked at his mechanic-inclined brother. “Soda?”
Soda shook his head, looking at their situation with wide eyes. “I—I can’t fix this. We’re up to our noses in snow! Even the three of us together could never haul the truck out of this.”
Darry cursed, then thought for a moment. “I’ll walk down the road then. I’ll try to flag down help or hope I find the next town.”
Pony latched onto his sleeve. “No. No way. We can’t even see the road anymore. You’ll get lost. That’s how people die, Darry. It’s too cold.”
“He’s right,” Sodapop said definitively. “We haven’t seen a day this cold in years. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. We don’t even know if the next town is close. Could be miles. We ain’t riskin’ you.”
“Then what are we supposed to do?” Ponyboy asked softly.
“Soda, get the blankets from under the back bench,” Darry said.
“Oh, no…” Pony looked petrified.
Soda crawled over the seat and returned with a couple of large blankets, stowed for that very situation.
“You mean, we’re gonna stay here?” Pony asked. “We’ll freeze!”
“We will not,” Darry said sternly. “We hold tight until help arrives. We can keep warm. Shoulder-to-shoulder, come on, now, stay close.”
Behind the cover of clouds and snow, night had already fallen.
“So… we just… we wait?” Soda asked, his voice pitched high.
Darry nodded. “And stay awake.”
An hour passed. Snow piled higher, and the truck grew darker as the snow muffled the world outside. All three of them had begun to shiver as the last of the warmth seeped from the dead truck. Pony’s face was pressed into Darry’s chest as he trembled, like he might find some warmth there. Darry and Soda had two of their hands clasped in a single, strained mitten. Soda leaned against Pony’s back, drawling some story to keep them all awake.
Their breath fogged the air, damp and heavy as the moisture clung to their quilts and skin.
“Guys,” Pony said, interrupting Sodapop’s story. “Don’t… Don’t people die like this?”
Soda cuddled closer to him. “Oh, honey, it’s gonna be okay.” But his voice tremored like he didn’t believe himself. “Help will come, or the sun will be up again before we know it. We’re gonna keep each other snug as some bugs in a rug.”
Pony lifted his chin, looking at Darry for confirmation.
Darry nodded, kissing Pony’s forehead. “He’s right. We just sit tight and stay awake. Nothin’ to it, huh?” But inside, he felt terrified.
People did die like this. They were on a back road in the middle of nowhere, early in the night, the temperature dropping dangerously.
Hours more passed. Darry kept checking his watch, but time seemed to move slower. Soda's voice was wearing thin, so Darry tried his best to mindlessly string together a story about one of his coworkers, but he wasn’t as good at talking on and on like his brothers were. But he was doing his best. For them.
Pony’s head grew heavier against Darry’s chest. Darry shook him. “Hey,” he warned. “Pony. Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Ponyboy gave a frustrated little noise, but he complied, his droopy eyes staying open.
The bitter cold gnawed at Darry’s skin. Every ounce of him ached. He shivered fiercely, tucking close to both of his brothers. The wind screamed outside, rattling the truck so hard the frame creaked.
Pony’s head dipped again, like he was losing the fight against sleep.
Soda shifted behind him, tightening his hold. “Stay with us, little guy. You go under, and you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a cough.
They huddled closer, knees tangled, cramped on the front bench, arms overlapping. Darry had wrapped himself as best he could around both of them, broad shoulders bowed against the cold seeping through the truck. He had never been so cold in his life.
Once, a crack of ice sliding off the roof jolted all three alert at once. Pony clutched at Darry’s shirt, and Darry whispered, “Just the snow, kiddo.”
Hours stretched on. Darry kept talking to them, anything to keep them alert—asking Pony about his English class, teasing Soda about girls at the DX. Whenever Pony’s head dipped too far, Darry’s voice tugged him back. When Darry started to drift, Soda flicked his cheek. When Soda was going, Darry squeezed his hand, reminding him to keep his eyes open.
“Go on, Pony,” Darry urged. “That book. Tell us more about that book you’re readin’.”
Pony shuddered violently, but he complied. “The—uh, the—um, the—” He seemed to have trouble forcing out the words through his clacking teeth. “See, it’s about r—r—redemp—redemption. And so—social justice. Ignor—Ignorance and want are real—-really interestin’. ‘Cus… ‘Cus…” He looked confused. Like the words just wouldn’t come. “Can’t ‘member. ‘M so tired. We a’most home?”
Darry and Soda shared a frantic glance. Darry looked back down. “No, Pone, we’re waitin’ for help, remember?”
“Oh. Y—Y—Yeah.”
“Okay. Well, why don’t I talk for a while, then?” Darry rubbed his hands up and down Pony’s arms. “I read that book in high school. That part stuck with me, too. Good books make you think, huh?”
Soda chuckled, his voice barely more than a rasp. “Don’t think I’ve ever read a good book then.”
Darry rolled his eyes, smiling through his cracked lips.
The truck was half-buried. The wind had dulled into a steady howl. Inside, the brothers clung to each other’s meager heat.
Pony’s shivers had been rattling the seat for hours—but then they stopped.
At first, Darry thought maybe he’d just relaxed, but when he shifted and nudged him, Pony sagged limply against his chest. His lips were pale, almost bluish, and his breathing came in shallow puffs that barely fogged the air.
“Darry,” Soda said sharply, panic in his voice.
Pony’s eyes had drifted shut, his jaw slack. He didn’t stir when Darry shook his shoulder.
Darry’s heart stuttered. “Ponyboy!” He shook him harder, pressing fingers against his throat, searching desperately. He felt the faint flutter of a pulse.
Soda’s hands fumbled over his brother, voice high with terror. “He won’t wake up! Darry, he won’t—”
“I know!” Darry was already pulling at Ponyboy’s damp shirt. “Get these clothes off him, hurry!”
The fabric was stiff with cold. In a frenzy, they stripped his shirt off, then Darry worked at his own. He used his other arm to pull at Sodapop’s coat. “Take it off,” he snapped. “Now—now.”
Soda’s hands fumbled and slipped, but he got his coat off and his shirt over his head, gasping at the cold, teeth clacking viciously against each other.
Darry hauled Pony upright between them, one arm beneath his shoulders, the other fighting with the blankets and coats. “Get him against you. Skin to skin—chest, arms, like that.”
Soda pulled Pony tight against his bare chest, curling around him. Darry wedged himself on the other side, so they were one tight, shaking knot, Pony sealed between them. Then he dragged every coat and blanket they had over all three of them. He tucked, tucked, tucked until there was no gap for air, no space for cold to leak in.
Though Darry would have believed it impossible to feel any more miserable, he truck felt colder without the layers.
His breath hitched hard. “Come on, baby,” he whispered into Pony’s hair. “You’re not dying in a ditch. You’re not.”
Soda pressed his face against Pony’s temple, crying without sound, his body shuddering uncontrollably. “Stay with us… Please, Ponyboy, wake up.”
Darry’s own skin began to burn with cold, then go numb. He pushed closer anyway, he and Soda freezing together around the one thing they refused to lose.
Time stretched and warped. Their bodies shook so hard the coats rustled with every tremor. Darry was simply surviving moment to moment. Get through one, then the next. And Pony stayed limp between them.
Darry pressed a hand to Pony’s face, rubbing his cheek with the flat of his thumb, trying to coax color back into skin that stayed ashy and still. “You listenin’, Ponyboy?” His voice had gone low and fierce, almost feral. “You don’t get to stop. You don’t.”
Soda’s breathing was ragged and wet, panic raw in every shudder. “He has to feel this—he has to!” He rubbed Pony’s arms frantically.
Then, Soda’s composure cracked clean through. “He’s not waking up,” he sobbed into Pony’s hair. “Darry, he’s not—”
“He will,” Darry barked, not because he believed it, but because he refused the alternative. “He can. He will.” He shifted, pressing his forehead hard against Pony’s. “Keep breathing, baby. Keep shivering. Don’t give up.”
Soda made a choked sound and shoved Pony’s hand under his arm. “Take my warmth, take it, I don’t care if I freeze, you take it.”
“No one’s freezing today,” Darry snapped. “We’re so close, do you hear me? Two hours until sunrise. And then… maybe someone…” But they had no guarantee. Even when the sun came up, even if the temperature rose a little, they had no promise that help would come in those first hours.
Darry blinked hard, tears freezing before they fell. “Please, kid. Please come back. We can’t lose you, too.”
At first, Darry thought Pony was just too still—then he noticed something worse: the faint fog of his breath against the coat had grown thinner. Slower.
“His breathing—” Darry’s voice cracked mid-sentence.
Soda made a sound that didn’t sound human.
“No, no, no.” Darry held his ear close to Pony’s mouth, desperate for air movement. He only felt the faintest whisper of breath.
“We’re losing him.” Soda’s whole body began to shake, seemingly more from just the cold.
“We are NOT,” Darry snapped, voice breaking. He started rubbing Pony’s chest in hard circles, trying to jumpstart anything—pain, reflex, breath. “Come on, come on, baby, breathe, breathe!”
Soda pulled away for half a heartbeat, doubled over, hands in his hair, shaking his head violently. “This can’t be happening, this can’t—he was—Darry, I c—c—can’t—”
“Look at me!” Darry shouted.
Soda was hyperventilating, panic crashing full-force.
Darry grabbed Soda by the back of the neck and dragged him back into the hold, forcing him to re-wrap himself around Pony. “Not now. He needs you. Right now.”
“I can’t—” Soda choked, sobbing hard against Pony’s hair. “Darry, I can’t watch him die—”
“You won’t.” Darry’s voice shook, but his grip stayed fierce. “You won’t, because we are not letting him.”
Soda cried bitterly, his face pressed into Pony’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart,” Darry said, leaning his head against Soda’s, “we can do this. It’s not too late. Pony still needs us. Don’t give up now. Don’t you dare.”
Sodapop took a shuddering, sobbing breath, but he nodded, his bluish lips pressed into a firm line.
The cold had burrowed deep into every extremity. Darry’s hand was still on Pony’s chest, but Darry didn’t have the energy to move anymore. His strength was entirely sapped. Soda’s trembling was slackening.
They just stared at Pony—too pale, too slack. Something in Darry pulled painfully.
Soda’s voice came out as a tiny, broken whisper. “He’s… he’s going, Darry.”
Darry just kept looking at Pony. His own breath came shallow. He felt gutted, hollowed out by the possibility.
Soda buried his face against Pony’s neck, a dry, soundless sob shaking through him. “I don’t want to live without him.” Soda took a few shallow, painful-sounding breaths. “I’m so cold.”
Darry held onto Soda’s shoulder, grief and guilt rippling through him in waves, settling as deep as the cold. He had driven them out here. He had insisted it was safe. If he’d only done as Soda suggested, they’d all be warm in a motel bed, alive and breathing and whole.
Now, he’d just killed his youngest brother, and maybe himself and Sodapop, too. He weakly sobbed.
Then there was a faint stirring under his right hand. Ponyboy pulled a paper-thin inhale, so faint that Darry might have missed it if he hadn’t been holding him.
Soda’s head snapped down. “He breathed. Darry, he breathed.”
Darry’s voice shook with sudden hope. “I—I felt it.” He clamped Pony back between them, coats sealed tight, trembling with renewed, terrified purpose.
Another hour crept on. The sun should have been rising soon, but it was hard to tell with the little bit of overcast sky Darry could see through the snow, which blocked most of the windows and the windshield.
Darry didn’t know how he could keep going. But he still shivered, which was a good sign. He felt Soda shaking every once in a while as well, which comforted him.
But, Pony.
Oh, Pony…
Darry didn’t know the last time he felt him breathe. He couldn’t feel a pulse, but maybe that was because Darry couldn’t even feel his own hands anymore. And if he was really… well, then there was nothing he could do. Darry would rather not know.
Soda was silent and mostly still. When he met Darry’s eyes, his brown ones were glassy. His mouth trembled, and he breathed in shuddering gasps. Neither of them loosened their grip on Pony.
“He’s so cold,” Soda finally whispered, his voice shot. The look on his face was completely defeated.
“He’s just sleepin’,” Darry whispered back, his eyes stinging.
Soda let out a cracked sob, stifling it immediately as if afraid the sound itself might make things worse. “Pony… c’mon, kid. Please.” His voice faded into a tiny whimper.
Darry felt Soda trying to rub Pony’s arms, but Soda’s arms hardly moved. The effort only made Soda slump harder against him, panting.
“Don’t overexert yourself,” Darry pleaded. He blinked and forced himself to look at Pony’s face. His little brother was so pale. Blue. Still—so horribly still.
Soda nudged Pony’s shoulder with his forehead, the movement clumsy and weak. His teeth were chattering hard, each click loud. “P—Pon…” he tried, or something like it. The syllables fell apart in the cold.
Darry’s throat closed. “I know,” he breathed, though he didn’t know if the sound made it out. He let his hand drift up, brushing Pony’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. His skin felt like snow.
He swallowed hard. “He’s…” Darry couldn’t finish. He didn’t want to make it real. As long as he didn’t say it, didn’t think the word, there was still a chance Pony was just—just too cold to move. Too cold to breathe right. Too cold to make his little heart beat.
Soda lurched suddenly, a tiny sob shaking his whole body. His arms tightened around Pony in a desperate, jerky motion. “Not s—someone else,” Soda whispered. “Not again. I c—I can’t do it again.”
Darry leaned in, pressing his forehead to both of theirs. “Hold on, Soda,” he pleaded in a wrecked voice.
“I don’t—I can’t—”
“You can,” Darry whispered, a sharp shiver tearing through him. “You have to.”
Thirty minutes later, when Darry was sure he’d finally slip under, too, he heard a distant rumble. His and Soda’s eyes snapped up toward the snow-covered windshield.
Darry sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s a car. Sodapop, that’s a car.” Darry lunged forward, slamming both palms against the horn. Nothing. The battery was dead. He cursed, grabbed his elbow, and drove it into the side window. The glass only cracked. He hit it again. Harder, biting back the pain.
The engine sound grew. Darry braced to strike again.
“Stop!” Soda cried, his voice pitching. “They see us!” Sure enough, it sounded like the rumbling of the car had stopped. Close. Then, he heard voices.
“Help!” Darry screamed as strongly as he could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “We’re in here!”
“Help us!” Soda banged his fist against his window, although in reality, his hand barely met the glass.
A man’s face appeared in the small space at Soda’s window that the snow hadn’t covered. “Oh, Lord have mercy!” the man cried, then turned to what must have been some companions. “There are three boys in here!”
Within several minutes, enough snow was cleared away for the door to be forced open. The boys were pulled out of the truck, coats draped over them immediately. Darry could see it was a snowplow, an emergency vehicle behind it.
Hands were on him, prying at his shoulders, his arms. Darry snarled weakly, yanking back, garbled refusals pulling at his lips as he kept Pony tucked into the arms he couldn’t feel anymore.
“Son, you have to let go. You’re safe now.”
Safe. He didn’t feel safe. He felt like he was going to be ripped away from the only things he had left.
A paramedic slid an arm around his back. “We need to get him out. He’s freezing. You’re all freezing. Come on.”
“He’s dead.” Darry didn’t even know he’d said it until Soda’s breath hitched beside him.
The paramedic hesitated only a fraction of a second—but it was enough. Darry saw the flicker of pity, and it hollowed him out.
They lifted Pony anyway. Darry sobbed, and then he followed without realizing he’d moved. His legs barely worked, trembling fiercely beneath him. Someone got under his arm and kept him upright.
“Grab the little one first! He’s severely hypothermic!”
“No, no—let me.” Darry lurched toward Pony, nearly collapsing.
A medic caught him. “We’ve got him. You both need help, too.”
Soda stumbled after him, wrapped in blankets by two rescuers, crying without sound.
They laid Pony on a stretcher. Darry felt his soul shatter. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
One medic pressed two fingers to Pony’s wrist. “Let’s get him inside. He’s hanging on.”
Darry jerked his head up. “What?”
He stumbled, or maybe he was just fainting, because the world tilted and went white around the edges.
The world felt warm and bright behind his eyelids. Something beeped nearby. His breath hitched.
“Easy, big guy. Easy.”
Darry’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice.
Two-Bit sat in a chair beside his bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, bags under his red-tinged eyes. Steve was there too, pacing.
A hospital room. Darry’s hands were wrapped in gauze. There was an IV line in his arm. And beside him was another bed.
Ponyboy. Ponyboy.
Ponyboy lay sleeping, oxygen cannula under his nose, pale but unmistakably breathing.
Darry’s breath broke. For a second, he couldn’t inhale at all.
Steve rounded the bed fast. “Darry, he’s fine. He’s really fine. They got his temp up; he’s stable. Scared the crap out of us—you all did—but the doc says he’s gonna pull through.”
Darry pressed a shaking hand over his mouth, and a helpless, strangled sound escaped him. He tried to sit up.
Steve pushed gently at his shoulder. “Whoa. Slow down. You’re still recovering, too.”
“Soda?” Darry choked out.
“He’s alright,” Two-Bit said softly. “He’s across the hall. They should let him over soon.” He blew out a breath, running a hand down over his face. “You’re lucky they found you. The only reason emergency vehicles were out with the plows was because y’all weren’t the only accidents out there. Not by a long shot.”
Darry looked at Pony again and couldn’t stop staring. “I thought—” He swallowed hard, tears slipping free. “I thought he was dead. I carried him out thinking he was—”
“You saved ‘em, Superman.” Two-Bit’s expression softened. “You kept ‘em alive long enough. Doctor said hypothermia when it's that bad... well, that it can look like death. But he wasn't. He isn't. He's gonna be okay.”
“Can I…?” Darry lifted a hand toward Pony.
Steve helped steady him as he reached out. Darry brushed his fingertips against Pony’s forearm. Warm.
Darry’s face crumpled. “He’s warm,” he said, as if it were a miracle. No. It was a miracle. It really was.
Sodapop blustered through the doorway.
He looked awful—wrapped in blankets, hair a mess, and eyes swollen, but the second he saw Darry sitting up in the bed, Soda made a wounded, disbelieving sound and rushed forward.
“Darry. Darry!” Soda collapsed into him. It was desperate, clutching, shaking. Soda buried his face in Darry’s shoulder and sobbed so hard that Darry could feel every breath shudder through him. “You fell, and I—Oh, Darry, I thought—”
“Hey, little buddy.” Darry held him just as tightly, hand curled against the back of Soda’s head. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
A small, hoarse voice came from the second bed. “Darry?”
All their heads snapped toward Pony.
Ponyboy had woken, bleary-eyed and confused, pupils still sluggish from the cold.
“Pony…” Darry said, his heart clenching.
Soda made a helpless noise and rushed to Pony’s side, grabbing Pony’s hands in his own trembling ones. “Oh, thank God, baby,” Soda whispered, tears streaming. “You scared us so bad. So, so bad.”
Darry followed, slower, every step shaking, even when he was aided by Steve and Two-Bit. He sank onto the edge of Pony’s bed. Pony leaned into him instinctively.
Darry cupped the back of Pony’s head and pressed his forehead to his. “You’re alive,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You’re alive.”
Pony sagged into both of them, shaking as he softly wept. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I fell asleep, I—”
“No,” Darry said instantly, voice fierce but thick. “No apologizing. You hear me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Soda added, holding him tighter. “You fought so hard.”
They held him between them—warm for the first time in what felt like forever.
And then all three broke completely. It was the fear they’d carried alone in that dark truck finally let loose. Tears and shaking and clinging. No words for a long time. Just breathing each other in.
Eventually Pony whispered, voice tiny and raw, “We made it.”
Sodapop kissed his forehead, cheeks wet. “Yeah, baby. We made it.”
Darry pulled both his brothers close, one arm around each, strong and shaking. “We’re together. That’s all that matters.”
And for the first time since the world had turned to ice around them, he really believed it.