Work Text:
The clock was ticking slow as hell.
I swore it took an hour for the long hand to get from five to six.
The rumble was starting soon.
Man, I hated that I hadta miss that.
Well, I had a plan.
Two-Bit gave me his switch. Noble sacrifice. Good man. Some nurse's bound to swing by at some point. I'd just show her the pretty shine of the blade and be outta there. There's no way I was missing that rumble. I didn't care that I was in "no fit state to be throwing punches". I've beaten up hoods with busted ribs before.
Man, if it wasn't for Pony and Johnny and their stupid heroic stunt, I wouldn't have been there in the first place. I hate hospitals. Who gave a damn about an arm, anyway. Stupid kids. And I also mean the little'uns in the church. They're the reason that stupid church went up like hell and that me and Johnny hadta lie there all useless while the other boys got to pound the Socs.
Stupid Socs. Their fault anyone's even in this mess.
I mean who the hell would want to jump a coupla little kids, half a dozen on two? That's weak.
Who the hell would wanna jump someone like Johnny? Johnny, who's about good as dead down the hall? No, don't think that. Johnny'll be fine. Life ain't that cruel.
I was getting sick of that damn clock. Getting on my nerves. Man I hate hospitals. So boring. So dead. Nothing but white. Made me sick. Go figure. I was meant to be getting better but all I wanted to do was launch myself out the window.
I pulled out the switchblade from under my pillow. Pretty little thing. Two-Bit scored big time with this one. Fun to play with too. The steel caught the light nicely. Two-Bit polished it almost as much as he talked. I could see my reflection warped in the handle. Man, I looked like hell.
It was crazy sharp, too. Shame the same couldn't be said for the wise guy who spent every waking hour sharpening it.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Damn thing wouldn't quit. Get a life.
Tick.
Ugh. Time was passing so slowly. Or quickly? Depends how you looked at it, I s'posed.
I heard the sound of clodhoppers outside my door and in stepped a young chick in a white uniform. Everything in the damn place was white. I was shot out of bed before she'd even taken half a step in. She looked shocked and made like to push me back in, but I held up the blade and she kind of made a clucking sound and froze. This would be easier than I was expecting. Probably 'cause she's so young — an older nurse would've clouted me on the head and sent me back in bed.
"I ain't gonna hurt you. Just move." She shuffled back and I grinned. Too easy.
"Thanks, doll."
I shot down the hall. I was about to slide down the stairs but paused. A doctor was outside a door. Johnny's door. I was there before I even made the decision to.
"Hey, son, maybe now's not the time—," the doctor began, but I pushed past and barged in. I heard a fed up sigh. Not the first time.
"Johnny," I panted. Man, spend a day in bed and you cant even run ten feet. "Johnny, how're ya?"
The kid looked rough. I mean, he'd looked mighty worn since Windrixville, but right then he looked even worse.
"Hey, Dally," he said. Glory, he sounded worse than he looked.
"Johnny. Johnny, I'm off to the rumble."
Heck, even smiling looked like an effort. "'Course you are. You beat those Socs, yeah?"
Oh, I would beat them all right. If Johnny couldn't return the hell they'd given him, I would.
"I wish you could come. It's the rumble of rumbles. We're gonna pound those punks, for once and for all!"
Johnny laughed, but it was more like a wheeze. He sounded awful. "I know you can, Dally. Go, you know it's not a rumble without you."
I grinned. It felt wrong. Something felt wrong. I ignored it. "Damn right it ain't. You hang in there, Johnnycake, I'll be right back."
He closed his eye. "Not goin' anywhere, don't you worry." He sounded so tired.
I left Johnny and got the hell out of that damned building. I had one job: give those rats the lesson they deserved.
Lucky Buck left his T-bird when he dropped by. I knew keeping him around was a good idea. Why did the hospital hafta be so far away from the lot? I threw the car into park in front of the Curtis' and bolted to the lot. It was dead silent. The rumble hadn't started yet, thank God. I spotted a crowd of greasy hair and madras, and Darry's bulky frame in the middle.
"Hold up!" I shouted a few yards away. "Hold it!" I stumbled the last three feet and all hell let loose. I leapt onto the closest guy to join in the fun.
Pony was nearby. Then he wasn't. The Soc was twice his size and beating the tar out of him. I'd never thought about it 'till then, but the kid was hella young. Younger than Johnny. Took some balls to fight in a rumble.
I took a blow to the jaw and for some reason thought about how my arm was unfit to fight and almost laughed. Good thing I had a spare. I was about to give him one in the nose when he stumbled back. Pony's lanky limbs were latched onto him. What a kid.
I don't really remember all that went down. My blood was flowing to my head like a bronco in a ring so I wasn't really thinking straight. I ended up on the floor at some point, but then I remember getting up and pounding the Soc. I saw Pony lying somewhere. It was loud. There were shouts and the sound of guys slugging each other. Skin hitting skin. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.
My arm hurt like hell. I ignored it. Out the corner of my eye I saw Steve take a blow to the chest and go down. There was hollering and suddenly the Socs were running. I couldn't believe it. The Soc I had in a head lock slammed me to the ground and took off. Two-Bit and some other guys were cussing at them as they piled into their fancy cars.
I stood catching my breath. I really couldn't believe it. I thought they'd put up more of a fight. I heard a groan next to me. Pony was slowly sitting up. The kid looked really out of it. His eyes were unfocused and blood was leaking from somewhere onto his shirt. Seeing him all roughed up and small made me think of Johnny.
Johnny. I didn't know why, but I felt the need to bring Pony with me. I grabbed the front of Pony's shirt and helped him up. He was a bit out of it, but so was I. "Come on! We're goin' to see Johnny." I started to run. The kid stumbled as I dragged him along. "Hurry! He was gettin' worse when I left. He wants to see you." Even though he never said, I knew he did.
My head was spinning and my arm throbbed and I had that familliar ache in my chest, but I was high on adrenaline and didn't give a damn. We needed to get to Johnny. I had a feeling in my gut. I threw Pony into the car and swerved down the road.
Never have I actually been glad to see the fuzz. I spun a lie about needing to take Pony to the hospital. Truth enough. The kid looked sick anyways, which helped. The policeman was really taking his sweet time.
"Is he real bad? Do you need an escort?" I was getting impatient.
"How would I know if he's bad or not? I ain't no doc. Yeah, we could use an escort." Sucker. I glanced at the clock. Then at Pony. His eyes were shut. That just made me think of Johnny. Johnny's eyes were shut when I left him. Johnny…
Johnny wasn't alright. My gut was telling me. I tried to ignore it. Johnny would be fine. Sure, a little beat, but fine. Johnny was tough. Probably the toughest out of all of us. Tougher than Soda, tougher than Darry… glory, he was tougher than me. But at the same time, he was the most like a kicked puppy.
That was the incredible thing about Johnny. He had it the roughest out of all of us, but he somehow stayed soft. Almost innocent. Other guys, they take out their misery on other guys. In brawls. On Socs. We lift stores and slash tires and spend weeks in the cooler.
Not Johnny. Johnny just took it.
I couldn't.
That was why I had to keep him outta trouble, when he and Pony rolled up to Buck's that night. I knew I couldn't have him be in the cooler. That hardens people. It's a God awful experience. I couldn't have that happening to Johnny. Johnny didn't deserve that.
I got this really sick feeling, deep in my gut. Johnny was alright, Johnny was alright. I needed a light. I started rambling, just to calm my nerves. Like that helped.
"I was crazy, you know that, kid? Crazy for wantin' Johnny to stay outta trouble, for not wantin him to get hard. If he'd been like me he'd never have been in this mess. If he'd got smart like me he'd never have run into that church. That's what you get for helpin' people. Editorials in the paper and a lot of trouble… You'd better wise up, Pony. You get tough like me and you don't get hurt. You look out for yourself and nothin' can touch you…"
I didn't know what I was saying. I was just talking. Of course I didn't ever want Johnny to be like me. I just about had a cell with my name on it I was there so often. Getting arrested was just another Tuesday. Johnny stayed out of trouble. Johnny never wanted trouble with no one. That's all he'd ever tried to do.
We were at the hospital. I ran around the car to drag Pony out. Time was ticking. I pushed past through the crowded lobby. I wasn't even sure Pony was still behind me. I flew up the stairs and down the hall.
Johnny, Johnny, Johnny… There was a doctor exiting the room. He blocked the door.
"I'm sorry, boys, but he's dying."
Dying. Blood thundered in my ears and I remembered Two-Bit's switch in my back pocket. I flicked it out. "We gotta see him," I panted. "We're gonna see him and if you give me any static you'll end up on your own operatin' table." I wasn't kidding. I would cut this man to ribbons. I didn't care. Johnny was on the other side of that door, dying.
The doc was calm. Too calm. Johnny is dying, why are you so calm? "You can see him, but it's because you're his friends, not because of that knife." That knife. I would put it through his goddamn eye.
I shoved past him and ran into the room. Johnny was still. Too still. No, Johnny wasn't… Johnny was alright.
I carefully called his name and he opened his eyes. "Hey," he whispered. Thank God. Johnny was alright.
"We won. We beat the Socs. We stomped them— chased them outta our territory." They ain't touchin' you again.
Johnny didn't smile. He didn't even care. I knew he didn't. I just didn't know what to say to him.
"Useless… fighting's no good…" Johnny was pale. He was white and the bed was white and the walls were white and I was so sick of white.
I tried to say something to make him feel better. Make him happy. "They're still writing editorials about you in the paper. For being a hero and all." Johnny's big black eyes were on me. They looked like the only thing with soul in this blinding white hell. I focused on them instead of the room. "Yeah, they're calling you a hero now and heroisin' all the greasers. We're all proud of you, buddy."
He was still looking at me, but he looked a little bit better. I listened to his breathing. It was so slow. I tried to match my breathing to his.
He said something to Pony, but I couldn't hear. I watched as he whispered in his ear, and then closed his eyes. His body relaxed and his eyes closed. He went still.
I reached over to push his hair back. "Never could keep that hair back… " His hair always covered half his eyes. Hid the way they were always wide and darting back and forth. I couldn't see his eyes. He looked at peace.
"That's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…" What? What, exactly, did he get? Johnny did nothing to this world, didn't lay one finger on it, and in return, it killed him.
Killed him. Johnny's dead.
It hits me like a bullet to the chest. Johnny's dead. Gone. Forever. I stumble and fall against the wall. Johnny's gone.
I punch the wall. My arm throbs. Stupid arm…. stupid church, stupid kids. If Johnny hadn't gone in there to save those damn kids I wouldn't have burned my arm trying to help him. I'da been able to fight properly… "Damnit, Johnny…. Oh, Damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die…" The lights are too bright. Everything's white. It's stabbing my eyes and eating at my mind. My breathing's too fast. My head is swimming, it's too bright…
I don't remember running. Everything between Johnny and running down the road is a blur. My vision is white but I just run. I don't know what from. I run and run until I can't breathe and I drop to the ground. I lean against a lamppost. My mind is a haze. The world is a living hell. I punch the ground. All that does is split my knuckles. I don't feel it. If I can, I don't care. It doesn't hurt. My fingers brush against a small plastic handle. I pick it up and hurl it at a wall. Sharp steel flashes before it hits the wall with a clatter. My throat hurts. My head aches.
The orange light of the sun between the buildings hits my eyes and I try to catch my breath. I try to rub them, but everything blurs like a glitching TV. The sound of cars and people rushing by is faster than what I see. I feel like I'm not there. I can't feel myself. My head hurts and my throat is raw but I can't feel my hands or my feet. I feel like I'm underwater and the noise just gets louder, but I can't even hear it properly. It's hell.
Damnit, Johnny. All I did was try to protect you. Why did you have to go and die? Why did you let me fail you? Why Johnny, of all people? Why, why, why…
I don't know how long I sit there, but when I finally stand, the sun's gone down and the street lights are on. I don't remember them turning on. There's something digging into my leg. I feel my back pocket and remember my heater. Damn shame it ain't loaded.
I drag myself down the street. Walking feels heavy. I stumble into a store and lean against a fridge. It's cold. My skin burns. I stare at a wall of cigarettes. I could really use a smoke. I don't have money. The ding of the cash register rings through my ears, echoing around my head. It's so loud. Money.
The heater burns in my pocket. A customer hands the cashier a fiver. Ding. I push myself off the fridge and slowly walk toward the counter. The cold fluorescent lights make my eyes throb, their buzz getting louder and louder.
"Can I help you, son?" the cashier asks. I barely register it. I put my arms on the counter and lean forward. No, not really. It's like my body was moving with muscle memory. I don't know why I was even there. Not conciously, anyway. In the back of my mind, I already had a plan.
"The dough," I barely hear myself saying. "Give it to me." Is this really all I can do?
The cashier raises his eyebrows. He says something. He looks bored. Thumping has joined the buzz in my ears. My vision is getting white at the edges. Damn lights.
My fingers close around the pistol. It's cold. I slowly lift it.
"The cash." I pull the slide back. The click sounds more like a bang. I point it at him. My arm doesn't look still. I can't feel it.
The cashier's eyes widen and he pulls the register open. He stacks the bills on the counter. I grab a handful and stumble out the door. There's a payphone on the corner. I drop the bills and check the return slot for change. I don't realise I've punched in a number until the phone is ringing. So loud. I tuck the heater into my waistband. For my final stunt.
"Hello," Darry's deep voice comes through. I don't think I've ever felt so relieved to hear his voice.
"Darry. Hey, man. This is Dally. I just robbed Sipes. The fuzz are after me. Can ya'll cover for me? I'll be at the lot in a minute." I drop the phone and run from the booth, not even waiting for his response. The wail of sirens pierces my eardrums . Won't be occupying their afternoons anymore.
I run. Everything's a blur. The lot looks so far away. I hope the boys are there.
I spot them on the other end. They look rough. I almost want to run to them. I can't.
The slamming of doors sounds like thunder. It's now or never.
I spin around and jerk the heater from my belt. I raise it in the air. I watch as the cops pull out their own guns.
It's all slow motion. They point their guns at me. There's shouting. I feel like I'm drowning. But I've never felt better.
The bullets feel like a punch. I always thought they'd hurt more. My vision clouds but I can make out the boys several yards away, watching me. The sound of shouts and gunfire drown out with the sirens.
The last thing I see is the sun sinking behind the buildings before my vision flashes white. The ticking stops.
Johnny.