Chapter Fifteen

Bill lifted up his face as the tears flowed down his cheeks. He was feeling the pain of betrayal a thousand times worse than in the park.

Roy, who had been Bill's best friend for eight long years, looked at the policeman, who had not moved at all, "What did Bill's mother say about Bill?"

The policeman filled his voice with disgust, "If you want to know, she said she was glad she had left him on the streets. She wished she had never given birth to such a monster like him,"

He turned to look at Bill's back, "If you were my kid I'd have shot you like your mom should done. You're the worst person anyone's ever met. Don't you even think about the people you hurt, the mother whose heart you broke? You are …"

AAAAAARRRGGH! YOU BASTARD! YOU SON OF A …" Bill screamed as he turned around. He pulled out his two guns and, to the horror of the others, fired at the cop. The policeman's body flew back,twitching every time another bullet hit him.

Bill's face was full of savagery. He screamed like a wild man as he poured bullet after bullet into the cop's body.

Bill took a deep breath, and fired his two guns again. They were both empty. Bill jammed his hand into both pockets and came out twice with handfuls of bullets.

Dallas was terrified. Bill was maniac. He remembered Bill's words in the park, '…someday I'm just gonna snap, and take as much out as I can…"

Suddenly there was a roar of sirens as police cars drove up on the distant road. Bill, as soon as he heard the cars, ran into a nearby door that opened to the alley.

Without even thinking, Dallas followed Bill into the building.

Bill had dropped beside the first window and began firing at police cars parking by the alley.

Dallas was scared as he came up to Bill, "Bill? Why are you doing this?"

Bill rolled to the side just as the cops' bullets hit the window, "I've had it Dal. I can't take anymore of it. I went soft and I got blasted."

Tears of fright and loneliness rolled down Dallas' cheeks. He had never cried this much in his whole life as tonight, "Bill, come on… please!" he screamed the last word as the cops responded with another hail of bullets.

Bill looked at Dallas, "I've been waiting for a day like this, Dal. I've killed a guy. What should I do, surrender?"

Dallas wanted it to end. He begged to Bill, saying stuff he never thought he would ever say, "They'll help you, Bill. They can help you change, Bill. Just stop."

Bill laughed, "They help us? Society has turned it's back on us Dal. We have to fight for survival."

Bill was serious. He was going to die fighting. His face was all stone again. He was Bill Florence again.

Dallas wanted to get out of here. He wanted Tim and the others to be here with him.

Just when he had finished thinking this, Bill grabbed his arm, "Come on. We're getting out of here."

Dallas looked at him, shocked, "How? There must be fifty cops down there!"

Bill gripped his guns, "I know."

There was another door in the building that opened to the road. It was how Bill was getting out. With Dallas following, Bill kicked the door down.

The policemen hesitated. It was all Bill needed.

Roaring out his challenge, he fired both his guns and yelled, "Come on, Dal!"

Both boys ran through the streets of New York with at least five police cars chasing them.

Eventually, they were in a deserted parking lot. Dallas had regained his panic.

The cops had never been far behind. Bill looked in the direction of the sirens.

He then turned to Dallas, "Dal, I'm through with running. I stop here."

Dallas looked at his friend, "What do you mean?"

Bill said nothing as he handed one of his guns to Dallas, "Take it. It's all I could ever give you."

He leaned over to Dallas as the cops came closer, "Remember Dallas. Get tough, and nothing can touch you. Remember that so you don't make the same mistake I did."

Suddenly a police car slid to a stop at the lot entrance.

Bill turned away from Dallas. The cops were getting out of their cars. Bill aimed his gun at the nearest one. Four or five others fired before Bill could pull the trigger.

Bill Florence died a violent young man, a maniac, and a criminal. No one would miss him outside of the gang. He was gone the way he had planned; destructive.

Dallas had screamed when Bill's body had fallen down for the last time. One of the cops yelled at him. Tossing Bill's gun into the bushes, Dallas sobbed. A policeman had reached for him. And Dallas fainted.

When he woke up, he was in jail. The cops questioned him, demanded answers about Bill.

Dallas said nothing. He now felt like finishing what Bill had started. Policemen, he saw, had ruined his life. They had taken away Bill from him. They had changed Tim. Now he was in jail.

So what? He had been in jail before.

But not this long. Two months went by before the cops decided Dallas would never talk.

Dallas was back on the streets. The story of Bill and that night was in every newspaper.

People were talking about it everywhere. And Dallas was Exhibit A on the street. People stared at him as he walked by, loathing his very footsteps. Dallas didn't care.

He walked down the street, occasionally yelled at from passing cars. He yelled back every time, sometimes stunning the drivers.

After a whole day, Dallas found Ralph, Roy, and Chuck.

Even they seemed surprised at seeing him. Roy, half-asleep, had stared at Dallas as if he was walking out of Hell, "…Bill?"

Dallas was taken aback. How could Roy think he was Bill? Bill was dead.

Roy rubbed his eyes and looked again, "God, Dallas. What happened to you? You look just like Bill!"

Dallas looked into a puddle and stared at his reflection. His face seemed to have hardened, his mouth turned permanently down, and even his eyes had changed. They blazed with hate, and seemed to radiate coldness. Roy was right. He was Bill.

He looked up again, not noticing that Chuck took two steps back when he saw Dallas' eyes, "So what's new?"

Ralph shrugged, "Nothing much since the night Bill died. We got away from the cops easily enough. Then we just tried to set life straight. Moe went back to his business, and the rest of us just tried to get over what had happened. We're still trying to. I even went back to high school."

Dallas looked them over. They were suffering. Roy's eyes were half-bloodshot. Chuck was looking scared. Ralph's shoulders seemed to have sunk down. He spoke, "What about Tim and Arty Chop?"

All of them exchanged looks. Finally Roy spoke, "Arty's getting by better than us. And Tim… well… Tim's gone."

Dallas didn't understand, "Gone?"

Ralph nodded, "He left to go to Tulsa, he said. You know, Tulsa is where his family is…"

"…I know where his family lives." Dallas snarled.

Roy looked surprised. Chuck almost whimpered.

Dallas stepped forward, "Where can I find Moe?"

Ralph muttered, "He's taken the day off. He'll be around."

Dallas turned and walked away from three people he would never see again. He didn't look back or say goodbye. He was a new person now. Dallas Winston as they knew him had died with Bill that bloody night.

Moe was sitting in Central Park when Dallas found him. Moe looked pretty much the same, except for a bruise on his forehead.

When Moe saw Dallas, he didn't flinch as the others did. He looked sad, as if he pitied Dallas, "I had a feeling you'd come looking for me. I suppose you heard about Tim?"

Dallas nodded. Somehow, he felt no sadness for Tim's departure.

Moe turned to face him squarely, "So what are you going to do?"

Dallas shrugged, "There's nothing for me here. I'm dead in every New Yorker's eye."

Moe looked bemused, "Well, if you're dead, what are doing telling tales?" It was a bad joke, and Moe got no answer. He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that you still have people here who care for you."

Dallas shook his head. He had alienated Ralph and the others. There was no going back.

When Dallas said so to Moe, Moe put his hand on Dallas' shoulder, "Dal, don't you worry about what happened. They'll understand, we all do."

Dallas stepped back, fury on his face, "That's just it, Moe. You guys don't understand how I feel." He felt so angry, he had to restrain himself from pulling out Bill's gun.

Moe looked oddly at Dallas, "But we're trying to, Dallas. We want you to know you've got us. We're trying to put everything back to normal…"

Dallas whipped out his gun and screamed, "Shut up, you here me? It's never going to be the same! Lucy is dead, Bill is dead, Tim's gone, and every damn person in New York hates my guts! I've had it! And you just shut up with your damn sermon!"

Moe didn't bat an eye, he just looked contemptuously at Dallas, "So you're going to follow Tim to Tulsa? Stay there the rest of your life? Forget us and everything?"

Dallas nodded, "Yeah." He pocketed his gun, "You got a problem with it?"

Moe looked disgusted, "No I don't. Go ahead, run away and don't look back. I hope I never have to see you again."

Dallas spat, and turned to leave Moe, the gang, and a New York that had turned it's back on him. He once called it home, but now he was leaving forever.

Chapter Sixteen

He had stolen aboard a train heading for Tulsa. Dallas had snuck inside, and waited.

The trip took a long time. Dallas had to get out at stops to get more food. He got his food either by stealing it or buying it with the money he had gotten from Arty Chop a long time ago. Surprisingly, no one even guessed that a fourteen-year-old hood was stowing aboard the train.

Then one day, after what seemed like years to Dallas, the conductor yelled out "Next stop; Tulsa."

From that time on, Dallas had stayed awake for a whole day. Tulsa was just round the bend! He was almost there.

Yet, when he jumped off the train for the last time, he felt no excitement as he looked around. A lot of the cars were patched up, there were a lot of greasers on the sidewalks, and some of the buildings were old.

Dallas walked through the city, insulting girls, swearing at the snobby kids who yelled 'Greaser!' at him, and just not caring where he went.

Finally, Dallas found a small park with a couple of benches. It was deserted, except for a couple in the bushes. Dallas ignored them as he sat down. He lay back and wondered what he'd do next.

Some yelling in the distance suddenly interrupted Dallas' thinking. When he looked up, he saw a group of well-dressed people pushing a young greaser into the park. Dallas couldn't see the greaser's face, but he knew a jumping when he saw one.

Somehow, Dallas felt he had to help this kid. He got up and crept up behind the greaser's tormentors. They now had the kid on the ground, taunting and occasionally kicking his legs.

Dallas pounced. He brought his fist down on one guy's shoulder, and kicked another guy in the shins. The kid had gotten up and slugged the guy whose shin Dallas had kicked.

The well-dressed guys, thinking they were outnumbered, fled down the street. Dallas spat at them, and turned to the kid, "You okay?"

The kid was obviously a shy, quiet kid, and now this tough hood in front of him awed him. He tried to shrug off the fact that he had been beaten up, "Yeah… I'm okay?"

He stood under the streetlight and when he lifted his head up to Dallas, Dallas almost screamed and took a couple steps back. Lucy? Back?

But when Dallas looked again, he convinced himself it wasn't Lucy, but still, they had a lot of similarities. If Lucy was standing next to him, they could have been brother and sister. This kid had a lot of looks Lucy had had. Dark hair, dark eyes, and almost the same height.

There were differences, however. Lucy's eyes, even after a fight with her uncle, were always bright and happy, always optimistic. This kid's eyes showed what kind of a life he had at home. His eyes had a suspicious, frightened look to them. Dallas thought he looked like a lost puppy in a crowd of strangers.

Dallas spoke after a minute, "What's your name kid?"

"Johnny. Johnny Cade." The boy answered, "What's yours?"

"Dallas Winston"

That was how Dallas Winston met Johnny Cade.

Epilogue

Three years later

It was a peaceful night for a lot of the people who lived in Tulsa. For some, a rumble had just ended. For two people, it was a time of sadness. Their friend had died in the hospital.

One of the boys went back to tell his friends and brothers. But the other would not stay so peaceful.

Three police cars, answering to report of a robbery, chased a lone teenager through the city. He was seventeen, looked like a criminal, and acted like a dangerous animal. He had robbed a grocery store, and was now on the run.

Dallas Winston ran as hard as he could, tears from Johnny's death still rolling down his face.

First Lucy. Then Bill. Now Johnny. It was more than he could take. He had loved Johnny as he had loved Lucy and the gang. Johnny, to him, was Lucy returned. And now both were gone from him. There was no point in living.

He would have wanted to see Two-Bit Matthews, Tim Shepard, and the others again. And he also would have wanted to see Moe and the guys in New York. He wanted to apologise, beg for forgiveness. It was too late. He should have hardened like Bill had told him to.

Get tough and nothing can touch you.

That advice was the advice he had remembered. But he had lowered his guard anyway. Now he was blasted just like Bill had been.

Bill's empty gun felt like a part of him as he clutched it in his hand. He didn't want to kill anyone like Bill had. The way he was now, he couldn't possibly shoot someone. All he wanted was his own death.

And now he would get it, because he always got what he wanted.

He ran into a vacant lot. He had secretly called the others and told them to come to this lot. He could see them running up to the lot, screaming at Dallas. Dallas recognised Ponyboy's voice. They knew what he was going to do.

He turned to the people he had hated and swore at for three years. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the nearest cop, smiling as he felt the bullets hit his body. He turned from the impact. He was dying.

Just after he had thought this thought, a voice called out, 'Dally.'

He looked and, to his amazement, saw Johnny. 'No,' he thought, 'I'm seeing Johnny's ghost.'

Johnny was shining blue, he face was unscarred, and he was smiling. He beckoned to Dallas, 'She'll be here soon.'

Dallas didn't understand. Then, another voice called out, 'I love you Dallas.'

Dallas could have cried with joy as Lucy's spirit shimmered into his vision. Amazingly, she looked older, sixteen at least.

Dallas barely noticed it as he called her name. Lucy and Johnny smiled as another person appeared.

Bill Florence looked at him, giving him a grin Dallas had never seen on Bill's face before. Bill was at peace, as was Lucy, and Johnny.

Bill, Johnny, and Lucy waved as Dallas' vision clouded and darkened.

At that moment, Sodapop Curtis, holding back his friend, Steve, said, "Easy buddy, easy. There's nothing we can do now."