Categories > Books > Outsiders > Through The Door
Chapter 2
0 ReviewsMissing scene from Holding Back The Years. Dallas Winston visits Tulsa 9 years after his death. [TWO-SHOT]
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Susie Hinton does. Thanks also to Artemis Rex for letting me borrow hers.
Through The Door (2)
XXXX
It was the crack of dawn when Dallas woke up, and he was glad for it.
He looked over at Sylvia, asleep next to him. That hair sure did make her look different.
He got out of the bed as quietly as he could and got dressed. He couldn’t stay around here and deal with her asking more questions about where he was going and where he’d been. How the fuck was he supposed to know how all this worked?
He shook his head; he wanted to stay here. Dammit, he wanted to be back in Tulsa more than anything when he’d stood, his hand on that doorknob, wishing to hell Tulsa was on the other side.
He had to get a handle on this and figure out where he could go and what he could do. He looked back at Sylvia. That little broad sure was a firecracker in bed. His arms were sore from the workout she’d given him.
He wondered if all that shit she’d said about having a steady guy was true. He couldn’t picture Sylvia staying faithful to anything. He smiled a little as he remembered all those fights they’d have, then the make-up sex afterwards. It’d be nice to stick around for some more of that.
He picked up his boots, then looked out the window to make sure the car was still there.
He shrank back from the window as he saw the cop circling around the car, writing down the plate number.
“Shit,” he whispered.
He dropped the boots and left the room quietly, padding down the stairs in bare feet. He stood by an open window near the bar, listening to the squawk of the police radio.
“Be advised, I’ve found the stolen 1966 Dodge Charger, licence plate GW-1953,” the officer said.
“Shit,” Dally swore. “Fuckin’ Shepard!”
This Tulsa was fucked up beyond belief if Tim Shepard had reported his car stolen to the police. What the hell was wrong with him?
Shit, now he’d have the cops looking for him, and he’d have no wheels.
He felt like going out there and rearranging the cop’s face.
The radio beeped again, and Dallas listened as dispatch sent out a call for all units in the area near 201st. Dally grinned as he saw the cop walk to his car, get in and start the engine. This guy must be closest.
He watched the cop leave, relieved the Charger was still there for him, then went back upstairs to the room. Sylvia was still asleep.
He grabbed his boots and jacket and headed for the door. He was going to have to beat it out of here for awhile until he decided what to do and where to go. The minute they started asking about the car around Buck’s, someone would put him in it. He didn’t think Sylvia would say anything, but what if she did?
He paused for a moment, then turned around. She really wasn’t a bad chick. Sure, she’d cheated on him more times than he could count, but that was a two-way street. He looked around. He hadn’t brought anything he could leave so she’d know it was real. If she knew it was real, she wouldn’t give him away.
He looked down at his hands and saw the ring.
That damn ring.
He pulled it off his finger, remembering countless other times he’d given it to her. This Tulsa had to be some other place than the one he’d left. He didn’t know if he could stay in this world - the cops would be on him in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t be able to see her again without risking someone recognising him and wouldn’t that be a fucking mess?
He laid the ring down on the nightstand. It didn’t mean shit to him anymore, but it probably would to her. He tried not to laugh. This was all so fucked up.
He picked his boots back up and left Buck’s as quietly as he could, taking a case of beer with him.
XXXX
Sylvia stretched out in the lumpy bed, feeling disoriented. Where the hell was she?
She opened her eyes more, looked around, and realized she was in one of Buck’s rooms upstairs. She must’ve drank a whole lot last night.
She sat bolt upright as she remembered seeing Dallas.
She looked around the room, but there was no sign of him. She looked at the tousled bed sheets, knowing for sure it had happened. She felt it.
She looked down at her chest and knew it.
Teeth marks.
She lay back in the bed. What if it wasn’t Dallas? What if she’d gotten so drunk she’d thought some total stranger was Dallas Winston and slept with him? She felt a little sick at the thought she could be so stupid.
She put a hand over her eyes and then massaged her temples. This was all a bad dream. She did not cheat on Joe with some fucking stranger she couldn’t even remember. She sat up in the bed, shivering at the cool morning breeze.
She looked around the room for her clothes and her gaze rested on the nightstand. She slowly reached over and picked up the ring.
Dallas’s ring.
She noticed her hand was shaking and concentrated on making it stop. She touched the ring carefully, remembering every facet of it, including the tiny chip in the red stone in the centre.
How on God’s green earth was it Dallas?
She knew he had that ring on his finger when he’d been buried. She ran her fingers over the large ring, remembering the countless times he had given it to her, the times he’d snatched it back and the times she’d thrown it back to him.
She held it against her chest, tightly.
He wouldn’t be coming back. Wherever he had gone to, whether it be back to hell or escaping from Oklahoma in Tim Shepard’s car, Dallas Winston wasn’t coming back.
She kissed the ring, then slipped it on her thumb. He’d left her the first time with nothing. At least now she had a small piece of him to hold on to.
XXXX
Dallas had beat it out of Buck’s and got on the highway first chance he had. He had no idea where to go, but suddenly an idea formulated in his head and he’d headed north. By the time he reached Windrixville it was almost nine o’clock in the morning.
He remembered telling Johnny and Ponyboy how to get to the church, but Windrixville itself had changed since the last time he’d been through it. He pulled into a small convenience store and walked inside. It was strange to feel like he didn’t have to worry about being spotted. No one knew him out here.
There was an old guy behind the counter, and Dally walked around the store, pocketing a few things before grabbing a bottle of Pepsi and heading up to the counter to pay, asking the guy for a carton of KOOLs.
“You got any idea where that old church is?” Dallas asked.
“There’s a few churches here in town,” the man offered. “What kind are you lookin’ for?”
Dally was about to describe the church when he realized it wasn’t standing. “It burned down about … nine, ten years ago.”
“Ah, St. John’s,” the man said. “It’s been gone longer than that. It was abandoned in the early ‘60s, burned down … oh, maybe 1965?”
“Sixty-six,” Dally said quietly.
“There ain’t much up there now,” the man said. “Just a concrete slab and an old water pump. No one goes there much. All the local kids say it’s haunted.”
“Haunted?” Dally asked, raising an eyebrow. Shit, if this guy could see some of the shit over in where the fuck he came from, he’d change his tune on haunted.
“You know kids,” the man shrugged. “A boy died up there in the fire that burned the church down, all the locals say he haunts the place.”
Dally tried not to laugh. Johnny would get a kick out of knowing they’d fucked his death story up so bad he was now a ghost terrorizing Windrixville. Dally took the small roll of money out of his pocket that he’d picked up off of Shepard. He smiled to himself, imagining what Tim must’ve felt waking up to find himself rolled like a common drunk. He should’ve stuck around for it. That would be one notch to his reputation that he’d take gladly.
Shepard had been one sorry motherfucker last night. He couldn’t ever recall seeing Tim whine like a baby about so much shit. His girlfriend was pregnant, everything was different. Fuck different! He was in a fucking different world and Shepard couldn’t deal with colour television everywhere. Fucking pansy. He may be dead, but at least he wasn’t Shepard right now.
He felt his other pocket and frowned. He picked out a roll of money there, too, blood staining it. He quickly shoved it back in his pocket. That had been a fucking stick when he’d woken up to Morgaine poking him. Now it was money again. Fucking death, you never knew what the fuck was going on.
The man gave Dally his change, then gave him directions to the church, and Dally took off.
He pulled up to what truly was a concrete slab about ten minutes later. He got out of Shepard’s car and wandered closer. The place didn’t look all that familiar to him. He stepped onto the concrete slab and wandered around. He remembered climbing into the church to find Johnny and Pony going stir crazy. He’d taken them out to eat, then they’d seen the fire on the way back.
Pony had been the first to get out of the car. Shit, the whole damn thing was his fault when you looked at it. Dally stood there and looked over the church, remembering the heat of the flames as he’d neared the building, his shock at seeing Johnny run into the burning building.
He’d hesitated himself – there was no way he was going in there. The idea of choking to death on fire didn’t really appeal to him, thank you very much. But then he’d seen them start tossing kids out – he could see that roof was about to go. Goddammit, why was Johnny so slow that day?
Then Pony had stumbled out, fire scorching his back. The kid had dropped like a lead brick when he’d hit him. He really thought he had killed him. Then Johnny’s screams had pierced the air.
Dally jumped. It sounded for all the world like those screams were real. He tried to push it all out of his head and not think about it. What good would it do now? Johnny was alive … somewhere.
Dally shivered as the wind rustled the trees, then stood frozen as he heard what sounded like whispering. He couldn’t make out the words.
“Fuck you,” he said quietly, feeling more than a little on edge. There was something really creepy about this place. It wasn’t like Johnny had died here. Fuck, they’d called him a hero because of what happened here. Ghosts. That old man was fucked in the head.
The wind blew again, carrying the voices with it. He thought he heard someone whisper his name. Throwing the last of his cigarette down and crushing it on the cement, Dally walked swiftly back to Shepard’s car.
XXXX
It was boring sitting around the church.
He cracked open a beer around noon and spent most of the afternoon drinking and smoking, leaning against Shepard’s car or reclining on the grass. The wind had stopped and the sun was bright in the sky. There was no voices. There never had been.
As the day started to fade, Dallas remembered something suddenly. Something Johnny had said after he’d met up with him in Morgaine’s fucked up world.
Something about a sunset.
He’d asked him if he’d gotten a letter. Of course he hadn’t gotten any letter, he’d be deader than a doornail not too long after Johnny. He hated the kid knowing it. What had he said? Something about watching a sunset. Well, here it was.
He sat there on the grass, nursing his beer and watching the sun go down. He didn’t get it. The sun went down every fucking day it was out. What was so special about it?
Sure, the sky turned all kinds of colours, big deal. He supposed it was nice looking, you know, as far as scenery went. It changed the colour of everything, from oranges to reds to golds. The fields changed colour, the sky changed colour. Sometimes it reminded him a little of the redness of the inside of that burning church, only not as suffocating. As the sun finally sank behind the hills in the distance, everything was a dusky blue. Cool, like it was resting after a long day.
Big fucking deal.
Maybe Johnny dipped into some of Curly Shepard’s grass or something. Shepard laughed his ass off about shit when he was stoned. Maybe Johnny meant he should watch one stoned or something.
Whatever. It was gone, anyway.
He looked at Tim’s car. He could get going as soon as it got dark.
He still hadn’t decided where he was going to go. He couldn’t look up any relatives he might have left. That would be one fucking huge mistake, and they’d be on the phone to the cops so fast he’d have no time to run.
He couldn’t drop in on the Curtises. He thought about what Tim had said – Soda was dead. The last thing they needed was Dally showing up at their door. They’d probably knock him down waiting to see if Soda would walk in behind him, only he never would. Where did Soda end up anyhow? If a kid like Johnny who’d saved some kids lives couldn’t get into heaven, what about a guy like Soda?
He gave up thinking about it when the headache came on.
He wandered back down to the concrete slab. He’d have to hightail it out of Tulsa. Maybe he could go back to New York and make a life there. A few break-ins, some car theft and he’d be set up alright for awhile. If the chicks in 1975 were decent, New York would be great. He could stay out there forever. Have a second chance.
He thought for a second about Johnny.
He wondered if he could go back through that door and bring Johnny with him. They could hang together, not have to worry about those freaks with rat heads and their beams, and Morgaine and her crazy eyes. He wouldn’t have to watch Laura look at him like a nagging mother one second, then see her like she was all those years ago the next.
Dallas took in a deep breath. She was alive in this world. She hadn’t died yet.
That meant his son was here, too. He thought about that. He wasn’t aiming to raise the kid or nothing, but it might be kind of fun to show up and scare the shit out of her. The kid would see he had a real dad, not some replacement Laura had selected from the Catalogue of Guy’s Who’d Be A Better Dad Than Dallas Winston. That would’ve been one fucking big catalogue.
Could he even live in this world, knowing they were out there screwing him over like that?
The cops would be called, all kinds of shit would go down. She’d cry, bet your bottom fucking dollar she’d cry.
Maybe he and Johnny could go West, out to California. See the Pacific Ocean or something. Johnny could watch his fucking sunsets real good out there.
Dally felt the shiver again, then heard the rustling of the wind and the branches. He heard the whispering start up again.
Would Johnny follow you, Dallas?
He froze, the voice sounding oddly familiar. He couldn’t fucking go anywhere! He looked around, but saw nothing. It had to be in his fucking head.
He walked back to the car quickly, throwing the door open. He looked around, breathing heavily. Of course Johnny would follow him, Johnny always followed him.
He has made a promise, Dallas.
“Fuck you!” Dally yelled. The wind blew gently. “Fuck you! Can’t you leave me alone for five seconds, you bitch!”
Johnny had promised to help that bitch. Laura was there, too. If he went back and told Johnny about this door …
Dally really thought about it. Johnny had never let the gang down, not once. He’d been there for every rumble, until the fire. He’d always kept his mouth shut to the cops, even when they were threatening him. He had always done what he’d said he was going to do.
Johnny wouldn’t come with him.
Dally picked up one of the empty beer bottle and threw it towards the church. It smashed on the concrete. He was stuck here alone.
Shit. Johnny was going to go into battle with a fucking healer on one side of him and Laura on the other. Dally wasn’t sure if you could die twice, but if it was going to happen, it was going to happen with those two broads on his wing. Shit!
Why in the fuck did that bitch always have to be right?! How the hell was she in his head? When the fuck was she going to go away?
It is time to come home, Dallas.
“Fuck you, this is my home, and I’ll go back there whenever the fuck I want to!” he yelled. “If I want to, and I’m tellin’ you right now, I don’t want to. So fuck off!”
Tantrums do not become you, Dallas. But, very well.
The wind stopped. Silence.
“Finally.”
He walked back to Tim’s car, breathing heavily. He closed the door and started the engine.
He imagined Johnny dead in a battlefield, Laura dead beside him. Johnny would try, but …
He had let Johnny die once already. If he’d gotten into that church faster, if he’d gotten him out faster, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Could he let Johnny die again?
Morgaine obviously knew where he was. She’d tell Johnny what he’d done. Laura would shake her head and rant about how right she was about him. Johnny would just look down at the ground and shrug, then defend him to Morgaine and Laura.
Fuck.
He threw the car into gear and started driving.
XXXX
The parking lot at the cemetery was empty. Dally parked Tim’s car, almost empty of gas, and tucked the keys up in the visor. It was closing in on two o’clock in the morning. The big gates were pulled across the entrance to all the gravesites, but it was easy work to climb over them.
He wandered through the cemetery with the three beer he had left stuffed in his pockets, along with Tim’s money, for all the good it would do as sticks on the other side. He also had the carton of cigarettes with him. Johnny better be fucking grateful for this.
He wandered through the park-like grounds, finally finding his way back to his own grave. He smiled again at the thought of Tim waking up on his grave that morning. Fuck, he wished he could’ve seen it.
The door was still there.
Dally walked over and looked at the gravestones, Johnny’s carved with “Never Forgotten, Always Golden.” Maybe it had something to do with that damn sunset.
His own he’d read a few times – “A True and Gallant Friend.” It sounded like something Ponyboy would’ve picked out.
He sighed, looking over his shoulder at 1975 Tulsa. He could’ve liked it here. Maybe Shepard would fucking wise up and see that. If he didn’t get to enjoy it, someone should.
He looked at the wooden door, hanging in the air and seeming to disappear from certain angles, then put his hand on the doorknob.
He went back through the door.
XXXX
Author's Note If you are totally confused, I recommend you read a fic by Artemis Rex called "Other Worlds Than This." It's a cross over between the Outsiders and Stephen King's "Dark Tower" series, in which Dallas dies and wakes up in a world somewhat like our own.
Through The Door (2)
XXXX
It was the crack of dawn when Dallas woke up, and he was glad for it.
He looked over at Sylvia, asleep next to him. That hair sure did make her look different.
He got out of the bed as quietly as he could and got dressed. He couldn’t stay around here and deal with her asking more questions about where he was going and where he’d been. How the fuck was he supposed to know how all this worked?
He shook his head; he wanted to stay here. Dammit, he wanted to be back in Tulsa more than anything when he’d stood, his hand on that doorknob, wishing to hell Tulsa was on the other side.
He had to get a handle on this and figure out where he could go and what he could do. He looked back at Sylvia. That little broad sure was a firecracker in bed. His arms were sore from the workout she’d given him.
He wondered if all that shit she’d said about having a steady guy was true. He couldn’t picture Sylvia staying faithful to anything. He smiled a little as he remembered all those fights they’d have, then the make-up sex afterwards. It’d be nice to stick around for some more of that.
He picked up his boots, then looked out the window to make sure the car was still there.
He shrank back from the window as he saw the cop circling around the car, writing down the plate number.
“Shit,” he whispered.
He dropped the boots and left the room quietly, padding down the stairs in bare feet. He stood by an open window near the bar, listening to the squawk of the police radio.
“Be advised, I’ve found the stolen 1966 Dodge Charger, licence plate GW-1953,” the officer said.
“Shit,” Dally swore. “Fuckin’ Shepard!”
This Tulsa was fucked up beyond belief if Tim Shepard had reported his car stolen to the police. What the hell was wrong with him?
Shit, now he’d have the cops looking for him, and he’d have no wheels.
He felt like going out there and rearranging the cop’s face.
The radio beeped again, and Dallas listened as dispatch sent out a call for all units in the area near 201st. Dally grinned as he saw the cop walk to his car, get in and start the engine. This guy must be closest.
He watched the cop leave, relieved the Charger was still there for him, then went back upstairs to the room. Sylvia was still asleep.
He grabbed his boots and jacket and headed for the door. He was going to have to beat it out of here for awhile until he decided what to do and where to go. The minute they started asking about the car around Buck’s, someone would put him in it. He didn’t think Sylvia would say anything, but what if she did?
He paused for a moment, then turned around. She really wasn’t a bad chick. Sure, she’d cheated on him more times than he could count, but that was a two-way street. He looked around. He hadn’t brought anything he could leave so she’d know it was real. If she knew it was real, she wouldn’t give him away.
He looked down at his hands and saw the ring.
That damn ring.
He pulled it off his finger, remembering countless other times he’d given it to her. This Tulsa had to be some other place than the one he’d left. He didn’t know if he could stay in this world - the cops would be on him in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t be able to see her again without risking someone recognising him and wouldn’t that be a fucking mess?
He laid the ring down on the nightstand. It didn’t mean shit to him anymore, but it probably would to her. He tried not to laugh. This was all so fucked up.
He picked his boots back up and left Buck’s as quietly as he could, taking a case of beer with him.
XXXX
Sylvia stretched out in the lumpy bed, feeling disoriented. Where the hell was she?
She opened her eyes more, looked around, and realized she was in one of Buck’s rooms upstairs. She must’ve drank a whole lot last night.
She sat bolt upright as she remembered seeing Dallas.
She looked around the room, but there was no sign of him. She looked at the tousled bed sheets, knowing for sure it had happened. She felt it.
She looked down at her chest and knew it.
Teeth marks.
She lay back in the bed. What if it wasn’t Dallas? What if she’d gotten so drunk she’d thought some total stranger was Dallas Winston and slept with him? She felt a little sick at the thought she could be so stupid.
She put a hand over her eyes and then massaged her temples. This was all a bad dream. She did not cheat on Joe with some fucking stranger she couldn’t even remember. She sat up in the bed, shivering at the cool morning breeze.
She looked around the room for her clothes and her gaze rested on the nightstand. She slowly reached over and picked up the ring.
Dallas’s ring.
She noticed her hand was shaking and concentrated on making it stop. She touched the ring carefully, remembering every facet of it, including the tiny chip in the red stone in the centre.
How on God’s green earth was it Dallas?
She knew he had that ring on his finger when he’d been buried. She ran her fingers over the large ring, remembering the countless times he had given it to her, the times he’d snatched it back and the times she’d thrown it back to him.
She held it against her chest, tightly.
He wouldn’t be coming back. Wherever he had gone to, whether it be back to hell or escaping from Oklahoma in Tim Shepard’s car, Dallas Winston wasn’t coming back.
She kissed the ring, then slipped it on her thumb. He’d left her the first time with nothing. At least now she had a small piece of him to hold on to.
XXXX
Dallas had beat it out of Buck’s and got on the highway first chance he had. He had no idea where to go, but suddenly an idea formulated in his head and he’d headed north. By the time he reached Windrixville it was almost nine o’clock in the morning.
He remembered telling Johnny and Ponyboy how to get to the church, but Windrixville itself had changed since the last time he’d been through it. He pulled into a small convenience store and walked inside. It was strange to feel like he didn’t have to worry about being spotted. No one knew him out here.
There was an old guy behind the counter, and Dally walked around the store, pocketing a few things before grabbing a bottle of Pepsi and heading up to the counter to pay, asking the guy for a carton of KOOLs.
“You got any idea where that old church is?” Dallas asked.
“There’s a few churches here in town,” the man offered. “What kind are you lookin’ for?”
Dally was about to describe the church when he realized it wasn’t standing. “It burned down about … nine, ten years ago.”
“Ah, St. John’s,” the man said. “It’s been gone longer than that. It was abandoned in the early ‘60s, burned down … oh, maybe 1965?”
“Sixty-six,” Dally said quietly.
“There ain’t much up there now,” the man said. “Just a concrete slab and an old water pump. No one goes there much. All the local kids say it’s haunted.”
“Haunted?” Dally asked, raising an eyebrow. Shit, if this guy could see some of the shit over in where the fuck he came from, he’d change his tune on haunted.
“You know kids,” the man shrugged. “A boy died up there in the fire that burned the church down, all the locals say he haunts the place.”
Dally tried not to laugh. Johnny would get a kick out of knowing they’d fucked his death story up so bad he was now a ghost terrorizing Windrixville. Dally took the small roll of money out of his pocket that he’d picked up off of Shepard. He smiled to himself, imagining what Tim must’ve felt waking up to find himself rolled like a common drunk. He should’ve stuck around for it. That would be one notch to his reputation that he’d take gladly.
Shepard had been one sorry motherfucker last night. He couldn’t ever recall seeing Tim whine like a baby about so much shit. His girlfriend was pregnant, everything was different. Fuck different! He was in a fucking different world and Shepard couldn’t deal with colour television everywhere. Fucking pansy. He may be dead, but at least he wasn’t Shepard right now.
He felt his other pocket and frowned. He picked out a roll of money there, too, blood staining it. He quickly shoved it back in his pocket. That had been a fucking stick when he’d woken up to Morgaine poking him. Now it was money again. Fucking death, you never knew what the fuck was going on.
The man gave Dally his change, then gave him directions to the church, and Dally took off.
He pulled up to what truly was a concrete slab about ten minutes later. He got out of Shepard’s car and wandered closer. The place didn’t look all that familiar to him. He stepped onto the concrete slab and wandered around. He remembered climbing into the church to find Johnny and Pony going stir crazy. He’d taken them out to eat, then they’d seen the fire on the way back.
Pony had been the first to get out of the car. Shit, the whole damn thing was his fault when you looked at it. Dally stood there and looked over the church, remembering the heat of the flames as he’d neared the building, his shock at seeing Johnny run into the burning building.
He’d hesitated himself – there was no way he was going in there. The idea of choking to death on fire didn’t really appeal to him, thank you very much. But then he’d seen them start tossing kids out – he could see that roof was about to go. Goddammit, why was Johnny so slow that day?
Then Pony had stumbled out, fire scorching his back. The kid had dropped like a lead brick when he’d hit him. He really thought he had killed him. Then Johnny’s screams had pierced the air.
Dally jumped. It sounded for all the world like those screams were real. He tried to push it all out of his head and not think about it. What good would it do now? Johnny was alive … somewhere.
Dally shivered as the wind rustled the trees, then stood frozen as he heard what sounded like whispering. He couldn’t make out the words.
“Fuck you,” he said quietly, feeling more than a little on edge. There was something really creepy about this place. It wasn’t like Johnny had died here. Fuck, they’d called him a hero because of what happened here. Ghosts. That old man was fucked in the head.
The wind blew again, carrying the voices with it. He thought he heard someone whisper his name. Throwing the last of his cigarette down and crushing it on the cement, Dally walked swiftly back to Shepard’s car.
XXXX
It was boring sitting around the church.
He cracked open a beer around noon and spent most of the afternoon drinking and smoking, leaning against Shepard’s car or reclining on the grass. The wind had stopped and the sun was bright in the sky. There was no voices. There never had been.
As the day started to fade, Dallas remembered something suddenly. Something Johnny had said after he’d met up with him in Morgaine’s fucked up world.
Something about a sunset.
He’d asked him if he’d gotten a letter. Of course he hadn’t gotten any letter, he’d be deader than a doornail not too long after Johnny. He hated the kid knowing it. What had he said? Something about watching a sunset. Well, here it was.
He sat there on the grass, nursing his beer and watching the sun go down. He didn’t get it. The sun went down every fucking day it was out. What was so special about it?
Sure, the sky turned all kinds of colours, big deal. He supposed it was nice looking, you know, as far as scenery went. It changed the colour of everything, from oranges to reds to golds. The fields changed colour, the sky changed colour. Sometimes it reminded him a little of the redness of the inside of that burning church, only not as suffocating. As the sun finally sank behind the hills in the distance, everything was a dusky blue. Cool, like it was resting after a long day.
Big fucking deal.
Maybe Johnny dipped into some of Curly Shepard’s grass or something. Shepard laughed his ass off about shit when he was stoned. Maybe Johnny meant he should watch one stoned or something.
Whatever. It was gone, anyway.
He looked at Tim’s car. He could get going as soon as it got dark.
He still hadn’t decided where he was going to go. He couldn’t look up any relatives he might have left. That would be one fucking huge mistake, and they’d be on the phone to the cops so fast he’d have no time to run.
He couldn’t drop in on the Curtises. He thought about what Tim had said – Soda was dead. The last thing they needed was Dally showing up at their door. They’d probably knock him down waiting to see if Soda would walk in behind him, only he never would. Where did Soda end up anyhow? If a kid like Johnny who’d saved some kids lives couldn’t get into heaven, what about a guy like Soda?
He gave up thinking about it when the headache came on.
He wandered back down to the concrete slab. He’d have to hightail it out of Tulsa. Maybe he could go back to New York and make a life there. A few break-ins, some car theft and he’d be set up alright for awhile. If the chicks in 1975 were decent, New York would be great. He could stay out there forever. Have a second chance.
He thought for a second about Johnny.
He wondered if he could go back through that door and bring Johnny with him. They could hang together, not have to worry about those freaks with rat heads and their beams, and Morgaine and her crazy eyes. He wouldn’t have to watch Laura look at him like a nagging mother one second, then see her like she was all those years ago the next.
Dallas took in a deep breath. She was alive in this world. She hadn’t died yet.
That meant his son was here, too. He thought about that. He wasn’t aiming to raise the kid or nothing, but it might be kind of fun to show up and scare the shit out of her. The kid would see he had a real dad, not some replacement Laura had selected from the Catalogue of Guy’s Who’d Be A Better Dad Than Dallas Winston. That would’ve been one fucking big catalogue.
Could he even live in this world, knowing they were out there screwing him over like that?
The cops would be called, all kinds of shit would go down. She’d cry, bet your bottom fucking dollar she’d cry.
Maybe he and Johnny could go West, out to California. See the Pacific Ocean or something. Johnny could watch his fucking sunsets real good out there.
Dally felt the shiver again, then heard the rustling of the wind and the branches. He heard the whispering start up again.
Would Johnny follow you, Dallas?
He froze, the voice sounding oddly familiar. He couldn’t fucking go anywhere! He looked around, but saw nothing. It had to be in his fucking head.
He walked back to the car quickly, throwing the door open. He looked around, breathing heavily. Of course Johnny would follow him, Johnny always followed him.
He has made a promise, Dallas.
“Fuck you!” Dally yelled. The wind blew gently. “Fuck you! Can’t you leave me alone for five seconds, you bitch!”
Johnny had promised to help that bitch. Laura was there, too. If he went back and told Johnny about this door …
Dally really thought about it. Johnny had never let the gang down, not once. He’d been there for every rumble, until the fire. He’d always kept his mouth shut to the cops, even when they were threatening him. He had always done what he’d said he was going to do.
Johnny wouldn’t come with him.
Dally picked up one of the empty beer bottle and threw it towards the church. It smashed on the concrete. He was stuck here alone.
Shit. Johnny was going to go into battle with a fucking healer on one side of him and Laura on the other. Dally wasn’t sure if you could die twice, but if it was going to happen, it was going to happen with those two broads on his wing. Shit!
Why in the fuck did that bitch always have to be right?! How the hell was she in his head? When the fuck was she going to go away?
It is time to come home, Dallas.
“Fuck you, this is my home, and I’ll go back there whenever the fuck I want to!” he yelled. “If I want to, and I’m tellin’ you right now, I don’t want to. So fuck off!”
Tantrums do not become you, Dallas. But, very well.
The wind stopped. Silence.
“Finally.”
He walked back to Tim’s car, breathing heavily. He closed the door and started the engine.
He imagined Johnny dead in a battlefield, Laura dead beside him. Johnny would try, but …
He had let Johnny die once already. If he’d gotten into that church faster, if he’d gotten him out faster, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Could he let Johnny die again?
Morgaine obviously knew where he was. She’d tell Johnny what he’d done. Laura would shake her head and rant about how right she was about him. Johnny would just look down at the ground and shrug, then defend him to Morgaine and Laura.
Fuck.
He threw the car into gear and started driving.
XXXX
The parking lot at the cemetery was empty. Dally parked Tim’s car, almost empty of gas, and tucked the keys up in the visor. It was closing in on two o’clock in the morning. The big gates were pulled across the entrance to all the gravesites, but it was easy work to climb over them.
He wandered through the cemetery with the three beer he had left stuffed in his pockets, along with Tim’s money, for all the good it would do as sticks on the other side. He also had the carton of cigarettes with him. Johnny better be fucking grateful for this.
He wandered through the park-like grounds, finally finding his way back to his own grave. He smiled again at the thought of Tim waking up on his grave that morning. Fuck, he wished he could’ve seen it.
The door was still there.
Dally walked over and looked at the gravestones, Johnny’s carved with “Never Forgotten, Always Golden.” Maybe it had something to do with that damn sunset.
His own he’d read a few times – “A True and Gallant Friend.” It sounded like something Ponyboy would’ve picked out.
He sighed, looking over his shoulder at 1975 Tulsa. He could’ve liked it here. Maybe Shepard would fucking wise up and see that. If he didn’t get to enjoy it, someone should.
He looked at the wooden door, hanging in the air and seeming to disappear from certain angles, then put his hand on the doorknob.
He went back through the door.
XXXX
Author's Note If you are totally confused, I recommend you read a fic by Artemis Rex called "Other Worlds Than This." It's a cross over between the Outsiders and Stephen King's "Dark Tower" series, in which Dallas dies and wakes up in a world somewhat like our own.
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