A Boy Named Pony - A Sequel to East West Sunset

Chapter Fifteen - Ponyboy

I knew it. I knew it as soon as I saw that black Rambler pulled up to the curb in front of the bank. I didn't know if Betty Anne had noticed, that the car was not parked, but still running, and that there was a figure crouched over the steering wheel, poised to screech away as soon as his comrades returned.

The Shepherd gang was attacking its next target.

The shrieking alarm knocked me out of my trance, and I lept into action.

Betty Anne's palms were pressed against her ears, her eyes wide, brow puckered. I watched the severity of the situation dawn on her as I grabbed her by the shoulders.

"We got to get back inside the store, okay?" I spoke in as calm of a voice as I could manage, given the circumstances. Inside, my heart was leaping almost into my throat. "We don't want to be the only ones out here if there's trouble."

"But what - my dad - what if they shot my dad? What if he's in trouble?" Shock and fear caused her voice to scale upwards. "What do we do?"

"Right now we need to get inside. The police are probably already on their way." Panic was seizing my own limbs, causing my own voice to quicken with nervous excitement. We had seconds to get out of here before the Shepherd gang emerged from the bank - probably less than that. And if they saw me at another crime scene ... as an even more compromising witness ... and they recognized Betty Anne ....

"What about my dad? Do you think he's all right?" She gripped my arm, obviously terrified.

"I'm sure he would want you to get to safety before worrying about him. Come on, we have to get inside, Betty Anne."

Without another word, she at last obeyed my push and ducked back inside the five and dime. I glanced over my shoulder as I followed her, just in time to see four figures dressed in black, each holding a sawn-off shotgun, sprinting from the front doors of the bank. One had a dirty pillowcase slung over his shoulder, which I assumed was full of money.

It was almost comical, really. Ask what image a five-year-old would have summoned if they were told to imagine a bank robber, and those four figures would be what you'd get. And even though all four men wore stockings over their faces, I was sure - it had to be the Shepherd gang. That was the Shepherd's car, all right.

The five and dime clerk looked up at us in confusion as we entered again, but she quickly saw the panicked expressions on our faces and inferred that something was happening.

"Do I need to call the police?" she stammered. "What's going on?"

"The bank across the street's being robbed," I explained, my breath coming up short for some reason. "The alarm's already going off so there's little more we can do. The police are probably on their way already."

The other shoppers in the store heard my declaration, and made various gestures or sounds of surprise. 

"Oh, dear. Why don't you all come behind the counter here, in case it gets crazy. Oh, dear," the clerk fretted, opening the gate to allow all of us in behind the register. "Duck down behind the counter, now."

I don't remember much after that. I held Betty Anne close to me and tried to reassure her that her father was probably fine. It was dark below the counter, and cramped, and eventually we heard it start to rain outside. I never heard anything else. Besides the wail of police sirens, the worried yet interested chatter of the ladies squatting next to us, and the soft, tearful breathing of Betty Anne at my side.

~~~~~

The clerk let me use the phone in the back to call Darry, once she determined that the police activity outside had lessened enough that it was safe for us to come out. Of course I let Betty Anne try to call her dad's work phone first, but there was no answer. I reassured her that was to be expected, though I'm sure she was still worried.