Tulsa Ripper

Chapter 10

It seemed to be getting hotter by the minute. Johnny couldn't tell if it was his fever or the weather, but it was very uncomfortable. The sky was a strange color, hopefully a signal that a cooling storm would blow through soon. And hopefully, Johnny thought, there will be someone home by then. Darry had just left, he heard the Ford pulling out of the driveway. It was about the time that, had he been at school, Johnny would have his study hall, so he figured maybe he should do some reading in his history book. He pulled it out from a pile of books and set it on the table by the couch. Then he headed into the kitchen to get something to drink. He was feeling awful, but he just didn't feel like sleeping. He got a glass out of the cupboard. The phone rang. Johnny just looked at it for a second. Then he reached over and picked it up. "Hello?" he said hesitantly. There was no response. Johnny closed his eyes and willed himself not to get sick right there in the kitchen. He was about to hang up when the person on the other end of the line finally spoke. "Nice work so far... Still keeping your mouth shut?" Johnny didn't say anything. "You'd better be. That friend of yours is looking better and better all the time. He's a prime target, that one. Good thing you've been keeping him outta my woods!" Johnny was shaking and could barely hold the phone. He thought about just hanging up, but he couldn't move. "Whattsa matter, greaser, somebody cut out your tongue?" the man on the other end laughed dangerously. "I think that's what I'll start with on your friend if I find out you been squealin' to anyone-" Johnny's mobility returned suddenly with a rush of adrenaline and he slammed the phone down, his hands shaking. The phone fell off the receiver, but Johnny was already backing away from it. He dropped the glass that he was holding and it shattered. Johnny backed up to the cupboards and sank to the floor, a piece of glass tore through his skin, but he hardly noticed. Ponyboy, he thought. Was there track practice today? No, not today. He was safe for today, but when? When was the next one? He couldn't think. Pain shot up through his arm from the cut on his hand but he completely ignored it. And he began to wonder... is he watching me again? Am I really alone in the house? He tried to catch his breath. But then he heard something. Footsteps were coming up the front porch. He heard the front door open. His whole body went cold and he reached into his back pocket for his switchblade. Blood was streaming from the cut in his hand. Footsteps fell on the livingroom floor. Someone was coming towards the kitchen. Johnny steadied himself, his blade ready. Dally awoke with a start. He'd only intended to lie down for a minute, but he'd fallen asleep. He looked at the clock on the dresser of his room in Buck's tavern. It was past one in the afternoon. He got up shakily, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, a nervousness that he was not used to. This thing, whatever it is, going on with Johnny has to stop, he thought. It was driving him crazy. Dally decided right then and there that he would just be a bit more persistent with the kid today. He would figure out what was going on and put a stop to it. He was Dallas Winston, after all. He always got what he wanted. He took a quick shower, dressed, harassed Buck for the money he owed him, and headed over to the Curtis house. School would be getting out soon. Dally wiped the sweat off his forehead as he walked. The weather was getting hotter by the second and there was a heaviness in the air. He thought about how he would confront Johnny about the situation. If it were anyone else, it would be easy. And it would probably end in a fist fight. But nobody was forceful with Johnny. You just couldn't be. He was everybody's little brother and you just couldn't be mean to him. Not even Dally. He laughed a little at the idea. That kid had everybody wrapped around his little finger and he didn't even know it. But, that was not going to stop Dally today. He was determined to find out what was bothering Johnny. Ordinarily, Dally would have just let it go. When Johnny had problems at home, he rarely discussed it with the gang, and no one pushed him about it. There was no reason to. But this was different. It had come to a point where whatever was bothering him was affecting his health, or at least it would be eventually if he didn't eat a decent meal and get some rest. And it hadn't sat well with Dally since that first night that Johnny had woken up screaming. Dally had been concerned for Johnny before, but this was making him down right nervous. Something he was not used to at all. He was approaching the lot. As he passed the phone booth on the corner, something caught his eye. The colors registered in his mind first, and he had already passed the spot before he had time to process why this thing he'd barely seen had sparked his interest. He backed up. In the dirt, partly hidden in the tall weeds lay a crushed beer can. There was lots of trash lying around, but this stood out. It was the same kind of can that had been on the Curtis porch that night. Dally thought about it for a minute. He started to dismiss his thoughts when he noticed something else. He squatted down for a closer look. There was a wet spot on the ground. Someone had just discarded it recently. Dally stood and looked around. He saw no one. He had heard tires squealing a few moments earlier, but he hadn't bothered to notice where the sound had come from. He stood there a moment, looking around, and then he saw it. He always knew you could see it from there, but he'd never thought about it. Until now. Standing beside the phone booth on the other side of the lot, he saw the Curtis house, clear as day. His mind was piecing something together. He began to run without even realizing it. He ran as fast as he could toward the house, not really knowing what he was going to do when he got there. He was overcome with a feeling of dread. He thought briefly about going to the school and finding the boys, but he kept running towards the house. He threw open the porch door and ran into the house. He stopped dead in his tracks when he got to the kitchen.