Gold - The Outsiders Fanfiction

The hitchhiker

I had been driving the van for a while now, and once I had calmed down I knew that I had to call someone. I needed to report John to the cops and I needed to call the driveway company and tell them what happened to the car. I hadn't passed anywhere that would have a phone and it was really frustrating.

I finally spotted a gas station and pulled into it. I got out of the van quickly and when the automatic doors didn't open I realized it must have been closed. I saw a guy behind the register and banged on the door.

"I need to use the phone!" I yelled.

The man shook his head and looked annoyed.

"Please!" I shouted. "It's an emergency!"

Since when weren't gas stations open twenty-four hours?

I kept banging on the door and the guy eventually came around, flipped a switch and the door glided open.

"Thank you!" I said.

I went straight for the phone and dialed nine one one.

"Hello, operator?" I asked.

"Nine one one what is the nature of your emergency?" The operator asked.

"I know who killed those people on the highway, the family, and the mutilated guy in the Chevy," I told her.

"Name please?" The operator asked.

"Ponyboy Curtis," I told her.

"You're Ponyboy Curtis?" She asked, sounding a little shocked, which confused me.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"Can you tell us your location?" She asked.

I gave her the address of the gas station and she told me the cops would be there any minute.

Like she had said, within minutes I could hear sirens down the highway. I waited out the front near the van.

A cop car sped into the gas station parking lot and stopped abruptly.

Two got out and one of them yelled "Stand where you are! Put your hands behind your back!"

"What's going on?" I asked frantically.

"Hands behind your back!" The other one yelled.

I obliged and they came over, cuffed me and chucked me into the back seat.

"I'm confused," I said. "What've I done? You've got the wrong person."

"What haven't you done," one of the cops tutted. "Half the cops in the state are looking for you."

"What the fuck?" I said. "I didn't do nothin'."

"You have the right to remain silent," one of them said. "I'd suggest doing just that."

"Yep," said the other cop. "Save your ass. Don't want to get yourself into any more trouble."

They eventually introduced themselves as Sargent Gallagher and Sargent Slott.

Soon, I was in an interrogation room.

"Where's your driver's license? ID? Credit cards? Explain the bloody knife we found in the van?" Asked Sargent Slott.

"Look, I drove off in this van because the guy that was driving it an killing people would have gotten me. He planted the knife, took my wallet with all my ID, I don't have any credit cards," I told them. "I don't know why he did it."

"Could be an escaped mental patient," Slott suggested.

"Yeah," Gallagher agreed. "We could call some wards around, see if any patients have gone AWOL."

"So you picked this guy up hitchhiking?" The man at the desk, Beau, asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"You know, hitchhiking is illegal in most states now," Beau said. "How many've you picked up?"

"Just the one," I said. "I'd never done it before this guy."

"What's a young kid like you driving such a fancy car?" Sargent Gallagher asked me. "Steal it?"

"It's a drive away," I told them. "I was driving it to New York."

"Who're you delivering the car to?" Sargent Gallagher asked.

"I forgot his name," I said, looking at the ground.

"You've got two calls," said Beau.

"Call the driveway company," I said, before giving them the number.

Bo punched in the number I gave him and was met with an automated voice message saying office hours were closed.

"You got one more call, kid," Sargent Slott said.

My first instinct was to call Charlie and Dallas's house, but I knew they'd both be out.

"Call my brother, he'll be home," I told them.

I gave Beau the number of Darry and Andrea's new house.

It rang for thirty seconds and then went to voicemail.

"You're in deep shit, kid," Sargent Gallagher said lightly.

"So what now?" I asked.

"Look, kid, we want to help you. We believe you. You need a lawyer. And if you don't have any cash or credit cards with you, you can be supplied with one, but we'll need to hold you in custody until we can get you to a hearing," Slott explained. "In this case, it'll be easiest just to fly you out to New York, it's the closest city from here, the lawyers'll be better up there."

"That's bullshit!" I said. "Do I look like a killer to you?"

"We'll fly out you're next of kin," Sargent Gallagher said. "But even if we get the best lawyer and we pull all the strings we can, it's still not looking good, I mean it is four murders you've allegedly committed."

That night they put me in a holding cell with three other guys. One was rather large with a Swastika tattooed on his forehead, the other was wearing cornrows and the third one was a fat, jolly looking guy who looked like a mall Santa who was there because he was touching kids, and not in a cheerful Santa way.

"What're you guys in for?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Drugs," said the cornrows guy.

The Swastika tattoo guy gave me an evil look. "Conspiracy," he said.

"Cool, against what?" I asked.

"The justice system," Swastika spat.

"Uh, okay," I said.

"I'm a convicted sex offender," Santa guy said cheerfully, putting his hand up.

I'm not gonna lie, sex offender Santa scared me the least.

The next day I arrived in New York.

My lawyer kept me out of custody since I had no previous charges and because of the strings Bo, Gallagher, and Slott pulled for me, so I had a week until I had to appear in court. I was expecting life in prison or the death penalty. The hotel room I was in was great. Five-star hotel. Sargent Gallagher was a good guy, and he wanted me to enjoy my last days. The next step was to call Charlie, and telling her about what was going to happen to me was really going to hurt. I hadn't called her either, she was probably worried. She knows I'm strong, I know she'll be doing okay back at home. So would the rest of the gang, whatever they were up to.