One hero. One Hoodlum. Both gone.

It all came floodin' back to me, and as soon as it did, I wished it hadn't. I kept tellin' myself; blank your mind. Don't remember, don't remember. But there was no way I could avoid it. Johnny and Dally are dead.


It happened the night of the rumble. Dally had found a way to escape the hospital making it just in time. The rumble was short, and the socs gave up and ran off, we drove 'em outa their territory. But just as soon as it finished, me 'n' Dally rushed over to the hospital. Johnny was dying, there was no doubt about it. I thought maybe he would look peacefully asleep when he was dead, but he didn't. Johnny looked dead. When the realization hit Dally, he couldn't take it. He bolted through the door and down that hall.



I had to hitch a ride home that night after Dally took off. That was Saturday night, today is Tuesday. I am home now, but I had been at the hospital for a few days. Darry says I was real sick, even delirious. I don't remember bein' in the hospital, but I do remember one thing. Dally had killed himself that night, under a street lamp in the empty lot. The police were on him, he robbed a grocery store and pulled out a gun. The fuzz shot, it was a hit. I knew he was dead before he hit the ground. Dally Winston wanted to die, and he always got what he wanted. Two of me friends died that night, one a hero, the other a hoodlum.