Chapter 3. The Night Has Gone (And Taken It's Infractions)
Micky and Davy continued helping the emergency search team look for Mike while Peter held a near-frantic Shug at the edge of the road. When Micky had returned home with Mike's bloody hat, mangled Airforce knapsack, and bits of the guitar he'd taken with him, nobody else had been there. He'd left his findings there with a note where he'd found them and, after calling the police, went back to search again, determined to find their missing friend. So far, though, there was still no sign of him. Shortly after the emergency crews had arrived to help search, the other three Monkees did as well. Shug had come back from the train station to find the note and gone to get Peter and Davy, bringing them to the place where Micky indicated he would be. It had been hours since they'd all arrived, and every inch of the area had been combed repeatedly, but there was still no sign of Mike.
"Oh, God," she whispered, her eyes fixed upon the few bits of guitar that remained to show them where her brother had been. "I done this. This was me. I …"
"No," Peter interrupted sternly, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him, looking up into her eyes. "Whatever happened here, it isn't your fault. Once we find Mike he'll tell you the same thing. You just watch." He continued to hold her tightly then, not sure what else he should say.
After another half hour of searching, the police chief waved them all over. "We've knocked on every door around here and nobody has seen him, so we're going on the assumption that either whoever struck him took him with them, or someone picked him up. Our hope is that they've taken him to a hospital. We've radioed his description in to all of them in the area, and to the morgues as well." As much as he might have liked to leave out that part, he knew it was a possibility the four young people in front of him might have to be prepared for. "You four should go on home in case he finds his way back there or tries to call for help. Trust me, if we hear anything, we'll let you know."
"So wait. What? We're supposed to just wait?" Shug demanded, advancing on the chief angrily. "This is my brother. He's out there somewhere injured, and you're expectin' us to just sit around with our thumbs up our a.."
"SHUG!" the other three interrupted quickly.
"I'm sorry, officer" Peter said quickly he drew her back to him. "She…she's distraught…and distressed…and…um…" He looked quickly to the other two for help.
"They're twins, sir," Davy chimed in. "and, for what it's worth, I agree with her. We can't just stop looking. What if he's wandering somewhere, confused and …and bleeding…and…"
"Please, we can't just give up. We have to find him," Micky choked almost desperately.
"I understand, and I'm sorry, but you have to understand, we've scoured every inch of the area. Your friend isn't here." The chief said calmly. He nodded to Peter. "Take her home now. Stay by the phone. I'll let you know if we find anything."
As much as they wanted to argue, they knew they didn't really have much choice but to do what the officer said. The Monkees were out of ideas.
Kevin hurried back to the car, having conversed with his sister through the door, calling out as he approached. "She says to just drop it next to the woodpile and she'll take care of it once she's dressed, then take the car down to Jaspers and tell them dad hit a deer or something. He'll fix it no questions asked. After that, it'll be like this never happened. " He paused, scowling, when he saw that the Eric was still standing there staring at the body, but hadn't moved. "Hey IDIOT," he yelled. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah, Kev," Eric replied quietly, still staring into the back seat. "I don't think we can do that, though."
"Well, why the hell not?" Kevin demanded. Looking inside, though, he understood why Eric suddenly believed that wouldn't be an option.
There was no longer an "it" in the backseat. There was a "he". And "he" wasn't dead yet. Kevin watched as the fingers of the dark haired man's hand twitched again and swore. "Ok. Look Eric, this doesn't change anything. If we take him to the hospital there will be questions. We will be arrested. Our whole lives will be ruined."
Eric looked at Kevin as if he'd lost his mind. "What about his life, Kevin? It's not too late. We can still…"
"I thought I told you to put it by the woodpile," The blonde woman yawned as she approached the car. "Don't tell me you're still so drunk you can't even…" she stopped talking when she reached the car, her eyes narrowing. "Michael? You hit my MICHAEL?"
"No, now, Kait, it's not …" Kevin began, thinking she was having another episode. Before he could finish that though, he found himself unceremoniously shoved onto his backside out of the way.
"You! Runt! Go get the long board from the back of the house. RUN!" Kait ordered. Eric didn't wait for her to say it again. Instead, he ran around to the back of the house, reminding himself that at least she wasn't talking about the man in the car as if he were already dead. "Get off your ass and go clear off the table inside, Idiot." She barked at Kevin as she climbed in beside the injured man, beginning to examine his wounds. "Its okay, my love." She whispered, smoothing his hair back, frowning at the amount of blood soaked into. "You're home now."
Eric returned with the board and followed Kaitlyn's directions to guiding the injured man onto it, and together they carried him inside. They deposited him onto the long kitchen table, then Kaitlyn began giving out orders again. "Kevin, go into my room. Under my bed is daddy's lost medical bag. Bring it here. You…Eric, is it?" at the youth's nod, she continued, "go into the kitchen. I need a bowl full of hot water and all the cloths and towels on the shelf in there." While they went to find their items, she took a pair of scissors out of the nearby desk drawer and began carefully cutting away the rain and blood soaked clothes, revealing all of Michael and his injuries to her. She frowned at how truly thin and pale he was beneath those ruined garments as she cast them aside and her eyes took in every inch of him, how icy his skin was to the touch as she ran her hands slowly up his arms, down his chest, hips and legs, in theory to feel for breakage. She pressed her lips to his neck, pleased to feel the pulse there, though it was weaker and threadier than she'd have liked it to be.
"Here," Kevin said, tossing the bag onto the table beside them.
"Bring the coat stand over here," Kaitlyn said without looking in her brother's direction, unwilling to tear her gaze from the form of the man before her. She opened the bag and withdrew several vials and a needle. "We'll need to start an IV. I've got what I need here to get started, but I'm going to need you to get some more things from Daddy for me. I'll make you a list."
Kevin halted, staring at her. She didn't understand what she was asking. She couldn't. If they brought their father into this, he'd know what Kevin had done.
"Relax, idiot, I'll cover for you, just do as I say." She turned her gaze to him at last. "Or you can stand there and defy me and I'll call the police myself."
Eric came in as she said the last and almost dropped everything in his panic. Kevin helped him take it all to the table, trying not to be off put by his sister's threat, or by the sight of the overly thin, deathly pale figure upon the table. "We'll need to take the truck." He told his sister. Kaitlyn nodded, her attention on that same figure, though her reaction to the sight of it was far different than her brother's. "Go and dispose of those things," she told Eric, gesturing to the wrecked clothing she'd cut away before setting to his injuries.
Eric quickly gathered the things and carried them outside. Once out of view of the other two, though, he fished through the tattered pockets to find the one thing he needed to try to set this right. Pocketing the wallet that would, he hoped, tell him who the man was and where his family might be. Armed with that knowledge, maybe he could still set this right.
(tbc)
