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Chapter 9: Loss of Control
Mike struggled against the man holding him. He almost broke free, but a second man grabbed his other arm to hold him back. They squeezed his arms so tightly he thought they might cut off the circulation to his hands. He could only watch as Micky was rendered unconscious.
"Micky!" He shouted, fighting even harder as his friend went limp and fell to the ground. "What did you do to him!?"
"Relax," Mr. Manfred said. "He's just taking a nap." He spoke to his goons now. "Take Dolenz to the table and lock these fools up back there. I'll figure out what to do with them later." The two goons holding him started to drag Mike across the warehouse while more goons grabbed Peter and Davy. Another very large man picked up Micky and carried him off down a hallway. The goons pushed Peter and Davy into a small room in the back of the warehouse before the two holding Mike shoved him in. Mike fell on the floor and heard the door slam and locked closed. He jumped up and started banging on the door trying to open it, even though he knew it wasn't going to work.
"Let me out!" Mike shouted. "I swear, if you hurt Micky, I'll kill you!" Mike pounded on the door some more before he realized that Peter and Davy were trying to get his attention behind their gags. He'd forgotten that they were still tied up. With a relenting sigh, he stopped his futile attack on the door and moved to untie his friends. He slipped the gags off and untied the ropes. "Are you guys ok?" he asked.
"Yeah, we are now," Peter said.
"We have to find a way out of here and save Micky!" Davy said.
"The door is solid," Mike answered.
"Maybe if we all hit it at the same time," Peter suggested.
"It's worth a shot," Davy agreed.
"Anything's worth a shot," Mike said as he stood in between his two friends. "Ok, on the count of three. One."
"Two," Davy said.
"Three!" Peter exclaimed and they all charged the door, only to bounce off it and land on their backsides on the ground.
"Ow," Davy said rubbing his shoulders.
"Well that didn't work," Peter said angrily at the door.
"Now what?" Mike asked looking around the room. There was nothing in the room. It was very small with no windows and only the one door. The door was their only way out. And since it wouldn't budge, they were stuck with no way to help Micky.
"We have to think of something," Davy whined.
"Well, we have one thing going for us," Peter said.
"What's that?" Mike asked skeptically.
"We know they aren't going to hurt Micky."
"Of course they are!" Davy exclaimed. "They're going to put Ramose's soul into his body!"
"Exactly," Peter reasoned. "That means they can't hurt him. They need his body intact. If they do possess him, Isis can undo it."
"If Isis is alive," Mike answered. "What did they do to her?"
"I'm not sure," Peter answered. "They put a cloth over her mouth like they did with Micky back at the hotel. I'm guessing it was chloroform. When we got here, they dragged Davy and I into that main room and tied us together. The big guy carried her off down the same hallway they carried Micky down."
"If he didn't kill her in the hotel room, then there's a chance she's still alive," Mike mused.
"I wonder why?" Davy asked. "What does he want with her? He was ready to kill her at his house and at the pad."
"I don't know," Mike said. "But we've got to hope that he found some reason to keep her alive. And us. For Micky's sake. But this really doesn't help us figure out how to get out of here."
"Do you still have your paralysis potion?" Peter asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"They took ours," Davy said. "Searched us when we got into the van."
"Maybe we can use that somehow?" Peter suggested.
"Yeah, maybe when they come in to feed us or something," Mike agreed. "We can throw it at whoever comes in. They've got to feed us, right?"
"Surely," Davy agreed. They all sat on the floor and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. Mike had his hand wrapped protectively around the little bottle in his pocket.
Micky slowly came back into consciousness. His head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes to try and see where he was. And to try and see if his friends were ok. He tried to sit up, but found he was tied down. The surface he was on felt very hard. Micky looked around the room, but it was very dark and he couldn't see much. He listened, but there didn't appear to be anyone else in the room. He pulled against the ropes tying him down, but they were too tight for him to even lift his arms an inch. He tried moving his feet, but they seemed to be tied down too. All he could move was his head, which didn't do much good in the darkness.
For a moment, he thought about crying out for help, but how much good would that really do him? If his friends were free and able to help him, they'd have surely done so. But what if they couldn't find him? Then crying out for help might do him some good. Then again, it could also bring the attention of his captor, which was much more likely. He strained his ear to listen. For footsteps, voices, anything. After a while, he finally heard footsteps. Before he could try and figure out who they belonged to, the door opened, and light spilled into the room. Micky closed his eyes thinking it was probably Mr. Manfred and wanted to pretend he was still knocked out.
"Wake up, Dolenz," Mr. Manfred said. Micky kept his eyes closed. A moment later, however, he felt ice cold water splash on his face. He jerked and cried out.
"Man, what did you do that for?!" He exclaimed.
"I told you to wake up," Mr. Manfred replied.
"Did the water have to be so cold?"
"I've waited so long for this!" he said, completely ignoring Micky. "I have the amulet and the spell. And I even have a vessel. Very good of you to volunteer, Mr. Dolenz."
"I didn't."
"Shall we begin?"
"Let's not." Micky looked around the room now and saw Mr. Manfred standing over him. The light revealed that Micky was laying on a table similar to the one in his dream. And then he saw Isis, gagged and chained to a wall in the corner. She was hanging there rather limp. Upon seeing her, Micky struggled against his bonds once more.
"Stop that," Mr. Manfred said. "You're only going to waste your precious energy, and you may hurt yourself."
"Let her go. You've got the amulet, you don't need her anymore. Let her go."
"She still has the ability to ruin everything. The only reason I haven't killed her is because I'm saving that for Ramose. It seems that she is the descendent of the woman who trapped him in the first place. I figure he'll be happy to get revenge by killing her." Micky fought harder against his bonds knowing that meant that if he didn't do something, Isis would be killed by his hands, even if it was Ramose's will. "I said stop that," Mr. Manfred snapped angrily. Micky didn't listen to him, however and kept fighting. "If you don't cut that out and hold still, I'll kill one of your friends." Micky stopped immediately.
"Where are they?" Micky asked.
"I knew that would get you to stop. They're fine. For now. I've locked them in another room. If you do what I say, they'll stay that way. You make me angry, and I'll kill them."
"And what happens to them after I'm possessed?"
"Never mind that now. Just hold still."
"Why should I hold still if my friends are just going to die anyway?" Micky spat. He was starting to get angry again. He thought of the glass shattering in the main room and an idea popped into his head. Maybe if he could channel Ramose's power again, he could somehow use it to get himself free and then free Isis and his friends. He tried to summon all his anger. He forced his mind to relive everything that had happened in the last few days to make him angry. His friends being held at gunpoint in their car. Himself being held at gunpoint. Being nearly shot. Isis being stabbed and poisoned. Ramose using him to nearly choke Isis and kick Peter. Mike's bloody face. Isis's bruised neck and wrist. Peter's bruised stomach. The gun at the back of Peter's head.
While he was forcing himself to relive these moments, Mr. Manfred was moving about the room lighting torches on the wall. Micky thought if maybe the torches blew out, it would stall him. He tried to blow them out, but he didn't really know what he was doing. He'd seen Isis flick her hands when she did magic, so he tried that. It was hard to do with his hands tied down, however. He looked over at Isis, hoping that somehow he'd figure out what to do by looking at her. But she still hung there limp as a rag doll. He could tell she was awake; her eyes were open and she was looking at him. He wondered why she looked so weak. He closed his eyes and tried focusing on blowing out the torches. But when he opened his eyes again, he found it still hadn't worked.
Mr. Manfred came over to Micky and lifted his head to put the amulet he had now strung on a chain around his neck. He let it rest on Mickys chest and began speaking in a foreign language that Micky didn't understand. He fought even harder to try and stop this. He knew what was about to happen. He closed his eyes and focused all his anger and hatred, hoping that something would happen to stop this. But nothing happened. He felt something crawl on his arm and opened his eyes to look. He saw a metallic blue-green looking bug. He shrieked and tried to get it off him, but with his hand tied down, he couldn't really move a lot. Then the bug bit him and he cried out in pain. Mr. Manfred picked the bug up and put it in a jar and set it aside, still mumbling in a strange language.
"That hurt!" Micky cried out. "And was very gross. Was that completely necessary?" But Mr. Manfred ignored him. He looked at the bite and saw blood slowly coming from it. "That's so gross! Who knows what kind of diseases I'm going to get!" He was trying now to distract Mr. Manfred, but that didn't work either. He saw his blood drip down his arm and onto the table. He opened his mouth to speak again, but felt a heavy weight bear down on him, trapping his words in his mouth. He then felt very cold on his arm around the bite. Like someone had put an ice cube directly on top of it. The feeling traveled up the rest of his arm and down his fingers. Then the feeling enveloped his chest and moved through the rest of his body. He'd never felt so cold in his life. It was like he was being frozen from the inside out. The cold was so painful, but his chest was too frozen to make any groans of pain. Slowly he began to warm up, but he still felt heavy. When he'd finally thawed, he felt a jolt in his chest like he'd just stuck his finger in a powerful socket. He screamed in pain. Slowly, he began to feel numb. He felt nothing. No pain. No cold. No pressure. Nothing. He heard himself speak, but he knew he wasn't talking. It was over. Ramose had taken control of him.
"Finally," he said. "Untie me. Now."
"I will," Mr. Manfred replied. "But first, let's get a few things out of the way."
"Excuse me?"
"For instance, I have the spell that can put you back in that amulet. I'll destroy it if you do a few things for me."
"I don't take orders from anyone else."
"Not orders. Not really. I just would like a few things taken care of. As a favor for freeing you."
"How is it a favor if you are threatening to trap me again?"
"Incentive."
"What is it you want, exactly? Out of curiosity."
"A promise that when you are rightful ruler of this world, I can have a small piece."
"A small piece?"
"Yes. I'm thinking the North American continent. There's a lot about this world that has changed."
"I know what North America is. I have access over this boy's mind and memories. That's how I am speaking English, you dumb fool. Now, untie me."
"I'd also like powers of my own bestowed upon me. And riches. Do we have a deal?"
"Sure." Micky heard the same laugh in the back of his mind that he'd heard before and knew Ramose was lying. He tried to fight back. To control some small part of his body, but it was useless. He was a puppet. And Ramose was pulling the strings.
Mr. Manfred moved quickly to untie Micky. Once he was untied, Micky sat up. Well, Ramose made Micky sit up. It took a moment for him to orient himself. Once he was oriented, he got up off the table and looked over at Isis, still hanging limply in the corner. She looked so defeated now. Micky didn't want Ramose to kill her using his own hands. He tried screaming out not to hurt her, but he couldn't do anything.
"The girl is descended from the woman who imprisoned you," Mr. Manfred said noticing Micky looking at her. "I kept her alive as a present for you."
"I appreciate that," Micky said. "And so does this boy. He fancies her. What did you do to her? She looks weak."
"I gave her a sedative. She's awake and alert, but too weak to fight you."
"That's a pity. It's more fun when they fight. Take her down."
"Of course." Mr. Manfred moved to Isis and took a key out of his pocket before unlocking her. She fell limply against him. Micky walked over to her and held out his arm so he could take her.
"How long until the sedative wears off?" Micky asked.
"Probably eight to ten hours. Why?"
"So I know how long I have to wait. As for you…" Micky held out a hand and Mr. Manfred suddenly went flying through the door, shattering it to pieces with a loud crash. "I don't take orders from anyone." Micky picked Isis up and carried her in his arms out of the room, stepping over the now unconscious Mr. Manfred. Micky briefly saw blood begin to pool underneath him and wondered if he was unconscious or dead. Ramose didn't seem to care and made Micky walk out of the warehouse with Isis still in his arms, flinging any other goons that tried to stop him like they were dolls.
Peter absently rubbed his stomach. He regretted letting Mike see the bruise earlier that day. He had meant to keep it a secret, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire. Everyone had already been on edge. But he'd slipped up. While Micky had been sleeping, Peter had stretched and his shirt had lifted up slightly. Mike had seen the bruise and nearly dropped the soda he'd been drinking at the sight of it. Peter had tried to quickly pull down his shirt, but Mike walked over and nearly yanked his shirt off. Peter had lied to them and told them it hadn't hurt. Mike had asked where he'd gotten the bruise from, and Peter had told them it was where Micky had kicked him while under Ramose's control. Davy had tried telling him to ice it, but Peter had brushed them off saying he was ok. Mr. Manfred must have been listening at the door the whole time. It was still painful, but Peter was more worried about his other friends. And Peter felt disgusted that he had used it to hurt Micky. When he'd seen the look on Micky's face when he had seen the bruise, his heart shattered and Peter wanted to punch Mr. Manfred. And Peter was a pacifist. How dare he use Peter to hurt Micky?!
They'd been in this room for hours and no one had even so much as walked past the door. None of the three boys had moved. They'd tried coming up with alternative ideas to get themselves free, but none of the ideas had sounded like they'd work. Mike was still clutching the potion in his pocket that was currently the centerpiece of their only plan. Peter really didn't like sitting here waiting for something to happen, but it didn't seem like he had much choice. The door was wooden, but it was thick, sturdy, and solid. The three of them hadn't even dented it when they'd tried breaking it down. All they'd done is given themselves sore arms and shoulders.
Peter jumped when he heard a scream in the distance. So did Mike and Davy. They all exchanged looks when the recognized it as Micky. Peter's blood turned cold at the sound of it. It was a tortured scream.
"Micky," Mike breathed and his face paled.
"So much for not hurting him," Davy squeaked fearfully as they all jumped up and raced for the door again. Without needing to talk it over, all three tried shoving down the door again, but they still weren't even so much as denting it. Mike let out a guttural growl and pounded his fist against the door. Peter and Davy took a step back. Neither had really ever seen Mike like this.
"There has got to be a way to break this down!" Mike growled. He began furiously kicking at the door. Peter looked around the room again, desperately hoping for a tool they could use. Finally, something caught his eye in the far corner of the room. He ran over and found a shard of metal buried under a pile of dust. He picked it up and inspected it. It was sharp on the edges, but it was solid and thick enough to where maybe they could use it to pry open the door. He ran back over to Mike who was still furiously and futilely attacking the door.
"Mike, stop," Peter instructed. Mike looked at him and blinked in confusion. He looked at the piece of metal Peter held in his hand and stepped out of the way. Peter inspected the door, trying to find a good place to put it, but the construction on the door was masterful; the door showed no weakness.
"Try next to the handle," Davy suggested. Peter got down on his knees and began to try and push the shard into the small crack. At that moment, the three jumped again when they heard a loud crashing noise. They weren't sure what was going on, but knew they had to hurry. The crack wasn't wide enough for the shard to slip in easily, however. He knew he'd have to get a really good grip on the shard to wedge it in. If he did that, he knew the shard would slice his hand open. So he quickly pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around his hand to offer some sort of protection. He gripped the shard and pushed with every ounce of strength he had. Finally, it made it in far enough. He felt the fabric of his shirt tearing around his hand and knew he had to be quick. He now focused on pushing the shard in the opposite direction of the door. He heard popping noises as the pressure on the door caused it to splinter.
"It's working!" Davy exclaimed.
"Keep going, Pete!" Mike encouraged. But Peter felt the shirt finally tear all the way. With one last burst of strength, he pushed and the shard snapped, slicing his hand open through the tear in the shirt. He gasped in pain, but also saw that the door had cracked.
"Peter, you did it!" Davy exclaimed not seeing Peter's hand at first.
"Your hand," Mike said, seeing blood rush from the gash on his hand. Davy stopped cheering and looked painfully at Peter's hand.
"I'll be fine," Peter said, but he slumped the rest of the way to the ground clutching his hand and leaned against the wall trying unsuccessfully to wipe the look of pure pain off his face.
"Davy, break down the door," Mike instructed. It took Davy a second to tear his eyes away from Peter's bloody hand and do as Mike asked. Mike un-wrapped the now torn shirt from Peters hand and quickly tore it further so it was in pieces. He then tied the pieces together into a long strip and kneeled down next to Peter. Davy was making good progress on the door, but it was slow work with just one short person diving into it repeatedly. Peter briefly wondered why no one had come to try and make them stop.
"Peter, give me your hand," Mike instructed. "Stretch it flat." Peter did what Mike asked, but as soon as he did, pain shot through his hand causing him to see stars. He inhaled sharply and threw his head back against the wall, which didn't help much. "I know it hurts," Mike said trying to calm him. "This will just take a second." Mike wrapped the shirt around his hand tightly like a bandage to try and stop the bleeding. When he was done, Peter cradled his hand against his stomach. Davy finally burst the door open, and nearly fell on top of it, but quickly regained his balance.
"Whoa," Davy said. Mike and Peter stood up to see what he was looking at. Peter got up a little too fast, however, and lost his balance. Luckily Mike was right next to him and caught him. Mike wrapped his arm around Peter's waist to help him balance and the two followed Davy out into the main room of the warehouse. Peter now understood why no one had stopped them. All the goons were lying on the ground unconscious.
"We have to find Micky," Mike said.
"Why does something tell me Micky did this," Peter mused.
"If Micky did this, he would have freed us," Davy countered.
"Not if he wasn't in control of his actions," Mike corrected. Davy paled a little at the thought and Peter's stomach dropped. They'd all come to the same conclusion. Davy dashed down the hall that they had last seen Micky. Peter tried to follow, but as soon as he'd taken one step away from Mike, he nearly fell again.
"Not so fast, shotgun," Mike said. He wrapped his arm around Peter's waist again and threw Peter's arm over his shoulders so he could help him walk. Peter felt so dizzy he couldn't walk on his own. Davy came back before the two even made it to the hallway. He looked breathless and scared.
"Micky's not there," he reported. "But Mr. Manfred is on the ground bleeding and out cold. Isis is gone, too. It looks like they were in that side room and one of them was chained to a wall while the other tied to a table. You don't think he took her with him, do you?"
"That's what it looks like," Mike said. "Where do you think he would have gone?"
"I don't know, but we have to find them before Ramose makes Micky do something terrible."
"Davy, go see if the car is still in the lot," Mike said, fishing the keys out of his pocket and tossing them do Davy. Davy nodded and dashed off. Mike helped Peter limp out of the warehouse. Peter felt weaker with every step he took. Finally, they made it outside and Davy had brought the car to the front door so they wouldn't have to walk clear across the parking lot.
"Pete, we need to get you to a doctor," Mike said. Peter looked at his hand still held tightly against his stomach as if that would somehow take away the pain.
"Micky's more important," Peter argued.
"Davy, drive to the hospital," Mike said once all three were in the car, ignoring Peter. Davy nodded and drove off.
"We have to find Micky," Peter protested again.
"Peter, you can barely walk," Mike countered. "What good are you going to be to him like this?"
"Who knows how much time we have before Ramose forces Micky to…" his voice trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to speak the words.
"No one does," Mike agreed. "But you're not going to be of any help to him like this. That thing looked old and dirty. Who knows how much rust was all over that thing. You're in too much pain to even walk. You need a doctor. We aren't arguing over this. I'm dropping you and Davy off; then I'm going to go look for Micky." Peter opened his mouth to argue more, but Davy hit a bump in the road and pain seared through Peter's hand. He threw his head back against the seat and gasped in pain, once again seeing stars.
"Sorry!" Davy exclaimed. "It's dark, and I didn't see it! I'm sorry!"
"It's ok, Davy," Mike said for Peter. Peter was in too much pain to speak. "Just hurry."
