Author's Note: Kinda a shorter chapter, but oh well. Read and review as always.
Chapter 10: Trapped
They hadn't driven very far, however, when Mike saw a man up the street carrying what looked like a limp woman. It was easy to see from Mikes spot next to Peter in the middle row with the top down on their Pontiac. The man was getting into a cab. Davy currently had the car stopped at a stop light, so they couldn't do much unless they wanted to run it. The man placed the woman gingerly into the cab before climbing in himself. The streets were so deserted in this area that Mike knew this had to be Micky and Isis. Could they really be that lucky? Apparently Davy had seen the same thing.
"Mike?" he said, turning in his seat to face Mike questioningly. Mike looked from the cab, to Davy and finally to Peter. He quickly weighed their options in his mind. He could get out now and try and hail another cab and follow them, but with the streets as barren as they were, he knew that wouldn't work. He'd lose Micky's cab before he could even hail another. They were too far from the hospital to have Davy help Peter walk there if Mike followed in the car. And Davy was too short to really help Peter walk anyway. No, they really only had one option, and unfortunately that meant leaving Peter to suffer. Mike hated that, but he knew what he had to do. If they didn't figure out a way to stop Micky, Isis would die. And so would a lot of other people. Possibly even them. Mike couldn't let that happen. No, Davy would have to follow the cab and when the cab stopped, Mike would get out and then Peter and Davy would go to the hospital.
"Do it," Mike said reluctantly. "Follow them."
"Huh?" Peter asked. He clearly hadn't seen them. Davy nodded and ran the light to follow the cab that was now pulling away.
"Peter, listen to me," Mike said turning to face Peter. "We have a slight change of plans. We found Micky."
"What a stroke of luck," Peter smiled, but Mike could still tell he was in a lot of pain. He was also starting to sweat rather heavily.
"Yeah," Mike agreed. "He got in a cab, so we're gonna follow him. Then I'm gonna get out and you and Davy are going to the hospital."
"I wanna help Micky," Peter mumbled.
"I know you do, good buddy, but you have to see a doctor. I hate even making this detour. You've done enough to help him right now. You got us out of that room. We wouldn't have done it without you. Now it's my turn, ok?" Peter mumbled something incoherent and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Mike looked worriedly over his shoulder at the cab in front of them. It didn't seem to be stopping soon. He looked back at his friend whose head now hung limply on his shoulders. Mike reached over and grabbed his friend's face, trying to meet his eyes.
"Peter!" he called. "Pete, come on. Wake up!"
"What happened?" Davy asked fearfully.
"I think he passed out. I really hope that cab stops soon." He turned back to his friend and felt his forehead. He felt normal, which Mike took as a good sign.
"Mike…Mike, do you really think you can do this alone? I mean, you saw those goons at the warehouse. Some of those guys were pretty big."
"I don't know, Davy, but Peter is in bad shape."
"No, I get that, and I want him to go to the hospital as much as you, but I'm thinking maybe you should wait before going up against him."
"Davy, there's no telling how long he's going to keep Isis alive. We have no idea what he's waiting for. Why he hasn't killed her. For all we know, he could be taking her somewhere in order to kill her ritualistically; I don't know. What I do know, is that I can't let him out of my sight and that Peter needs a doctor. Other than that, I'm gonna have to wing it."
"Ok, but promise me you'll hold back as long as you can. I know Micky would never hurt you, but I don't know how much control he has over himself right now."
"I promise." After a few minutes, Mike realized they were turning down their own street.
"Is he going to the pad?" Davy asked.
"Actually, it makes sense," Mike mused. "If he's tapped into Micky's memories, that's the most comfortable, safe place Micky knows." Sure enough, the cab stopped right in front of the pad. Mike instructed Davy to stop where they were near the end of the street. Mike said he'd run up to the pad so that Davy and Peter wouldn't be seen. His plan failed, however, as the engine on the car suddenly died.
"What-?" Davy asked stunned.
"Try restarting it!" Mike hissed, now extremely worried. They had to get Peter to the hospital. The shirt Mike had wrapped around his hand to act as temporary bandage was already soaked full of blood.
"I'm trying!" Davy exclaimed as he turned the key again and again. The car wasn't even trying to turn over. Mike climbed up to the front seat to try it himself, but it wouldn't start.
"Not good," Mike muttered.
"Neither is that," Davy said. Mike looked at him in confusion and saw his eyes were wide with fear staring out the windshield. Mike quickly followed his gaze and his stomach hit the floor. Micky was standing in front of the car carrying Isis in his arms. For a fleeting moment, Mike hoped that this really was their friend and that he had rescued Isis. But as soon as Mike saw the amulet hanging around Micky's neck, he knew better.
"Hello, boys," Micky said. Again, his voice sounded dark. It sent chills up Mike's spine. "Why don't you come inside and join us?" Mike didn't know what to do or say, but he was suddenly now kicking himself for skipping the hospital. He doubted Ramose would care too much about that. Mike stood up anyway trying to appeal to whatever small part of Micky may still be present in him and fighting for control.
"Peter needs a hospital," Mike said as confidently as he could.
"Well then why in the world did you follow me?" Micky smiled. Mike hated that smile. It wasn't Micky's; it was something dark and evil. Mike shuddered at the sight of it on his best friend's face.
"Look, I'll get out and go inside with you, but let Davy take Peter to the hospital."
"I insist you all join us. Peter will be fine. I can heal him." Mike furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Why?" Mike asked. Micky just laughed and ignored him.
"Well, are you going to sit in that car all night, or are you going to come inside?" All of the doors to the car spontaneously opened at Micky's words. Micky turned and began walking back to the house.
"Mike, what do we do?" Davy whispered.
"I don't think he's going to let us leave," Mike said. "I don't know if this is some sort of trick or not, but we don't have much of a choice. If he says he can heal Peter, I want to let him. Maybe Micky is reaching him somehow."
"That looked nothing like Micky," Davy hissed back, but got out of the car nonetheless.
"I know," Mike answered as he moved to lift Peter. "I think I'm going to need help this time." Davy rushed around the side of the car to help lift Peter from the other side. They made it to the pad where Micky was waiting for them. He walked in ahead of them and laid Isis down gently on their couch.
"Set him in this chair," Micky instructed. His words were a strange mix of sweet and dark. Mike didn't understand it. It was as Micky motioned towards a chair in the living room that Mike noticed a small wound on Micky's arm. It was bright red and had dried blood around it.
"What's going on?" Mike asked as he and Davy set Peter in the chair. "Why haven't you killed Isis? And why did you say you were going to heal Peter? You better not be putting us on."
"Or what?" Micky asked, all sweetness gone now. "You're going to kill me? Ha! You're threats are empty to me, Mike. I know you won't kill me. You could never do anything to hurt me. And even if you did somehow manage to work up enough courage to do so, it doesn't matter. I'll just possess you instead." Mike froze. He had no leverage on this guy. He knew Mike couldn't do anything to hurt Micky. Once again, he didn't know what to do. Micky smiled again at Mike's silent reaction. "But to answer your question, I'm going to heal your friend, because I choose to. It's as simple as that."
Micky sat in a chair opposite Peter and took his hand. Mike stood, poised and ready to defend Peter at any second. Micky carefully unwrapped Peter's hand discarding the bloody shirt on the floor. The wound somehow looked worse, but Mike chalked it up to the lighting. Micky held Peter's outstretched hand for a few moments. Then Mike saw it begin to glow as though the cut had its own light source. Before he knew it, the wound had closed and the blood disappeared from Peter's hand.
"I don't understand," Mike said. "Why would you do that?"
"You are my friends," Micky answered.
"We're Micky's friends," Davy corrected. "You aren't Micky."
"We could be friends," Micky answered, standing up and turning to face them. Mike brushed past him and knelt down next to Peter.
"Pete?" Mike said softly wiping damp hair out of Peter's face. "Pete, if you can hear me, wake up. Please wake up." Peter groaned a little as he stirred awake.
"See?" Micky said. "Good as new!" Davy joined Mike, kneeling on the other side of Peter.
"Wha's go' 'n?" Peter mumbled.
"Peter, you're ok now," Mike said softly. "Sort of. We're at the pad. We found Micky. He…Ramose healed you."
"Why?" Peter asked, now a little more coherent.
"We aren't really sure."
"I told you why," Micky said.
"You want us to be friends with you?" Mike asked incredulously.
"You're a murderer!" Davy agreed. "We could never be friends with a murderer!"
"You call it murder, I call it…necessity," Micky answered as if they were talking about something as simple as a game of checkers. "Sometimes people just need to be removed from the equation in order for you to get what you want. Those who stand in the way must be knocked down. I gave every one I eliminated an opportunity to bequeath their position and power to me. They refused. I eliminated enemies. It's what you do in times of war."
"Are you saying you're a warlord?" Mike asked.
"I am a King. And I will do whatever it takes to take my rightful position. And what's a King without a few friends? Some…how do you say…right hand men? That's what I offer you. Positions of power on the throne next to me."
"Forget it," Peter spat.
"Dear boy, I just healed your hand, and you repay me with such insolence?"
"I never asked you to do that," Peter answered irritably.
"It's all too easy for me to undo it, Peter," Micky sneered.
"That won't be necessary," Mike said, quickly standing in front of Peter trying to shield him from further harm. He'd been through more than enough already today. Micky narrowed his eyes at him. The problem with any plan he'd formulate was that Ramose would probably be able to anticipate it because he had access to Micky's memories, which meant that Ramose now knew Mike as well as Micky did. "What exactly would being your right hand men entail?" Mike asked trying to stall.
"Power, fortune, and of course, any woman you choose," Micky answered simply. "But of course, you've all been offered that before and turned it down. So you would also have the option to live."
"Why exactly would you want us?" Davy asked picking up on the stalling plan. "We're not exactly good for anything except music."
"Sure you are," Micky answered with that creepy dark smile again that made Mike sick. "You underestimate yourselves. You are very cunning, smart, and think quickly on your feet. Why right now, you are stalling to try and formulate a plan to somehow stop me without hurting me. Am I right?" Micky paused, smiling at each of them before sinking confidently into a chair next to Isis on the couch. "It won't work. But I commend you for trying. Your efforts are very valiant. Which brings me to the most important asset you share. Loyalty. You are all incredibly loyal to each other."
"What makes you think we'd be that loyal to you?" Peter asked.
"Because the alternative is death."
"Yeah, well, I'd rather die than do anything to help you. You're nothing but a lying, murdering…"
"Peter," Mike hissed cutting him off before he said something very un-Peter like. "Let's not jump to conclusions here. How exactly do you plan on becoming king?" Micky chuckled a little. He seemed very amused.
"Still trying to stall?" Micky asked. "Tell you what, I'll humor you because I know there's nothing you can do to me. Or nothing you'd be willing to do, anyway. There are a few things I need to take care of first. I am not going to go on a murderous rampage, if that's what you're thinking. I don't kill for the fun of it, contrary to popular belief. I only kill when I have to. The first thing I need to do is secure the rest of my power. That man who brought me back said he had a spell to reverse it. Put me back in this amulet. I need to make sure that doesn't happen. Do you realize how boring it is to be locked up for 4,000 years? I couldn't even interact with the world for most of it. Not until your friend here held the amulet. A true taste of the world after being buried under sand for thousands of years. I am not going back to that."
"I can't imagine how terrible that must have been," Mike said. "I can see why you're angry. What is it you want us to do?"
"Help me find a spell to secure my stay in this body." Micky waved his hand and the duffel bag full of books that belonged to Isis appeared at Mike and Davy's feet. "I can't touch those. They're magically protected against me."
"Alright," Mike said. Peter began to protest, but Mike held up a hand. He'd finally thought of something. He knew the others wouldn't like his plan, so he dove in before either Davy or Peter could argue or come up with something else. "On one condition. You switch bodies. Take mine instead." Mike looked hard at his friend hoping to judge the reaction. He thought he saw a spark of life and spirit in his friend's eyes for a split second. A spark of the true Micky. But it was gone within a second.
"No," Micky said, waving off the idea with a chuckle. "I happen to like this body. And it would seem that if I did that, your friend would be very angry and very guilty. Do you really want that? Your friend living the rest of his life guilt-ridden?"
"Of course I don't," Mike answered. "I'm just trying to save him."
"Save him from what? He's still alive. I promise you. He's yelling rather loudly and won't shut up. Especially after your offer. Noble and brave though it may have been. But Micky says he'd never forgive himself if I allowed that to happen." Micky stood up and yawned. "It's late. I'll make you an offer. Think it over while you sleep. If you help me, you'll live and I'll reward you for your efforts. But I insist that you at least stay until morning." Micky raised his arms and Mike felt a sudden pressure in the air. Once the pressure was lifted, Micky lifted Isis off the couch and began walking to his room with her.
"Wait," Peter said. "What's wrong with her? What did you do?"
"I didn't do this," Micky answered without stopping. "She was apparently given a sedative and will be fine come morning. Not to worry. I don't plan on hurting her. I suggest you get some sleep." Without waiting for a response, Micky entered his room and closed the door behind him. Davy ran to the front door, but as Mike suspected, it wouldn't open.
"Why won't this open?" Davy asked angrily. Mike walked over to the broken bay window. The glass was on the floor still, but Mike couldn't see the hole anymore. It had been repaired. He tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge either. They were locked in their own house.
"My guess is he sealed us in here somehow," Peter said. "That must be what that pressure was."
"So what do we do?" Davy asked returning to the living room where Peter remained seated. "Mike, tell me you have a plan."
"Other than offering yourself up in trade," Peter added looking at him with a slight amount of annoyance.
"That was my plan," Mike said slumping into a chair in the living room. "Unless we can find something in these books to help us, I got nothing."
"Well, let's start looking," Davy said pulling a book out of the bag for each of them to thumb through.
"Peter, how do you feel?" Mike asked.
"Scared," Peter answered.
"We all are. I meant your hand."
"It doesn't hurt at all," Peter answered curling and uncurling his fist for emphasis. "It's like it didn't even happen."
"Good." Mike leaned back in his chair, the book Davy had given him lying unopened in his lap. He felt helpless. They'd gotten into very tight spaces dozens of times, if not hundreds, but there was always a way out. Micky was better at thinking under pressure than the others because his mind just worked so much faster. Micky had come up with the plan to show Princess Bettina she was in danger. He'd come up with the plan to distract their fake kidnappers that turned out to be real so they could escape. Where Micky had gotten nitroglycerin, Mike still didn't know. Micky had impersonated his double Babyface flawlessly. Micky had come up with the plan to dupe the High Class Music buffoon who'd swindled Mike. Micky had thought to dress up as their chaperone so Davy could have a chance at the girl he'd liked. He'd made it out of a shootout with El Diablo unscathed. He'd reversed the switcheroo science experiment they'd undergone to give their musical abilities to a Frankenstein monster. He'd pretended to be a dead man to save an old woman from getting her fortune defrauded. Micky had come up with a plan to save Mike and Davy in that ghost town. Granted, that one had failed, but he'd quickly and easily come up with another plan to dig their way out of the jail. Even though that plan failed, too, it showed Micky's ability to think quickly.
Mike had come up with a few plans, too. Like the time he'd saved Peter from the devil. Even Davy and Peter had saved the day a few times. Peter had figured out how to prove their innocence when they were on trial for armed robbery of a bank. Davy had found the way to reverse the power of the monkey's paw that had cursed Micky. But right now, Mike really wanted Micky to be sitting here next to him. Micky was always there for his friends. There'd been times Mike had gone home and left Davy and Peter with Micky where'd they'd gotten into trouble, but the three of them had figured out a way to get out of it. Mike ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn't useless. The three of them had come up with ways to get out of sticky situations individually. They could do it again. Mike just couldn't help but feel like he was letting Micky down. Micky probably would have thought of something a long time ago. Micky probably would have made Davy take Peter to the hospital so they wouldn't have ended up trapped in their own house. He would have run as fast as he could after the cab. Heck, he probably would have even thought to check the pad as the first place to go.
"What do you think he's planning on doing with Isis?" Peter asked snapping Mike out of his reverie.
"I don't know, but it worries me," Davy answered. "He must know who she is. You'd think he'd want revenge." Mike got up and crept slowly up the stairs to Micky's room. He'd planned on trying to eavesdrop to see if he could figure out what was happening to Isis, if anything. He'd barely made it to the door, however, when he heard Micky yell from the other side.
"I said go to sleep!" he yelled. Mike suddenly felt very tired. He curled up on the floor outside Micky's room and fell asleep.
When he woke up hours later, he looked down into the living room. Davy and Peter had fallen asleep, too. The books they were looking at still in their laps. Mike pushed himself up off the floor and made his way downstairs. Peter and Davy woke up as he reached the living room. They both yawned and stretched as though they'd slept normally, but Mike knew that wasn't a normal sleep. Mike checked his watch to discover it was nearly 8 am. They'd slept all night. And that meant they hadn't worked on a plan to rescue Micky. Which is exactly what Ramose wanted.
"Did we go to sleep?" Davy asked.
"Yeah," Mike answered. "I think we had a little help with that, though." He motioned towards Micky's room.
"That's not good," Peter said. "If he can make us all go to sleep, who knows what else he can do."
"How did you boys sleep?" Micky asked from the top of the stairs. Mike, Davy and Peter fell silent. Micky carried Isis down the stairs.
"I thought you said she'd be better by morning?" Davy asked.
"I was only told the sedative would last eight to ten hours," He replied setting her back on the couch. "It's only been about 7 or so. I'm sure she'll be her normal self soon."
"And what are you planning on doing with her after that?" Peter asked.
"Relax," Micky laughed. "I'm not going to hurt her."
"Why not?" Mike asked. "You must know who she is."
"I do, and that doesn't bother me. It was her ancestor I have the grudge with. Not her."
"But she wants to put you back," Peter said without thinking. Mike shot Peter a look warning him not to remind him of that.
"That may be so," Micky answered ignoring the exchange and sitting into a chair. "But she won't be able to once you boys find the spell to secure me to this body. The only way to trap me after that would be to kill me. And I know none of you are going to let that happen."
"We never agreed to help you," Davy pointed out.
"Pity."
"What is?" Mike asked.
"That I might have to call some very good boys enemies. It's a shame to let your talents go to waste. Musically and otherwise." Micky stood up looking slightly menacing. Mike didn't want to know what he was planning.
"Hold it!" Mike said, inserting himself between Micky and his other friends. He'd die before he let anything happen to them. "We didn't say we wouldn't help you either. We didn't have much time to think about it." Micky smiled a little and sat back down. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. They would just have to keep drawing this out as much as they could until they figured out a way to put Ramose back in the amulet. If that meant pretending to help him, that's what they'd do.
"Mike?" Davy asked looking at him quizzically.
"Well, we don't have much of a choice here, do we?" Mike said looking at his friends trying to convince Davy and Peter to play along. He turned back to face Micky. "I'm not ready to say I'm going to stand next to you on the throne or anything, but you're gonna kill us if we don't help you, right? I want to live. And I want Peter and Davy to live. And as long as you're alive, Micky's alive, right? So we kind of don't have a choice, do we?" Micky nodded knowing he'd successfully back them into a corner. "I just have one question for you yet. If you aren't going to kill Isis, what are you going to do with her?" Micky smiled again. Wide, evil and dark. Mike shuddered again at the sight of it.
"I told you, every king needs friends," He answered. "Well, every king also needs a wife."