Chapter 21. Where You Go, I Will Follow
Micky surprised the others when, upon reaching the Monkeemobile, he tossed Peter the keys. "Just follow whichever car they put Mike into, but not too close. This car sticks out like a sore thumb anyway, so we're probably gonna get busted, but we don't want let them catch on too soon."
The moment he was done talking he started doing something even more shocking. He reached under the dash and began tearing down Mike's beloved radio.
"Micky?" Davy blurted out in shock. "What are you doing? Mike's going to kill you!"
Still working with the wiring, Micky ignored the irony of that statement and replied, "Radio waves. That wire in Mike's hat is transmitting on a very specific frequency. The police equipment is set up for it automatically, but the radio is going to need some help if we're going to keep track of what's going on."
Davy smiled in relief despite his fear. Thank goodness, he thought, for Micky's interest in science. They needed to find that frequency so they could hear what was happening with their friend. "You think you can really do it, then? You can make it so we can hear them?"
As if in answer, the radio static faded, replaced by the sounds of thickly accented voices.
"Be careful with him," a young sounding baritone directed. "Here, hand him in to me. Gently. Good, easy now. Now, give me the seatbelt. I want him belted in."
Someone chuckled before replying, "So many precautions for a corpse, Paulo."
"He's not a corpse, don't say that," Peter blurted out before Davy could put a hand over his mouth.
"We're kind of close for yelling, mate." The dark haired Englishman whispered urgently. The trio all stared at the radio, waiting anxiously. Behind them, Doc Parsons sat quietly, listening for any hint that his patient was actually in distress and trying hard to place a voice he knew he'd heard before.
The sounds of pushing and protesting preempted any reply the young baritone might have attempted.
"Squeeze on over there," Bobby's voice slurred. "Just gonna slide on in…"
"No, Bobby," Sandy's voice answered. "You'll ride with Julio this time. I need to speak to my son privately. You understand."
Bobby's voice faded, spewing slurred curses until it was gone.
"Help me belt him in," the young baritone directed again. This time nobody argued.
The boys all breathed a sigh of relief knowing that someone was still at least trying to protect their friend.
The sounds of shifting, seatbelts and car doors could be heard for several long moments. From where they boys were, they could see the people piling into the three cars. After a moment, where someone leaning into one car moved off to another and the sound of someone shifting into the car before closing the door was accompanied by the sight of it, they identified which car Michael was in.
"That one there, Peter. Follow that one." Davy directed anxiously, pointing at the sleek black sedan pulling away from the beach house before them. "Don't get too close, but don't let it out of your sight."
Peter nodded nervously, following at a distance, wary of being seen. Doctor Parsons made no sounds. Instead, he listened closely, his brow furrowing as something struck him about the younger speaker.
"You don't have to be here, Paulo," the voice of Sandy came in over the radio after several long moments. "You've never been involved in any of this before. You are respectable, not like the rest of us. You should go back to your life and let us handle this now. I can have our driver drop you off anywhere you'd like to go."
"I'm not going anywhere, father. Not unless he is dropped off with me." Paulo growled shortly. "I'll be here as long as he is."
Sandy sighed. "You might not like how this ends. Bobby's brother, Ren, is waiting with Louis, and I do not doubt how he will support putting the boy down."
"He's not a rabid dog, father, he's a person. And a friend." Paulo chastised quickly.
"That's right," Davy spat at the radio.
"Ren is no better than his brother." Sandy went on as if Paulo hadn't interrupted. "He was married to RJ's mother, but was overseas when she became pregnant with the boy. She was an emotionally fragile girl, and he knew it. He used her terribly, twisting her until she was broken over and over again, then leaving it up to the boy to try to put her back together again each time. Before Bobby had him, RJ lived with his mother and brothers and sisters. He had an actual family. They didn't have much, but at least they had each other, and the boy seemed happy enough with it until Ren destroyed all of that."
"How? And why? Why would he do that?" Paulo asked in a voice so quiet they almost couldn't hear it.
The boys wondered that as well. They'd heard about what happened, but Mike's version hadn't mentioned anything about his father.
"He got his wife fired from her last job by starting an argument with her at work. He kept going on and on about how she'd failed as a wife and as a mother until she just fell apart. Then he helped her buy a gun on her way home." Sandy answered. The boys listening in recalled the tale of how that night ended, but Doctor Parsons eyes narrowed as he heard it for the first time. "That night she murdered two of her own children then took her own life. I'm not sure how the others were spared, but I know that Ren blamed Bobby for it. He wanted to be free of all of them and RJ somehow prevented that, which made it Bobby's fault, since Bobby is the boy's real father."
Micky's eyes were round as saucers as he heard that last bit of news. Mike hadn't mentioned his father's part in the story at all, or his real relationship to the man for whom he'd been named. Did Mike even know, he wondered? Exchanging a look with Davy, it was clear that he wondered the same thing.
"No wonder the uncle still only rates second least favorite behind the dad," Doc Parsons commented.
"Pete, back off," Micky cautioned quickly, noting as they approached a red light that they were getting close enough to be noticed in the sedan's rear view mirror. "They're going to catch on if you don't keep enough distance."
"I'm sorry," Peter responded, biting his lip nervously. "I'm trying, but the other cars aren't staying where I need them to be."
Davy frowned. "Maybe you two should switch places at the next light." He suggested. Both nodded. Maybe they should.
"Bobby was always depraved and cruel to them, Paulo. That wasn't new. He was sick in the things he would do, especially to RJ." Sandy told his son in the same detached manner one would discuss the weather. "He wanted that boy dead before he was ever born so that the rest of his family wouldn't know how he'd taken that girl against her will. When they found out, he lied and made her out to be equally at fault, but they all knew. All but Ren, anyway. He was never sure if he'd been betrayed by one or both, but he punished them both just the same. It all but ruined the relationship between those boys, and both blamed RJ for that, too. The child never had a chance."
"Was he ever really a child?" Paulo mumbled softly, listening to more of his old friend's history.
"No, I don't suppose he was," Sandy agreed.
Micky found himself wondering the same thing as he listened. He could remember long days playing around with friends, riding bikes and playing swords. He'd leave in the morning with a kiss upon his cheek from his mother and come home to a warm hug and a good meal. Had Mike ever once had any those things?
"Why can't they just pull over and let him out?" Peter implored as he changed lanes, nearly cutting off another car as he tried desperately to keep the sedan in his sight. "If he cares as much as he said he did, then he could just let him go, couldn't he? Mike won't say anything to anyone. He never says anything. He's good at keeping secrets. He keeps them from us all the time."
"They could, Pete," Davy agreed, ignoring the rest of Peter's outburst and the honking horns around them as well, too focused on what they were hearing from the radio to note much else. "But they won't."
"But that won't mean anything now." Sandy continued, confirming Davy's conclusion. "Louis is angry, and wants someone to punish for his failures, and Ren never wanted the boy alive to begin with. You can't think either will truly support sparing the boy now."
"So I should just accept that? I shouldn't even try to convince them, is that what you're telling me? You think I should just turn my back and walk away now like you did?" Paulo's incredulous voice accused. "You knew what Bobby was doing. What they both did. Obviously, from what you've said today, you knew for a long time before you even bothered calling on the rest of us. You could have stepped in at any time, but you didn't bother. Instead you dragged us all up from our home only after you let them almost kill him and then try to bury him alive. You waited until he couldn't so much as feed himself or speak his own name to help him. Why?"
"He was not my child, Paulo. I did what I could. I gave him food when I had it to spare. I tried to encourage him when I could, but you have to understand. He wasn't mine." Sandy defended weakly, as if that should have been enough.
That only seemed to further infuriate the young man. "He and I are the same age. Are you saying, then, that were I not yours you would accept such treatment for me as well, Father? Are you really so cold and cruel?"
"We were just starting out, your Uncle Ernesto and I, Paulo." Sandy explained. "We needed Bobby and Ren to help us establish ourselves and our market. When I found them trying to bury the boy alive instead of getting help for him, I snapped. I admit it. I had long since become fond of the boy and I wanted to rescue him, but it almost cost us everything, Paulo. I couldn't risk trading that one life for the security we were trying to achieve for our family. I still can't."
"You cared enough for him to bring us all up here with you." Paulo reminded him in angrily. "You convinced all of us to care enough to devote almost an entire year to seeing him put right again."
"I felt I owed him that." Sandy confessed quietly.
"Then what changed? Why did you just sent us back and wash your hands of him again, and how could you expect us to do the same, as if we could all just turn our feelings for him on and off the way you do?" Paulo demanded. "How could you do that? It was cruel! You didn't just let him think he'd be safe for that moment. You made him believe someone cared."
"It was a mistake, Paulo. I am sorry. I should not have interfered." Sandy admitted.
All three boys cringed at the statement. If Sandy truly felt that way, there was little chance he'd make such a mistake again.
"No wonder he doesn't trust us to take care of him." Peter whispered. "He's already been through that once already."
"It wasn't us, though." Davy argued. "We'd never turn our backs on him and leave, no matter who told us to. And he doesn't remember them, remember?"
Micky swallowed a lump in his throat. "Pete's right, though. You almost left us once because your family demanded it. Remember, Davy? It's not so different. He knows we all have family of our own. Eventually, we could all just leave him like they did, I guess, then he'd be all alone. If he lets himself count on us completely, then it'll hurt when we leave for good. I mean… just think about it…"
"But I didn't leave then." Davy protested. "And if we've gone home to visit since, we've always come back. We'll always come back."
"It may not matter what we would do," Peter intoned sadly. "Not if we can't help him out of this."
Silence fell among them as each was consumed by their own fears.
Parsons continued to hold his peace, only continuing to listen closely. Unlike the boys, he hadn't quite given up hope yet. Having recognized the voice of the younger speaker, he knew full well that the attempts to persuade Sandy to change his mind weren't over yet.
"NO!" Paulo shouted in response to his father. "Sending us back without him was the mistake. Making him stay there with nobody to protect him from those sick bastards after all he'd been through was the mistake."
"It doesn't matter," Sandy snapped. "I will plead his case to Ren and Louis, but if they choose not to spare him I will not interfere again."
"Then I will." Paulo declared. "I didn't come to this little family gathering of yours today for Louis or Uncle Ernesto or even for you, father. I came for him."
"He doesn't even remember you," Sandy chastised quietly. "He doesn't appear to remember anything about us beyond the actual shop. You would be turning your back on your family for a virtual stranger. He doesn't know you."
"WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?" Paulo demanded.
"Paulo, this isn't about him. He's not RJ anymore. I can't let myself think of him that way, and you shouldn't either. I'd like to save him, and I will do what I can for him, but in the end I can't risk going out on a ledge for him. Our place is too precarious as is it." Sandy sighed. "He's a loose end, now. It's possible I can convince the others to spare him, and I intend to try, but it's far more likely that I can't. Even if we ignore what Ren desires in this, it is still up to Louis to decide."
"Why?" Paulo demanded. "Why is any of this up to anyone else? You don't have to take him to them. You don't have to help Louis anymore. You could just let RJ and Maria and the child all go. You yourself said that Maria doesn't know enough about the bigger picture to hurt anyone but Louis. You could just let the authorities catch him, and spare three innocent lives instead. You should. You know you should. Nobody else should die for his stupidity."
Micky and Pete quickly unbuckled to switch places during the last of that exchange, but were forced to buckle in again quickly as the light changed green before either could move.
"It's okay, Pete," Micky assured the blonde as he pulled reluctantly forward again. "You're doing fine." He resumed staring hard at the radio, then, reminding himself to find hope in Paulo's statement.
"That's right, Paulo," Davy cheered on the young stranger on the radio, too focused to note the failure to change drivers. "You tell him!"
"You're not part of this, Paulo," Sandy pressed again. "This isn't your business. It never has been. You're a doctor. Go be a doctor. You've served your purpose here, making certain we could take him to your cousin. Leave the rest of this to those who it actually affects now."
"Have you been listening to me at all?" Paulo argued. "This does affect me. Whatever happens to him will affect me. I didn't do any of this so that you could hand him over to anyone else. When you told me you had Lupe put that note on his tray, I came to the house in case he showed up, but it wasn't to help you. It was to help him. I remembered how far he'd go for a friend even when he could barely do for himself, because you made sure I saw it firsthand. I knew he'd show up even though he shouldn't for the same reason you did. You threatened those he loved. I made sure he could travel, but it was only so that I could return him to the hospital where he should be. Please, father. You've seen him. You've spoken with him. He isn't a threat. He's just a bystander. Again. You asked me to protect him once. I'm asking you, protect him now. I'm begging you."
"And I'm begging you, Paulo. Please. Walk away." Sandy countered, an angry and dangerous edge now clear in his tone.
"Fine. Agreed. I will walk away and never look back, but only if I take him with me." Paulo stipulated, no less angry than his father. "You can pull over right here and let us both out. I'll find a cab and you won't have to worry about either of us again."
"Please…" Peter whispered as if in prayer. "Please, please do it. Please."
"I can't," Sandy answered sadly.
Peter let out a strangled sob.
"Wake him up." Sandy ordered then. "We're almost there. If you want a chance at changing minds, they'll need to be able to talk to him themselves. It's a small hope, but it's all I can offer."
"I can't wake him, father, I told you that when you first suggested sedating him. Every new chemical you put in his system you risk doing more harm than good, especially in his condition. The things they could do to his heart rate and his blood pressure..." Paulo argued. "If I give him any sort of stimulant without knowing what was already given to him before the sedative, I risk killing him."
"And if you don't, they'll kill him for you. If you want any hope of him staying alive, you'll wake him up." Sandy demanded. "Now."
Parsons began shuffling through is bag then, itemizing it's contents quickly.
They could hear Paulo cursing for several long moments before he said, "There. Give it a minute." After a short span of time, he called gently. "Michael. Wake up. Wake up, Michael," They could hear the light sounds of skin against skin. "Mike…open your eyes... Come on, Mike. Open up. Look at me."
A soft groan sounded, equal parts pain and fatigue.
"That's it. Easy, now. Open …good. Good morning," Paulo offered gently. "No…Breathe, Mike… slowly. Come on, nice and deep."
They could hear Mike cough weakly then gasp. Parsons shook his head at the sound, frowning into his black bag.
"No, I know…just breathe, Mike…come on. Look at me. Look at me. Breathe in. Slowly, now." Paulo directed softly but sternly. "Good...okay, good…there you go."
"Thank God," Micky whispered, slowly releasing the breath he'd been holding. The sound of both Peter and Davy exhaling as well told him he hadn't been the only one. Parsons just kept exploring the content of his bag, though he was clearly still listening as well.
"Sir," a voice they didn't recognize chimed in then, alerting them that they might have yet another thing to worry about. "I think we're being followed."