Chapter 10- Run For Your Life

Every morning was Sunday. Every morning the Monkees would wake up and practice while David Squire mowed his lawn. Then the kids would kick their ball into the Monkees' yard and one of them would throw it back. If they forgot, Mrs. Gray would take the kids up to the door and ask Mike if they could have their ball back. Then Melissa would come and invite them to the party. Everyday Micky would hit his head on that fire ring. Everyday Mike would fall in love all over again. Everyday Melissa would fall in love with Mike again. Everyday Mike would promise Melissa a date, even though she would forget he even existed the next day. Every night Melissa would kiss Mike on the cheek, causing him to fall for her so much more than before. Each time her lips touched his skin he felt his worries fade away. The trials, the Monkees, the idea of going home, it all was second in comparison to Melissa. Or at least that is how Davy saw it.

Every night Davy would go to bed furiously annoyed at how hung up their leader was on this girl that he seemed to find reasons to despise more and more. Mike was starting to change, Davy realized. Every night he spent with Melissa they seemed to get less of Mike in return the next morning. Davy tried endlessly to convince Micky and Peter, but they pushed it aside as love, considering they had been in that situation with Davy a hundred times before. However Davy was certain something was amiss with Melissa, he just wished he had the evidence to prove it to his band mates.

Peter was concerned, for all their well being. He was not ready to admit it, especially to Davy, but he did notice Mike's changes. Mike talked to them less. Peter and Micky were now taking charge of rehearsals because Mike would space out for a minute or would be the one playing incorrectly. Mike would run and answer the door every time there was a knock, dealing with whoever was there. He only ever really talked extensively to Melissa. It worried Peter that Davy might be right. Maybe Melissa was trouble. Or it could be love, like they said. Peter was not entirely sure, but he wasn't willing to get on Mike's bad side like Davy had.

Micky was all for Mike and Melissa. When Davy would try and pick a fight with Mike, Micky was always on Mike's side. He didn't see any problem with it. Sure, Mike would be heartbroken when it was time to leave, but Mike never got to be this happy. He wasn't exactly mad at Davy for trying to fight with Mike, more so annoyed. Davy made good arguments, such as Mike's excitement to see her or how they run off to talk before sundown, but Davy had done that a thousand times with other girls. How is Mike supposed to be any different? However, Micky had to admit, he did miss home. He, Peter, and Davy would toss ideas around as to how to get home, but all seemed fruitless if Mike was to continue seeing Melissa. They gypsy had indirectly told them so. Micky hated to see Mike crushed, but what else could they do?

They had lost count as to how many Sundays had past. When they opened their eyes in the morning, they already knew it was Sunday. Micky, Peter, and Davy all dragged themselves out of bed, changed, and parted to get ready for another Sunday. They knew the drill.

Micky came into the bathroom while Davy was brushing his teeth. As the drummer whipped toothpaste onto his brush, he commented, "You know, I'm sick and tired of going to bed every night with a headache."

Davy spat into the sink and said, "Then stop telling that story about the Russian spies and my maracas."

"Sorry! I start to run out of stories after a while."

"Maybe we should do something different today," Davy said tiredly, proceeding to rinse his mouth out.

"Like what?" Micky asked, his mouth foaming with toothpaste.

"I don't know, maybe just not rehearse today? Take the day off? Maybe stay inside and play cards or sleep. I don't even want to go to that party tonight. We haven't worked on trying to find a way home. Maybe we should do that today."

"Yeah, but you know Mike is going to want to see Melissa," Micky commented.

"Man, I wish he could get his head in the game. We can't keep reliving the same day over and over just so Mike can flirt with the same girl every night. I'd like to sleep in the Pad eventually, not this place."

Micky gave a violent spit into the sink. "I got it!"

"What?" Davy asked, wiping the spit from his face.

"We can play a "game" with Mike. Lock him upstairs and keep tabs on him all night so he doesn't fall in love with Melissa again."

"Micky, Mike's already in love with Melissa. We need to make sure Melissa doesn't fall in love with Mike… again."

"Oh, but come on Davy, it will be fun!"

"For you, sure, but Mike will be furious."

"So? We just have to keep Mike locked up till midnight. Then the day resets. By keeping Mike locked up we're breaking all the rules. We won't be playing for David's morning chores, the kids won't get their ball back, we won't go to the party, and I won't hit my head! It's genius! See? Problem solved. You'll be sleeping in your own bed in no time."

"If you say so," Davy rolled his eyes. This wasn't Micky's first idea this week. They all grasped the idea that they had to change their daily routine, but everything they did seem to fail. No matter what they did, nothing changed. Monday never came and no one appeared to take the Monkees to the next trial like Davy's ghost did in 2016.

"Will you two hurry up?!" Mike yelled from the other side of the door.

"Speaking of the devil," Davy groaned, putting all of his stuff away.

He and Micky left the bathroom and went downstairs, joining Peter in the kitchen for a breakfast of cereal, milk, and orange juice.

"Good morning," Peter said, pouring himself some milk into his bowl of cereal.

"Today's gonna be fun!" Micky said cheerfully, grabbing an empty bowl.

"You've said that every morning this week," Peter grumbled, pushing his cereal around in the bath of milk with his spoon.

"He wants to lock Mike up," Davy said with the same demeanor as Peter.

"Micky," Peter groaned.

"It's a great plan," Micky pouted.

The three Monkees ate their cereal in silence for a while. When Davy finished, he proceeded to go and wash out his bowl in the sink. As he did so, something caught his eye in the window above the sink. He stopped.

"Guys…"

Micky and Peter both stood and walked over to the sink with Davy. They all looked through the window, seeing a ladder stretched across the window. By the time Micky and Peter arrived, a pair of shoes were disappearing up the ladder.

"Since when did we have a ladder?" Peter asked curiously.

"Since when did our neighbors like climbing into other peoples' houses in the middle of the day?" Davy asked more cynically.

They all ran upstairs. They noticed the shower was off and the bathroom door was ajar. Micky was ready to break down the bedroom door, but Peter stopped him when they heard voices coming from the bedroom.

"You remember me?" They all heard Mike say.

"Of course I do," They heard Melissa's voice say. "I remember every single night since you got here."

"You mean when you-"

"No, of course not, silly. I know that you're new here, just like me. Now come on, you and I both know what's going on here. Having to relive every Sunday. It's terrible, isn't it?"

Micky rounded up to break down the door again. Davy stopped him this time. "So you knew this whole time?" They heard Mike ask, "You're not the gypsy, are you?"

"Her? Hell no. I knew her growing up. Not worth a penny to her name," Melissa said. "But you Michael, you're so much more. I can help you. I can really help you."

"Then let me get the others," Mike said with a hint of excitement. "We can get out of here, then. I knew you were not bad like Davy keeps insisting. Let me just go find them and-"

"No!" Melissa exclaimed. "No, please, stay."

"But," Mike started.

"Michael, please." There was a pause. "I want to help you. There is a pain, a burden you hold. I can take it away."

"You already did. Knowing that you remember makes everything that much better," Mike said too hopefully. "Now I don't have to pretend to meet you every damn Sunday and this relationship can go somewhere."

"Not like that, Michael. You hold so much pain. There is your anger from reliving the same day everyday, and your anger towards Davy for thinking I'm more trouble than I'm worth. However, there's something else. A deep, pain you can't seem to shake. It's not associated with me, or these trials, or anything in this world, but you know it's there, don't you?" There was a pause before she continued, "You know it's true. I can take that pain away."

"You can?" Mike asked.

"Only if you want it to be gone," Melissa said.

"I… I don't know where it comes from."

"It comes from your dreams, Michael. Those recurring dreams you have, where you fight with your band mates and then you hurt Davy. It comes from those."

"How do you know about those?"

"I know more than you think, Michael. I know Davy has them, too. Not as clearly as yours, but he has them."

"He sees me… Does he see me… killing him?"

Micky and Peter gave Davy startled looks. Davy frowned. He couldn't recall a dream where Mike killed him, but he could recall his dream from after Mike saved him from the River Thames. There was anger in that dream. Was that anger between him and Mike then? Was that dream and Mike's dreams connected? The looks Davy received told him they were going to have to talk about this later.

"It's okay Michael. That pain, that guilt. I can take it all away."

There was silence. Micky couldn't take it anymore. Pushing Davy and Peter aside, Micky barged into the room, yelling. However, when he entered, he did not find what he was expecting.

"Mike!" Peter and Davy yelled, running in from behind Micky and gathering around the inert man lying on the floor.

The bedroom window was open and the ladder was still there. Micky ran to the window and saw no one was there. Melissa had vanished. "Where did she go?!" He exclaimed.

Davy and Peter replaced Mike on his bed, still trying to wake him up. Micky joined them. Peter checked for a pulse, but it was faint. They were yelling at each other, even though they knew very well that would do no good. Chaos ensued. Even though it wasn't even a minute after, the knock that came upon the bedroom door felt like it took forever to appear. The gypsy let herself into the bedroom, pushing her way through the panicking Monkees. They paused their panic, stepping aside. The gypsy silently hovered over Mike, her young, gentle hand touching Mike's chest. The Texan suddenly took in a huge, strangled breath, and returned to his slumber.

"He's going to be okay, I promise," The gypsy said quietly. "This wasn't supposed to happen."