Chapter 12- Take a Giant Step

The boys spent the rest of the night watching over Mike, plotting their escape. They had come up with a brilliant plan, they thought, one that would take them home. They all figured it would take a few days to master, but it wasn't like they were going anywhere. They soon prepared for bed, all giddy with the excitement of their newly formed escape plan.

"Davy?" Peter entered the bedroom where Davy was now clad in pajamas, watching for any ill signs from Mike. Davy looked over at Peter to indicate that he had his attention. "What are those dreams you're having? The ones Melissa mentioned?"

Davy frowned, not sure how to answer. "I don't remember having any dreams where Mike hurt me," He started. "But I know that I haven't had a lot of good dreams. They're usually a blur when I wake up, but…"

"You know they were not good dreams," Peter finished. Peter sat down on the bed beside Davy. "Are there any that you do remember?"

"One," Davy confessed. "It's still a little blurry, though. I had it right after Mike saved me from drowning, back in 2016. We were angry. Well, I was angry. Micky was begging me to cool off, to go with him somewhere. I'm not sure where we were. I ran off, down these halls… I found a door that led outside. When I walked outside I heard voices yelling at me to stop. Then there was this jolt of pain that woke me up. That's all I remember. I don't remember you or Mike in the dream."

"How frequently have you been having these dreams?" Peter asked.

Davy shrugged. "Since we arrived in 2016. If they're not bad dreams they are weird dreams. Like really weird dreams."

"Do you think these dreams might have a connection with the book?"

Davy shook his head. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't looked at or touched the book in a while. I guess I should, though, shouldn't I?" Davy gave a small chuckle. "If I don't the gypsy might track me down and yell at me."

Peter sighed. He had his guesses, but he wasn't willing to explain Davy's dreams, not yet. Peter wanted to know more. He wanted to know about these other dreams Davy had been having. He also wanted to know about Mike's dreams. Maybe they were dreaming of the same event, a future event, from their respective points of view. Peter had a feeling deep in his gut that it was Mike who caused the pain Davy felt in his dream, but he wasn't willing to admit it. Not yet. He needed proof.

Davy was filled with rage. He couldn't even look at him he was so angry.

"Look, you both are being unreasonable," He heard Peter say.

"Just calm down and let's talk about this," Micky pleaded.

"What's there to talk about?" Mike growled. "If he wasn't such a narcissistic, small minded ass-"

"Mike please," Peter begged.

"I'll talk when he decides to stop being a controlling, overbearing stick up my-"

"Davy come on, calm down," Micky interrupted.

"No, you know what? I'm out of here," Mike yelled. Davy heard a door slam shut behind him. Davy headed for the door he could see as well.

"Davy, wait!" Micky yelled.

"Mike, please!" Peter yelled, farther off than Micky.

Davy found himself in the hallway again, being chased down by Micky. He felt the drummer's hand grab him by the shoulder. Davy felt him tug at it to turn him around, but Davy shoved it off. "Leave me alone," He mumbled.

"He didn't mean it, I swear," Micky promised. "Just come back."

"I need some time to think," Davy confessed. He wasn't sure what there was to think about. He was just so angry at Mike, but deep down he felt he had no reason to.

"Davy," Micky moaned, grabbing onto the Englishman's shoulder again. Davy pushed it off and started walking down the hall again, as fast as his legs could take him. He needed to be alone. He needed to cool off.

He saw the exit. Without a second thought he burst through the doors and into the daylight, the sun almost blinding him. With his head down, he crossed the street, ignorant of anything else. Then the screaming happened. It was accompanied by the sound of tires screeching on pavement. Davy looked up right before the car hit him.

The morning sun graced the windows of the Monkees' bedroom, illuminating light onto the four beds within. However, only one was occupied. Michael Nesmith yawned into consciousness, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He looked over at the three empty beds. It wasn't like his band mates to be up so early. Mike swung his long legs over the bed, his feet landing safely on the floor. He left the bedroom and headed downstairs. With each step he could hear the voices in the kitchen getting louder. Once he hit the bottom of the stairs he made a hard turn towards the kitchen, where he could see Micky, Peter, and Davy plotting around the island counter.

"Do you think this will work?" Davy whispered.

"There's only one way to find out. We all need to be diligent, though. Keep an eye out for any normality. Davy, did you take care of the lawn mower?"

"I hid it in our garage."

"Good. Peter? How about Mrs. Gray's roses?"

"They're in the big garbage bag in the garage."

"Ahem," Mike cleared his throat loudly, startling the other three Monkees.

"Mike!" Micky exclaimed. "You're up!"

"And so are you, I see. What are you three up to?"

"Nothing!" Micky said too quickly. He, Peter, and Davy tried their best to act casual, but Mike wasn't buying it.

"What time did you three get up?" Mike asked.

"Six," Micky lied.

"Eh, more like five," Davy lied some more.

"Three AM," Peter said honestly.

"You've been up since three in the mornin'?!" Mike exclaimed. "What are you three doing up at three in the morning?!"

"It's nothing Mike, really," Micky claimed.

"You really shouldn't worry," Davy added.

"It's fine," Peter finished.

Mike sighed and rolled his eyes. He entered the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet and preparing himself some cereal.

"So, uh, Mike," Micky said after a moment. "What big plans do you have today?"

"Oh, the usual," Mike said, pouring the milk into his bowl.

"Which might be…?" Davy added.

"Fix up my lesson plan, rehearse with y'all, you know, the usual." Mike moved his breakfast to the island counter, pulling up a stool to sit on.

"Is that all?" Micky asked. "No big plans to see anyone special?"

Mike looked up from his cereal, concern and confusion splattered across his face. "No?"

"Are you sure?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Not unless you three set me up for a blind date, no."

"There isn't anyone in particular that you've been waiting to see?" Micky asked. "You know, starts with an M ends in an -issa."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked.

"The new neighbor girl?" Peter asked.

"There's a new girl in the neighborhood? I thought we were only getting one new resi-"

Davy, who had made his way closer to Mike, casually pushed Mike's bowl off the counter and into Mike's lap. Mike jumped, he and the stool both falling to the floor. Peter and Micky both bit their lips to avoid laughing as Mike scrambled to his feet, drenched in milk and cereal.

"Davy! What in the name of- Why did you do that?" Mike roared, looking from Davy to the mess and back to the Brit. Davy just casually shrugged his shoulders, resulting in a roar of laughter from Micky and Peter.

Mike growled angrily, marching out of the room and back up the stairs. Davy started grabbing towels to clean up the mess he intentionally caused. "Can't eat breakfast if it's lying all over the floor," Davy said comically to Peter and Micky, who couldn't help but laugh some more.

"Oh, good one Davy," Micky sighed with relief after his laughter began to subside.

"So your plan is to ruin Mike's day?" Peter asked.

"Well, Mike kind of has his own regular routine, if you guys haven't notice. We mess up the routine we know about and take notes on the rest. We should be out of here in a day or two if we just keep, well…"

"Being cats and throwing Mike's food on the floor?" Peter asked, a smile on his face.

"Sure," Davy laughed.

Mike showered and changed, going back into the kitchen for round two of breakfast once Micky, Peter, and Davy seemingly disappeared from the house. As he ate his cereal, Micky came in periodically, roaming for a bit before going outside again. Once Mike was finished, he couldn't help but let his curiosity get the better of him. Placing his bowl in the sink, he cautiously went out the front door. There was nothing to be seen but a trail of smoke coming from behind one of the houses down the road.

"Micky?" Mike called out. "Peter? Davy?"

There was a scream from across the street. Mike's head jerked towards Mrs. Gray's house, who stood at her doorstep, terrified. "My roses!" She bellowed, running over to the stems of decapitated rose bushes. Mike's eyes widened in terror. He marched back inside. "Micky!" He yelled. His echo replied back, but Micky did not.

There was a loud 'thud' from the garage. Angrily Mike barged through the door into the garage where he found Micky, a large garbage bag thrown over his shoulder. "Mike!" Micky yelped.

"What are you doing?!" Mike exclaimed, snatching the garbage back from Micky and opening it up, finding all the roses from Mrs. Gray's garden inside. "Are these Mrs. Gray's roses?"

"No," Micky lied. "We bought them, see?" Micky took a rose and popped what little stem there was in his mouth, holding the flower elegantly with his teeth. He then spit it back into the garbage bag, snatching it back from Mike. "Now I need to go take care of this. So if you won't mind-" He attempted to leave, but Mike grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Micky," Mike said in his father voice. "Where is Peter and Davy?"

"Peter and Davy?" Micky squeaked.

"Yes, Peter and Davy."

"Ah, they went out! To get… coffee! Yeah, that." Micky lied. Mike moved his hand to Micky's ear, giving a little, yet painful twist. "They're over at Andy's!" Micky yelped. Mike quickly removed his hand.

"Who?" Mike asked.

Micky frowned. "You really don't know, do you? Andy, Andy Duncan. Well, first name's Andrew but after being here for so long we've just resorted in calling him Andy. He doesn't really mind it at all."

"Who?" Mike asked again, still not following.

"Our new neighbor!" Micky exclaimed. Then, softer, "He and his niece moved in yesterday and this morning Davy, Peter, and I went over to say hello. We're helping them unpack."

"So that's what you've been doing since three AM?" Mike asked, unconvinced.

"Not entirely, but basically."

"And the roses are for…" Mike asked.

"His niece," Micky lied again. "For being such a wonderful person."

Mike shook his head. He wasn't believing a word of this. However, he opened the door to the garage and signaled for Micky to go through. Mike proceeded to chaperone Micky all the way to the Duncan household, where Micky openly went through the front door and out the back, revealing to Mike a large fire taking place. Around the fire was Davy, Peter, and Andrew Duncan, all three of them throwing papers into the fire. Peter and Davy froze for a moment at the sight of Mike, but then proceeded to take a handful of papers and throw them haphazardly into the fire.

"What's going on here?" Mike asked.

"Mike! It's not what it looks like!" Davy defended, throwing another stack of papers into the fire.

Mike walked over and looked at the mountain of papers surrounding the two men. He picked up a photosynthesis worksheet that had been submitted by Alexis. "Are you burning my school work?!"

"No," Davy said, quickly snatching the paper and throwing it into the fire.

"What the hell?! I need this stuff for class! This is my work!"

"Don't worry, it'll be back tomorrow, probably," Micky said nonchalantly, throwing roses into the fire as well.

"Nothing comes back from being burned, Micky!" Mike exclaimed. He frantically began gathering up the papers from the ground. "What has gotten into you three?! You've been acting weird all morning!"

"We had to, Mike," Peter confessed.

"You didn't have to do anything!" Mike yelled. He angrily marched off with what papers he managed to save, not able to form any more words to express his anger. The way he saw it, this was his paycheck they were burning to ashes. He couldn't afford that. He regrettably would have to spend the next few hours trying to file through all this paperwork, painfully trying to figure out what they had burned. Mike was beyond angry at this point.

"So that's Mike?" Andrew Duncan asked, beginning to mindlessly throw roses into the fire with Micky.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a hot-head sometimes, but we love him all the same," Micky said.

"Thanks again for helping us out and letting us use your fire pit," Davy said, taking what remained of the paper and throwing it into the fire.

"No problem, just don't tell my niece. She's the one who usually prefers I stay out of trouble. And with her going into education, she won't like this anymore than Mike does."

"Well, we seem to be nothing but trouble," Peter said. "Do you normally do things like this?"

"You mean burn my new neighbor's roses? No, but I enjoy getting into trouble or helping to cause the trouble," Andrew laughed. "You know, my niece and I are having a barbecue tonight for the neighborhood, why don't you guys come along and hang out with us?"

"No can do," Micky said. "Where chaos is needed, we need to be there."

"Besides, is a barbecue really the best way to start off your new life here?" Davy asked. "You could always have tea and biscuits."

"Or," Peter started. "We could host the party at our place. We'll even play for you."

"Yeah!" Micky said, instantly jumping on board with Peter's spontaneous idea. "And instead of barbecue we can have a potluck where people bring their own food. Then we can all play games inside and be away from any sharp, metal," Micky looked down at the fire ring that had cut into him so many times, "threatening metal rings of death."

"That sounds like an amazing idea," Andrew laughed. "I love it. Will Mike mind?"

"He won't have a choice," Davy smiled menacingly.