Micky woke up to a very loud crash that came from downstairs. He was slow to wake up but then there was a shout and Micky bolted upright, his blood chilled and a sick feeling swirling in his stomach.
"Mike. Mike what was that?" Micky hissed. There was no response. Micky reached over to the nightstand next to his bed and switched on the light. The light revealed Mike's bed empty, the covers nearly thrown off the bed. Micky scrambled out of bed, pulling on his robe.
"Mike?" Micky asked, going to the bedroom door. Just then, there came another very loud crash. Micky threw open the door and ran downstairs. It was very dark in the pad and Micky nearly tripped over a chair. It took him awhile to find a lamp but once he did he turned it on to see Davy and Peter's bedroom door wide open.
"Guys? Davy? Mike? Peter?" Micky called out, creeping towards the open door. Something wasn't right here. The inside of the room was pitch black.
"Hello?" Micky asked, his voice seeming to get very quiet, even though he was sure he wasn't getting any quieter willingly. There was no response. Micky went into the room. It was laid out the same as his and Mike's room, so he deftly made his way to the nearest bedside table, which just so happened to be Peter's. Micky fumbled around in the darkness until he found the light's switch. Light illuminated the room. Micky nearly screamed when he saw Davy.
"Jesus Davy, don't do that. Why didn't you answer me when I was calling out for someone?" Micky demanded. Davy was silent, staring vacantly at Micky. It was making him very uncomfortable, to say the least.
"Hey Davy, you, umm, you feeling okay there buddy?" Micky asked gently, slowly backing up, easing his way back to the doorway. Davy continued to merely stare.
"Davy?" Micky repeated.
"I'm so sorry, Mick," Davy whispered finally.
"For what?" Micky inquired. Davy pointed to the floor. Micky looked down. Peter and Mike were on the floor, eyes closed and mouths open. They seemed like they were sleeping. Something in the back of his mind was telling Micky something wasn't right.
"Get out Micky, before he knows you're still here," Davy shouted suddenly. Micky's head shot up.
"Who're you talking about?" Micky asked.
"Get out! Run Micky! He knows you're here!" Davy screamed, lunging forward and pushing Micky backwards. He nearly tripped but managed to keep himself upright. For a moment, Micky swore he saw Mr. Schneider standing behind Davy. It was a dream, wasn't it. Micky turned and he began to run towards the door, but his feet were beginning to sink into the wooden floor boards as if they were made of tar. It was a dream, wasn't it. He heard Davy yelling at him to run, to get out before it was too late. Why was he dreaming about this? He'd sank up to his chest. He was going to be drowned by the floor. In another situation, Micky would find this funny. But not in this one. The floor boards were up to his neck now. He took a large breath and…
"Micky, wake up man!" Mike shouted, shaking Micky by the shoulders. Micky's eyes flew open and he nearly head butted Mike.
"Calm down man, you were just dreaming," Mike informed him, as Micky looked around.
"I was dreaming… I knew that," Micky sighed before laying back in his bed.
"You were crying out in your sleep, you okay?" Mike inquired.
"Are Davy and Peter alright?" asked Micky in response.
"Yeah, why wouldn't they be?" answered Michael, wondering what exactly it was that Micky had been dreaming about.
"I had a bad dream is all, and you guys were in there," shrugged Micky, trying to pass it off as nothing. It had been a bad dream, in fact it had been an extremely weird bad dream, but a dream nonetheless.
"I see… well we're all safe so you just go back to sleep," Mike reassured him before standing up and crawling back into his own bed.
"Okay, see you in the morning Mike," Micky called out.
"Night Mick," Mike mumbled, nearly asleep already. Soon enough, Micky could hear Mike breathing softly, a sure sign that the guitarist was fast asleep. Micky wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to sleep. The dream hadn't been a good one and Micky wasn't sure if he went back to sleep now, he'd be returned right back to the same dream. So for awhile he stared at the ceiling, thinking about the day's events and wondering what his dream meant. As he laid there thinking, he could have sworn he heard someone at the front door, like a soft knock loud enough to be heard upstairs. But it was too soft to be sure that is was indeed a knock. The house was quiet besides that for a few minutes. Then there was another sound by the front door. And… footsteps? Micky wasn't sure. Had he heard the front door open? No, the door would be more loud and Micky would have heard it more clearly. It was late and he needed some sleep, no matter what kind of dream he had. So Micky rolled onto his stomach, shut his eyes, and went to sleep.
Peter woke up smiling. He'd had a pleasant dream and couldn't wait to inform his friends about it. He sat up, stretched a little, and got dressed. Then he checked the clock. It was surprisingly earlier than Peter had thought, around 6:30. As he was doing that, he noticed that Davy's bed was empty. A sink feeling of dread flooded Peter's stomach. Peter exited the room and, at first saw no one. It felt pretty weird to be up before anyone else but that also raised the question of where Davy was. Perhaps he was in the bathroom. Peter wondered if he should go to the shops now and come back with breakfast before the others woke, if he could manage that. As he thought, he headed towards the kitchen to double check inventory and stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting at the dining table was Davy, which wasn't all that unusual of course. What was quite shocking though was the red haired dummy sitting next to Davy.
"Good morning, Peter!" Davy greeted him. Although he was smiling, Peter didn't think that it was a smile Davy would smile, and that made Peter uncomfortable.
"Morning… Davy," Peter said uncertainly, inching over to the kitchen area to take inventory. Mr. Schneider seemed to be staring at him.
"Something wrong, Pete?" Davy asked. Peter paled a little, his palms beginning to sweat.
"Umm… no I just… what're you doing with Mr. Schneider?" Peter questioned, inclining his head towards the dummy. Davy didn't even seemed phased. He was just smiling that unnerving smile, and Peter didn't like feeling unnerved by a smile from Davy because Davy had a very wonderful smile.
"Oh, don't tell me you're frightened by a wooden dummy," Davy scoffed.
"N-no…?" Peter squeaked, very confused with this situation. What had changed? Hadn't Davy been close to tears at the sight of Mr. Schneider last night but now he was calmly, even happily, sitting next to the dummy. Not wishing to look at the dummy anymore, Peter began to take stock of all the groceries they had and all the groceries they needed more of. For a little bit, there was just silence and Peter's heart beating quickly in his chest. Then Peter heard someone coming down the stairs and he turned around. It was Mike, dressed in a shirt and jeans, his green hat on his head.
"Mike!" Peter exclaimed but caught himself before he sprinted over to the guitarist.
"Morning Pete," Mike greeted, frowning at Davy and Mr. Schneider. Peter walked as calmly and as normally as he could over to Mike.
"Mike, I think Davy… brought Mr. Schneider back into the house… or he at any rate let Mr. Schneider back in… what do we do?" Peter whispered into Mike's ear. Mike gave a shrug of his shoulders but gave Peter a look that said he was thinking of a plan.
"Morning there, Davy," Mike called out, giving Davy a little wave.
"Good morning, Michael," Davy replied, his smile still plastered to his face.
"Peter, why don't you go to the store now. Get those donuts and some coffee on your way home," Mike suggested, as he made his way over to the dining table to take one of the two available seats. Peter frowned at Mike, confused as to why he'd want Peter to leave the house at such a time. Shouldn't he instead go upstairs and get Micky so they could get Davy to tell them what had changed? But Mike just nodded his head as if to say, go along with it Pete. So Peter went to the front door and pulled his shoes on.
"Okay Mike, I'll be back in a little bit, I won't be long," Peter promised. He noticed the scowl Davy was giving him, as if him leaving was ruining something.
"Peter! Peter, please don't forget the donuts okay man," Micky suddenly said from the stairs as he was coming down them, still clad in his PJs.
"I won't Micky," Peter assured his friend, before exiting the house, a sickening feeling still growing in the pit of his stomach. This didn't feel right. Micky frowned when he saw who was sitting at the dining table.
"Oh c'mon man, this dummy nearly made you cry last night and now you're sitting with it like it's your best friend? What's up with that? I thought Mike and Peter put it in the trash anyways, so's we could be rid of it," Micky exclaimed, gesturing towards Mr. Schneider.
"Oh Micky, are you afraid of Mr. Schneider now?" Davy teased. Micky stared at Davy, open mouthed. He was about to say something when Mike got up and pulled him over behind the stairs, out of earshot of Davy.
"Mike, what's going on?" demanded Micky.
"Dunno. I sent Peter out because you and I have to figure out what's wrong with Davy. Hes acting real weird and I don't think he's cos he ain't gettin' enough sleep," Mike informed him. Micky's eyes widened.
"Do you think… do you think Mr. Schneider maybe did some mind voodoo on Davy or something? Like… I don't know, like some sci-fi movies do it?" Micky asked in a hushed voice. Mike narrowed his eyes at Micky, unsure whether he was serious or not, but of course that did make sense, oddly enough.
"Maybe Mick, I mean, that's not the weirdest thing that's happened on this show," Michael shrugged.
"Mike! We gotta figure out a way to help Davy then!" Micky nearly yelped.
"I know man, I know, but I'm a little outta my depth here, ya dig," said Mike. Micky gave Mike a conspiratorial look and leaned in a little closer to the texan.
"I got this man, I've seen so many sci-fi movies, you won't believe it," Micky grinned.
"Wouldn't I?" deadpanned Michael, who had in fact seen just as many sci-fi flicks as Micky had, along with the other boys, considering that Micky could only rent the movies from the store and had to watch them at home and all four of them would watch together. Micky rolled his eyes.
"C'mon man," Micky said seriously, "All we gotta do is get Davy to shake off Mr. Schneider's control long enough to get him outta here and get him talking to us about what Schneider wants. Then we get rid of Schneider and we can all go back to normal."
"Okay, sounds like the best plan we got," Mike agreed. They nodded to each other and walked back to the table.
"What were you lads talking about back there?" Davy inquired, the look on his face making shivers run up Micky's spine.
"Nothing much, Mick just wanted to know if he could switch up the tempo of 'Last Train to Clarksville'," Mike lied and the way he said it, Micky almost believed it himself, "Told him the tempo was fine but we could play round with it a bit maybe during practice later today." Davy nodded, seemingly convinced as well.
"Gee, I hope Peter gets back with breakfast soon," Micky commented, wandering over to the fridge to get some juice, hoping he was acting normal enough.
"Pete'll be here soon enough Mick," Mike assured him, "And I'm sure your stomach can handle being hungry for just a bit longer."
"Want some juice, guys?" Micky asked, getting down a glass for himself.
"Sure," said Mike, standing up and coming to get his glass of juice.
"No thank you Micky," said Davy, his voice not sounding like Davy's. It made Micky nearly cringe. Mike glanced at Micky and poured himself a cup of juice, handing the carton to Micky when he had finished. Before he could even tip over the carton, an explosion of pain erupted in the back of his head. Mike gasped as Micky collapsed in a shower of shattered glass. Davy had hit him over the head with the mug he had been drinking out of that morning. Mike backed up but Davy shot his hand out and yanked Mike forward. Picking up the juice glass that Micky was going to use, Davy crashed the glass on top of Mike's head, dazing the guitarist.
"Davy, please," Mike gasped, blinking away stars. Davy said nothing, he just picked up the full juice glass that was Mike's and hitting Mike with that. This time it worked. Michael dropped to the floor, just like Micky had. Davy looked at down his friends, a shallow pain pounding against his temples. He looked back up to Mr. Schneider. Then he bent down and began tying up Micky and Mike.