The Monkees stepped off of the bus and looked around at the town of Muskogee, which was a fairly large city.
Oh, wait, you aren't that far yet. Let me rewind and start over.
Agent Cupcake smiled. "I might be a Good Guy," he said. "But now that we've gone and rescued your two friends, I wouldn't be very happy if you double crossed me now. Where's the information?"
"Now see, the thing is, I don't know where the information is," Mike said. "And I'm sorry to double cross you, I'm sorry to double cross anybody, but I wouldn't tell you where it was even if I did know. Information like that belongs to the police. And you can't kill us for it, because you're a Good Guy, you took an oath not to kill anybody."
"You're right, I did," Agent Cupcake said with a smile. "But like I said, I have no qualms with beating you up, and I know you know where the information is. But you're totally right about the whole giving it to the police bit. What did you think I was gonna do with that information? Eat it?"
Mike hesitated. "You were gonna give it to the police?" He said. Agent Cupcake smiled. "You betcha," He said. "Along with Jerome Jerome and his three goons, Reginald Dean, Tony Riker and Bruce Crusher."
"Now, Crusher sounds like a proper gang name," Micky said.
"It's not an alias," Agent Cupcake said. "That's his actual surname. And all of this information is recorded on those papers you have in your pocket, Wool-Hat. That's all it is. Names, dates, and pictures of every member of the Black Rose Gang in California. My job is to get it from you to the California Police. Don't make me take it by force."
So Mike handed the information over to Agent Cupcake, and he and the rest of the Monkees enjoyed the rest of the train ride to Abilene, but once they got there, they decided they'd had enough of train gangs for awhile and decided to take the bus up to Muskogee, and keep going East from there.
The Monkees stepped off the bus and looked around at the town of Muskogee, which was a fairly large city.
"Aright," Mike said, pulling all of his luggage out of the luggage compartment of the bus. "Micky, call a cab. Actually, make that two cabs. We're gonna split up. I'll take Davy and go to the train station. We'll take all the luggage with us, and I'll get us four tickets East. Peter, you and Micky find a grocery store and pick up some lunch for the four of us, and meet us at the train station. Does everybody understand?"
The others nodded, and once they were all settled into their two cabs, they took off.
Mike and Davy dragged all the luggage into the train station and piled it up against a wall. "You stay here and guard our stuff," Mike told Davy. "I'll go get the tickets."
"Right," Davy said, and Mike moved off.
He walked up to the ticket master and rapped on the window. "Four tickets East, please," he said.
The ticket master, an old man in his late fifties, early sixties, looked up at him and stumbled back in surprise. "No," he said. "Not you again! I don't have any money, I swear!"
"What!?" Mike said, completely baffled. The ticket master leaned out of the window. "HELP!" he yelled. "HELP! POLICE! HEEEELP!"
"Hey, man, what are you doing!?" Mike said, backing up a bit and looking around. Security guards were running towards him angrily.
"Showing your face in public now, huh?" One of the guards said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and clapping them around Mike's wrists.
"Now, wait a minute!" Mike said desperately. "What's going on here!? I'm just trying to buy tickets!"
"Ha, like I'd believe that!" The ticket master said triumphantly. "He just walked right up to me, officer!"
"Good job, Larry," the guard said. "You did a good thing for the law!"
"What's going on here!?" Davy demanded, pushing his way into the small crowd. "What are you arresting him for!?"
"We're arresting him for armed robbery and assault," another officer said.
"Armed robbery!?" Davy exclaimed.
"Assault!?" Mike yelped.
"Yep," the officer said. Then he turned to Davy. "Do you know this man?" He asked.
"Know him!?" Davy exclaimed. "Of course I know him! I've known him for years, he's my best friend! We're in a group together!"
"Oh?" The officer said, raising his eyebrows. "You're in his group?"
"Yeah, the Monkees," Davy said.
"HE ADMITTED IT!" The ticket master yelled. "HELP! OFFICERS! ARREST HIM!"
"What!?" Davy exclaimed as one of the guards clapped handcuffs around his wrists. "You must be joking! What'd I do?"
"You admitted to being his accomplice," one of the officers said. "You're a part of his gang, you just said so yourself!"
"Gang!?" Davy said as the officers led him and Mike out of the station and towards a bunch of police cars that were pulling up. "We're not in any gang! That was all just a mistake, a big misunderstanding! I swear, we didn't want to be part of a gang war!"
"Davy, stop talking," Mike said. His instincts were kicking in despite the shock and panic he felt, and he knew that anything they said could (and would) be used against them in a court of law.
He just hoped that wherever they were, Peter and Micky were faring better than he was.
As Micky and Peter stepped into the small grocery store, the first thing they noticed was the fact that everyone was acting extremely strange.
One man in the store uniform was crying, in fact, but he hurried up to Micky and Peter.
"Get out," he whispered. "Before they find you!"
"What!?" Micky said. "Before who finds us?"
"Well, look what we have here," said a voice that was all too familiar.
"Mike!?" Peter asked, staring at the man in front of him, who stared back coldly.
"I don't think that's Mike," Micky whispered.
Peter was confused. "I don't either, anymore," he said. "But just out of curiosity, what makes you say that?"
"Well, for one thing, this Mike is wearing different clothes," Micky said. "For another, he has a gun. And finally, look at his hat!"
Peter looked up and gasped. The Not-Mike was wearing a wool hat, just like Mike's, except it was bright red.
"Who are you?" Peter demanded. "And why do you look just like Mike?"
"Who are you?" The Not-Mike returned. "And why do you look so stupid?"
Peter knew this wasn't Mike, but hearing the words from Mike's voice coming out of Mike's mouth was like being slapped in the face.
"Hey, Peter's not the only one!" Micky exclaimed angrily. Only, it had sounded much different in his head.
The Not-Mike laughed. "I can see that," he said. "Now, get over there, with the others."
He waved his gun in the general direction of an aisle, and as Micky and Peter walked closer, they could see several people sitting there looking scared.
"Hey, what's going on here?" Micky asked a man who was sitting there. "It's a robbery," the man explained. "The cashier locked herself in the office with the safe. They're trying to get in now."
"Who was that guy?" Peter asked. "Have you ever seen him before?"
"Seen him?" The man said. "Of course I've seen him! Everybody in town's seen him, his mug shot is everywhere!"
"Okay," Micky said nervously. "We're new here, just passing through. Who is he?"
"His name's Cal Sanders. He's the head of a local gang."
Micky groaned. "Not another gang," he muttered before turning back to the man.
"Have you called the police?" he asked. The man nodded. "The only telephone is in the office, so I'm sure the cashier has called for help by now."
Micky nodded. "Well, if they're on their way, we should be fine," he said.
Just then, Cal came around the corner, followed by two thug types, holding bags.
"Alright," Cal said. "We've got the money and we picked up a few groceries while we were here. Who's gonna volunteer to help us carry them home?"
Everybody backed up a few feet, leaving Micky and Peter in the front of the line.
"Great," Micky said. "Figures. Thanks, guys."
"We only need one hostage to get us outta the store," Cal said. "The police are gonna be here any minute, so we've got to move quickly."
"What do you need a hostage for, anyway!?" Micky asked.
"So the police don't fire at us," Cal answered. "Nothin' like a human shield to get past the cops."
"I'll go," Peter said bravely. "I'd never let you hurt Micky!"
"No, Peter!" Micky said. "I can't let you do that! They might kill you!"
"So you're volunteering instead?" Cal said with a smirk.
"I'm gonna miss you when you're gone," Micky told Peter.
"I'll miss you, too, Micky," Peter said. "Tell my mother that I love her!"
"Oh, enough with the mush fest!" Cal said, pulling Peter to his feet. "Come on, blondie, let's go."
"I resent that," Peter said as they walked over to the front door.
With a crash, the front door opened and several police officers stormed in. "FREEZE!" They yelled.
"Oh, not again!" Micky groaned.
"Put your guns down," Cal ordered the police officers. "I've got a hostage!" He pointed his gun at Peter.
"I'd like to take this moment to unvolunteer," Peter said nervously.
"Well, too bad!" Cal said, edging towards the door. "Clear away from the door," He commanded. The police men stepped back from the door.
"HA!" Cal yelled. He moved to stand in the doorway as the two thugs with bags ran out. "Once I'm out," he said to the police officers. "I want you to give your chief a message. You tell him that I laughed in your faces. Haha!"
As he was yelling, the door opened and a little old lady came in. She looked around at all the people and the police men, and she looked up at Cal, who was still holding a gun to Peter's head.
"You'll never take me," Cal said, oblivious to the old lady. "I'M UNSTOPPABLE!"
With a swing, the little old lady hit him in the back of her head with her purse.
"Now, why does that always happen?" Cal wondered aloud before he fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Thanks, Matilda," One of the police officers said, putting his gun down and walking up to Cal.
"Oh, that's alright," Matilda said. "I never did like that boy. Used to come steal my cookies every week when he was little."
"We hear that a lot, actually," the police officer said. "Are you alright?" He asked Peter, who nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I'm fine."
"The others have escaped," One of the other officers reported. The one in charge sighed. "We'll get 'em all eventually," he said. Then he turned back to Peter.
"Well," he said. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."
"Oh, we're just here to pick up some lunch," Micky said, back to his normal self now that the immediate danger was over.
"I wonder who the other guy is," The police officer mused. Micky stopped.
"What do you mean, other guy?" He asked.
"Well, right before we came in here, we got a message over the radio that Cal Sanders was picked up at the train station, trying to skip town."
It didn't take long for Micky and Peter to figure it out. "MIKE!" They both exclaimed.
Davy paced the cell as Mike sat on a bench, playing the harmonica. Where he'd gotten it from, Davy didn't know.
"What are we going to do?" He asked for the fifth time.
Mike stopped playing for a moment. "I told you," he said. "We'll get out of this. Once I figure out what they want me for, I'll be able to set the record straight and they'll let us go."
"Don't try to play this down, Mike," Davy said. "I know you're worried, I can see it in your eyes. What're they playing at, armed robbery!? I never heard the like!"
"I don't know, Tiny," Mike said. "I don't know."
He raised the harmonica, but before he could start playing, the door burst open and Micky ran in, followed by Peter and the officer in charge of the keys.
"Mike!" Micky yelled. "Mike, we came as soon as we heard! We explained everything, it was all just a big misunderstanding!"
"I said so," Davy said as the officer unlocked the cell.
"The chief would like to speak with you in his office," the officer said. "Follow me."
The Monkees followed the officer through the station and into the chiefs office. Sitting in all the available chairs, they looked up and waited for the chief to speak.
"Well, boys, we've got a problem," the chief said.
"Yeah? And what is this problem?" Mike asked.
"Cal Sanders," The chief responded. "He's the biggest problem in Muskogee. Has been for years."
"Who's Cal Sanders?" Mike asked.
"He's your double," Micky said excitedly. "That's why they arrested you. Cal Sanders looks just like you, and he's the head of a local gang here in Muskogee."
"Really?" Mike asked in surprise. "Huh. What are the odds of that?"
"I know," Micky said with a smile. "Both our doubles are gang leaders! Some coincidence!"
"Anyway," the chief said. "Thanks to Matilda Donaldson, Cal Sanders was arrested at the supermarket. But the rest of his gang's still out there."
"Oh no," Mike said, standing up. "Oh no, I know exactly what you're going to say, and let me tell you, I'm not going to do it!"
"Now look here," The chief said. "You look just like him-"
"Nope!" Mike said, moving towards the door. "Believe me, man, impersonating a gang boss to infiltrate his gang never works out the way you want it to. I've seen it!"
"Oh, come now," The chief said. "You've seen a person who happens to look exactly like a gang boss impersonate him in order to infiltrate his gang and round up all the members? I find that hard to believe!"
"Believe it man, you've got Baby Face Morales right here," Micky said. The chief took a real look at him. "Oh my!" He said. "You really bear a resemblance, don't you?"
"Yes he does," Mike said. "Which is why I can say from his experience that I want no part of it!"
"Well, what are we going to do about the Munkeys!?" The chief exclaimed.
"The what!?" The Monkees all said together.
"The Munkeys, that's the name of their gang," The chief explained. "These two young men told me all about your band," He said, referring to Micky and Peter. "That was one reason we'd arrested you, too," He said, now turning to Davy. "You said you were part of his group, the Monkees. We thought you meant you were a part of Cal's gang, the Munkeys."
"Now, this is just too much," Mike said. "Look, Chief, I don't like running out on you, not with Muskogee plagued by this gang. But we really want no part in it, any of it. We're trying to avoid gang activity, which is why we were in Muskogee in the first place. So, good luck with catching the Munkeys. But we're going to Connecticut and that's final!"
With that, the Monkees all left the station and called a cab to the train station.
Luckily for them, their luggage was all still there, so after sitting for a few moments, deciding they needed a break, Mike sent Micky to go buy the tickets.
"Hello," Micky said to the ticket master.
"Hey, there, sonny," the man said with a smile. "What can I get for ya?"
"Four tickets heading East, please," Micky said. "Cheapest you got."
The man looked at a chart on the board. "There's only one more train heading east until tomorrow," he said. "Let's see, four tickets you said? That'll be forty dollars!"
"Thank you," Micky said, paying the money. Returning to the others, he gave them each their ticket.
"Thanks, Mick," Mike said, putting his ticket in his pocket without looking at it. "Man, what a day!"
"Yeah, it's been real crazy," Peter said. "Maybe we'll be able to catch a nap on the train."
"We'd better," Mike said. "If I hear one more crazy thing, I think I'm going to scream."
"NOW BOARDING FOR CLARKSVILLE!" The conductor called out.
The Monkees all looked at each other, stunned. Looking down, Micky read the name on his ticket.
"...That's us," He said in disbelief. "I can't believe it! We got The Last Train to Clarksville!"
"You gotta be kidding me!" Mike said with a groan.