Chapter 7- Help! I Need Somebody
"I can go over to Barbie's and call." Annette offered. After much talk and no do, Peter learned a lot about this couple living in the middle of who knows where. Mildred was a retired war nurse who stayed home everyday and took care of the house. Annette was the money maker, who drove nearly fifty miles everyday to the city of Los Banos to work as a waitress at a restaurant. They didn't own a phone because Annette's paycheck couldn't cover it without cutting into one of their necessities. The house and their car, an old, rusting truck, used to belong to Mildred's late husband, and they inherited it when he passed away a couple years back.
Barbie was an old childhood friend of Annette's who lived almost halfway between Los Banos and their house. Mildred was reluctant and said it would save everyone gas and time if they just drove him to the hospital themselves and contacted Peter's friends at a payphone. However, Annette pointed out that if they called an ambulance, Peter would get the medical attention he needed quicker. Eventually, to Peter's dissatisfaction, they left the decision up to him.
"Well, I, uh… I don't know how much pain a car ride will cause." Peter admitted shyly, running a hand through his long hair.
"Ha! See Ma? He needs an ambulance!" Annette said.
"Fine, darling. Go over to Barb's and call. Here's the number for Peter's house as well. Make sure he friends know what's going on."
"Yes Ma." Annette said, taking the small piece of paper Peter wrote his house number on. "I'll be back with help!" She declared, running out the door.
Annette jumped into the truck and began to drive towards Barbie's. As she began to drive, she glanced down at the piece of paper she carelessly tossed onto the passenger's seat. It had a number on it, and the words, 'Peter's House ask for Mike, Micky, or Davy,' were printed in black ink. She ran the names through her head and tried to imagine the three men in her head.
She couldn't imagine a face for any of them, but by their names Annette imagined their personas. Annette thought of Mike as strong, masculine figure, with possibly a short temper. She thought of Micky and as nerd. Thin, weak, and totally unable to fend for himself. Annette saw Davy as a child who probably was no more than fifteen. He was a young, healthy kid, in her mind, but that's all she could see of him.
Davy's head hurt so much. He was positive that he had a concussion, as well as multiple bruises on his arms from being picked up so much by BabyFace's gang members. However, everything just hurt. They had been punching, smacking, and even cutting him since he arrived, and all he wanted was for everything to be over. Davy wanted to go home, crawl back in bed, and sleep till everything was okay.
The noise of the giant metal door opening struck Davy's attention. "What do you want now?" Davy demanded, trying to play brave.
Through the open door stood BabyFace, a small smile on his too familiar face. It made Davy want to throw up. The door shut behind him, and he advanced towards the Englishman, completely silent. Terrified, Davy struggled in his binds to somehow escape, even though it would do him no good. Before he knew it, BabyFace was inches from his face, that sneer still on his face. "Good afternoon David." He sneered.
Suddenly, the metal door swung open again, and the voice of Tony called out, "Hey BabyFace, guess who just showed up?" BabyFace quickly stood, spinning around to see Micky Dolenz standing there with Tony grabbing onto the back of his similar gangster jacket. Tony laughed. "He tried sayin' he was you, but I knew he wasn't. You were wearin' a different suit."
"Micky, no!" Davy yelled. BabyFace turned around and smacked the boy, telling him to be quiet.
Tony shoved Micky into the middle of the room, closing the door. BabyFace strolled up to him, his evil smile even wider than before. On his advancement, he pulled out a gun. Micky looked up from the floor, surprised to see the gun so quickly. BabyFace kneeled down so that he was eye level with his double. "Hello Micky." No response was given, only a heated glare. "I'm surprised Mike let you come. A shame, really. Did he tell you I was going to kill you?" Micky shook his head. "Pity, but anyway, here's the gun that's going to kill you." BabyFace held the gun at eye level.
"D-davy." Micky grumbled, clearing his throat.
"What's wrong with your voice, Dolenz?" BabyFace asked aggressively.
"Sore." Micky responded. "Mike… said… let… Davy… go." He said this slowly and carefully.
"Ah yes." BabyFace sighed, standing. "Tony, knock 'em out and toss him outside."
"WHAT?" Davy yelled from his chair. A large 'thunk' was heard, then there was the sound of wood rubbing against tile as the chair with Davy in it was dragged away. Micky only cringed at the sound. The next thing he heard was the sound of BabyFace loading the gun.
"It should only take one bullet, don't you think?" BabyFace asked, aiming the gun. The Monkee stared wide-eyed at the gun, trying to decide his next move.
To the gangster's surprise, a sly smile appeared on his double's face. "Naw man, I don't think so." The Monkee said in a completely different voice. A sudden rush of pain flowed through the gangster as he fell to his knees, clutching the parts that made him the man he was. With the time he had, the Monkee grabbed the gun from his grasp, shooting the bullet into BabyFace's shoulder. A scream filled the room, and Michael quickly made his move, switching jackets and fedoras with the bleeding gangster.
"N-esmith is gonna pay..." BabyFace growled before being knocked unconscious by the nearest blunt object Mike could get his hands on.
The sound of men running was now audible to Mike through the giant metal door. Cursing under his breath, he smeared some blood onto BabyFace's head and tossed the jacket he was wearing to the side. Tony and a couple other gangsters burst into the room.
"BabyFace!" Tony yelled. "What happened?" Michael turned to them, then pointed to the unconscious man on the floor. "D-did you kill him BabyFace?" Mike nodded and walked over to push them all out of the room. "Great job BabyFace! By the way, we took care of the kid for you." Mike stopped and cocked an eyebrow. "We left 'em out in the pond out back." Trying to hide his panic, he nodded, and finished pushing the men out of the room. When the gangsters were gone, Mike scanned the room for a phone. None. With a curse he quickly tied up BabyFace and ran out of the room. Once out, he put on a casual gangster walk and found the nearest phone in an office three doors down. He called the police, and once they confirmed they were on their way to arrest BabyFace and his gang, Mike made his way outside to find Davy. He knew the police would take care of them for the most part. The only thing he was concerned about now was finding Davy and making sure he was alive.
The pad was utterly silent. There was no movement, no disturbance, nothing. It was well into the day now, almost night. It would have been expected that at any moment four young, happy men would wander into the house, ready for a good night's rest. However, not even that happened. The only thing that happened was one singular moment when their red rotary phone rang from inside the chess table. After a couple minutes of no one bothering to answer, it stopped. Silence returned to the sad pad, awaiting the arrival of its occupants.