Chapter 8- Driving Away

Crawling out of the abandoned brewery, Mike began to frantically rip the prosthetics from his face. He ran towards the back of the building to find a greenish-yellow pond, home to a few empty barrels and trash. Amongst the trash, a body floated aimlessly towards the center. In a rush of panic, Mike dove into the toxic liquid, quickly grabbing the body and pulling it out to safety.

Flipping the body over on the sandy ground, Mike confirmed it was Davy. Mike took a moment to assess the damage done, then put his ear to Davy's mouth to determine if he was breathing. No such luck. Mike quickly began to perform CPR. After a minute the young boy coughed, water gurgling from his mouth. Mike sat Davy upright, letting all of the water fall into his lap. After the water left his system, Davy looked up at his savior, a look of utter confusion on his face. "Mike? W-what's on your face?"

"Makeup." Mike said simply. "Come on, think you can stand? I don't particularly want to be around when the police get here."

"Police?" Davy asked, accepting Mike's help to stand. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain in the car, let's go."

"Wait! What about Micky?" Davy asked. "He, he, he, was in there," Davy pointed at the brewery. "With BabyFace!"

"Naw man, that was me. That's what the makeup's for. Come on, no time for chit-chat, we need to go." Mike said, taking Davy as quick as he could to the car, which was parked a block down from the brewery. When they reached the car, they could hear the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Did you call the police?" Davy asked as Mike pushed him into the car. "And who's car is this?"

"Yeah, I called the police." Mike answered, running to the driver's seat. "And it's Ms. Purdy's. She's letting me borrow it."

"Oh. Well, aren't you going to stay?" Davy huffed, still winded. "Confess against BabyFace?"

Mike started the car. "Look Tiny, if we stayed, I would have had to left the disguise on, and they might have mistaken me for BabyFace, and we both know he would have used that to his advantage. I don't need him knownin' Micky's not here." Mike began to drive away, the police cars appearing in his rearview mirror.

"Micky's not here? Where is he?"

"God knows. I sent him to find Peter."

"Where's Peter?"

"I don't know, that's why Micky's going out to find him. BabyFace said he dropped him off somewhere up north, so that's the direction I sent Micky."

"What if he's lying?"

"We'll find out if he is if Micky doesn't find him, now won't we?" Honestly, Mike had not really considered BabyFace lying on that front, he was too concerned for his friends' well-being to think that thoroughly. "Right now we need to get you to a hospital." Mike said, deciding that if he needed to explain Davy's condition, he can simply say they were jumped and Davy couldn't get a grip to defend himself.

"No."

"No?"

"We need to find Micky and Peter."

"I know. I was going to get you a doctor then go looking for them."

"Well I'm going with you."

"No, Davy. I-"

"No, Mike. I'm going with you. I can manage. Just go pick up a first aid kit or something from the store. We'll assess what damage is done and I can get better sitting here right next to you in this car. I don't need a doctor."

Mike grunted. "Now Davy-"

"Mike, I'm not going to a hospital."

Rolling his eyes, Mike gave in. "Fine, but if you can't take it anymore, I'm taking you to the closest hospital, got it?"

"Yes, Mike."

Three Days Later

"Good afternoon sir, my name is Annette and I'll be your waitress this afternoon. Can I get you anything to drink?" The spunky waitress asked Micky. Micky was sitting in a booth at a small diner, his eyes weighed with the lack of sleep and the tons of stress he possessed.

"Er, just water. Thanks." Micky mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Got it." She smiled, walking off, leaving Micky alone with the menu and his thoughts. Glancing down at the menu, he had already decided he was just going to have some fries. It was the cheapest thing on the menu, and the cash he had on him was diminishing quickly. However, it's not like he had a lot to begin with.

The waitress came back, handing him his water. "Are you ready to order sir?"

"Er, uh, yeah. Just a small plate of fries is fine."

The waitress frowned. She bent over and whispered. "You alright, sir?" Micky shook his head. He was tired, he was worried, his brain was sick of driving, he just needed all of this to be over. "Well, how about I buy you something? You look like you need more than just fries in your stomach."

"Alright." Micky said, glancing down at the menu. "A burger then is fine."

"Alrighty. I'll be back with your food." Annette smiled and began to walk away.

"Hey miss?"

"Yes?"

"Right," Micky said, "This may sound crazy, but, uh, I'm looking for someone, and I was wondering if you could help me out."

"What's his name, sir?" Annette asked.

"Peter Tork."

Trying to conceal a smile, Annette replied. "Let me go put in your order. What's your name?"

"Micky Dolenz."

"Right. I'll be back, Micky." Annette said with a smile before running off towards the kitchen. "Yo, Donnie, I need two hamburger meals and after that I'm goin' on my lunch break."

"Whatever you say, Annette." A low, gruff voice asked from the back. As the food cook, Annette quickly took care of the rest of her tables, letting her co-workers along the way know she was going on break. She returned to the kitchen for her food and took it to the table where Micky sat, surprising him by sitting down across from him.

"Hi." She smiled. "So Peter Tork then? Oh, and don't worry about the bill. I've already paid for your meal. Free of charge."

"Oh, well uh, thanks." Micky gave her a sheepish smile. "Anyway, yeah, Peter Tork's a friend of mine. He went missing a couple days back and I'm looking for him."

"He's at the Los Banos Memorial Hospital, if you're wondering." Annette said, taking a big bite out of her burger.

"He's where?"

"The local hospital. You see, he turned up on my doorstep one day. He was in one hell of a state, too. I couldn't stand being in the same room till my ma cleaned up all the-" Noticing the color draining from Micky's face, Annette decided to stop. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's alright. I just… I didn't think…" Micky muttered, looking down at his food.

"If it makes you feel better, I've been trying to reach you and your friends since we got Peter help. No one's picking up the phone. It's just your luck to run across me."

Micky's eyes widened. "Oh no, Mike and Davy!"

"What?"

"You said no one's been picking up?"

"Yeah."

"Oh no… I think I'm gonna be sick." Micky grumbled, clutching his stomach.

"Here." Annette said, helping Micky out of the booth and towards the bathrooms. Almost pushing the man into the men's room, Annette flinched at the sound of Micky throwing up, hopefully into a trash can or a toilet. After a couple minutes, Micky reemerged from the bathroom, looking miserable.

"Sorry." He said sheepishly. "I guess the stress has really gotten to me."

"Here, let's go back to the table and talk about something that won't make you throw up."

"Deal."

The two walked back to the booth, where as they ate, Annette filled Micky in on her life with her mother, seeing as that everything else they had in common would result in Micky losing it. After finishing their meal, Annette took the dishes back to the kitchen, returning with the receipt. Handing it to Micky, she said. "On the back are directions to the hospital."

"As well as your number?" Micky asked, flipping it over to see the number on the back as well.

"Well, I kind of wanted you to call to let me know how Peter's doing. I stopped by this morning, but couldn't stay very long since I had to go to work."

"Oh. Yeah, I can do that." Micky said. "Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

"I know. Have a good day, Micky."

"You too, Annette. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." Annette blushed, walking off to continue working. Micky walked out of the restaurant, a feeling of excitement welling up in his stomach. He was going to find Peter.