Baby Face backed away from the window with a foul curse. The fire was too high for him and the others to continue shooting through the broken panes of glass. The rival gang had ceased fire as well, but that was because they were moving farther away from the flying sparks. If the warehouse suddenly exploded, they did not want to be present. At the same time, however, they wanted to watch their enemies' downfall.
Peter, still sprawled on the floor, sniffed the air in perplexity. "I smell smoke," he announced, pushing himself to his hands and knees.
"Oh, well, listen to Captain Obvious here," Baby Face said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Where would we be without him?"
Peter frowned. "Gee, you're really polite, Micky," he said, using some rare sarcasm of his own.
"It may be one thing we have in common, but I'm not him!" Baby Face snarled. "Look, we have to find a way out of this place! I saw some crates back there with gasoline in them. If the fire reaches those, we don't have a chance!" Vince and Harry gasped. "They've caged us like rats in a trap. Those dirty rats!"
"So we're all rats?" Peter said as the gang members hurried past, heading for the second floor. He chased after them. "I mean, if we're trapped like rats, and the other gang's members are dirty rats, then..."
"Shut up!" Baby Face roared.
Clear at the back of the warehouse, Micky and the others heard the yell. "That's Baby Face!" Micky declared. "Come on, we've gotta hurry!" He ran forward, weaving among the stacks of crates. Mike, Davy, and Tony chased after him.
"We still don't even know what we're gonna do when we catch up!" Davy said. "Look at the flames out there, Mike! They're already at the door!"
"And they're too high to even jump out a window," Mike said. He started to fan himself. "Whoo-ee, it's really starting to get toasty in here."
"And we might be the toast!" Davy moaned.
Micky was too caught up in his worry over Peter to pay much attention to the fire yet. "Pete?!" he called in desperation. "Peter?!" He peered around every crate, fearful of what he might find.
Peter paused, looking around in confusion. "Is there an echo in here?" he wondered. "I mean, you're here, Micky, but I'm hearing your voice over there too."
Baby Face looked down from the second floor landing. "You numbskull, it's your friend calling you. It's not me!"
Peter leaned over the metal banister. "Hello?" he called. He coughed from the smoke as it began to leak in through the windows and fill the warehouse.
"Pete!" Micky perked up, hearing the other Monkee. "Peter, it's me! It's Micky!"
"You can't be Micky, because Micky's up there!" Peter retorted. "But come on, you have to hurry! There's no way out and we need to try to jump from the second floor or something before the fire gets that high!"
Micky burst through the smoke. "Come on, Peter!" he cried in desperation. He grabbed the railing, starting up the stairs. "Don't you remember anything yet? Me, or Mike, or Davy? Mr. Schneider? Mr. Babbit?! Anything?!"
Peter turned and hurried up the rest of the stairs. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he called over his shoulder.
At a loss, Micky hurried after him.
"He's really desperate," Mike said as he and Davy struggled to catch up.
"I don't blame him," Davy said. "If we don't move faster, we all might end up dying in here."
"Man, if we end up dying, it won't make a hill of beans of difference whether Peter remembers or not," Mike said. Of course, he wanted to see Peter remember too, and for all of them to safely get out of here. But as the old ceiling groaned above them he started and looked up, his eyes widening.
"What's going on?!" Davy cried, looking up as well.
A flaming bit of something fell from the roof and past the nearest window. Mike cringed.
"Somebody must've set the roof on fire too!" he realized. "They didn't want to take any chances! And this place is old as it is. It's not going to last much longer!"
Davy stared up at it in horror. "You mean..."
The ceiling groaned again as they arrived at the top of the metal stairs. Now it looked like it was actually swaying and starting to give way. Tony pushed Mike and Davy ahead of him so he could run out into the second floor's corridor for a better look.
"It's coming down!" he yelled.
Micky stiffened in panicked horror. "There really isn't any way out!" he burst out. "We could all get killed jumping out the window too!"
"Maybe we could tie all our shirts together and make a rope," Peter suggested.
"There's no time for that!" Micky retorted. "But rope! That's a great idea! We have to see if there's some rope we could hang from the window and swing on!" He looked around wildly, his hair flying from side to side. "You'd think there'd be lots of rope in a place like this!"
"Here's some!" Vince called, pulling out a musty coil of fraying rope. "But what can we even tie it to? If the ceiling's tearing loose, it won't be strong enough!"
"The railing on the stairs!" Mike exclaimed. "Quick, somebody tie it to that. If we hurry, maybe it'll last long enough for us to get down before the ceiling caves in and burns it through!"
Baby Face grabbed one end of the rope from Vince and tied it to the railing. Then he followed the rope back to Vince and snatched the other end. "I'm going out first," he declared.
"Hey!" Micky cried. But there was really nothing he could do about it. Baby Face took a running leap, gripping the rope as he jumped out the open window. The others ran over, hearts pounding, to see if he would make it.
The lifeline pulled taut before it reached the flames, but Baby Face had to draw up his legs to keep from touching the blaze. He jumped free, landing on the ground on his feet. He straightened, shielding his eyes as he looked back at the window.
"It should work!" he called, not even sure if his voice would carry over the crackling and roaring of the flames. "Just be careful of catching your pants on fire!"
"Oh boy." Micky grimaced. "It's only going to get worse by the minute. People, let's keep things moving in a steady line! You hear me? Steady line! Maybe we could alternate Monkees and gangsters, huh?"
No one seemed to be listening. There was utter chaos among the remaining gangsters as they crashed into each other upon trying to head for the window.
"Tony, you should go next!" Vince exclaimed over the din.
"You're going next," Tony retorted.
Both Vince and Harry stopped and stared at him, stunned. "But Tony, you're Baby Face's second-in-command," Vince exclaimed. "I can't go before..."
"Get going, Vince!" Tony snapped. He pressed the rope into Vince's hands.
Vince swallowed hard. "O-okay, Tony. If you're sure..."
"Move it. Now!" Tony stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched.
Mike raised an eyebrow and gave a low whistle. "He can be as...persuasive as Baby Face when he wants to be," he remarked.
Micky nodded. "Oh yeah, he's...pretty persuasive, alright," he said with a weak smile. He remembered all too well his first encounters with Tony, during the time he had been undercover as Baby Face. For such a short guy, he had managed to instill a good deal of nervousness and fear into the hapless Monkee.
Peter winced as Vince moved to go out the window. "Gee, I hope he won't snap the rope when he jumps," he said.
Davy was staring at the frayed rope, which only seemed to be fraying more each time pressure was put on it. "I don't suppose there's any more rope around in case he does?" he said.
"I doubt we'd be that lucky," Mike said.
Vince leaped out the window, tightly gripping the rope in his thick hands. Within a few seconds a pained yelp met their ears, followed closely by a pronounced thump. The cries that followed indicated something had gone wrong.
"What's going on down there?" Mike called. As he tried to peer out the window and through the climbing wall of fire, his eyes began to water.
Before anyone could answer, if any of them planned to in the first place, the sound of the roof tearing free sent the remaining six flying a mile. They whirled with one accord, staring in shock and horror at a piece of the ceiling that was now burning on the floor across the room, igniting the walls and floor with it.
"We're gonna die we're gonna die!" Micky wailed.
Peter looked frightened as well. Even with his memory loss, he was not good at hiding emotions.
Tony looked to them. He was clearly concerned about what was happening outside, but in spite of that he said, "One of you guys should go next. There's no telling how long the rope will last."
The Monkees looked at him in surprise. "Do you really mean that?" Mike asked.
"There's no time to ask questions. Just go." Tony held out the rope to them.
"Peter!" Micky said instantly, trying to push the blond Monkee forward.
But Peter planted his feet. "Not until everyone else is safely out," he said.
"Tony's right—there's really no time to argue about this," Davy said. But upon seeing Peter's unwavering determination, he sighed. "Here, I'll go." He took the rope from Tony, trying to keep his clammy hands from sliding up and down it.
"Now, be careful, shotgun," Mike warned. "You don't know what's out there."
Davy nodded. "I'll try to let you know," he said. Taking a deep breath, he ran forward and jumped out the window.
The flames were already high enough that as he started to fall, they lapped at his pant legs. He yelped, attempting to tuck his legs up as high as they would go. He let go of the rope right before he would have fallen into the blaze. Turning an inadvertent somersault, he landed on the ground near the gang members.
"What happened?" he gasped, seeing Baby Face kneeling on the ground next to Vince, who was sprawled on his side and breathing heavily.
"The idiot came down too fast and his clothes caught fire," Baby Face said. "I had to put them out." Davy made the "Oh!" gulp, but Baby Face rushed on. "And why did he jump out anyway?! Tony should've come next."
"Tony made him go next," Davy said. "And then he said for one of us to take the next slot after that."
Baby Face snorted. "That idiot," he said, and muttered several other things under his breath. Davy chose not to ask what he had said.
Instead, Davy looked back to the window. "It's alright!" he tried to call up. "I think. You can come on down now!"
In the room, Harry looked relieved. At Tony's directions he dove out the window next and ended up dropping and rolling across the ground near Davy.
"Well, it's becoming a regular party now," Davy remarked.
"Don't mention parties," Baby Face growled.
Davy's eyes widened. "Don't worry, I won't do it again!" he assured. He did not want to incur the infamous mobster's wrath. Baby Face had already been more patient in this situation than any of them had thought he would be. What were the chances it would last much longer?
In the warehouse, Mike took hold of the rope, examining it with apprehension. His stomach began to knot up. "Now, I...I think we have a problem here," he said. "There's still four of us, right?"
"Right," Micky and Peter chorused. Just like old times.
"And this here rope is fraying, right?" Mike continued.
"Right."
Mike waved a handful of it in their direction. "And there's a good chance it won't last for four more people," he said. "I think, at the rate it's going, we'll be lucky if three can go."
Micky frowned, grabbing it to inspect himself. "But it has to hold out for four!" he exclaimed. "We...we can't sacrifice one of us!"
"We'll do what we must," Peter said in solemnity.
"No!" Micky cried. "We're all going to make it out. We have to! Right, Mike?" He looked to their leader in pleading desperation. Mike was silent. Micky's heart twisted. "Right, Mike?!"
"I hope so," Mike said at last. "But I don't think we can make any promises." Another chunk of ceiling crashed to their side.
"Mike! Micky! Peter! Tony!" Davy screamed from below. "Come on, you've gotta come out of there! It's going to collapse in a minute!"
Micky pressed the rope tighter into Mike's hands. "You go down now, Mike," he said. "Pete and I'll be right behind you and Tony. I promise, we're all coming out of this building alive!"
Mike gripped the rope. He did not like the idea of going next, but if he disagreed they might lose any time they had left. "Okay then," he said, giving Micky a searching look. Clearly he did not know how Micky was going to keep such a promise. But he drew a deep breath, which he promptly began to cough on, and advanced towards the window. "Here we go," he choked, trying to regain control of his breathing. "I'll just go out the little window on the little rope here and pray to high Heaven it doesn't drop me in the fire." He steeled himself, then leaped out.
The flames had nearly reached the window by now. Mike grimaced in alarm as he swung to the side, desperate to avoid them. How were Micky and Davy even going to get out at all? "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he berated himself. "I shouldn't have come next. It should've been one of them."
In fact, he soon realized, he should not be swinging to the side. That could make the rope snap faster. Shutting his eyes, he released his hold and plunged towards the ground.
"Mike! Mike!"
Slowly he opened his eyes. He was stretched out on his back and Davy was bending over him, worry spread over his features.
"What happened?" Mike slurred.
"You jumped!" Davy said. "And you spun around in the air! It was incredible!"
"I don't remember that at all," Mike said. "I just remember letting go of the rope."
"You guys missed your calling as acrobats," Baby Face sneered from somewhere to the side.
Mike pushed himself up on his elbows. "Never mind that! What about Micky and Peter?" he asked.
"They're still up there!" Davy exclaimed. "It's only been a few seconds."
"Really?" Mike mumbled. "It feels a lot longer."
In the room, Micky had taken hold of the rope. "Tony, you'd better get out of here," he said. "You've done a lot for us and we're both grateful." He glanced to Peter, who nodded in agreement. "But we don't want you to stick around and then get completely caught in this mess."
Tony accepted the rope from him. "I was planning to go," he said. "But you guys had better not stay around debating which of you is going to go next."
"We're both coming," Micky said, his voice firm.
Tony gave a cold nod and jumped out, making it to the ground without incident.
Micky watched, relaxing as he landed. "He's not such a bad guy," he mused. "For a crook, I mean. He still seems to have some of the protective police spirit in him."
Peter stared. "He was a police officer?!" he gasped.
"Yeah," Micky said. "I'm not sure what happened to him." He straightened. "It doesn't really matter right now, anyway. We need to get out of here."
"You need to get out of here," Peter said. He tried to press the rope into Micky's hands. "I'm afraid the man with the wool hat is right—this will only work for one more try. You should be the one to escape."
Micky pushed it right back. "What?!" he cried. "Look, Pete, we came all this way to rescue you. I'm not going to let it be in vain, especially not like this! If only one of us goes, it's going to be you."
His hands were shaking as he spoke. He did not want to die. But he had been afraid it would be difficult to get Peter to go. He had wanted to be the one to convince him to do it, after being the one to cause Peter's amnesia in the first place. And he had promised Mike they would both get out. How would he accomplish that?
More of the ceiling crashed down, setting further fire to the already-burning floor. It was really a miracle that the whole thing had not given way yet. And what about the gasoline crates Baby Face had noticed downstairs? They were going to go up at some point.
If we're still in here then, it's Harpsville for us both, Micky thought in distress.
He looked away from the destruction and back to Peter. "Peter, I know you don't remember me anymore, and that's my fault." He sighed. "Even if you did remember, you might not believe this—I know it doesn't always seem like it, but the truth is that you're my best friend. And man, I'm going to see that you get out of here even if I have to go down with you at the same time!" He grabbed Peter and the rope both. Throwing his arms around Peter's waist, and clutching the rope, he ran at the window.
Peter gave a cry of surprise, but allowed himself to be dragged to the window. "It's funny," he said. "I really don't remember you at all. But I have this feeling that I know what you're saying is true."
For a split-second that did not process. But then Micky's eyes widened and he grinned in joyous surprise.
Then they flew out the window and all Hell broke loose.
The rope didn't hold together very well, either.
At the same moment it snapped free, a cacophonous explosion ripped through the remainder of the building. Micky and Peter were sent soaring and tumbling from the force of the blast. Then it was all over.
****
Slowly Peter's senses began to return. He rose up on one elbow, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. "W-what...wh-where..." he stammered.
He looked around as the grogginess began to fade. He was lying on a roof. Across the way, the skeleton of the warehouse continued to burn.
"H-hey!" he cried. "We flew clear over on the roof of this other warehouse!" Upon not receiving a reply he looked around more, a bit of confusion and concern creeping into his heart. Hadn't the guy who looked like Micky come over with him? "H-hello?" he quavered. "Where are you?"
Then he saw the body crumpled at his side. He reached out, grabbing the other boy's shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?!" he exclaimed. "Say something! Please!"
There was no response. Now fear stabbed into Peter's heart. "Hey, wake up!" he begged. "Come on, wake..."
He trailed off in stunned horror. The shock of seeing the stranger lying so lifeless was reawakening something in his memories. This guy was no longer someone who looked like Micky, the gangster. Micky was not a gangster. No, this was Micky. The gangster was someone else...
"M-Micky?!" Peter cried, his voice strangled. It felt strange, even wrong, to say the name and have it mean something to him again, after he had not remembered at all. "Micky, wake up! Wake up, Micky! Wake up..." But it was hopeless. Micky was too quiet, too still.
Images flashed through Peter's mind—Micky laughing, grinning in mischief, demonstrating his impressions...Him and Peter goofing around in the ghost town and in Texas...Them getting in trouble in both of those places, and at the Remington Clinic and Dragonman's China Boy Club...
Micky protesting to Black Bart's gang that he couldn't kill Peter; Peter was his best friend.
Micky trying to break Oraculo's mind-control over Peter.
Micky insistent on getting Peter out of the burning building, no matter what.
Peter's shoulders shook as he sobbed. It was too much to bear. The memories were surrounding him, overwhelming him. He remembered, but Micky was gone.
"Peter?!"
"Peter?!"
He only briefly glanced up when he heard Mike and Davy calling to him as they ran onto the warehouse roof. "This is Micky," he said. "I...I was all mixed up. But now I remember. I remember and Micky won't wake up. He can't. He's...he's dead! He sacrificed himself for me..."
"Oh no," Davy gasped. "That can't be!"
Mike clenched a fist. "I knew something was going to go wrong!" he berated. "I just knew it! I should have gone last."
"No, you shouldn't have, Mike," Davy said as he lowered himself to his knees. "None of us should have died."
Peter bent over Micky, hugging him from above. "I thought he was a gangster!" he cried. "I thought Baby Face was him and..."
"You didn't remember anything, Peter," Mike said quietly. "And then you saw Baby Face and well...it's a mistake anyone could make under those circumstances. Micky didn't hold it against you."
"Of course he didn't," Davy said. "I . . . I'm sure he's happy right now because he got you out of there safely."
Mike nodded. "I think he wanted to be the one to see that you got out, no matter what happened to him. He could've gone out earlier, but he didn't."
It was not a consolation. Peter was devastated. "I'm sorry, Micky," he sobbed. "I didn't remember you and I brushed you off and now it's too late!"
Baby Face and his gang came to the doorway leading onto the roof, wanting to know what had happened but not really being affected. Baby Face pushed back his hat. "So he's really croaked this time, eh?" he said. No one answered him.
Peter leaned back sadly. "You promised we'd both get out alive," he said. "You promised!"
"I did, didn't I?"
Peter gave a start. Mike and Davy stared. Micky was stirring, turning carefully onto his back. He squinted, blinking up at Peter. Then he gave a weak but triumphant grin. "We made it, Pete."
Peter exclaimed in sheer joy. "Micky! You're alive! You're okay and you're alive!" He stared at Micky, fully embracing and accepting this miracle.
"This is wonderful! But how?!" Davy gasped.
"We thought you were dead!" Mike cried.
"Man, I don't know." Micky rubbed at his head. "I'm in too much pain to be dead."
Mike looked to Peter. "Didn't you find that he wasn't breathing or anything?"
Peter blinked in sudden realization. "Um...I think I was so upset when I woke up and saw Micky lying there like that, that I didn't even try to check," he admitted. "And then my memory started coming back and..."
Micky shot up in spite of the pain. "Really, Pete?!" he demanded. "You remember?!"
Peter found himself grinning. "I remember!" he confirmed. "I remember everything!"
"This is great!" Micky glomped Peter in sheer joy. Peter gave a surprised start, but then returned the hug. Micky looked around at Mike and Davy, then back to Peter. "We all made it out and Peter's back to normal!"
"Thanks to you, Micky," Peter said. "You saved me!"
"Pshaw. I did what any loyal friend would do," Micky said. "And hey, you know, it's weird. If the place hadn't gone up right then and sent us flying over here, we might've been killed when the rope broke. Instead we were just knocked out."
Peter blinked as he considered that. "I don't believe in coincidences," he said.
Micky gave him a blank look. "You mean you think the gasoline went up when it did for some deliberate reason?" he said.
"Well, like you said, Micky, we'd probably be dead if it wasn't for that," Peter said.
Micky leaned back, thinking on that. "Huh," he mused.
Baby Face waved a dismissive hand at the group. "Go on with your mushy reunion," he said. "We're getting out of here before the fire department and the cops show up and start asking uncomfortable questions."
Mike stiffened. "Hey, that's a good point," he said. "I don't think it'd be good for us to be here, either." He looked around at the others. "Come on, let's split!"
"That's a great idea," Micky said. He started to get up but swayed, nearly toppling over.
Peter caught him. "I'll help you to the car, Micky," he said.
Micky looked up at him. "Thanks, Pete." He sighed. "It looks like I need it."
"Some rest'll do you both good," Mike said. "Actually, I think it'll do all of us good."
"I'll second that," Davy said. "And...uhoh."
"What is it?" Mike frowned, looking over at him.
"We still have to clean up the Pad," Davy reminded.
"We'll take care of it," Micky said. "We made the mess, so we'll clean it up. Right, Peter?"
Peter nodded with a smile. "We'll get it up," he said.
They got downstairs and back outside as quickly as they could. When they arrived at their car, the gangsters were just getting into their own vehicle. Micky glanced over at them.
"Well...uh, thanks," he said to Baby Face. "For, you know..."
"Not bumping off your friend," Baby Face finished.
Micky winced, but managed a nervous smile. "Yeah," he said.
"And thanks to you too, Tony," Peter added, looking to Baby Face's second-in-command. "You were a big help in that fire."
"You really were," Mike said. "We're...we're all grateful."
Tony merely gave an unsociable nod, his expression unreadable.
Baby Face grunted, pulling open the front passenger door. "Just don't let this happen again," he growled.
"Oh no," Micky said.
"No sir," Mike added.
"No more amnesia for any of us," Davy said.
Peter gave a firm nod.
"Yeah sure," Baby Face muttered. "Tony, get us out of here. It's time we teach those rats a lesson." He climbed into the car. Vince and Harry got in the back.
Tony slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. As they drove off, the Monkees got into the Monkeemobile. Mike backed up and then turned the car in the opposite direction.
Chapter 2
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