“You tell me that you’ve never been this way before,” Mike sang, idly plucking at Andi’s guitar. “You tell me things I know that I’ve heard somewhere . . . “
“Hey, man, that’s good,” Peter said, plopping down next to him. “You ought to write that down.”
“Yeah, I will,” Mike sighed. Andi’s absence was bothering him more than he was willing to admit. He knew she was only going to be gone for a while, but that still didn’t make him feel any better. It had already been over six hours, and he was getting impatient.
“’Ey, guys!” Davy’s voice carried over to them. “Are we supposed to ‘ave company?”
“What?” Mike said, setting the guitar down and quickly striding across the beach, Peter right behind him. His gaze followed Davy’s outstretched hand.
“I don’t see anyth--” He stopped cold when he saw an armed man astride a large brown horse emerge from the trees, followed by another, and another. He didn’t recognize the men, but was willing to bet anything that they worked for Vic.
There was only one thing to do. “Run!” Mike commanded sharply.
The four scattered as the armed men on horseback swept into the valley. Davy and Micky each headed for different ends of the beach, while Peter and Mike sprinted towards the woods. Mike couldn’t tell if Peter was still with him as he exploded through the tangle of underbrush and climbed the same hill he and Andi had ridden up the night before. He didn’t dare look behind him for fear of what he might--or might not--find.
He hurtled down the rough path, his breathing ragged. He could hear the hoofbeats behind him, making him run faster and faster until he was sure his lungs were going to explode.
Suddenly his toe caught on something--probably a tree root--and he fell hard into the dirt, rolling several times before coming to a skidding halt. His tired lungs screamed in protest, and he lay there, wheezing, as the rider came up beside him, staring down coldly.
“Never try to run,” he said dispassionately. “Just makes it harder in the end.”
Mike tried to crawl away, pebbles cutting into his hands and knees, and the man chuckled.
“Tenacious, aren’t ya?” He swung down from his horse and casually approached Mike, who wasn’t done fighting just yet.
He flung a handfull of pebbles and dirt at the man, who shielded his eyes and took a step back, cursing. Mike stood up, raising his fists slightly, but then gaped at the sheer size of his attacker. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor as he turned to run. A hand as big as a gorilla’s and just as powerful landed on the back of his neck, forcing him to his knees once more.
He made one last ditch attempt, bringing up his elbow in hopes of breaking his attacker’s iron grip. The man caught his elbow and wrenched his arm behind his back, causing Mike to gasp in pain.
“There, now, that’s better,” the man said patronizingly. “You’ll come along quietly, now.”
“Do I have a choice?” Mike growled through clenched teeth.
“No, not really.” The man tightly bound Mike’s wrists together with a long rope and mounted his horse, tying the trailing edge to his saddle.
Mike had time for one last look over his shoulder before the man jerked him to his feet and dragged him off behind his horse. He could see the very edge of the golden field where he and Andi had kissed for the first time. Would he ever see it again?
Would he ever see her again?
~ ~ ~
The sight that greeted Mike’s eyes when they returned made his heart sink. Peter, Micky and Davy were all huddled on the beach, flanked by several men wielding guns. Like Mike their hands were tied in front of them. Peter was trying to fight back tears, Micky looked stricken, and Davy looked mad enough to bite someone.
“This is the last of ‘em,” Mike’s captor said, tossing the rope to one of his fellow kidnappers. “Gave me a bit of trouble, he did.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” The man now holding the rope gave it a vicious yank, nearly jerking Mike off his feet. Davy was on his feet immediately, reaching out to grab the rope.
“’Ey, leave ‘im alone!” he shouted.
“Or what, midget?” the man said caustically, bringing growling laughter from his compatriots.
Davy’s eyes flared angrily. Suddenly he made a break for it. One of the men reached for a knife, and Mike grabbed Davy by the shirt, turning his own body around so that he could drag Davy back. There was a flash of silver, and Mike felt a sharp, searing pain in his arm. He looked down at the tear in his sleeve and the ribbon of blood that was already beginning to flow.
Too terrified to react, the Monkees did not resist as they were each hauled onto the back of a horse and carried off.
Mike didn’t even notice that his hat had fallen off.
~ ~ ~
Andi was singing happily as she wound her way down into the valley. The flowers she passed seemed brighter, the sun seemed warmer, and she felt as if she were floating.
Long ago she had sworn never to fall in love. Never again would she have allowed herself to lose someone close. However, her resolve had faltered over the years. She smiled. I’m in love. I never thought that would ever be said of me.
With a laugh she sped over the beach. She was less than a hundred yards away when she spotted the destruction left behind by Vic’s men.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. Where were the guys? “Mike! Davy! Micky! Peter!” The only response was an eerie, empty silence.
She leapt off her horse and ran towards their hut. The stilts had been cut, and the structure was lying on its side like a beached whale. She knew even before she reached it that it was empty. She checked every other building, frantically calling their names over and over until she was hoarse. The buildings themselves were intact, but ransacked. Most of her valuables were still there; it was likely that the perpetrator was just wreaking havoc for havoc’s sake. She didn’t linger over her broken and scattered possessions, intent only upon finding her friends.
She ran back out onto the beach. The signs of a struggle were obvious. The deep lines and scuffle marks in the sand bore silent testament to their fight. Then she saw it--a small patch of green in the white. She approached it slowly, her heart pounding. She reached down and picked up Mike’s hat, noticing with a terrible shudder the red stains on the sand next to it.
“Oh . . . “ she moaned, clutching the wool to her chest. Why hadn’t she been here when they needed her? She dropped languidly to the ground and curled up in a tight ball. After a few moments she began to cry. This time she didn’t even try to stop the tears.
~ ~ ~
Several miles away, four horses came to a halt, and the Monkees were yanked from their perches and dropped abruptly to the ground.
Vic was there to greet them, his phosphorescent smile gleaming wickedly. There was, to Mike’s grim satisfaction, a very large bruise on his temple where Andi’s arrow had struck him three days before.
“Thank you all for returning,” he said smarmily. “I was lonely without you.” The only replies his captives could come up with were snarls.
Vic leaned over to one of his henchmen. “Did one of you stay behind to take care of the girl?” The man nodded silently.
“What do you mean, take care of her!?” Mike shouted, yanking ineffectually at the arms that held him.
Vic only smiled.
Mike felt his blood boiling, but bit his lip helplessly. Anything he said would have been futile, anyway.
They were pushed and shoved over to an old-fashioned barred circus wagon--a marked improvement over a porpoise tank--that was attached to a very modern diesel rig.
After the door clanged shut they worked their way out of the ropes, and Mike turned his attention to his arm. The bleeding had ebbed slightly, but it was still flowing a little too much for comfort. He reached up and tore the sleeve completely off, and with Peter’s assistance tied it tightly around the wound.
“What’re we gonna do, Mike?” Micky asked.
Mike sighed. He was tired. The ache in his arm and the growing one in his head--as well as the one in his heart--made thinking difficult. “I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.”
They settled in for the night uneasily, fear apparent in their features and postures. More than any injury or indignity they might have suffered, the uncertainty of the future was even harder to face.
~ ~ ~
Andi was awakened from a fractured, tortured sleep by a soft muzzle prodding her gently. Shesha stood over her, gazing down with deep brown eyes that were--in some strange way--concerned.
It took her a few moments to remember what had happened. She looked down at the hat she still clutched in her hands and wailed miserably. Everything meaningful to her had been ripped away a second time.
No. The word sounded in Andi’s head as if spoken aloud. She looked around but saw no one. Then she realized the sound was coming from her, from her mind.
It isn’t supposed to be this way, the voice said. It sounded like the voice in the back of her head, but much deeper and more powerful. This was someone that wouldn’t accept defeat--who would not accept the current situation.
And it doesn’t have to be. You still have time to stop it.
She crawled to her feet and walked back along the beach to her house. She moved faster and faster until she was racing toward it at a dead run. Once inside she made her way to an old sea chest that served as an endtable. She swept everything off the top and opened it. Inside was a peculiar set of handmade armor--shining steel plates woven together expertly with black leather. Andi strapped the various pieces to her body--gauntlets covered her forearms, shinguards protected her legs, and a chest and a back plate protected her trunk. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as her determination rose.
She then retreated to a nearby cave whose walls were covered with weapons of all kinds. Knives, swords, spears, bows and arrows, throwing stars, and even a single gun gleamed brightly in the light of the torch Andi had brought with her.
She armed herself quickly, barely taking notice of the weapons as she hefted them and strapped them to her body. Her hand lingered for a moment over the gun, then she thought better of it, leaving it on its peg.
Shesha was waiting outside the cave as she emerged. As she pulled herself onto his back she spotted a lone figure standing on the beach. For an instant she thought it was one of the Monkees, but then the realization sank in that it was not.
She hefted her long spear and trotted out to him. “Who are you and what have you done with my friends?” she demanded in what she hoped was a threatening tone.
The man regarded her nonchalantly, obviously none too impressed. “Vic sent me to tell you not to worry about them. You’d be better off just forgetting about them.”
Andi snorted. “That’s not bloody likely, now is it?” she snarled. She raised her spear threateningly. “You are going to tell me where they are right now, or I will end your pitiful existance right here on this beach.”
The man crossed his arms. “You’re ready to do that for them?”
Andi stiffened. “Yes, I am.”
“Then I won’t bother with false bravado.” He pointed to the top of the ridge. “Follow that road of yours for five miles. You’ll find a clearing. That’s where your friends are.” As suddenly and mysteriously as he had appeared, he turned and silently walked away.
“Wait a minute!” Andi called. “Why are you helping me?”
The man turned slightly, a ghost of a smile on his face. “You have a sword and a spear and you obviously know how to use them. I don’t feel like dying today.” At the very edge of the beach a brown horse was waiting. Andi never saw him depart. She turned in the opposite direction and galloped down the beach.
Less than five minutes later she was thundering down the road in the direction of the clearing, hoping against hope that they were all right, and that she wasn’t too late.
~ ~ ~
“Mike?”
Mike was roused from a restless slumber by something tugging at his uninjured arm. He opened his eyes slowly, thinking for a minute that perhaps the attack had been a dream, but the iron bars and the throbbing pain in his left arm destroyed that illusion.
Peter was there, still tugging gently on his sleeve.
“Pete? Man, what it is?” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
“Mike . . . I’m scared,” he whispered. “What’s gonna happen to us?”
Mike sighed. If only I could tell you. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s probably none too pleasant.”
He heard the unmistakable sound of Peter sobbing. He reached out with his good hand and patted Peter’s leg in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.
“Mike?” Micky said. He was still sitting with his legs and arms sticking through the bars, but now his posture was straight and alert.
“What, Mick?”
“You know, Andi’s out there.”
Mike groaned and shut his eyes. He had spent the last few hours trying not to think about her and what might have happened to her. He understood why she had wanted to shut him out. Worrying and wondering about her hurt more than anything else. “Yeah, Micky. I hope she’s okay--wherever she is.”
“No, man. She’s out there. Right now. I can see her through the trees. She’s come to rescue us!” True to form, he couldn’t contain his excitement.
Mike ignored the shooting pain in his arm as he scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled over to the bars, barely daring to hope that maybe Andi could actually help them, and relieved beyond words that she wasn’t hurt.
“Where is she? I don’t see her.”
Micky pointed to a small glow that had begun to flicker within the dense foliage.
“’Ey! What’s she doing?” Davy asked, his brown eyes growing wider by the second.
“I have no idea,” Mike replied.
With no warning and certainly no preamble, a flaming arrow shot out from behind the trees and plunged into one of the makeshift tents, setting it ablaze. Vic and his men sprang instantly into action, leaving their drinks and cards and working to put out the fire. More flaming arrows shot out, setting more tents on fire, until the entire campsite was a small inferno.
Vic grabbed one of his men. “Take the truck!” he roared, pointing at the wagon. “Get them out of here!” The man nodded, and a few moments later the rig attached to the wagon roared to life.
“Andi!” Mike bellowed as the wagon lurched, sending Peter and Davy crashing into him.
Andi finally emerged from her hiding place, the last of her burning arrows already nocked to her bow. Mike could barely recognize her as the graceful but shy young girl that he had fallen in love with. The cold, furious look on her face, coupled with her gleaming armor, made her look fearsome and otherworldly. She watched the wagon rumble away and was turning to pursue it when Vic stepped in front of her.
“How dare you!” he raged. “You won’t get away with this!”
Andi turned and fired the arrow off in some random direction, then tossed her bow away. She drew her sword and leveled it at Vic.
“You are trespassing in my private territory. You have kidnapped my friends and damaged my home. You will leave, now.” Her tone was deadly, or at least, as deadly as she could manage to make it.
Vic grinned like a Cheshire cat and crossed his arms. “Now why should I do that?”
Andi lifted her gaze, where she could see the wagon disappearing into the trees.
He’s not worth it, Andi. Go and get your friends.
She spurred Shesha with her heels and raced off after them. As she passed Vic she swung her sword down and felt it connect solidly with . . . something.
She didn’t even stop to see what it was.
On to Part Five
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