The dusty red GTO purred along a deserted stretch of highway, the growl of its supercharged engine shattering the quiet of the wilderness around them. The monstrous trees of California had gradually yielded to the plains of Arizona.
They had taken their time driving; Andi’s depthless pocketbook meant that they could meander and travel at their leisure without worrying about the expense of their dawdling. Mike had remained strangely quiet during the two days since their departure. At the motels where they had spent each night he had sequestered himself with his new acoustic guitar—a guitar he had purchased with his own money plus a little assistance from their ‘benefactor’. Each time Andi had briefly considered joining him, but his stiff, serious posture and the dark thunderclouds upon his brow kept her at bay.
She and Peter mutually agreed to keep as far apart as possible without raising suspicion. However, Mike did notice, and the further apart they kept themselves, the more agitated he became. Micky and Davy remained blissfully unaware, caught up in the excitement of a grand, unknown adventure.
They had crossed into Arizona that morning, heading in the vague direction of the Grand Canyon. From there they had discussed maybe going to Texas and visiting Mike’s Aunt Kate, then perhaps on to New Orleans. Andi had left the door wide open, saying “Anything you guys want. It’s your call.” Micky’s excited rambling about “the possibilities” had faded when they emerged onto a vast valley, the land sloping upward sharply some three miles distant, forming a looming plateau.
“Wow,” Andi breathed, staring out from behind her sunglasses. “That is something.”
“Never seen anythin’ like that before?” Mike asked.
“No, never. I spent the last five years of my life living in a forest. This is just . . . ” She whistled—a weak, reedy sound.
“Magnificent,” Peter finished. They were silent for a long while afterward, caught up in the appreciation of the vast wilderness. Mike continued to drive, his expression neutral—as always. He’d sworn to himself that he wasn’t going to bring up his suspicions, either to Andi or to Peter, but every time either one of them spoke the images and doubts popped up, each one clamoring loudly for his attention.
They stopped in a small town that afternoon for lunch, then drove down the street for gas. They pulled into the station and Mike hopped out, reaching for the pumps. Andi climbed out and went back to the trunk, digging a bandana out of her bag and tying it around her neck. As Mike was filling the tank a battered pickup pulled in behind them. At some point in the past it might have been yellow, but time and the elements had faded it to a dull, indescribable color. A pair of deer antlers hung on the front, rattling slightly as the pickup ground to a halt.
Three men, each possibly a few years older than Mike, emerged from the dusty cab. The two who slipped out from behind the passenger door were thinner and shorter than the third, who cocked his dirty baseball cap back on his head and whistled.
“Man, that is one pretty car!” Car came out ‘cowr.’ Five heads snapped around at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and everyone’s eyes—except Andi’s—widened.
The man’s grizzled, ‘mountain man’ appearance made him look much older than his twenty-eight years. He wore a red flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off to properly display his powerfully muscled arms—and the barbed wire tattoo around his left bicep. His black motorcycle boots were scuffed and worn, and his jeans had holes in the knees. However, it was the cold, predatory glint in his ice blue eyes that made the skin on Mike’s neck crawl. He didn’t like the way the man was gazing at the car—and when he turned his icy gaze on Andi, he knew he didn’t like the way the man was staring at his girlfriend.
“Well, hey there, darlin’,” the man purred, coming to stand next to Andi, who
resisted the urge to sidle away. “Pretty girl like you around these parts . . . m’names Randy.”
“Pleasure, I’m sure,” she said coolly, taking a slightly step backward.
“Hey, where’s that accent from? Ireland?” one of Randy’s companions—a young man with a frightened, rabbitty face—asked.
“England,” Andi replied crisply.
“Well, listen. You oughta ditch the long-haired weirdos in the car . . . get with a real man.”
“And that would be you, right?” She shot a glance at Mike, who was replacing the gas cap. As their eyes connected he knew they were thinking the same thing: Let’s get the hell out of here.
“It’s been a brief pleasure . . . Randy . . . but I’m afraid we must be on our way.” She darted away from him and slid back into the car with a sigh of relief. As Mike started the engine Randy shouted after them.
“Hey! I don’t even know your name!”
Andi twisted around in her seat as they pulled away. “Let’s just keep it that way, huh?”
~*~
“Wow, that was scary,” Peter said, as the town slipped out of sight behind them. Ahead of them lay nothing but vast, unbroken wilderness, the beauty of which made the tension at the gas station gradually fade from their consciousness.
Andi twisted around in her seat once more. “Well, Peter, it’s been my experience that guys like that are usually all talk and no action. He’s probably scared of his own shadow—he’s just too macho to admit it.”
“You sound like you’re talkin’ about someone you know,” Mike said quietly.
“Well, I’m not talking about you, dear heart, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“I never said it was me. You’re jumpin’ to conclusions.”
“You certainly know about that, don’t you?” Andi said, sarcasm sharpening her voice.
“Hey, guys, don’t fight,” Peter said.
“We’re not fighting. We’re talking. Right, Mike?” Mike grunted noncommittally. “See?” She gave Peter a grin that was far more cheerful than what she was actually feeling inside.
“You know, there is another possibility,” Micky said. He had been unusually subdued since the incident at the gas station.
“What’s that?” Davy asked, looking up from the map he had been poring over.
“That guy really is as tough as he looks.”
“Well, it’s a moot point, Micky,” she reassured him. “We left him back in the dust, and I think it’s fair to say we’ll never see him again.”
A sudden screech of tires interrupted her. Ahead of them, darting out from behind a thick grove of trees, was a nauseatingly familiar truck—faded yellow with a pair of antlers on the front. It kicked up a giant cloud of dust as it lunged out in front of them. The cracked taillights gleamed dully as the pickup braked sharply.
“Hang on!” Mike shouted, slamming on the Monkeemobile’s brakes. The GTO fishtailed, slamming Andi into the passenger door. Davy, sitting next to Peter in the middle seat, ended up in Peter’s lap. Only Micky, sitting sideways in the rear seat, managed to keep his balance.
The car came to a sliding halt inches from the pickup’s back bumper, dust swirling around them. “Everybody okay?” Mike asked, taking a few deep, relieved breaths.
“Yeah,” Andi muttered, her attention focused on the truck. “What are those creeps doing here?”
The driver’s side door opened, and Randy stepped out. Andi was momentarily distracted by his friends, who came around from the other side to flank him. When she looked again at Randy, her heart froze as she spotted the double-barreled shotgun he held in his hands, which he lifted and trained on the Monkees.
~*~
“Mike? What’s going on?” Peter asked, fear making his voice tremble.
“I don’t know, Pete. Just stay still.” Mike’s voice also trembled as Randy came around the car, keeping the weapon aimed at them.
“Get out the car and hand over the keys,” Randy commanded.
Mike moved slowly, keeping his hands in the air and his eyes on the gun. Randy snatched the keys away and motioned to the others. “Get out.” Micky, Davy, and Peter quickly complied, but when Andi reached for the passenger door, Randy shook his head.
“Not you. You stay right where you are.”
Andi shared a look of mutual fear with Mike. Tightening her jaw defiantly, she opened the door and stepped out; Randy’s friends, who both looked very nervous about the whole situation, lunged forward and grabbed her by the arms.
That was a mistake, Mike thought as she stomped on their feet; as they released her she caught one under the chin with her elbow, then stepped back and delivered a sharp kick to the midsection of the other. Randy turned, aiming the gun at her, and Mike lunged, snatching the weapon and trying to pull it away.
“Guys!” Andi shouted, leaping forward to join Mike. “Run!” Randy twisted about, trying to shake off the pair, and the gun went off, sending a bullet whizzing over Micky’s head.
“RUN!” Mike roared, grunting as Randy’s elbow hit him in the stomach. “GET OUTTA HERE!”
Micky nodded reluctantly and pulled Peter and Davy after him; the three disappeared into the brush across the road.
Andi tried to sink her teeth into Randy’s forearm. He snarled and smashed his fist into the side of her head. Stars exploded in her field of vision and she dropped onto the hood of the Monkeemobile.
“Andi!” Mike shouted. The momentary distraction allowed Randy to yank the gun free from Mike’s grasp. He slammed the butt of the gun into Mike’s ribs, doubling him over in agony, then struck him on the back of the head. Mike dropped to the pavement, unconscious.
“Charlie!” Randy barked. His companion with the swollen jaw looked up at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”
Randy tossed him the Monkeemobile’s keys. “You drive the car. Jim—” His companion with the bruised ribs nodded. “You put ‘em in the truck. I got some rope in there—tie ‘em up.”
“Randy?” Charlie asked, a quiver in his voice. “What’re we gonna do with them?”
Randy gave his friend a lazy grin. “I haven’t decided yet. Now get movin’.”
~*~
A hundred yards away, Micky, Davy, and Peter watched with identical horrified expressions as Mike and Andi were tossed like sacks of potatoes into the back of the pickup. Both vehicles roared angrily a few seconds before they took off down the road, disappearing in two swirling clouds of dust.
On to Chapter Three
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