And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 23

*Mike*

"Let's go." Wren started walking back to the Latertons. "We have to go get him back!"

Billie Joe leapt after her and caught her arm. "No. We aren't. You're staying here."

She struggled in his grip, "He's my friend too. I'm going."

Mike took the opportunity to grab her other arm. "No. You're staying here. With Billie Joe."

"No!" They spoke in unison.

Mike tightened his hold on Wren as Billie Joe released her so that he could argue more effectively. "I'm going to get him. You can't do it alone."

"And I'm coming too," Wren added.

"No you're not." This time it was Mike and Billie Joe sounding like a backup chorus.

"I'm a girl, not a fucking piece of glass," Her eyes flashed angrily as she jerked away. "Quit treating me like one. I can do just as well as any boy!"

Mike tried reasoning with her. "We only need one person to go get him. Remember? It's better if for one or two of us get in shit, than the whole crew. They've already got tabs on me anyhow. If it comes to carrying, I'm the strongest. Someone needs to watch the car and have it ready so we can take off."

"What happened to all for one and one for all?" She challenged.

Over her head, Mike begged with his eyes to get his friend to stay. Reluctantly, Billie Joe resumed his hold on her. "C'mon Wren. We'll sit in the car."

"Asshole," she spat at Mike before ceasing to struggle.

The anger and almost rage she was emanating made him feel terrible. Yes, maybe he was being a bit protective, but if something ever happened... Besides, there was no way he was going to let Wren run into Mirabelle again without him standing by to rip her head off at the slightest insult. Coldly, she wrenched her arm away from Billie and stalked over to sit in the car. Mike went over and knelt at her side. Nervously, he placed a hand on her knee.

"Wren, you're not being fair. I let you go there once, now it's my turn." She kept her mouth shut and her visage stony. Not knowing what to say, he tightened his jaw and hung his head in defeat. If she was going to be angry with him, then there was nothing else he could do.

Her hand gently brushed his, and he met her icy eyes. "If you get caught, I'm coming to get you whether you like it or not." She pressed the whistle into his palm. "Don't you even think about not using this if you need it."

"I will, I promise."

He kissed her on the forehead and rose. Confidently, he said, "I'll be back in ten minutes." Billie Joe nodded to show he'd heard.

At a light jog, Mike headed down the street. As he neared the Laterton's house, he heard a low noise. Cocking his head, he slowed his pace, listening intently. It sounded like something like an old car with a pillow shoved up its muffler. There was also a distinct chinking sound as well. Mike moved closer to the bushes of the lot, and the noise grew in volume. What the hell is it? he wondered. Seeing a low spot in the bushes behind the cement sign, he shoved his way through.

Everything was extremely dark, though an eerie glow came from the pool lights. While his eyes adjusted, his other senses compensated. He could feel a cool breeze carrying the scent of wet grass towards him. The smell was slightly off, it was too... Sharp.

The noise started again, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. Opening his eyes wide, he searched for the source. There. A blob of darkness near the pool. It was moving slightly. Suddenly, it lifted its head. A dog. A German Shepard no less. Mike wasn't stupid. The police chose that breed for a reason, most likely the same reason it was guarding the Laterton's house. The dog lowered its head, and he heard its chain clink. The rumbling muffled growl started again as it shook something on the ground. The thing moved, and Mike saw the outline of a body.

Holy shit!

Without further consideration, Mike rushed at the dog.

*Wren*
She sat in the car, fidgeting. Mike was right. It wasn't fair of her to go ballistic. Though, it was not her fault. She knew she shouldn't but she was doubting him. It seemed to her that he might be thinking about someone else. The wrong part of her mind insisted that was why he wanted to go find Tré. He wanted to be the night in shining armour. Wanting to shut off her brain, she started up a conversation.

"So, tell me about this new girl."

Billie Joe's face twisted up as he tried to keep from grinning. "What new girl?"

"You know what I'm talking about. What's her name?" She teased.

He sighed and finally gave in to a broad smile. "Adrienne. She's..." He could only grin stupidly.

"Awwww, little Billie's got it ba-ad," Wren sing-songed.

"You're one to talk. Getting all crazy-ass protective."

Wren frowned and stared at the dash. If anyone would know, he would, she mused. "Billie, I'm asking you this because I don't want to hurt his feelings, so don't tell him. I think Mike's not over Tré."

*Mike*
The dog snarled angrily, its white teeth glinting in the dim light. He wound up and aimed a hefty kick at its head. The dog jumped back then lunged to bite. Mike yelped as it set its fangs into is leg. I got to stay quiet, I can't wake anyone. Desperation set in as he fell. Instinctively, he grabbed the dog's ruff to keep it from taking off his face. With his other hand he clobbered its nose. The dog began barking furiously, its fetid breath washing over the bassist. With his own snarl, Mike gave the canine a huge kick. Squealing, it went flying through the air to land heavily on its side, before toppling into the pool.

Knowing he would have only a few moments, Mike scrambled to his feet. As soon as he put his weight on the bitten leg, it buckled. Cursing, he got up again, dragging Tré up with himself. Tré was soaking wet and barely coherent. He could not stand on his own. With a bit of a struggle, Mike slung the drummer's arm around his own shoulders and started walking. Behind him, he could hear the dog trying to get out of the water without choking itself on its chain. Fear urged the young bassist onward. With a final burst of energy, he dragged Tré through the bushes and collapsed on the street.

In the starlight, Tré's face was sickly pale. Mike leaned over him and rolled the drummer to his side, smacking his back. A gush of water flowed out of his mouth. He did not inhale. Not quite sure if he was doing it right, Mike pinched Tré's sharp nose shut and breathed into his mouth. The drummer seized abruptly and Mike rose away. Coughing hard, Tré opened his eyes.

"Shit man, you alright?" Mike asked. The drummer's only response was to roll to his back and wheeze for a few seconds. "Tré?"

"Now I know why they call it the kiss of life," he rasped.

Before he did something very wrong, Mike turned his back and got to his feet. "C'mon, we better go."

"Wait. I'm not done drowning. There. Now could you give me a hand?"

Sternly, Mike reached out and helped Tré up. Tré tried slinging an arm over his shoulder, but Mike shrugged him off. "Quit it. You can walk fine."

Tré cocked his head to one side, blue-grey eyes darting back and forth in confusion. He slicked back his wet hair and coughed again, now removing his gaze to the street. Inwardly, Mike felt a flash of pride at resisting the temptation. I can do this. It's not so hard. I'll get over it and Wren'll never know.