This is part 2 of what I expect to be a 3-part arc featuring Ash, with cameos from the rest of the Mike&Co cast.
Find character info here.
Find the previous installment here.
This chapter contains violence, implied homophobia, and 911 calls.
Ash is on the point of answering when someone calls out to him. A dark figure approaches, walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
“Huh?” Ash stares at the as they pass each other.
“I said, is that an iPhone?” the guy repeats loudly.
“Yeah?” Ash wonders why it matters. He’s already zoomed halfway down the block. He shakes his head and looks forward again.
“Well then you better give it to me. And your wallet.” The second man emerges from the shadows before Ash has the chance to slow down. He stumbles off his board a second before they collide, but it doesn’t stop the large fist from colliding with the side of his face. Ash staggers, dizzy. His phone hits the pavement. Then his head does too.
“Ash?” Mike holds the phone an inch away from her ear as the line crackles loudly. “What the fuck?”
The call’s still connected. Her screen glows, showing a years-old profile pic of Ash sticking his tongue out. “What did you do, you idiot? Did you drop your phone?”
There’s no answer. There is movement, though. Heavy footsteps and what sounds like wind noise. Then a voice that’s decidedly not Ash. “Pat him down. Check his pockets.”
It takes Mike a second to process. “What the hell?” she mutters. This can’t be real. This only happens in movies.
“Gimme your wallet and you won’t get hurt. Well, not too bad.”
“Get away from me. What did I ever do to you?” That sounds like Ash. But its thick and muffled. He’s already hurting.
“We’ll call it wrong place, wrong time.” There’s a gruff laugh.
Then a third voice speaks, this one much closer to Ash’s phone. “What the--?” Static plays over the line, and the sounds shift quieter, then louder again. “Fuck. He was talking to somebody.”
So two attackers? Mike swallows her shock and tries to memorize the details. This guy has Ash’s phone. The other one has Ash.
“Ash?” Mike yells, cramming her phone against her mouth. “Fucking run! Get out of there!”
“Shit. Hang up before they call the cops!” A muffled thump. A cry of pain.
“Who were you talking to, huh?” There’s a tap of thick fingers against the screen.
“Ash!” Mike tries again “Run, Ash!”
“Ash, run!” the goon parrots. He laughs cruelly. “Is that your girlfriend?”
“Hey, you fucking stop,” Mike spits. Anger surges, and she’s glad for it. It’s easier to deal with than fear. “Fucking let him go!” She hears impact again, and Ash moans.
“Ha. Mike.” More laughter. “I fucking knew it. Your pansy-ass boyfriend isn’t coming to save your pansy ass.”
“You shut the fuck up,” Mike rises up on her knees, knocking her laptop off the bed. “Get out of there, Ash!” She can see the events unfolding in her mind’s eye, each one shoving another arrow into her heart. Her stupid nickname, Ash’s tendencies to fill his contacts with emojis instead of useful information, the goddamn stick figure drawing she’d sent him instead of a profile picture… It’s easy to misinterpret, even for someone with an intelligence level higher than that of the average street robber.
“Nah, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Hey, fuck you!” Mike screeches. “You fucking--”
The line crackles again, then goes dead.
“Ash? Come on. Ash?” She knows there won’t be a reply, but she can’t seem to stop asking. “Fuck. Ash?”
Mike’s door bursts open. Jason fumbles the light switch, then stands in the doorway, squinting. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks sleepily. “What the fuck?”
“Goddammit!” Mike lowers her phone, watching the screen fade to black. “Fuck. Ugh. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“What are you doing? Why are you screaming?” Jason blubbers, rubbing his eyes.
“I--fucking Ash,” Mike says, looking at her brother and acutely aware of how much she’s shaking. “He’s getting mugged or something. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Wait, what?” Jason shakes his head. “Ash?”
“Yeah, he called me, and they robbed him, and, fuck, I don’t know--”
“He called you for help?”
Jason’s fixated on the wrong part, and Mike has no patience for him. “No, before that,” she says. “But he’s not here. He’s at home. I don’t-- like, what do I…?” Her throat goes tight. The urge to help is alien to her. But it’s born of protective instincts, some overgrown aspect of her inability to turn away from a fight.
“God, Mike, I don’t know…” Jason comes to sit on the end of Mike’s bed just as Colby appears, looking much more awake.
“What? You ok?” Under any other circumstances, Mike would care about the differences in Colby’s and Jason’s approaches. But today there’s no time to spare on an answer.
“Ash is getting beat up, and he called me from fucking Ann Arbor, and he’s probably dying in the street two hours away from here,” Mike blurts, eager to push out the words as quickly as she can. The pressure of building tears makes her head throb. It’s a feeling she’s unfortunately used to, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.
“Ok, um…” Colby blinks a few times. He barely knows Ash, probably barely comprehends what Mike just said. He drops a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on Mike’s. “I think you should call the cops.”
“But it’s a different city!” Here comes the anger again. At least if Mike’s loud, she’s not sobbing. “They won’t do anything!”
“Maybe they can connect you or something.” Colby bites his lip. “I mean, it’s worth a shot.”
“They won’t fucking do anything,” Mike says. But she wakes the screen on her phone anyway.
“Do you want me to call? ‘Cause I will.” Colby holds out his hand. It’s how he operates, pressing Mike’s buttons and driving her up the wall in exactly the right way. Mike wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.
“I can do it,” she mutters defensively, dialing 911 and putting the phone on speaker.
“911, please state your emergency,” a young, female-sounding voice answers.
“I, um, ok.” Mike takes a breath. “My friend’s getting mugged. They beat him up and took his phone, and he’s hurt, I think.”
“He’s in Ann Arbor,” Mike says. She realizes she’s unsure where in Ann Arbor, making her even more unhelpful. She can rattle off Hannah’s address, give a general description of the neighborhood, but she doesn’t know where Ash’s apartment is, whether it’s north or south or closer to the university.
“Ok. This is East Lansing PD,” the operator says, sounding confused.
“Yeah, I live here,” Mike replies. “He’s in Ann Arbor. We were on the phone, and then the call got fucked up, and he’s getting robbed. They were beating him up!”
“Something happened during the phone call?” the operator clarifies.
“Yes!” Mike shouts, exasperated. “I heard it. There were two of them, taking his shit and hitting him!”
“Ok, sweetie, try to stay calm. Is he conscious, do you think?”
“Don’t fucking call me sweetie! I don’t know. I’m not fucking there.” Tears begin to drip from the corners of Mike’s eyes. “It’s all my fucking fault.”
“Take a breath,” the operator soothes. Mike doesn’t on principle.
Colby clambers onto the bed between Jason and Mike. He gently grabs Mike’s wrist and pulls the phone toward himself.
“This is her roommate,” Colby chimes in. “She’s really worried about her friend.”
“Ok, yes, I understand,” the operator says. “It’s just, it’s a different PD. I can’t dispatch from here.”
“Can you transfer the call?” Colby’s younger than Mike. She wonders how on earth he’s so mature.
“No, but I can give you the number. You can request a welfare check and let them know you suspect an assault.”
“Ok, ok, yeah, good,” Colby says. He leans over and digs a sharpie out of the mess on Mike’s bedside table. He scribbles the number on his palm as the operator reads it off, then thanks her profusely.
“That was a fucking waste of time,” Mike mumbles. The operator wasn’t inept, but Mike choses to color her that way anyway. It helps write over the piece of truth she’d spilled. Mike doesn’t want to think about it, but it is all her fault.
“No it wasn’t.” Colby takes Mike’s phone and starts dialing. He nudges Jason in the back with his knee. “Why don’t you go back to bed. I’ll be right there.” Then he looks at Mike, his gaze earnest again. “We’re gonna take care of this. It’s gonna be ok.”
Every part of Mike screams for her to contradict him. He’s being too optimistic. And she’s been lied to too many times to give the words any weight. But deep in her heart, she wants them to be true. So she stays silent as the phone line begins to ring.
