I'll Cry Instead

Chapter 2

"We've got to get help!" George called out to John and Ringo, the latter of which beginning to slow down, much to the frustration of Lennon.

"Yeah, but how! It would take a miracle to get these girls off our backs!" John groaned.

And, just as the words had left the rhythm guitarist's lips, a police station emerged in the distance.

"Well, miracles happen every day, Johnny!" Ringo smiled, relief rushing over him and the other two.

"Very true, mate," George grinned, the three band mates now only a few feet away from the station.

"Help!" John shouted as he raced up the station's steps before jerking the door opened.

George and Ringo were right behind him and were trying their best to make it through the door before the girls did.

Luckily, the lead guitarist succeeded, but the drummer was another story completely.

"Lads! Help me!" he cried as one of the crazed teenagers grabbed his coat sleeve, permitting him from making it any farther into the station.

"Gosh!" John spat, anger beginning to clutch him as he and George took hold of Ringo's hands.

"Pull!" George exclaimed.

"What the heck do ya think I'm doing!" John groaned as he gave Ringo's hand a particularly hard tug, effectively pulling the drummer inside the police station.

Ringo and George, now on the ground, watched John in terror as he tried his best to shut the door before the mob opened it.

Finally, not without great difficulty and having slammed the door on a few girls' hands, the rhythm guitarist shut the tall, green door with a resounding "thud!"

"Thank gosh!" John breathed as he helped his two mates off of the cold, wooden floor.

"Now let's go get help!" Ringo suggested, he and the others now in pursuit of an officer.

"Yes, we really need to get back to Paul. There's no telling what's happened to him," George sighed sadly as the three made their way to the front desk.

"You're right there, mate," Ringo solemnly agreed.

"Oy!" John started as he slapped his hand on the tall, wooden, front desk. "We need help! Our mate's been attacked by a mob and we can't help him until those insane girls outside your station are contained! Do ya hear me! He could be dead for all we know!"

With John's last sentence, George felt his heart sink. Paul couldn't really be dead, could he?

"Cor! We'll get right on it, sir!" the officer proclaimed as he blew his whistle. "Attention, men! We need a team of officers to fight a mob that's gathered outside the station! A lad's been injured!"

"Yes, sir!" could be heard throughout the bustling station as a plethora of officers made their way outside to contain the imbeciles.

"You there!" the officer in charge (previously known to John, George, and Ringo as the front desk man) called out.

"Yes, sir!" the brown-haired man replied.

"Once it's safe to exit this station, allow these lads here to take you to their friend, who's apparently been hurt," he demanded.

"Yes, sir."

"No! We can take him to you now! Surely the officers have contained the crowd already! Paul could be seriously injured!" John cried.

"I understand that, but we can't risk you three getting hurt either," the officer protested cooly.

"If we haven't been hurt already, I think we're fine! I'm sure the police have contained them enough for us to get by, and, if not, they have clubs, do they not? The officers can just whack them a good one! It's simple!" Lennon reasoned, not without raising his voice a bit.

"Sir?" the officer said, clearly asking his boss's permission.

"Alright. But make sure it's safe."

"Yes, sir," the officer answered as he turned to the three Beatles. "Take me to him."

"Gladly," John replied as the four made their way to the door.

"Nice work, Johnny," Ringo smiled.

"Ta. Now let's go help Macca."