Part II
Tommy had never been more grateful that his uncle loved his personal space; he paced about the trailer's spacious living area like a caged tiger as he waited for word on Kimberly's condition. Aunt Jess and Muriel were seeing to Kim's injuries. Why was it taking so long?
"You're going to wear a hole in my carpet," John teased him gently.
"I can't help it," Tommy sighed, running a hand up under his hair and around his neck.
"Your little girl was pretty beat up; she needs a hospital not a track nurse."
"I know that. Why didn't you call for an ambulance?"
"And run the risk of those silver plated goons going after her in the hospital? She seemed to think that they'd find her no matter where she was." John regarded his nephew for a moment. "Tommy, I know you've been keeping something from us . . . something important."
Tommy's blood suddenly ran cold. "What do you mean?"
"Your sudden departures at all hours of the day or night haven't exactly gone unnoticed, and your excuses were pretty thin. You never could lie convincingly. Your folks never pressured you about it, but they knew something was up, and they always had this feeling that if you could have told them about it, you would have."
For a moment, Tommy thought of giving his uncle the answer he deserved, but old habits died hard. "It . . . doesn't matter any more, Uncle John. That part of my life is over now."
"Is it?" John asked pointedly, and Tommy understood what he was getting at. Those creeps chasing Kim were an awful lot like some of the things they had fought as Power Rangers, but they were colder somehow, more lethal. And the way Kim had taken them out was just as cold and lethal. Tommy desperately wanted answers; however, the only person who could give them to him was out cold in his aunt and uncle's bedroom.
Ooh, you make me live.
Whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see
Ooh, you make me live....
The words to the song brought Tommy up short. He had gotten so used to Aunt Jess having music on all the time that he scarcely paid attention to it, and he was so preoccupied with Kim that he hadn't realized that it was even. Tommy recognized the group as another of his aunt's favorites: Queen.
You're the best friend
That I've ever had
I've been with you such a long time
Kim was his best friend . . . well, once upon a time before a certain letter had arrived at the Juice Bar. Best friend. Teammate. The person he loved more than anything else in the world . . . and he had always thought that she had felt the same way. He would have sworn to it. Apparently, she felt otherwise. Still, the letter seemed so unlike Kim . . . there hadn't been any warning. How could someone just fall out of love? They hadn't had a fight or anything like that. At Christmas, she had seemed so happy with him. Even if she had fallen out of love with him, it was still out of character for her to dump him in a letter. That wasn't like Kim at all; it just didn't make any sense to him.
You're my sunshine
And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you . . .
Whatever the cause, the sunshine had gone out of his life the day he had received that letter. It was as if all the joy had been sucked out of everything he did. In spite of it all, he really did still love Kim. He supposed he should be angry with her or hate her; if it hadn't been for his duties as a Ranger . . . he had often wondered how he had carried on without half his soul.
Pretty deep thoughts for someone who's going to be nineteen in a few months, he mused. It was the truth, though; he had never felt whole after that day, and Kat, well . . . she could never replace Kim. Sometimes her presence only served to remind him of what he had lost.
At the moment, however, Tommy felt no anger. He felt fear--fear for the beaten young woman in the other room--and the desire to protect her at all costs.
"How's your patient?" John queried.
Tommy spun around. He hadn't heard his aunt emerge from the bedroom.
"She sleeping pretty deeply," Jess reported, shaking her head. "Poor thing, I wonder when was the last time she had a decent night's rest. Or when she last had a decent meal. Her ribs are so prominent . . . no wonder they bruised so easily. She's seen some hard living of late."
"With those things chasing after her, I shouldn't wonder," John sighed.
Tommy still had yet to find his voice.
"Muriel says that there's evidence of other injuries that have healed over--without benefit of a doctor's care," Jess continued. "Tommy, do you know what's going on? It's obvious Kim's in trouble, and she's deathly afraid that we're going to get hurt if we help her."
"I wish I knew, Aunt Jess; I haven't heard from her since she broke up with me," Tommy confessed. His aunt patted his arm reassuringly.
"Let her sleep for now; she needs it. There'll be time enough for questions later."
"We'd just better be prepared in case trouble shows up," John added.
"Here, Tommy." Jessica tossed him a key ring with a single key. "There's nothing you can do here but wait, and I know how much you love waiting."
"What's this?" Tommy queried.
"The key to Kim's hotel room. It fell out of her pocket when we slipped her jeans off. Go get her bags. It probably won't be safe for her to go back there."
* * *
Tommy had never heard of the hotel before, and when he pulled into the parking lot, he had to do a double take. The place wasn't exactly a dive, but not far from it.
Kim, what has happened to you!
He found her room facing an interior hallway, and Tommy couldn't shake the feeling that she had chosen it for security purposes. Upon entering the small, spartan room, he was surprised to find only one bag--Kim's old backpack. He probably shouldn't have, but he felt compelled to go through the contents. They were pitifully few: a brush, toothbrush, travel sized toiletries (he had the uncomfortable feeling they had been gleaned from hotels like this one), a pitifully small roll of money, jeans, shorts, a couple of t-shirts, a sweatshirt, some underwear . . . things that could be easily stuffed into the bag in a hurry. And it looked like they had been so stuffed pretty recently.
How long have you been on the run from these things, Kim?
Then, he found something else in the bottom of the bag; it was the only item that was neatly folded. He nearly dropped it when he pulled it out into the light. A flannel shirt--white and green checked . . . one of his. Tommy closed his eyes, remembering the day he had given it to her as if it was yesterday instead of nearly four years ago . . .
"Here, Kim," Tommy said, pulling his shirt off and placing it over her tiny shoulders.
"Thanks. It wasn't supposed to be this cold," she replied, snuggling into the warm, soft fabric. She inhaled deeply, then giggled. "It smells like you."
"Well, I have been wearing it all day," he replied sheepishly.
"I don't mind. I like the way you smell."
She had tried to give it back at the end of the afternoon, but he had told her to keep it. The first time she had worn it around the others, she had blushed as red as Jason's uniform when Zack teased her about it.
Why would she have kept it if she didn't care for me any more?
Tommy noticed a lump inside the shirt, and pulled out a well worn book with a broken lock. A diary? He opened the front cover, and the writing therein shook him almost as much as seeing his old shirt: To the finder of this book. If anything happens to me, please send this book to Tommy Oliver . . . .
Why would she want her diary sent to him?
However, before Tommy could pursue the thought, he heard noises outside Kim's door--a suspiciously familiar creaking noise. Diary and shirt in hand, he dove under the sagging bed. Scarcely had the bedspread settled back in place when the door flew inward in a shower of splinters. Tommy glimpsed four pairs of metal-shod feet from the safety of his hiding place.
"Scanners register one human life form," a flat, almost robotic sounding voice intoned.
Okay, they aren't human, Tommy mused. A lump formed in his throat. They knew he was there and no doubt knew exactly where he was hiding. What he wouldn't give to have his old communicator/teleporter back!
"If it is not the intended target, then it does not concern us." Another of the would-be assassins remarked; his voice rang with the tone of command. "Proceed with elimination directive."
Tommy almost breathed a sigh of relief, then he heard a chilling whoosh and smelled smoke. Shit, they've torched the room!
Tommy remained hidden for a few more seconds, wanting to make sure that the hunters were gone. When he rolled out from under the bed, he found the room totally engulfed in flames; window and door were both blocked.
Let's hope this jumpsuit is as flameproof as Uncle John says it is, Tommy gulped, gathering himself to make a dash towards the flaming doorway. However, before he could move, he vanished in a flash of red tinged white light.
*
Tommy soon found himself rolling across the floor of the Power Chamber. When he skidded to a stop, he found himself at the base of Dimitria's column.
"Oh man, Dimitria, if you weren't in that tube, I'd kiss you!" Tommy gushed.
"I am pleased to see you, too, Tommy," the native of Inquirus remarked, wryly amused. "It is not often that one encounters the Mercytes and lives to tell of it."
"Mercytes? You mean those sleazebuckets in the pointy armor?"
"Yes."
"Who or what are they?"
"Mercytes are android assassins, outlawed in most portions of the universe. They are the deadliest hunters known to civilized beings. Like Alpha, they are fully sentient once activated and do not stop until their programed target is eliminated. Very much like a hydra, if you strike one down, another arises to take its place."
"Programed target . . . they're after Kimberly, but why?"
"That is unknown. It was by merest chance that Alpha detected their presence; the Mercyte are well cloaked from most technology. The scanners registered an anomalous energy signature . . . the briefest flash . . ."
"I bet when Kim fried those tin cans . . . in the seconds before they disintegrated," Tommy realized. "Dimitria, what can I do? Those things have been chasing Kim for who knows how long . . ."
"It is a credit to her resourcefulness and intelligence that she is still alive."
"Is there anything you can do to stop them? I know Kim and I aren't Rangers any longer, but.…"
"I will consult with the Blue Centurion; perhaps he has had some experience in dealing with the Mercyte. To my knowledge, there is only one way to stop a Mercyte: change it's programing at the source."
"You mean, find out who wants Kim dead and get him/her/or it to tell the things to leave her alone? We don't even know where to begin looking," Tommy sighed defeatedly.
"Perhaps her diary will provide us with some clues," Dimitria suggested.
"I sure hope so. I'd better get back to the track . . . back to Kim."
"I will return you to your vehicle."
Dimitria regarded the monitor as she watched the former Ranger slide into his truck.
Finding who wishes your friend dead will be more difficult than you know. The Mercyte you are dealing with are more sophisticated than anything I have ever encountered. Somebody in the future wishes Kimberly Hart eliminated in the past.
* * *
"Tommy, where have you been!" John exclaimed as Tommy pulled up along side the trailer. "When they cut in with the news broadcast about the fire at Kim's hotel . . .was it those silver things looking for her?"
"Yes, it was the Mercytes."
"Mercytes?"
"That's what they're called."
"How did you . . .?" John began, but he saw the look in Tommy's eye as he ushered him into the trailer. He knew Tommy wanted to tell him but for some reason could not. Well, if his nephew couldn't tell him, then maybe it was time he took a guess. "The Power Rangers?" John was rewarded by the flash of alarm, surprise, and relief in Tommy's eyes. Somehow, it made perfect sense that his nephew had been one of the teen superheroes. "This sounds like something that'd be up their alley. What's that?" he asked, indicating the book and the shirt.
"All that's left of Kim's stuff," Tommy replied. That his uncle had figured out he was a Ranger had startled him, but he was immensely relieved to have it out--and that he wasn't going to pry. In truth, he knew he needed to tell them with the danger Kimberly was in.
"Is the book important?"
Tommy clutched the small volume as if his life depended on it. "It's Kim's diary."
The reason Tommy had been so late in returning was because he had pulled off to the side of the road to skim through it. He hated violating Kim's privacy like that, but he just had to know . . .the words he read had already etched themselves on his heart and soul.
. . . I couldn't bear it if anything happened to Tommy, so I did the only thing I could do. I sent him that God-awful letter telling him I had found someone else. I had to otherwise he would have demanded an explanation . . . I couldn't run the risk of having him coming down here looking for me. I know Tommy; if I said I was happy with someone else, he wouldn't cause trouble. He'd want me to be happy. It killed me to do that, but I had to make whoever was hurting my family and friends believe that I truly didn't love Tommy any more . . .when I loved him more than anything else in the whole world . . .
"The things have been after Kim almost since she left Angel Grove," Tommy explained. "They've gone after everyone close to Kim . . . they even found Caroline and Adrian in Paris. That's why she sent me that letter, Uncle John. She was trying to protect me."
There was more . . . lots more, and all of it difficult to read. After the attacks in Paris, Kim realized that she was being stalked. The gym wasn't safe any longer. He read how she had planned her escape and how she very nearly hadn't made it. She had been on the run for almost a year, living like a fugitive and trying to stay alive and one step ahead of her relentless pursuers. Gone was the perky, optimistic teenager; in her place was a woman hardened by the fight for survival, and Tommy wasn't the only one who mourned her loss:
This isn't living; I'm tired of running, tired of being afraid. They've taken away everything that has ever given my life meaning. I want this to end. The next time an attack comes, I'm not going to flee. Maybe I should have tried fighting back a long time ago. Maybe then this nightmare would have been over by now . . . yeah, right. Who am I kidding; I'd already be dead.
I know I shouldn't go back, but I can't help it. If I'm gonna die when I finally make my last stand against the sleazoids, I want to be able to see my friends one last time. To say good-bye, even if they can't hear my words. I just wish I could tell Tommy . . . more than anything, I wish that. I hope this diary survives me; then he'll know . . .
Tommy shuddered at the thought that Kim had come home to die.
Not if I can help it!
"Jess, she's starting to wake up," Muriel called from the bedroom. Tommy bounced up from the couch as his aunt emerged from the kitchen.
"Maybe you should wait out here," Jess suggested gently as she passed through. Tommy ignored her and wandered down the hall after her.
*
"Wh-where am I?" Kim groaned. Blurry faces swam before her eyes. Every breath made fire explode in her chest; every movement caused her muscles to scream in pain.
"Safe, Kimberly," Jess said.
"Nowhere's safe for me anymore. I gotta go, before they come back . . ." Kim tried to scramble out of bed, but a firm hand pushed her back, and she didn't have the strength to fight. "Who are you?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten. Jessica Rush, remember?"
"Tommy's aunt . . . Omigod, Tommy! Those sleazoids . . . is he okay?"
"Sh, settle down. Your sharpshooting saved him."
" . . . never killed 'em before . . . always ran . . . but I had to . . ." Tears choked her, and she tried to hide them.
"We know, Kim." Jess glanced back at the doorway and noticed Tommy standing there; he looked on the verge of tears himself.
"Please, I've got to go; you're in danger as long as I'm here."
"We understand the risks, Kimberly. We're here to help you. Besides, you have nowhere to run to."
"I need to get my things . . . get out of town . . ."
"The hotel was torched by your pursuers; there's nothing left for you to get."
"No! Was anyone hurt?" That was her worst fear: that innocents would be harmed.
"Everyone made it out, according to the news reports." Muriel supplied helpfully.
"Thank God."
"But I'm afraid you lost everything . . . your room was the one where the fire started," Jess explained. "I sent Tommy to get your things, but I don't think he . . ." Muriel tapped her shoulder. When Jess looked, she saw that Muriel was holding a book and a flannel shirt and that Tommy had retreated to the shadows again. "Actually, he managed to salvage two things."
"My diary," Kim murmured numbly as she accepted the book. Then, she glimpsed the other item Jess held out to her. With quivering hands, she took the garment from Tommy's aunt and clutched it to her chest. "Thank God, oh thank God!" Tears streamed down her cheeks; then came the sobs--great body racking sobs. Kim buried her face in Tommy's shirt as all the unshed tears from the last year came pouring out in unstoppable torrents.
It was too much for Tommy. He rushed over to Kim's side and pulled her into his arms. He held her as if he would never let her go.