Disclaimer: I own nothing. However, if Power Rangers did those spiffy novels like Star Trek and Star Wars, I'd be set for life. No infringement is intended.

DEAD MEN DO TELL TALES

By Etcetera Kit

Chapter Three: the Friendly Ghost

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"Who's there?"

"Who's there?"

"Andros?"

"Jason?"

"Sit down somewhere."

"Not there! I'm there!"

The bright light of a flashlight suddenly came on, having the same effect on their eyeballs as that of a supernova. Andros blinked a couple of times and the room came back into focus. Tommy had turned on his super-strength industrial flashlight and, unlike the pale beams of everyone else's flashlights, his had the sharp, white light of a fluorescent light bulb. Tommy was slowly aiming the flashlight around and the roll call was the same as it had been before the light initially went off. Jason, Tommy, Leo, Wes, Carter and TJ were all either sitting or standing around the parlor.

Andros groped around on the floor beside him and found his—Brian's—cow flashlight. Squeezing the handle, the flashlight came on and it mooed. The moo sounded rather mournful and depressed. He glanced around.

"Okay," Jason said in an unsteady voice. "Why did the lights go out?"

"Maybe Eric and all them went to basement and turned off the master switch?" Andros suggested.

"Did anyone else hear that scream?" Wes asked softly.

"Yeah," Tommy replied. "I think it came from upstairs."

"Did Eric, Conner and Cole go upstairs or down?" Carter asked.

Andros shook his head, even though no one was likely to see it. "I don't know."

"Probably went upstairs," TJ said, his voice shaking. "There's more interesting things upstairs and then in the attic." He paused. "They wouldn't be interested in anything that might be down in the basement."

By now, the pale moonlight was coming through the dusty drapes in the parlor. In spite of himself, Andros felt his breathing catch and his heart beat a faster staccato rhythm. This was not good. Whatever the case, it was unlikely that Eric and his crew had managed to turn out the lights. It was even more improbable because Cole was with them and Cole possibly hated practical jokes more than Eric.

"Okay," Tommy said in a deceptively steady voice. "Let's split into two groups. One group will get the lights back on and the other will look for Eric, Conner and Cole." He paused and took in a shaky breath. "Leo, Carter and TJ work on the lights. Jason, Wes and Andros come with me to find the others."

"Meet back here in one hour whether or not you've had success," Jason added to everyone in the parlor.

With that, they picked up their flashlights and went their separate ways.

"Did he go back in one of the bedrooms?" Conner asked as he and Eric crept back down the hallway, both of them visibly shaking. They were standing in front of the master bedroom door. Eric shrugged and tried the doorknob. It didn't move.

"What the hell?" Eric muttered. "This was open!" He glanced at Conner. "This was open earlier and I'm not going crazy."

"It was open," he agreed.

Eric banged on the door. "Dammit, Cole!" he yelled. "Open the door! After what we just saw, we believe you!"

"We're out here!" Conner added, not knowing what else to say. Eric had just about covered it with what he had been yelling.

Rattling the doorknob once more, Eric gave up with frustrated growl. "I don't know," he said shaking his head. "If Cole were in there, he would have opened the door already."

Conner nodded. "Maybe he went around us and up to the attic."

"Great."

They started towards the other end of the upstairs hallway that held the stairs to the attic, but froze at the sound of unearthly high-pitched laughter. In unison, they turned around and saw a woman, dressed in white standing at the top of the main staircase. She was one of the two ghosts they had initially seen in the master bedroom. Her right hand rested on the banister and her left hand was pillowed between her breasts. Her features, which normally would have been considered pretty, were twisted in an expression of evil joy. Her head was thrown back and blood—that looked real unlike the rest of her—gushed from a slit across her throat.

"Holy hell," Eric choked.

Conner felt Eric grab his arm and they were running in the opposite direction down the hallway. Soon enough, they came upon the narrow staircase that led to the attic and he would have missed it had Eric not shoved him into it and then dashed into it himself.

Crouching on the attic stairs, Conner tried to catch his breath as Eric leaned his head against the wall. "Never again will I say I don't believe in ghosts," Eric murmured.

Conner forced a small laugh before looking up the steep, narrow stairs. "Should we go up into the attic?"

Eric shook his head. "Ghosts rise. There're probably more of them up there than on the second floor." He paused. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired to running into them."

They both snapped to attention at the sound of heavy pounding coming from the attic and seemingly right towards them. "Not again," Conner groaned.

A man appeared at the top of the stairs. He was a pearly and transparent as the rest of the ghosts they had seen. He was dressed in a ragged stripped jail outfit with heavy manacles around his ankles and wrists. "Damn him!" the man screamed, rattling the chains. "He let his own son rot away in prison!" He suddenly caught sight of them. "Where is he? Where is my father? I will make him pay for betraying his own family!"

Conner looked at Eric and in a moment they were running off the attic steps, back into the upstairs hallway. He ran into Eric as he froze because the crazed woman was still standing at the top of the stairs. The two of them were stuck, frozen in the middle of the hallway between two ghosts. The man from the attic was drifting down the hallway, chains banging.

"Mother!" he screamed. "Where is my father?"

The woman just laughed, the blood now dripping right through her body and onto the floor below. The man floated around them and gripped her by the shoulders, shaking her.

"Where is he?"

"Ask them!" The voice was high and creaky. Conner was reminded strongly of exorcism movies where possessed people talked in strange voices.

The man turned around and, as if for the first time, fully registered the pair of them standing frozen in the middle of the hallway. He started to advance on them. As if the thought struck them as one, they turned and fled back for the attic.

Tommy Oliver's heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest and his hands were cold and slick with sweat, so much so that he had to keep on adjusting his grip on his flashlight. Wes was beside him, the man's flashlight beam shaking with his hands as they slowly made their way up the main staircase, hoping that Eric, Conner and Cole were up here. Jason and Andros were directly behind them and he knew that because Jason kept stepping on his heels. Those of them who had expected to spend a peaceful night in an old house were sorely mistaken. And he would be pissed if this turned out to be a practical joke.

He shone his flashlight around the hallway as he stepped on the top step. Wes froze, his flashlight pointed at the ground. "What is that?" he whispered, his voice shaking.

Jason stepped forward and shone his own light on it. "Some kind of stain," he said softly. "Almost looks like…"

"Blood," Andros finished for him.

Tommy swallowed as Wes stepped around the stain. He shone his flashlight down the hallway. As far as he could tell, it looked deserted. "Let's just try to find them," he said in a quivery voice. "Guys!" he called softly. "Conner? Eric? Cole?"

The only answer was the continued silence of the upstairs hallway. Tommy went to the first door they came upon and tried the doorknob, not even caring that Wes had a grip on his shirt sleeve and was probably not going to let go until they were far away from this house. The door was locked.

"They're not in a room that's locked," Jason said. "They're not stupid enough to lock themselves in somewhere either."

Tommy went to the second door. It swung open. Taking a deep breath, he shone his flashlight in and looked around. Nothing. There was just dusty furniture and pale moonlight coming through the window. He turned around to face Jason and Andros. "Nothing," he replied.

"Tommy!" Wes suddenly yelled, shoving him out of the way. The act in and of itself caused both of them to lose their balance and end up on the floor. Tommy looked over his shoulder and suddenly saw what Wes' problem had been. A chair had been levitating several feet off the ground and almost hit him.

A man materialized behind the wreckage of the chair. He was clad in what Tommy would have imagined was typical gangster wear from the 20s and 30s. He sucked in a shaky breath as the man delicately dusted off his lapels. He was also transparent and pearly white. Adjusting the flower in his lapel, he looked up at them mildly.

"Oh, hello!" he said pleasantly. "You must be Father's friends. He said he was giving a dinner party this weekend." He paused, glancing at Tommy and Wes who were in a heap on the floor. "I'd imagine dinner is about to be served. You might want to find more suitable clothing."

He delicately stepped over Wes, who was sprawled in the doorway, and out into the hallway. It was then that all of them realized that this man had a bullet-hole in the back of his head. The gory, red mess made Tommy's stomach churn since it seemed to be the only non-transparent part of him. The ghost descended the stairs and disappeared out of sight.

"Holy shit," Jason muttered.

Tommy slowly hauled himself to his feet, before grabbing Wes' arm and dragging him out of the shocked frozen state he was in.

"So it's you?"

His breathing stopped for a moment at the sound of the malignant voice. Wes moved closer to him as he stepped closer to Jason and Andros. None of them cared about 'personal bubbles' or social constructs. They were petrified. The ghost before them was a little girl—nothing more than about twelve. She was wearing a white dress, but the side of her head was misshapen and a bloody mess from a bullet wound.

"You're the ones who are going to take in Charles and Johnny! But I won't let you! You work for that no-good Thomas!"

The little girl bared her small teeth and flew upward. Without a second thought, Tommy leapt forward pulling Wes with him and barreled down the stairs, Jason and Andros close on his heels.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you." The man paused, a smile on his ghostly face. "That scream of yours certainly penetrated this room. I'll warrant your friends heard that."

Cole tried to control his shaking body. His entire body had broken out in a cold sweat and he was trying to keep from screaming again. The man looked perfectly comfortable sitting on the bed, talking to him.

"I'm Lord Thomas Westmoor," the ghost began. "I wanted my children to go back to England where they could inherit my title, but, sadly, the two eldest rebelled." The ghost gave him an appraising look. "And who are you?"

"Cole," he choked.

"Cole…" Lord Westmoor said in a musing tone. "What a strange name!" He shrugged. "I suppose it is one of those new-fangled things." He shook his head. "You and your friends should not be here. It is too dangerous." His expression turned sad. "Charles and Jonathan are restless tonight. My wife is insane. I don't know where Thomas is."

Cole sucked in a deep breath, not wanting to hyperventilate. "Who are they?" he asked in a strangled voice. Perhaps if he talked to this ghost like it was a normal human being.

"My sons. Charles and Jonathan joined one of the underground gangs as soon as they finished school. Thomas, my youngest, was going to be my heir since he was the only one who turned out decently." Lord Westmoor shrugged. "My daughter, younger than the boys, didn't like Thomas and warned Charles and Jonathan that he was bringing the police for them. Charles put a bullet in Thomas' back."

He nodded. This was incredible.

The ghost inclined his head towards him. "Perhaps you can help me. This war can be ended effectively if all of their bodies are put to rest. Charles buried Thomas in the cellar and then Charles was arrested and died in jail. That was not before my wife went insane and shot Jonathan and Veronica, before slitting her own throat."

Cole swallowed. "How did you die?"

The ghost cracked a small smile. "I was poisoned."

Cole decided not to press him for details on that, because he didn't want an accurate count of how many ghosts were running around this place. He was already half-sick over the notion of what had happened to these people.

"Look sir," Lord Westmoor continued. "Thomas and I can protect you and your friends, if you agree to help us."

Already petrified for himself and his friends, Cole nodded.

"There's a good lad. This war has been going on for far too long. Thomas needs to be put to rest in a proper place. Charles is in an unmarked grave at the old prison. He is the one that harasses all the others."

Cole shook his head. "That seems too simple." He voice was dry and croaked. His mouth was unbelievably parched.

"That is but one part of it. Charles had an illegitimate daughter. Since the others were killed before they could have heirs, this estate and the money tied with it belong to that woman and to any of her descendents. If that is settled, this will be put to rest."

"Are you sure?"

"From what I have gleaned from Charles' incoherent raving, I can be fairly certain that that is what he ultimately wants."

"How can I prove any of this?"

"I am about to tell you lad." The ghost stood up. "Thomas!" he called. "Thomas!"

The smiling ghost of a young man entered through a wall. He nodded to Cole before approaching his father. "Yes, Father?"

"This lad is going to help us," Lord Westmoor said.

TJ led the way as he, Carter and Leo made their way slowly to the kitchen of the house. Carter swallowed the nervous lump of fear in his throat. They had first gone to the hallway where Jason turned on the lights initially. That had produced no results. The only option was to go down to the basement and find the master switch. Not entirely sure how to get to the basement, they had decided that the kitchen would be the best place to start.

The kitchen had the feel of a room that had last been renovated in the 50s. The appliances were silent and in avocado green, or at least that was the color that Carter assumed them to be from the inadequate light of their flashlights.

"Very retro," TJ commented as they filed into the kitchen.

"Looks like something from the fifties," Carter added.

"Look!" Leo said, pointing his flashlight beam at a door.

"It's either the pantry or the door to the basement," TJ replied.

Leo pushed past them and went to the door. He gripped the door and turned the knob as TJ shone his flashlight on the place for light. Suddenly, Leo was screaming and his flashlight was rolling around on the floor.

"What?" Carter asked. "What's in there?"

TJ was frozen to the spot, pointing. Carter looked between Leo, who was on the verge of hysterics, and TJ, who was frozen to the spot from shock. He aimed his own flashlight at the open door and saw what had frightened them. The door was definitely that to a pantry—old cans of food and faded boxes were on the shelves, but that wasn't all. A skeleton was hanging from the light fixture, as if someone had hung it up there. Carter was pretty sure that it wasn't some prank either, because the thing looked and smelled rotted. He was reminded of charred corpses he had seen as a firefighter.

Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it. It was likely that someone had broken into the house and put the body there. And the publicists had not bothered to have the place cleaned before they came, so no one had any reason to look for it.

"I wonder who it was," Carter said softly.

"Shut the door," Leo said from somewhere on the floor. Carter reached forward and swung the door to the pantry shut once more. It occurred to him that TJ and Leo had probably never seen a corpse that was nothing but bones. If they had seen anything gruesome during the Countdown, then it would have been people dead from head injuries or falling objects, looking like they were sleeping and not dead. He almost forgot that not everyone confronted death on an everyday basis.

"That is just creepy," TJ said hoarsely.

"Probably some missing person the police never found," Carter replied trying to make his voice sound rational. "We can tell the police about it in the morning."

"If we live that long." Leo sounded mournful and frightened.

"Let's just look for basement," Carter said.

"If that was in the pantry, then I don't want to think about what is in the basement," Leo muttered, bending to pick up his flashlight.

"You want lights or not!"

"Yes," TJ replied loudly. "Let's get cracking."

Carter shone his flashlight around. There was the appliances that were no longer working—refrigerator, double oven, stove, even a dusty toaster and blender as if someone had been living here but left in a hurry. Cobwebs were abundant and he fought the urge to sneeze. He suddenly came upon a narrow door in the corner.

"I think it's there," he said softly.

TJ went over to the door and pushed it open. The three of them clustered around the black as ink opening. Their flashlight beams did not penetrate far into the true absence of light down there. The most they could see was a few steps down.

"So?" TJ asked in a falsely flippant tone of voice. "Who's going first?"

"No way in hell!" Leo replied.

"Come on!" Carter said, trying to sound reasonable. "What's going to be down there that could hurt us?"

Leo gave him an incredulous look. "The lights? The screaming? I don't want to think about what kind of devil-spawned creation did that!" Carter and TJ both gave him bored looks, seeing as both of those things could have been practical jokes by Eric and his bunch. "Fine!" Leo said, his voice both snappish and groaning. "I'll go first."

The Galaxy Ranger took a tentative step down onto the first step. Carter stepped down next, staying right behind him. TJ followed suit.

"See anything?" Carter asked Leo.

"No. I don't think there're any windows down here. Nothing. Not even moonlight."

Carter was about to reply, but Leo's foot caught on a step and he went tumbling down into the darkness. Try as he might, his flashlight didn't reach the bottom of the stairs and soon they heard the sickening thud of Leo hitting the ground.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys! I'm chugging along with this fic-- spread the word! I'm going global! But at any rate, I also did a good deed and e-mailed some site PTB about getting the new DT characters added. We shall see if they listen to me... But once more, thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying it! --EK