Chapter Ninety-five

The Whole Lie

The sound of metal on metal left the ears ringing. For a long moment, no one spoke; they were too busy exchanging horrified glances.

"Oh, no," Trini whispered.

"What the hell was that?" Kimberly demanded.

"I told you not to jar the door!" Trini shrieked.

"It was an accident!"

"Was not," Tommy muttered sulkily.

"You triggered the security system!" Trini wailed.

"What? What's going on?" Tommy demanded.

"The primary mechanical defenses have—"

"Someone who isn't Billy, please!"

"Sorry!"

"You just set off the security system and now we have to wait about twelve hours to get you out!" Trini yelled.

"WHAT?" Kimberly shouted, horrified.

"No," Hayley said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at her. She blinked, startled by the attention, then drew herself up proudly. "No," she repeated firmly. "We're not leaving them in there for the next twelve hours. We're going to get him out of there."

"But we can't—" Trini began.

"Yes, we can. Every last one of us has saved the world at some point—me included—and I absolutely refuse to let a closet door get the best of me. We can do this."

"So what's the plan?" Jason asked.

"We… we could saw through the door," Billy suggested slowly. "Now that the security system went off, there's no point in trying to avoid jarring the door."

"Kimberly might be able to squeeze between the bars, but not Tommy," Trini replied, shaking her head.

"But… we don't need to get them out, do we?" Zack said. "I mean, we just need to get you or Jason in. Then you can tell the computer to back off with the steel bars and pop the lock, right?"

Trini's eyes widened, and then her face lit up. "Jason, get the chainsaw!" she exclaimed.

"That has got to be the creepiest thing I've ever heard a chick say," Conner muttered.

"And you've heard some very creative threats in your time," Trent said.

Jason started to turn towards the stairs, then stopped. "The chainsaw that you leant to Mr. Greenlee?" he asked Trini.

"Yeah, that one. It should … oh." Trini swore and smacked her forehead. "Great. Just great!"

"Square one again," Billy said glumly.

"No, no—we just need a saw," Hayley said, determined not to lose the momentum they were gaining.

"Wal-Mart," Kira said. "That's where my dad got his—and they're open twenty-four hours, right?"

"They're pretty expensive," Trini said. "A hundred and fifty dollars, easy."

"I'll buy," Billy offered. "I think some of my friends on Aquitar might like to study one, anyway."

"You should stay here, though, in case we need you," Trini said. "And you don't have a car…"

"I'll go," Zack said. "Give me the card."

"Take Kira with you," Trini said as Billy passed his credit card to Zack.

"Why?"

"Because you'll need someone sensible along," Trini replied dryly.

Zack shrugged. "Sure. Come on, Kira."

They headed for the stairs. "What can I do to help?" Conner asked eagerly.

"Stop formulating plans," Trini said, glaring at him.

"Why don't you and Ethan go hop on the computer upstairs?" Jason suggested. "Look up dog digestion and see what we can do about that."

"That's a great idea," Billy agreed. "Research how long it will take to pass naturally and the causes of canine digestive problems. Print out anything that can induce loose feces and frequent bowel maneuvers with minimal lasting effects."

Ethan looked horribly disgusted, but Conner was simply confused. "Um, what?"

"He wants us to find a way to give the dog diarrhea," Ethan explained with a shudder.

"What? EW! No way am I gonna—"

"Oh, yes, you are," Jason said darkly.

"Yes, sir," Conner said hastily, leaping towards his feet and heading towards the stairs.

"Trent, go hang in the back yard with Tommy," Jason added. "Make sure the key's not already sitting on the lawn somewhere." Trent grimaced, but nodded and followed Conner and Ethan.

"Jason, you should try and go get our chainsaw back," Trini said.

"Trini, it's almost two-thirty a.m. How am I supposed to tell him that I woke him up because I need a chainsaw in the middle of the night?"

"I don't care, make something up! If you manage it, call Zack and tell him not to bother buying a new one; you should be able to get it back in time, provided you can wake Mr. Greenlee up. If you can't get it back, or you can't get it back in time, then it'd still be nice to have a spare, in case something goes wrong. Meanwhile, Billy, Hayley and I will keep brainstorming."

Jason sighed. "All right. See you soon."

"Hurry up!" Tommy whined.

"Whiner," Kimberly muttered.

"I don't whine!"

"Do too."

Trini sighed. "This is going to be a long night."

Hayley bent down and picked up a flashlight near the toolbox. "Sure, Hayley. Go cheer Tommy on at Power Rangers Day. He could use a little cheering up over the whole power loss thing. Keep his feet on the ground amidst the nostalgia. Great idea, Hayley. It's not like Tommy will get trapped with his ex-girlfriend in a closet imported from Area 51."

Tommy snorted. "That's you, Hayley. Always thinking on the bright side."

"You so owe me for this," Hayley called back. "I'm not talking you buy dinner. I'm talking you feed me for a week."

"Hayley?"

"Hmm?"

"Conner sat in the front seat during the drive. It took me about eight hours to get here. Conner made up a dumb chant about me and my friends overheard. Trini caught me eavesdropping on Kim in my underwear. They told that story about the zord wreck when we went to the beach. Kimberly's been scaring me to death all week. Kim and Jason said some very embarrassing things when we sparred together. Billy told his dad we're the Power Rangers. I ran into a girl on the Ferris wheel that I scarred for life. Rocky and Zack let Conner make out with an axe murderer. Today we went to the mall. The fountain got broken and gerbils were everywhere and I fell through the ceiling of Spencer's and then Conner disappeared and by the time we found him he was washing orange paint off an illegal monkey in the hotel pool. And now I'm trapped in a closet with my ex and I can't get out unless Zack buys a chainsaw at Wal-Mart or Conner gives a dog diarrhea."

Hayley paused, thinking this over.

"Okay, okay, you've suffered enough." She smiled affectionately in the direction of the door. "Now be quiet, and I'll try to get you out of there."

"Kay," Tommy said, sounding almost cheerful. Nothing made him feel better about a bad situation than Hayley's presence.

Hearing the upswing in his mood, Trini decided Kimberly could probably use the same reassurance. "Kim, honey, how you holding up?" she called.

Kimberly didn't respond for a moment. Then—

"Tommy's mean!" Kimberly wailed.

Tommy stared in her direction, horrified. She couldn't. She wouldn't. No.

"Don't you dare," Tommy threatened, but it sounded more like a plea of desperation than anything else.

Kimberly burst into tears.

"Kim, it's okay," Billy called, his heart wrenching at the sound and the knowledge that a very thick door, the lock from hell and a good deal of metal kept him from comforting her.

"No it isn't! Tommy hates me and I never wanted him to hate me and it's not my fault and I got a stuffed bear at the carnival and it was pink and I just needed to use the shower and there was that awful dream and I didn't mean to say that about his lack of pajamas!"

Trini cleared her throat. "Kim, honey, why don't we talk about it later, okay?"

"STOP CRYING!" Tommy shouted. "I hate it when you cry! It makes me all… all… me!"

"I can't help it!" Kimberly cried. "You hate me and you're mean and I need a hug and I can't have one because Billy and Jason and Trini and Zack are out there and I'm in here and you're mean!"

Tommy's chest constricted painfully. He hated to see girls cry. More importantly, he hated to see Kimberly cry. "Please stop?" he pleaded.

"MEANIE!"

"Kim, we're going to get you out of there," Trini promised. "And then we'll all give you a nice big hug, okay? And we'll go shopping. We'll buy shoes. And purses. Lots of purses."

Kimberly only sniffled in response. Tommy longed to take Kimberly into his arms… but knew he'd get only a smack upside the head if he tried.

"Please get us out of here," he begged, speaking to no one in particular. "Fast."

There weren't many people in Wal-Mart so late at night, but there were a few college kids who were still running on their final exam sleep schedules and wide-eyed tourists who weren't sure what to do when all the clubs and bars and attractions closed down. There was a sleepy, cheerful pace to it all as the cashiers blandly ran their customers' purchases over the scanner. Calm and quiet prevailed, broken only by the electronic beeps of the barcode readers and the occasional muttered social nicety.

So it came as a complete shock when the automatic doors whooshed open and someone screamed, "I need a chainsaw!"

A few people yelped as everyone turned to stare at the two people standing just inside the automatic doors, a man and a teenaged girl, both of them looking frantic and disheveled. They were both in sleepwear; the girl wasn't even wearing shoes.

The seventy-four-year-old man standing by the entrance took a moment to catch his breath. Finally he stopped clutching his heart and plastered the customary smile of a Wal-Mart greeter on his face. "Hardware's in the back, son. Hang a left at the bean bags and it's just past the toilet seats."

"Thanks, man. Come on!" Grabbing the girl's arm, the man raced off, his sneakers flopping against his feet.

"What was that all about?" the manager asked the greeter worriedly.

"Two kids showed up in the middle of the night and ask for directions to the chainsaws," the greeter replied. "I've been working here thirty years, and that's only happened once. Back in 1982. Horrible thing, it was."

"Why's that?" she asked nervously.

"Those kids that bought that chainsaw in '82 ended up cutting up their—"

"I don't want to know, never mind!" she yelped.

"Good idea. It's a very gruesome story. Don't much like telling it. But those kids didn't look much like these ones. Those other kids back in 1982, they was fully dressed. Real fancy like. Just after prom, or some such nonsense. The one had a little blood on his shirt. But these was just in pajamas, couldn't see no blood… You'd better call the police, thought, just to make sure. They looked like they'd maybe been drinking."

"I think I'll do that," the manager agreed, and rushed off behind the customer service desk.

Zack stared at the chainsaws in disbelief, nervously fingering the cell phone clipped to the waistband of his shorts. Chainsaws, outside of horror movies, had never held much appeal for him. He'd never used one, or even looked at one up close. So he had no earthly idea which one he was supposed to buy.

"Well, the two cheapest ones are the Poulan Predator and the Remington Electric," Kira said. "Remington is on sale."

"Remington's the name of a shotgun," Zack said uncomfortably.

"Well, yeah, maybe it's the same manufacturer. Kind of like the people who make Marlboro cigarettes make Kraft macaroni."

"Are you serious?" Zack demanded.

"What?" Kira asked, startled.

"The profits from my Spongebob Squarepants Cheese and Macaroni go to a tobacco company?"

"Er… well… if you look at it the other way, the profits from tobacco go to the Spongebob Squarepants Cheese and Macaroni company," Kira said soothingly, silently thanking Conner for all the practice he'd given her for situations like these.

"Oh." He paused. "Maybe we should get the Poulan one."

"The Predator?"

"Yeah. …It does sound creepier than the Remington, doesn't it."

"Yep. And it's gas."

"Why does that matter?"

"Hell if I know. But the Remington's electric."

"I see. Uh… which one's better?"

"Mm… this one has a thirty-four cubic centimeters engine—at least, I think that's what that means—and the other has a three-point-five horsepower engine."

"Uh-huh." There was a long pause. "So which one's better?"

"Well… this one's got a low kickback bar for extra safety and the other one's got a chain break to slow down or stop the chain."

"…I still don't get it."

"I don't either. Why don't I just keep reading the features on the side of the box until something clicks?"

"Okay."

"They're both fully assembled… um… they both have sixteen-inch bars, whatever that means…"

"Trini's has a twenty-inch bar."

"Oh, so you do know something about chainsaws?"

"Nah. I made a joke when she was telling me about it. Jason laughed. Trini smacked me."

"Ah. Um… uh… cord hitch, keeps the extension cord from being unplugged…"

"Wait! I have the solution!"

"Yeah?"

Zack raised his finger dramatically. "Eeney, meeney, miney, moe!" he intoned, pointing from one to the other.

"So the Remington, then?"

Zack frowned. "I'm not finished. Ahem. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. My momma told me to pick the very best one and you are n… wait. I think I lost my place."

Kira sighed.

"UGH! That's a picture of a dog's stomach?" Conner demanded, horrified.

"Of a dog's cancerous large intestine. It's not the same thing. I told you we didn't want to do an image search." Ethan kept his head firmly turned away from the computer. "Now give me the mouse, will you?"

"No! I want to be the computer geek for once!"

Ethan sighed.

Trent stared down at the enormous dog as it dropped the stick at Trent's feet yet again. Wearily, Trent leaned down to pick it up. "Okay, look, Tommy. Isn't there any way you could just, you know, magically go ahead and give back the key?"

The dog cocked its head to the side and looked at him thoughtfully for a second. Then he nudged the stick with his nose impatiently.

Trent sighed.

During his twenties, Mr. Greenlee had been awakened in the middle of the night many a time by visitors. He had always jovially greeted the person knocking and geared up to go out and party without a second thought. However, he was now forty-five, married, three kids, nine-to-five job, completely not jovial and fully planning to do the exact opposite of going out for beers with whoever dared pound on his door at two-thirty on a Thursday late night.

"What… Jason?" Mr. Greenlee groaned, confused and still half-asleep. Jason lived five doors down with his wife. Mr. Greenlee knew him in a casual-acquaintance sort of way. Mid-twenties, not married long enough to stop being "happily married," taught karate, hot wife, no kids, and a really cool motorcycle. He'd always seemed agreeable enough, until now. Dimly Mr. Greenlee noted that Jason was shirtless with his pants sagging like a mid-1990s high school dropout, a nervous but hopeful expression on his face.

"I need my wife's chainsaw back," Jason said sheepishly.

Mr. Greenlee gaped at him. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I know, and I'm really sorry. But there's this thing… the cat—I mean, the dog… cuz, you know, we do have a dog… he got… um, he got stuck in the… tree, and he's real distressed, and the tree… fell down… onto the roof… and the dog… is on the roof… and we need to cut the tree down so we can… get the dog back… before he… falls off or… gets stuck in the chimney or… yeah. …Please? I'm really sorry. It's just… bad night, you know?"

"Your dog… is on your roof."

"Yeah."

"Because he was in a tree."

"Yeah."

"…How did he get in the tree?"

"It's a big dog. He… jumped. …A lot."

"And now you want to cut down the tree."

"Yeah."

"With a chainsaw."

"Yeah."

"At two-thirty in the morning?"

"We don't want the dog to get hurt."

"Why can't he just run down the tree?"

"Um… he's a little… angry… at the tree."

"…Why don't you climb up the tree and go get the dog?"

"Well… he's a heavy dog."

"You've got more muscles on you than a Chippendales dancer."

"…Um, thanks. I think."

"What I mean is, surely you can lift the dog."

"Er… he might… um… bite. He's real distressed, see. Poor Tommy, all alone in—I mean, on there…"

"How are you going to get the dog down from the roof without the tree there to climb?"

"…Ladder?"

"Why don't you just call the fire department?"

"Oh… well… it's late. It'd make too much noise. Sirens, you see…"

"And chainsaws don't make noise?"

"No, no. Trini's is really quiet."

"…I've used that thing. It's got more kickback than a wronged mule and a good deal of power."

Jason stared at him blankly. "Yes, but other than that, it's real quiet. Isn't it?" he added hopefully.

"Son, go home. Call the fire department. Or better yet, just get a ladder and climb up on the roof without bothering with the tree at all. If your dog's on the roof, and you're planning to go up there and get him, then the tree shouldn't matter at all. Chop up the tree in the morning."

"Yes, right, I'll do that." Jason paused, not moving from his spot on the porch. "But while I'm here, and you're awake and everything, could I please have my wife's chainsaw back?"

Mr. Greenlee glared at him and started to slam the door. With a resounding thud, Jason's fist smacked against the wood so hard that the door not only stopped but bounced into the opposite wall and then back into Jason's hand; he caught it by the edge of the wood and held it firmly open. Mr. Greenlee stared, shocked. There was now a sort of gleam in Jason's eye, a mad gleam, a determined gleam. A gleam of warning.

"I love my wife," Jason announced in a cheerfully threatening tone. "And she needs her chainsaw."

"Okay. So we're down to the Remington and the Predator."

"Just pick one already, will you?" Kira said wearily. She was now sitting on the floor, leaning tiredly against a shelf full of toolboxes.

"You don't understand. This is really important. We have to get this right. If we don't, Trini will beat the crap out of me."

Kira couldn't resist smiling at that, but it faded quickly. She was so tired. They hadn't had a whole lot of sleep on this vacation. And there had been all that hectic crap today. Conner. Power-walking with Kimberly around the mall. The gerbil fight and the keycard fight with Dr. O (cue extreme shuddering). And now this. She should have known better than to listen to the plans of Conner, Ethan and Trent. It was like letting a toddler drive her car.

"They're right over here, officer," said a woman's voice, and Kira and Zack looked up to see a Wal-Mart manager standing with three men—the elderly greeter and two cops.

The same two cops from the park and the hotel.

Steven and Jarel.

Kira leaped to her feet, coming to stand next to and slightly behind Zack, staring at them in horror. Steven's eyes narrowed at Zack.

"Zack?"

"I'm sorry?" Zack asked politely, his tone a little strained.

"Zack. Zack Taylor?"

"Sorry, man—I think you have me confused with someone else," Zack lied, the words coming out a little smoother now.

"Zack Taylor," Steven insisted stubbornly. "We were on the football team at Angel Grove High together."

"I'm from Reefside," Zack assured him. "We're just passing through. Needed a chainsaw."

"Just like those kids in '82!" the greeter proclaimed triumphantly.

"Step back, please," Jarel told the greeter and manager. They hastily vanished out of sight behind the shelves.

"A chainsaw," Steven repeated. "In the middle of the night. Is there some reason you're both rather… stoned-looking?"

"We're sleepy!" Kira said indignantly. "I don't even get stoned!"

"We just need a chainsaw," Zack said. "I don't see how that's a crime."

"You want to talk about crime?" Steven said menacingly, taking a step forward. "Let's talk about crime. Let's talk about monkeys in pools and girls helping thieves escape into a hotel the Black Ranger likes to frequent where you try to score with the desk clerk in the laundry room. Let's talk about your buddy Jason throwing me into a creek while I'm trying to chase down some suspicious characters—one of which, come to think of it, looked kind of like you."

"I don't know any Jason," Zack said, but he didn't sound very convincing.

"Bull," Steven growled. "I think you know a Jason. And a Billy. And a Tommy and a Kimberly and a Trini. I think you're Zack Taylor and I think I've had about enough bullshit today! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what you need a chainsaw for and—"

"RUN!" Zack screamed suddenly.

Kira was so exhausted and startled and terrified about how they were going to explain this that she was racing after Zack before it could occur to her that running from cops was not a good idea. Especially not in Wal-Mart in bare feet.

"Hey! Come back here!" Steven roared.

"Stop!" Jarel shouted.

"Are you crazy?" Kira hissed at Zack even as she followed him down the aisle.

"This way!" Zack yelled, making a hard left.

"The exit is back to the right!"

"My shoes are half on and you're not wearing any! We'll never make it on foot!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You'll see!"

Yes, Kira supposed, I probably will.

But she really didn't want to.

"Hey, this lady says her ninety-five pound Labrador ate her cell phone! Gross! Do you think she could still hear it ring?"

"…Conner?"

"Yeah?"

"…Look, the printer has lights."

"Dude, could you focus, please?

"…Excuse me?"

"This is not the time to be distracted by shiny things!"

"No, this is the perfect time for you to be distracted by shiny things!"

"Hey! I am helping!"

Jason sighed wearily as he headed back down the sidewalk with the chainsaw. He'd done it. He was now going to have to chop down the tree in the backyard and scatter a bunch of branches and leaves on the roof, but the important thing was he'd gotten the chainsaw back. It had taken Mr. Greenlee a long time to give in, and Jason had been forced to threaten to sing show tunes on Mr. Greenlee's porch until he gave up the chainsaw, and okay he'd had to sing one or two or four verses of "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman," but the point was, he had the chainsaw.

He set the chainsaw down on the sidewalk and fished his cell phone out of his jeans pocket. Hopefully he'd catch Zack before Zack could waste a ton of cash on the chainsaw, but it was probably too late. He'd had plenty of time to get to Wal-Mart and back; it wasn't very far away and there probably wasn't anyone in line at this time of night, and between Jason heckling Mr. Greenlee and Mr. Greenlee explaining to Mrs. Greenlee why there was a lunatic on the front porch in the middle of the night and Mr. Greenlee trying to find the right key for the storage shed, it was now well after three o'clock in the morning.

"Hello?" said a harassed-sounding Zack.

"Zack? Did you already buy the chainsaw? I got Trini's back."

"Oh. Good. Um… yeah."

"…Zack?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you out of breath?"

"Um…"

"More importantly, why is there someone screaming 'Stop or I'll shoot' in the background?"

"Don't worry, man, I'm… handling it."

Jason blinked. He knew Zack. He knew Zack very, very well. "Define 'handling it.'"

"Well, okay, fine. Apparently when we asked for directions to the chainsaws they called the cops just in case we were, you know, bad people to sell chainsaws to and one thing led to the other and me and Kira borrowed some bikes from the toy section and—"

"Zack, please tell me you did not steal bicycles to help you escape from the cops."

"I didn't steal them! We're still in Wal-Mart. I'm trying to ditch the cops before—RIGHT TURN! RIGHT TURN!—before we ride out into the parking lot, hop off the bikes and get back to the car."

"Oh-kay. Word of advice?"

"Yeah?"

"You're never gonna ditch the cops if you keep shouting out your turns ahead of time." Jason paused. "Wow, that's a phrase I never thought I'd say."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good point. I gotta go. Kira's getting tired."

"I'm not tired! I'm annoyed that I'm running from the cops!"

"Not running. Biking."

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"

"Okay," Jason said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why are you running from the cops?"

"They're chasing us."

"No… I mean… why are they chasing you?"

"What do you want me to do? Tell them I need to buy a chainsaw to spring two Power Rangers out of the closet of doom and I had absolutely nothing to do with the monkey thing or the mall thing or the Black-Ranger-at-the-Angel-Grove-Inn thing?"

Jason shook his head. "Only you, Zack."

"Hey! What is that supposed to mean? We're both half-dressed, we want a chainsaw, it's after three in the morning, and Steven and Jarel showed up. It could happen to anyone."

Jason was silent for a long time. A very long time. So long, in fact, that Zack finally said, "Look, man, I need to concentrate on bustin' out of Wal-Mart. I'll call you when we're on our way. Later!"

The phone beeped to alert Jason to the fact that Zack had hung up. Yet he didn't move, didn't even take the cell away from his ear. Tommy and Kimberly were locked in Jason's closet. Jason's wife was working on a way to spring them, along with Billy and Hayley. Conner and Ethan were looking up ways to make the dog sick enough to pass the key, and Trent was in Jason's back yard, patiently waiting for the dog to return the key. Meanwhile, Zack and Kira were trying to flee law enforcement by riding bicycles through Wal-Mart and Jason was standing in the middle of a sidewalk with a chainsaw.

"Don't do it, man."

It was Jason who had spoken. Jason did not often talk to himself, but sometimes his internal voice got so strong that it started using his mouth, as though hoping it could make Jason listen to its warning if the noise was external as well as mental.

"Don't do it, Jase. Go put the chainsaw back in Mr. Greenlee's shed and pretend you couldn't wake him up. In fact, don't even go back to the house. This is not going to be resolved, chainsaw or not. Tommy and Kimberly are going to be stuck in there forever. The dog is not going to crap out the key. Conner and Ethan are going to blow up the computer. Trent is probably going to run away; he's far too normal for us. And Zack and Kira are going to be arrested for bicycle theft, attempted illegal use of a chainsaw and fleeing law enforcement. Meanwhile, Hayley and Billy are going to monopolize your wife's time with some stupid insignificant rescue mission and judging by the rest of the week, you're never going to get to see your wife again, let alone sleep with her. If you go back to that house, all you'll get is the duty of sawing up a perfectly good tree. Tommy and Kimberly will learn to like it in the chamber. Trini's going to run off with Billy anyway. And Zack was always heading for a life of crime. You could hear it in the maniacal laughter. Please, Jason, please, whatever you do, don't go back to that house."

Jason stood there a moment longer, irresolute. Then, with a heavy sigh that expressed every last ounce of exasperation, annoyance, anger and exhaustion in him, he picked up the chainsaw in both hands and headed back home to his life.

Zordon never had said becoming a Power Ranger would be easy. In fact, he'd said it would be very difficult at times, but noble, a worthy cause.

What he'd left out was that once you touched the weird side of the Force, it wouldn't stop smacking you in the back of the head.