-- Chapter 7: Until Death do us part --

                    "How do you plan to spend your resurrection?"
               he said, as though asking about a long weekend 
               coming up.
                    "We all get one?"

                                   "White Noise" -- Don DeLillo


     Chan stared into the seemingly endless depths where Chip and Dale's screams
had died out some time ago. Had they hit bottom finally? Would he be able to hear 
it? He hoped not. Despite the victorious outcome of the confrontation, Chan felt 
regret. Partly, of course, because he hadn't had a chance to watch Chip as the 
chipmunk sailed ever closer to his untimely gravity-assisted death. Chip had 
impugned on Chan's honor, and a straightforward death was unearned. True, a long 
fall where one knows of the outcome, but is powerless to stop it, would suffice,
but Chan wished he could draw some satisfaction from Chip's fear.
     But the main feeling of regret was for Dale. He honestly wasn't hoping that 
Dale would join his friend in his fate. Chan's vendetta was against Chip, nobody 
else. That's why he had improvised that ruse with the dagger, knowing that Chip 
would sacrifice himself to save another. Sure enough, Chip made a leap to stop the 
dagger from cutting the rope, only to find Chan had tied a wire around it, yanking 
it back. His death would have been pointless. Unfortunately, Dale felt as strongly 
as Chip when it came to saving lives, and tried to save his friend with the
katana, only to result in both of them being pulled free from the rope.
     The katana. The Time Blade, to be precise. That was another regret. Chan hated
to see such a precious artifact lost. It wasn't just for it's immediate value, 
either. Naki wanted the katana, among other reasons, to prove his right as head of 
the family, forever silencing any opposition. But Chan saw it as more than just a 
figurehead. The Time Blade was a cherished piece of folklore, a link to an age where
honor and duty reigned. Such an item was unique, and never could be replaced.
     "Alas," he sighed, turning back to his prisoners, "such is the price of war."
     The rest of the group, having listened as Chip and Dale's screams echoed up
from below, before slowly fading away, were silent. Any resistance left had been 
drained.
     Monterey and Geegaw could only shake their heads over the loss. They consoled
themselves by the fact that at the very least, Chip and Dale had died defending the
values they believed in, the ideals of helping out those in need. True, since the 
rest of the group had been captured, it would be possible to label their deaths 
senseless. But as long as they had died following their beliefs of compassion and
justice, their deaths could never be called meaningless.
     Tham could have disagreed. They *had* died for nothing. He wished he could
have had a chance to remedy the situation, but it was too late. He never had time 
while holding the katana to enact the rite, and even if he had, how could it have 
helped? He already vowed what his course would be, and now that he looked at it 
through the clear lenses of grief, he could doubt the wisdom behind such a plan. 
But that was speculation. Circumstances prevented it from happening that way, and 
he had reacted to the events as best he could. Was throwing them the katana a 
mistake? Maybe he should have ran back onto the bridge, regardless of the risk 
involved. Again, though, these were possibilities that were gone. Gone, like Chip 
and Dale.
     Kan stared forward blankly, recalling what she had said earlier, about this 
type of mission being either a complete success or total failure. But even she 
wasn't prepared to watch as her two newfound friends plunged to their doom. How full
of life they both had been, even if using it in vastly different ways. They were a 
great deal of fun for Kan. Chip, always so serious and straightlaced, was incredibly
easy to embarrass, something she had taking a liking to. And Dale was just a fun 
person to be around. She had realized, after their discussion in the pines, that 
Dale had a great deal of complexity, despite outward appearances. She was hoping 
their little chat would help him sort through that, and find out just what his 
feelings were for Foxglove. Although Kan had never met the bat in question, she 
suspected she would have liked Foxglove. Pity, she thought, that there's never 
enough time in life....
     Zipper gazed distractedly at the guards around them. They were still alert and
ready, in case any of the prisoners tried to attempt something. Not that we could, 
he thought with a sigh. Not me, anyway. Zipper's shoulder was still in a good deal 
of pain, and the heavy chain they had laced around his feet prevented him from 
flying too far, even if he had the strength. He had tried to fly out and somehow 
save Chip and Dale, but they pulled back on the chain tightly, keeping him from even
taking off. Glancing around, he saw the others lost in their own grief. None had any
will to fight anymore, it was hopeless, and--
     --wait, Zipper thought as he glanced at Gadget. Where's that gleam in her eyes
coming from? 
     It was not an external light that was causing the optical shimmer in Gadget's
eyes, but an internal fire, quickly being fanned into a roaring blaze. She had 
watched in helpless horror as Chip and Dale had dropped from sight. Her ears still 
rang with the intensity of their parting screams. Everything indicated that they had
passed from this Earth, and she could only hope that their faith would carry them 
through to the next life, whether it be on this plane of existence or another.
     But she refused to believe that they were dead. The pain was threatening to eat
her away from the inside, just as it had in the past.
     "They're gone," the pain whispered in her head. "And you never got a chance to
say goodbye."
     No! she mentally screamed. I won't give in to it! Chip and Dale are *not* dead!
That's it, end of discussion!
     "Look at the facts," the pain argued calmly. "You're a logical person. How 
could they survive a fall like that? They can't. It's positively a foregone 
conclusion."
     I was positive about these things before, Gadget's thoughts rebuked, and been
proven wrong. I was certain that nothing would ever be able to fill the hole in my 
life after I thought my father was dead, but my work with Rangers filled it. I was 
positive Chip had been smashed by that trunk in the funhouse, but he wasn't! I was 
absolutely convinced I would never again see my own father, and he's right here next
to me!
     "But--" the pain started.
     No! Gadget's eyes were squeezed shut as she beat the pain down. I won't believe
it until I actually see tangible proof! I refuse to accept the possibility that 
they're dead until I see their cold corpses, do you hear me!?! Not until I see their
bodies before me! With! My! Own! EYES!!!
     Gadget's whole body was a tight knot as she waged war against her inner fears,
pain, and doubts. Ruthlessly, she hammered away at them, not realizing that she had 
won until almost a minute later. She had let up on her attack to gather strength for
her next assault, when she realized there wasn't an enemy to fight anymore. Her 
mindscape, while battered and exhausted, was clear. She stood alone in it, the clear
victor in a battle she had lost so many times before. In wonder, she breathed a 
prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever power had granted her the strength.
     Slowly opening her eyes, she looked about. Everyone was still quiet. She and 
her friends were still securely bound.
     "First things first," she whispered, checking to see if that phrase would 
awaken the pain. That had been Chip's attitude towards everything. Thinking about it
brought up what had just happened to him and Dale, and if she had truly won, then 
she should be able to think about them without breaking down. Something moved within
her, a sense of loss, but it was a pitiful creature that moved, not the aggressive 
monster her pain had been. Reaffirmed of her success on the battlefield, she turned 
her mind to her present surroundings.
     No way they were going anywhere at the moment. They were too well guarded,
didn't know where the secret passage was, had all of their equipment taken away 
(even her pocket glass cutter), and were in no mood to rally. No, first thing was to
rest. Everyone needed their strength back, especially her. Once that had happened, 
they could attempt some type of break for it.
     For now, though, the best action was to play along, act like it was over, allow
the soldiers to relax and drop their guard. It would also give Gadget time to think.
She was already trying to formulate a plan, but was having difficulty, as she needed
to know how the others could help out. Sneaking a glance to Kan next to her, Gadget
saw the fierce female fighter mouse (Dale would have been proud of that one, she 
mused) subdued, not acknowledging anyone else just yet. Before she could get her 
attention, Gadget quieted as Chan moved back from the ledge, over towards the group.
She didn't bother to hide the venom her look held for him.
     Casting his gaze over them, Chan sighed. "I apologize for the other one's 
death, the one called Dale, I believe. It was never my intention for him to die."
     They looked up at him, and except for Gadget's anger, their expressions were
unreadable.
     He looked to Tham, and Zipper couldn't help but balk at what he was seeing.
Chan's facial expression never changed, but Zipper could clearly see from the way 
his eyebrows shifted upwards ever so slightly, and his mouth turned down at the 
corners minutely, that Chan was asking for Tham's forgiveness. Chan was much more 
concerned with his personal code of honor than Zipper gave him credit for.
     Tham locked eyes with Chan for a moment, then turned away, his whole posture
indicating that the forgiveness Chan sought was not Tham's to give.
     Sighing heavily, Chan signalled to his men. They helped the prisoners to their
feet and down the ladder, to a small doorway in the wall of the mirror room. They 
herded the captives through without incident as Chan followed along behind, saddened
by the turn of events. The guards apparently knew what was to be done with the 
prisoners, as they made their way up the winding stairs without a command from Chan.
In fact, nobody said a word throughout the entire procession.
     Nothing needed to be said.

                          *     *     *

     It was unclear how long they had been falling.
     At first, sheer panic had both Chip and Dale firmly in its writhing grasp. They
could only scream, pausing only to take another breath to fuel another howl. This 
was intensified as the light source from above quickly grew smaller in the distance,
until they were in total blackness. They both still had a death-grip on the katana, 
understandable considering the circumstances. Each passing second multiplied their 
fear, as they knew the end would happen any moment, but no clue as to when. They 
were just waiting for the bottom of the shaft to rise up and abruptly halt their 
momentum. And their lives. Their remains would be left forever at the very bottom
of this shaft, to lay among the splinters from the bridge that had previously ended
its purpose only minutes before.
     They knew it would be a long way down, but neither realized just how long. It
had, after all, been something close to five minutes before the bridge hit ground. 
Eventually, their throats were worn ragged from the yells, and they contented 
themselves with a resigned whimper. Neither wanted to die. Certainly not like this.
Not now. Too many things were left unresolved. The most immediate being their 
friends' peril. Of course, their own imminent dire straights helped keep their minds
off of what was happening back above them.
     It was Chip who burned through his initial panic first. His mind had been 
trying desperately to come up with some way to slow their fall, but nothing came up.
He didn't have a grappling hook on him, and even if he did, the last of his rope was
far, far above. No way to escape this freefall. Even now, with his thoughts 
returning to him, the nagging wait for the ground to fatally stop his descent was 
digging away at his awareness.
     Perhaps he had reached the point when a person, who sees their doom fast
approaching, accepts their death as inescapable. At this time, even though the 
person knows that they will soon cease to live, a type of serenity accompanies them,
bringing with it an ironic taste of true freedom.
     Or maybe Chip had just decided that screaming and panicking wasn't getting him
anywhere, so he might as well try something else.
     Whatever the case, he became aware of the fact that the wind rushing by him had
leveled out in terms of speed, meaning that he and Dale had achieved terminal 
velocity. Yet, he noticed with an approving chuckle, his hat was still on. He was 
about to mention this to Dale, when something happened.
     A brilliant flash of bluish-white light burst in front of them. They had no 
idea where it had come from, but it illuminated the scene before them, lasting no 
longer than a strobe flare. Nonetheless, they would forever have the sight ingrained
on their minds.
     They had reached the bottom of the shaft. They felt as if they were looking at 
a still photo of it, blown up to scale. The shattered remains of the bridge covered 
the floor, the splinters laying over everything like a wooden blanket. Chip even 
noticed the plunger harpoon he had dropped as well, flattened to scrap. Some 
details, too, caught their attention. Rusted and smashed armor, draping over 
skeletons that were centuries old. A light pile of dust filled the air, still 
hanging about from the impact of the bridge. And the hard stones awaiting them under
it all, ready to catch them....
     But the flash was over in an instant, and the chipmunks were still falling.
     "Wh--wh--whoa," Dale finally managed, breaking the silence. "What was that?"
     "I don't know," Chip managed to utter, noticing that although they were still
falling at the same speed, something felt...different.
     "Do you think we're dead?" Dale asked after a moment, fear creeping into his
voice. "Maybe what we just saw was the last moment of our life, and we're already 
dead!"
     "No Dale!" Chip said quickly, trying to clamp down on his own growing fear that
Dale was absolutely correct. "We're not dead. Not yet, at any rate."
     "How can you tell?" Dale's voice was hopeful, coming out of the blackness that
encased them. He wanted to believe it, too.
     "A matter of perspective, Dale," Chip stated calmly, starting to think things
through. "As far as we know, we're still alive. Until it's somehow proved otherwise,
that's what I'm going to believe."
     "Okay... okay...." Dale accepted that. "But what do we do now?"
     "I don't know," Chip's voice answered uneasily. "We fall, I guess."
     "Hey!" An old phrase popped into Dale's head, from when he was much younger,
and often thought the world a much smaller place. "Maybe we're falling right through
the Earth!"
     "Swell. So instead of falling straight through to China, we're falling *up* 
to... I'd guess Nebraska."
     "Hey... I think you're right, Chip."
     "Huh?"
     "Well, it does feel like we're not falling *down* anymore, but *up*."
     "Yeah...." That's what felt different about their fall after the light flashed,
Chip realized. "It *does* feel like gravity has been reversed or something."
     "But what could do that?"
     "Well, if your theory is correct, Dale, than passing through the center of the
Earth would."
     "Oh."
     "But trust me on this, we haven't been falling nearly long enough to get 
through the crust of the Earth, let alone to the core."
     "How can you be so sure?"
     "The core is molten rock and about as hot as Gadget's temper during the Baby
Thadius case. We'd be baked alive before we even got close. That, and go blind from
the intensity of the glowing magma."
     "Well, then what's that light?"
     Chip blinked, unsure what Dale was talking about at first. A few seconds later,
however, he found what Dale was talking about. In the far distance, a soft, white 
light could barely be seen, nothing more than a pinprick in the yawning black void. 
As they continued "downward", it grew larger, the distance between them and it 
shortening with each passing breath.
     "The light at the end of the tunnel?" Chip wondered out loud.
     "Embraced by the light and everything?" Dale murmured in wonder.
     They realized that the light had grown enough for them to see each other.
Quickly glancing over, they were visibly relieved to actually see one another, as 
opposed to just the disembodied voices in the dark. They also noted each still had 
a death-grip on the katana, and the white knuckles showed they weren't letting go 
anytime soon.
     Chip felt a sensation of slowing down, like they were reaching the apex of a
trajectory. Looking at the light again, he saw that it was actually another opening,
much like the one they had fallen down, except that it was smaller, and perfectly 
circular.
     "Man-made," Chip mumbled. "Or rodent-made, anyway. Listen, Dale?"
     "Yeah?"
     "You've noticed we've been slowing down?"
     "Yeah, I have."
     "Okay, look. When we reach that hole, we're going to have to try and grab the
ledge of it or something. Got it?"
     Dale gulped and nodded. "I guess so. It's either that or start this fall all 
over again."
     Chip grimaced as he considered that possibility. "Then let's make this attempt
count. Ready?"
     Dale wriggled about a bit, loosening up his muscles. "Ready."
     They coiled themselves up to reach out and grab the ledge as they continued to
slow to the end of their airborne journey. As it turned out, however, that 
preparation wasn't necessary, as once they barely cleared the ledge, it felt like 
something shifted them to the right, gently settling them to the ground.
     Chip took a moment to orient himself. All things considered, nothing was out of
place. Gravity was pulling down again, but if they had just fallen down in a 
straight line, they should have dropped down through a ceiling, not popped up 
through a floor. Likewise, they should be on the ceiling, since that's where gravity
*should* be pulling at them from. At least, that's what common sense told him. 
Looking around, though, he realized this place was anything but common.
     Oh, it was normal enough--*if* they had walked into it from the street. The 
walls were painted an off-white, some sparse framed, still life paintings about. The
ceiling was only six inches tall, and everything within the room seemed to be scaled
to fit their size. From the imitation leather sofa in the corner, to the decorative
vases on pedestals, to the simple, plain door in the wall in front of them.
     "Yes, just the sort of thing I expect to find at the bottom of a five-minute 
drop," Dale remarked uneasily, glancing back over his shoulder at the hole. It was 
still there, and still led down, or up, or whatever, to where they had come from. He
thought it did, at least, but wasn't about to test it.
     Chip started for the door, curiosity overtaking fear of an alien landscape of 
sorts, only to be halted by a tug. He looked back and noticed that he and Dale still
had the katana clutched firmly in their hands. Carefully, as if it might have 
something to do with what had happened, Chip released his hold on the sheath.
     Nothing happened.
     Breathing a sigh of relief, he walked over to the door, and tried the doorknob.
It was unlocked. Easing the door slightly ajar, Chip peeked through the crack, 
blinking in surprise at the scene outside.
     It was a hallway, painted and decorated in the same conservative fashion.
Various animals were walking up and down it. Mice, chipmunks, rats, squirrels, 
newts... he saw several types or each. Some looked to be of oriental descent, some
not. A light P.A. system asked for some people he had never heard of to report to 
the cafeteria. It felt like he was in some type of hospital at first, with the way 
everything was so pristine and sanitized.
     Dale stepped up next to him. "What is it?"
     "I don't know, Dale."
     "Where are we?"
     "I don't know, Dale."
     "How'd we get here?"
     "I don't know, Dale."
     "What happened?"
     "I--Dale?"
     "What?"
     "Unless you ask me a question I can answer, be quiet."
     "What kind of question would that be?"
     "I don't kn--Oh, forget it."
     Dale looked out through the crack as well. "Maybe--maybe we really *are*
dead!"
     Chip reached out and bopped Dale on the head.
     "Ouch!" Dale rubbed his head and glared at Chip. "What was that for?"
     "If you were dead, you wouldn't have felt it. Don't you feel better now?"
     "No. How do you know?"
     "I don't. But it made *me* feel better." He gave a wink to Dale, a small smile
growing. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know that if they went about 
it in a state of awe and wonderment, they probably wouldn't ever find out. That 
simple bap he gave his best friend reminded them both of the many times he'd done so
in the past, taking their minds off of the bizarreness of their current 
surroundings, and bringing them back to a more comfortable feeling of security.
     "Okay, so now what?" Dale's voice held no trace of any fear or befuddlement.
Only annoyance for the bap.
     "First things first, Dale. We find out where we are. Come on." Chip waited
until there was a lapse of passerbys, then slipped out into the hallway. It 
stretched on in both directions before coming to an end at a T-intersection. Chip 
noticed that although no lights were visible, a healthy, ambient white glow filled 
the hallway. He wondered about it, then dismissed it.
     "I would disregard trying to consider anything as strange, here," he advised 
Dale. "Act casual."
     "Are you kidding?" Dale grumbled, trying to look nonchalant as they strode
down the hallway, the famed and ornamental katana he was holding sticking out like a
sore thumb.
     Still, nobody paid them any real heed. They passed by a number of people,
growing more and more relaxed as nobody pointed at them, shouted, or did anything 
else that would be bad for their blood pressure.
     "I'll tell you Chipper," Dale whispered as they moved down another intersecting
hallway, "this place is so normal, it's freaking me out."
     Chip had to admit Dale had a point. Everyone passing through was acting like it
was another ordinary day. If this was the afterlife, it was like nothing he ever 
envisioned. Dale had hit the nail on the head when he said everything was, so to 
speak, abnormally normal. Couples had arguments as they walked by, while others 
acted like blushing newly-weds. Kids darted to and fro occasionally, to have their 
mother call out after them in an exasperated voice. The elderly sat quietly in some 
lounge chairs they saw, reading papers and magazines.
     The only thing that Chip saw which gave any indication as to where they were
was the fact that nearly everyone they passed had some type of paperwork. Whether a 
single sheet, or three binders full, it was everywhere. A sneaking suspicion crept 
up on Chip, making him want to cry at the truth of it and laugh at the absurdity. As
they rounded a corner, coming out into a large, main room of some kind, the sneaking
suspicion finally pounced.
     There, in the middle of the room, was a huge directory on the floor, lit from
underneath. People were walking aimlessly on it, scratching their heads as they 
tried to figure out where they had come from, and where they were going.
     "Dale," Chip's eyes glazed over as he couldn't help but crack a smirk, "we're 
in the celestial bureaucracy."
     "*What?*" Dale snapped, looking about. "But I thought it was supposed to be all
organized and everything. Then who are all these people wondering about?"
     "Isn't it obvious, Dale?" Chip actually gave a laugh. He pointed to the 
directory again. "Lost souls."

                          *     *     *

     "Tell me more about this Houdini fellow," Kan sighed, leaning her head against
the iron bars on the cell she was in.
     "Not much else to tell, really," Monterey grumbled from the cell to her right.
"Except that he sure would be a valued assistant right about now."
     They had been placed in the castle prison, on the bottom floor of the actual
palace, to await an audience with Naki. Tham explained that it would be a while, as 
Naki didn't particularly consider them a threat anymore. To Gadget, that just made 
their job all the more easy.
     She and the others all occupied cells on the same wall. Each cell was in fairly
good condition, basically a stone box with a set of metal bars on the front. They 
had been relieved of all of their various equipment and gear, with a few exceptions.
Zipper still had his sling, although the heavy, iron shackles around his feet 
prevented him from doing anything other than a slow walk. Gadget still had her 
locket, as she became extremely difficult when they tried to remove it. Thus, they 
allowed her to hold on to it, not that they needed to worry about her using it in 
any way, for fear of damaging it.
     They also didn't bother to remove the Ranger Coin she still had in her pocket.
She had forgotten about it herself until now, and for lack of something better to 
do, just sat in her cell, flipping the coin over and over, thinking about an escape 
plan. They all were, but couldn't actively discuss any details, as the guard by the 
entrance to this cell block kept a careful set of eyes and ears on them.
     So each of them plotted in silence, trying to figure out various angles of 
attacking the problem of escaping. It wasn't easy, of course. The first problem was 
that the keys that were needed to free them weren't even in the room. Chan had 
locked them up personally, and carried the only set of keys to the cells that they 
knew of. Zipper might have been able to pick the lock to his door, *if* the guard 
wasn't watching them, *if* his arm wasn't in such pain still, and *if* he could fly
up to reach the lock. Monterey and Gadget had both used their tails as lockpicks 
before, but again, even if the guard wasn't watching for things like that, they 
realized that these locks were more complex than they could manage.
     Gadget flipped the coin again, listening to its chime as it sailed up towards 
the ceiling, then dropped back down to be caught in her open palm. She held the coin
up, studying it with a detached interest.
     How to get out....She thought again for the nth time. There has to be a way, I
know it. But how? And why do I feel like I'm staring right at it?
     Flipping the coin again, the metallic ping becoming a somewhat relaxing sound,
Gadget thought back to her mother's interest in music. Terica had written a number 
of short essays about the subject, and her diary was full of notations and 
observations about the musical world. Why this was coming to her mind now, Gadget 
wasn't sure, but knew enough that inspiration struck from the strangest places.
     What was that her mother had written, about harmonies of everyday objects?
Gadget tried to remember that section of Terica's notebook. Terica had expressed
an interest in the sounds various common, household items made when struck properly.
The resonance created was from the structural integrity of the object, taking into 
account its material make-up and... and... what was the other component she had 
written about?
     Its material make-up and the stuff inside, Gadget thought with a frown. No, not
the stuff, but the actual term for the way it's laid out... Ah! The internal 
structure!
     Slowly, Gadget began to realize why these memories had surfaced.

                          *     *     *

     Dale waited patiently on the small bench in the hallway. Chip wasn't back yet,
for he had headed off to find out what they needed to do in order to get out of 
here. Dale still wasn't sure that they were actually alive, but as Chip pointed out,
if they really were dead, there would be no way to get back to help their friends.
     They had navigated their way around on the directory, until they found where 
the general information booth was. From that point on, they found themselves getting
firmly entrenched in the slow wheels of bureaucracy. The person at the general 
information booth could only point them to a section of the complex to begin their 
search, which had taken a great deal of pleading, begging, and threatening.
     "Attention," the speaker above him announced. "Will Mr. Justin Shaderoot
please report to level 23, section 56, door 21, please? Thank you." The speaker went
back to playing some piped-in music.

                        "Buried at Sea...
                         Buried at Sea...
                        Decaying's better
                      Down where it's wetter
                        Take it from me!"

     The hallway Dale was in now was one of the less-used ones, with someone only
passing by every five minutes or so. Chip had picked it out because it was one of 
the more quiet sections of the complex. Dale had to wonder just how big this place 
was, but decided not to worry about it. The only windows he saw were those to other 
rooms, and the teller windows they stopped at occasionally. The directory itself 
that they had navigated was gigantic, and they had only scanned over part of it 
before they were lucky enough to find what they were looking for.
     "Attention. Will the owner of a brown Tasmanian devil please report to the
commissary? Thank you."
     Relaxing against the bench, Dale tapped his fingers across the sheath of the 
Time Blade. Nobody had even looked at it twice, let alone ask about it. Even the two
chipmunks had started to forget about it, as they tried to figure out how to work 
the system so they could find a way out. Chip had gone off to do most of the work 
himself, and Dale didn't really argue. After all, he really wasn't very good at 
figuring out logic puzzles and the like, which is exactly what this place was 
proving to be.
     "Attention. All new arrivals from the Yellow Sea please report to Conference
Room 12 on level 5. Thank you."
     So Dale chose to wait with the Time Blade as Chip did the legwork to gather up
the information and forms they needed. He had guessed Chip had been gone for close 
to three hours now, and probably wouldn't be back for another hour at the least. 
Digging his hands into his pockets, he was surprised to find his slingshot there.
     "Oh yeah," he said with a smile, "I forgot I put this in here a while ago. Too 
bad it's not much use here." He tucked it away again and leaned forward.
     "Attention. The nearest microphone for this P.A. system is located down the 
hall, third door on your left. Thank you."
     Dale blinked. Why would they want to announce that?
     "Oh, there's a good reason for it," a familiar voice answered his thoughts.
     "Chip?" Dale looked around, but didn't see anyone.
     "No," the voice replied. Dale could tell the voice was near, and also sounded a
trifle muffled, like it was speaking through a barrier. "You really don't know me, 
although I know you, and your fellow Rescue Rangers, quite well."
     "Oh?" Dale stood up and looked around, trying to pinpoint the sound. He was
feeling a little nervous at the recognition. Nobody here had seemed to know who they
were. "How so?"
     "I've been watching the group ever since you arrived at Japan," the voice
continued. Dale thought he heard it coming from his right. Three doors stood as 
possibilities. "I must admit, I was lucky to see you when you first arrived. Because
of that, I was able to get some information with my western contacts quickly."
     "Information?" Dale asked cautiously, moving towards the doors. "About us?"
     "Indeed," the voice confirmed. "Your souls intrigued me. It's not often I see
anyone, let alone westerns, with shining ones like your group."
     Dale gulped. Somehow, being in an afterlife, even if he wasn't dead, and
listening to some voice say how good his soul looked was harking back to a number of
late night B-grade horror flicks he watched with Foxglove all the time.
     "Don't worry," the voice laughed. "I'm not here to do you any harm. In fact, 
I'm trying to help you."
     "How?" Dale listened carefully, pretty sure it was one of the two doors on the
left.
     "Well, I'm not allowed to help in any direct ways, you understand. I have to 
play by the rules, after all. But I've found that this method of communication works
quite well. I normally get my message across, and it's cryptic enough to satisfy the
superiors."
     "No offense," Dale stood in front of the door he believed to be correct. "But 
this talk is pretty straightforward."
     "Oh I know. That's mainly because you and Chip are on my home turf. The rules
are a little different here."
     Dale opened the door, to see Geegaw standing behind it with a smile.
     "Which is why," Geegaw continued. "I choose to hide in this closet."
     "Geegaw?!" Dale gaped. "Oh no, you're not dead are you? And what's with your
eyes? They look like something from a Hitchcock movie. Or maybe it's *my* eyes...."
     "No Dale, your eyes are fine." Geegaw waved the thought aside. "Now that I've
gotten everything across that's needed, I just wanted to wish you good luck."
     "What for?"
     "The present, of course."

     Dale's head jerked up, the remnants of his dream vividly clear in his mind.
     "Wha...whoa." He sat up fully, looking around. He had fallen asleep on the
bench. The katana was still firmly in his grasp, and people passed by once in a 
while. After a few calming breaths, Dale glanced down to the door he had found 
Geegaw in.
     "...hide in this closet..." he repeated slowly, remembering what Geegaw had 
told him.
     Carefully, he stood up and slowly made his way to the door, glancing about
uncertainly. Pausing, he put his ear against the door and listened. Something was 
inside. He took a step back and slowly opened the door, half-expecting to find 
Geegaw waiting for him.
     Instead, what he found was a little girl muskrat, huddled up next to the wall,
crying softly. She looked up at him with a start, but didn't react to his 
appearance. She turned back away and continued to sniffle, hugging herself as she 
sat on the floor. Judging by her small size, Dale guessed she couldn't have been 
older than six.
     "Hey," Dale asked softly, squatting down next to her. "What's wrong?"
     "Um..." She glanced at him with red eyes. She had been quietly weeping in here
for some time. "Um...I'm not s'pose to talk to strangers." Her voice was very timid.
     Dale gave a soft chuckle. Even though she was in the afterlife, she was still 
very much a little girl. "Well, my name's Dale. I'm part of a group called the 
Rescue Rangers. There, see? I'm not a stranger anymore." He smiled affectionately at
her, trying to ease her nerves.
     She glanced about a moment or two, biting her bottom lip. "I'm Tama."
     "Well, Tama, as a Rescue Ranger, it's my duty to help those in trouble." He
reached out his hand. "Would you like to sit on the bench? It's more comfortable 
than the closet, I'll bet."
     She looked hesitantly at his hand, then nodded, grasping it with her own tiny
fingers. Dale led her to the bench and sat her down, taking up a spot on the floor 
in front of her.
     "So, can you tell me what's wrong?"
     "I'm... I'm lost." Tama said with a sniff.
     Dale rolled his eyes with a smirk. How many lost souls does this place have?
     "My parents were with me," Tama continued. "I got sorta turned around, and
when I tried to find them, I couldn't!" Another bout of tears started. "I'm scared!"
     "Hey, hey, hey... it's okay," Dale comfortably put his hand on her shoulder.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. Do you know your parents' names?"
     "M-mommy and Daddy."
     Well, it's a start, Dale thought with a smile. "What do they call each other?"
     "Um..." Tama's little features scrunched up in concentration. "Honey... or
sweetie... or rice cake..."
     "Uh, let me ask you this, Tama." Dale tried another approach. "What's your last
name?"
     "Goldfur."
     Dale nodded. "Okay, don't worry, Miss Tama Goldfur. I'll help you find your
parents."
     "You will?" Tama's eyes widened in hope. "Oh, thank you Mr. Dale!"
     "It's okay, come on." Dale smiled as he took hold of Tama's hand and led her 
off of the bench. Her small hand in his was very anxious, and he couldn't help but 
grin at the sudden mood swing Tama had made. From near despair to sheer delight.
     Now... he contemplated, how to find her parents? It's a big place to get lost,
and although it would be possible to just talk to some of the people here, let them
deliver Tama to her parents, I'd rather see the reunion before Tama's old enough to
graduate. Besides, how could Tama fill out all that paperwork by herself? But how to
find them... Hmm...
     "Attention. Will the person who left a file cabinet in the ladies washroom 
please remove it? It's preventing the door from opening. Thank you."
     Dale grinned. "And they say dreams are too symbolic."

     "Let me try again." Chip tried to keep the frustration out of his voice.
     "Okay." The clerk tried to keep the annoyance out of his.
     "My friend and I are not supposed to be here. We need to find out how we can
get back. I'm sure that there's a department somewhere in this place that can help
us."
     "Oh, there probably is."
     "Yes, we've established that." Chip gritted his teeth. They had gone over this
exact conversation several times by now. Glancing behind him, he was relieved to see
that nobody seemed to mind the hold-up, despite that it had been close to fifteen 
minutes. All of the rodents behind him just waited patiently. Well, Chip thought, 
it's not like they're going anywhere....
     "What I want to know," he continued, "is where do we find this department at?"
     "Beats me."
     Clenching his fists, Chip swallowed the sudden urge to kill the mouse, even if 
he was already dead. "What do you mean, you don't know? I was directed to this 
window three times now. You think that those people that sent me here *might* have 
had a reason?!"
     "Besides to torment me?" The clerk snapped. "Look pal, how am I supposed
know where the department you're looking for is located?"
     Chip's jaw dropped at that. "It says, 'Department of Department Locations' on
the sign right above this window!"
     The clerk leaned out to look up at the sign. "Huh? What do you know? So it
does." His tone was completely honest as he made this discovery.
     Snatching his hat from his head, Chip squeezed his eyes and tried to calm
himself through a chant. "This is only purgatory... this is only purgatory... this 
is only purgatory...." The anger ebbed, and he took a deep breath. Think pleasant 
thoughts, he told himself. The completion of a case. Walking with Gadget. Shoving 
this guy's collar so far down his throat I'd have to take his shoes off to wring his
neck.
     "Okay..." he said finally, a level tone returning to his voice. "Could you 
contact the manager of this office then? Maybe he can help."
     "I am the manager."
     No wonder this place has got incompetence frothing at the mouth.
     "What about your supervisor?"
     "I can't contact him except in special circumstances."
     "And my case *isn't* one?" Chip asked incredulously.
     "No. Why should it be?" The clerk took a haughty tone. "Name one thing that
sets you apart from everyone else around here."
     "Glad to, paperboy. Unlike all of these people," his arm swept behind him,
taking in the entire room, "I am alive."
     "What do you mean, 'alive'?"
     "Alive! As in the opposite of *dead*! Which what I'd make you if you weren't
already!"
     "Huh? What do you mean by 'dead', now?"
     Chip tried very hard to remember that, as a leader, he had to remain calm and
patient at all times. He hated this part of the job.
     "What do you mean by,  what do I mean dead?' *Dead!* How many definitions
of the word do you know?"
     "Well, I haven't looked at a dictionary in a while...." the clerk admitted.
     Slapping his hand over his forehead and letting it run down his face, Chip 
tried again. "Dead. No longer living. All of these people here, except for my friend
and I, are dead. They've passed on. They are no more. They have ceased to be. They 
have expired. They're on the way to meet their makers. These are all late people. 
They're all stiffs. Bereft of life, they rest peace. If you hadn't *nailed* them to
the perch they'd be *pushing up* the *daisies*!"
     "Pushing up what daisies?"
     Chip blinked, surprised he had actually said that. "Sorry. Got carried away."
     I can only hope, the clerk thought. "Look buddy, even if I did know where the
department was, I couldn't tell you until you filled out a 34-ZB Disclosure form."
     "I did." Chip dumped the three ring binder on the counter.
     "Oh, well, then all you need is a 1974 release form."
     "I got that too." He dropped the sheaf of papers on top of the binder, but
continued to pull papers from his pockets as he went on. "And in case you're 
interested, here's the red form I had to fill out to get the green form, so I could
be allowed to fill out the 6-7 form, which was needed to obtain the Door Opening 
form, so I could get the Elbow form. Elbow form's needed for the Arm form. Arm 
form's needed for the Shoulder form..." As he continued, he placed each form down 
on the counter, quickly filling it up, and showing no signs of slowing down. "...and
here's the Form form, so I could fill out the Whosit form. Why? He's center field, I
don't know is on third, and I don't give a darn is the shortstop!"
     Slamming the last piece of paper down with a fury he had not felt in a long 
time, Chip stepped back to admire his work. The clerk, however, rolled his eyes and
shook his head.
     "If want to pile paperwork on the counters, you're going to have to fill out--"
     "If you even *think* about saying it, I'll make your everlasting afterlife
not-so-everlasting."
     "Fine. But as impressive as all of this is, it still doesn't qualify you for 
special treatment."
     "I don't *believe* this! I've filled out thirty-five forms, seen twenty-six 
tellers, been to fifteen levels, stopped by ten offices, argued with five clerks, 
and was standing in line for so long that I'm surprised I still have my original 
teeth to grit!"
     "Yeah, how would you know how long it's been since you got here?"
     "Easy. I've kept track. It's the only way. In case you haven't noticed, 
there are no clocks in this place. So, I've been getting a feel for time that 
passes by going over all of the Sheerluck Jones novels in my head. I know them 
by heart, and know how long it takes me to finish one. All told, I must've been 
here for at least three hours already, and *still* haven't gotten anywhere with you
bureaucratic bozos!"
     The clerk suddenly snapped to attention. At first, Chip thought it was the 
insult, but the expression the mouse wore was one of disbelief. "You really *can* 
keep track of time!" He said in an awed voice.
     "Don't patronize me."
     "No, I mean it! Only those not part of the system can keep track of time."
     "What? That doesn't make any--"
     He was cut off as something from the speakers caught his attention.
     "...please report to the--hey!"
     Sounds of a bit of a struggle.
     "...I just need it for a minute!" A voice in the background said, one that 
sounded incredibly familiar to Chip.
     "Dale?" He thought out loud.
     "OKAY, UM, HELLO? HELLO?" Dale's voice boomed out like the voice of
God, then reached a normal tone as Chip heard him move the microphone back a bit.
"Okay, um, I have a little lost girl here. She's a muskrat, about six, her name's 
Tama Goldfur. Say hello, Tama."
     A moment later, a meek little female voice said, "....hi."
     "Okay," Dale's voice resumed, "she's lost her family, and if they could come 
and pick her up, we'd both be very grateful. We're at... um... hey you! Where is 
this place located? Oh, we're at level 7, room 23... oh wait, that's room 23.8... 
and the door number is... are you sure? Oh, the guy here says it's door number 
x+y-(a*b). If that doesn't help, just follow my voice."
     "They can't follow your voice, Dale," Chip grumbled. "You're addressing them
through a P.A. system."
     "Oh wait," Dale's voice sounded thoughtful. "I'm talking through a P.A. system.
Okay, never mind. Uh, well, if you're coming from the main elevator shaft, just go 
down the first hallway, take two lefts, a right, straight through the kitchen... you
guys have a kitchen on this floor? Really? Would room service be a problem? Really? 
Thanks! I'll have a walnut souffle, and what do you want, Tama?... Oh, your parents,
right. Well, anyway, once you get through the kitchen, take another right, three 
lefts, a right, two more lefts and then the first door on your right. It's that 
easy! Okay, thanks."
     There was a moment of silence. Only a moment though.
     "Hey..." Dale's voice was sounding interested. "This is pretty cool, talking to
the whole building like this. I wonder if Gadget could rig up the tree with this 
get-up? Oh, that reminds me of a cool story... See, it started on a cold day in 
February..."
     Grumbling, Chip stuffed the papers back into his jacket and headed for the main
elevator shaft. He'd better get there before Dale got into too much trouble.
     "...and so I told Chip he was wrong, but he never listens to me you know....Oh,
gee. I hope he isn't listening now... oh well, so anyway..."
     Chip stormed down the first hallway, making his way to the kitchen.
     "...and so the bartender says, `Hey, that's a rhino!' Hahahahahaha! Oh, I love
that one! Thank you, you're a beautiful audience!..."
     A right and three lefts.
     "...Strangers in the night, exchanging glances...."
     A right, two lefts.
     "...SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY! It's the Monster Truck Crunch-a-thon!..."
     First door on the right.
     "...that's very interesting, but we have a caller on the line. Caller? Are you
there?"
     "Yes," Chip snapped as he stepped into the room, making Dale jump. "Your
FCC license has just been revoked." Snatching the microphone away from Dale, he 
spoke into it with a light, professional announcer's voice.
     "We apologize for the previous fifteen minutes of insanity, and now return you
to the peace and tranquility of your afterlife. Thank you."
     Switching the microphone off, Chip turned to glare at Dale. "What was *that* 
all about, Dale?!"
     "Hey," Dale gave a sheepish grin and hugged Tama close. "It made her laugh."
     Chip's frown dissolved into a smile as he saw the little girl giggle and nod,
hugging Dale back.
     "Please don't be mad, Mr. Chip, sir," she said in an adorable voice. "Mr. Dale
has made me feel better."
     "Well, at least that's one of us," Chip shook his head with a chuckle.
     "Any luck?" Dale asked, hoisting Tama up onto his shoulders for a piggy-back
ride.
     Chip groaned and collapsed into a nearby chair. "No. Maybe we are really dead,
and weren't as good in life as we thought. And as punishment, we're doomed to wander
through these halls forever."
     Dale only shrugged, as his mouth was busy making airplane sounds while he ran
about the room with his arms out, Tama laughing all the while. Watching them a 
moment longer, Chip's demeanor softened, brightened by the innocence of their play 
before him. Dale was a natural with kids, mainly because he was one himself at 
heart. He swung Tama about playfully, tossing her up in the air and catching her 
carefully.
     "Well," Chip mused as the little girl's laughter echoed in his soul, "maybe 
this isn't really classifiable as 'punishment'."

     Across the complex, at the Western Afterlife Embassy, the receptionist looked
up from her desk and smiled at the mouse who had just arrived.
     "Hello, Walter," she nodded to the handsome mouse. "Haven't seen you in a
while."
     "Good to see you, too, Angie," Walter nodded. "How's the transfer been?"
     "Okay, I guess. This part of the complex is quiet enough, and relatively 
peaceful. Although we did just have some joker on the P.A. system." She laughed. 
"But you know me, wherever my chosen goes, so shall I. She decided to move to China,
so I couldn't help but go. But anyway, what brings you here?"
     "Same as you, Angie." Walter hung his coat on the rack and withdrew a small,
folded note. "Only this is just a visit, not a permanent move. In fact I wouldn't 
have ever come over here except Marie wanted me to give this to Chip."
     "Your chosen?" Angie asked, a bit surprised.
     Walter nodded. "He and Dale are here."
     "In the Orient?"
     "In the complex."
     Angie dropped her pen. "They *died*? But why weren't they FedEx-ed back to
the West?"
     "No, they didn't die," Walter shook his head with a grin. "They slipped through
one of the loopholes in the system, so to speak. I was thinking about heading over 
to help them out, but you know the Boss."
     "No helping only because we're worried about them," Angie nodded with a sigh.
"He's right, of course, they have to be able to stand without us, but sometimes it's
too hard not to...."
     "I know. Which is why Marie and I made a deal."
     Angie raised an eyebrow.
     "When she found out that Chip was up here, she was really worried. So since
she's not a guardian, she decided to give me an excuse to help out. She wrote out a
quick note for me to give to Chip. It's something she's wanted him to know for a 
long time, but the strict restrictions on contacting the living have prevented her 
thus far. Thus, she gave me a message to give to him, seeing as how his being here 
allows it, and everyone comes out happy. Marie gets her message across, I get to 
help Chip and Dale back to Earth, and Chip and Dale get to return, hopefully soon 
enough to help their friends.
     "Oh, and tell Zi thanks for looking out for them, will you?" he added as he
started out the door.
     Angie smiled. "No need for that. You know Zi. As far as he's concerned,
*they're* the ones doing *him* a favor."
     Walter chuckled. "See you in a little while, Angie." He stepped out into the
hallway, closing the door behind him.

     "Oh *thank you*, Mr. Dale!" The man hugged Tama to him fiercely. "The
procedures to find a lost member of the family up here are too complicated to try
and explain."
     "Hey, no sweat," Dale grinned.
     Tama's parents had heard Dale's announcement, and made their way as quickly
as possible up to the room. Tama was overjoyed at seeing her parents again, and the
people who worked in the room were overjoyed as they escorted everyone else out of 
it. Most of them had left while Dale was playing DJ, and now that he was no longer 
on the air, they were quick to seize control of their workarea again.
     Tama's parents thanked Dale again in the hallway, and even Tama broke from
her father for a moment, hugging Dale around the leg.
     "Thanks, Mr. Dale!" She squeezed him tight. "You're a nice man."
     "Hey, I try." Dale picked up Tama and returned the hug. He liked her. She
reminded him of Bink, a young girl squirrel the Rangers had saved from Fat Cat. He 
suddenly got an idea. "Hey, Tama, I want you to have something. To remember me by."
     He set Tama down as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his trusty
slingshot. Tama's face broke into a grin.
     "Wow, Mr. Dale! Can I really keep it?"
     "Sure," Dale handed it over to Tama's eager fingers. "Just be careful with it
okay? Don't point it at anyone," he leaned over to her, "unless you don't like 
them."
     She giggled and nodded, giving Dale another hug. Chip smiled and shook his
head as he watched them say goodbye.
     The parents bid farewell, wanting to get back to sorting their way through the
paper trail, trying to find where their final destination would be.
     "Well, that was uplifting," Dale beamed after the reunited family had left.
     "True," Chip acknowledged, sitting back down on a couch. "We're still no 
further along in our attempts to get out of here, but that was a nice stress 
reliever."
     "Hey, that P.A. is a great way to relieve stress, too." Dale looked back at the
door with a wry grin. "It's a lot of fun."
     "For you, Dale. Not the rest of the complex."
     Dale shrugged and settled himself next to Chip. They watched the passing souls
move through the halls, neither really sure where to go from here.
     "Maybe we should go back to that place we came in," Chip wondered out loud.
     "Why? I'm not jumping down that pit again, if that's what you're thinking."
     "No, Dale, but maybe there's some type of clue there that we missed."
     "What kind of clue?"
     "Honestly, I don't know. But it's the only thing I can think of, unless you 
want to try and negotiate through the maze of paperwork they use." He grabbed a 
fistful of papers to show Dale, who just blanched in response. "Didn't think so. 
Well, come on then. No time like the present, and all."
     Dale chuckled in agreement, absent-mindedly running a thumb along the sheath
of the Time Blade. They had just started down the hallway, when a voice called out 
to them.
     "Chip! Dale!"
     Surprised to hear their names, the chipmunks looked around. A handsome male
mouse was jogging to catch up with them, dressed in a smart three piece suit. Chip 
could have sworn he had met this guy before, but couldn't quite place it.
     "Hold up fellows," he said as he paused to catch his breath. "Whew! I'm glad I
found you two. I've forgotten just how big this place is."
     "Do I know you?" Chip asked, trying vainly to remember where he had seen this
mouse before.
     "Oh, you've probably seen me one or twice, yes," Walter chuckled. "But that's
not important now. What *is* important is getting you two out of here."
     "You know how to get out?" Chip asked hopefully.
     "You're going to help us?" Dale's voice was ecstatic.
     "Yes, and yes," he answered both questions.
     "But how did we get here?" Chip volleyed.
     Walter merely shook his head as he started down the hallway. "Follow me, I'll
explain along the way." Glancing at each other, Chip and Dale headed off after 
Walter, who was expertly navigating his way through a number of intersections and 
passages.
     "It's the Time Blade, boys," he explained as they swiftly made their way along
the crowded corridors.
     "This thing?" Dale looked at it in wonder.
     "That thing," Walter affirmed. "It allows the holder to pass through into the
afterlife over here. It's how the famed Samurai managed it in the first place, after
all."
     "Really?" Chip glanced at the Time Blade again.
     "Really," Walter nodded. "Remember that flash you both saw? At the bottom of
the shaft? Well, let's just say that if you both weren't holding the Time Blade, you
would have seen your life flash before your eyes instead."
     Chip and Dale shuddered at the thought.
     "But let's not dwell on the past, and what almost was," Walter continued,
maintaining his brisk pace. "I slipped over from the West to help you guys out. 
Hopefully, we'll be able to get you two back on Earth soon enough to help your 
friends. Oh, and before I forget..." He reached into his suit, withdrawing a small
note and handing it over to Chip. "This is for you."
     Chip took the note with a look of bewilderment. He saw his name was written on
it, in a handwriting style that looked vaguely familiar....
     Walter and Dale outpaced him as he studied the handwriting for a moment, so he
stuck the note into his pocket and hurried to catch up to them.
     "Oh, it's true all right, Dale," Walter was saying. "But tell me, did you ever
read 'The Monkey's Paw'?"
     "I saw it on an episode of `Tales from the Meat Locker'," Dale shrugged. "Does
that count?"
     "For these purposes, yes," Walter went on. "See, the wish exists, but remember
that it's the power of the bureaucracy fueling it. So there are certain limitations,
provisos, and protocol that need to be followed."
     "Like what?" Chip queried.
     "Well, for starters, only someone with the blood of the Samurai who first
journeyed here can use it, of course. Then they must go through a ritualistic chant,
concentrating on drawing power from their ancestors. It's all written down in books 
about it. But the thing that isn't mentioned in all those books," here Walter paused
to look at them, "is that the best wishes are for the present."
     "Huh?" Dale scratched his head.
     "The present? As opposed to the past?" Chip ventured.
     "Or the future," Walter nodded. "Wishing for something in either of those two
time frames will have disastrous consequences more often than not, much like what 
happened to the old couple with the Monkey's Paw."
     "Yeah, but wait a minute," Dale stated, remembering the television show quite
well. It had, after all, been part of many all night horror fests that he and 
Foxglove had. "In that story, the guy wished for money, and his son died."
     "His insurance paid the exact sum that the man had wished for," Walter
acknowledged.
     "But that was a wish dealing with the present," Chip spoke up, catching onto
what Dale was thinking.
     Walter chuckled and shook his head. "Boys... it is a fiction story after all." 
Still chuckling, he headed off again, Chip and Dale right behind him. "Would it make
you feel any better if I told you that not all wishes are created equal?"
     "Hold it," Chip interjected. "Before we go on into the metaphysics of wishes
and the granting thereof, I'd just like to make sure that I have a few things 
straight. First off, we're still alive."
     "Correct," Walter confirmed.
     "And that Time Blade got us here."
     "Correct."
     "Do we need it to get back?"
     "Correct."
     "Well," Dale piped up suddenly, "where are we going to get back from?" He
looked around, totally at loss as to their location.
     "I'm taking you guys to an exit of sorts," Walter answered. "It will bring you
back out into the palace, although I'm not sure where, exactly."
     "Well, as long as it's out of this madhouse, I'm not complaining." Chip glanced
over at a row of teller windows, all with the sign "Please use next window" up.
     Walter finally led them to a secluded part of the complex, and stepped through
a door motioning for them to follow. Walking in after him, they saw that they were 
in a small, cozy room with a single door on the opposite wall. The lighted red sign
above it glowed, "Exit".
     "There it is." Walter gestured to the door. "You'd better get a move on. No
telling what's going on back in the palace with your friends. Just make sure you're
holding the Time Blade when you pass through."
     Chip reached over and grasped the sheath firmly. "Okay, Dale, let's get out of
here. Oh, and I never did get your name--" Chip stopped short as he realized that 
Walter was gone.
     Dale blinked, and shook his head. "Well, whoever he was, he was right about
getting back there to get the others out of the mess they're in."
     Holding the Time Blade firmly, Chip nodded. "Ready Dale?"
     Dale winked. "See you on the other side, Chip."
     They pushed the door open and stepped through into another burst of light.

                          *     *     *

     Monterey stifled a yawn as he leaned against the iron bars, staring blankly at
the floor in front of him. He had been doing this for close to ten minutes now, just
listening to Gadget tap something metal against the cell door every so often. She 
was bored, he figured, and trying to keep distracted about Chip and Dale's recent 
death. He had spotted the fires of denial burning hot in her eyes, and hoped the 
smoke didn't cloud her mind.
     Even though he knew Chip and Dale to be very resourceful, he didn't see how
they could have escaped from that death. While he'd be delighted to find them alive,
he also had to plan on the fact that they weren't coming back. Gadget wasn't even 
accepting that possibility. That could prove to be her undoing.
     "Gotta figure out a way out of here," Monterey mumbled to himself, "and soon,
or the lads won't be the only ones who died today."
     "What?" Geegaw's voice asked in a hushed tone from the cell next to him.
     "Huh? Oh, nothing Geegaw." Monterey keep his voice down. He kept staring at
the floor, so the guard standing by the main door wouldn't see his mouth moving. 
"I was just tryin' to think of a way out of here."
     "Any luck?"
     Monterey laughed bitterly. "About as much luck a dingo has in Death Valley."
     "Interesting simile."
     "It's appropriate."
     Geegaw paused before asking, "You really think we're stuck?"
     Monterey grunted. "It may look that way, mate, but don't let my attitude fool
you. There's always a way out. A long shot is still a shot nonetheless. David proved
that when he dropped ol' Goliath with one shot."
     Geegaw's voice chuckled. "That sounds more like the Monterey I know. Listen,"
his tone grew even more quiet, and excited. "I think Gadget's figuring a way out of
here."
     "Seriously?" Monterey asked. "How?"
     "I'm not sure exactly," Geegaw admitted, "but I know that girl. Nothing holds 
her back. One problem, though."
     "*One* problem?" Monterey couldn't help but chuckle.
     "It's the guard. I don't think she'll be able to accomplish anything until the
guard's attention is drawn elsewhere."
     "A distraction, eh?" Monterey grumbled. "I think I could manage that."
     "I knew you could," Geegaw poked his head through the adjoining stone wall
and winked at Monterey. If his friend's sudden passage through solid matter wasn't 
enough to make Monterey gasp, the colors swirling in the aviator's irises was.

     With a sudden blink, Monterey snapped out of the trance he had been in. He
looked around, realizing he was still standing against the cell door, and had been
staring at the ground for a while.
     "Crikey," he mumbled. "That was some daydream...."
     "What was that Monty?" Geegaw's voice drifted over.
     Monterey momentarily thought about telling Geegaw, but no, it was too weird.
Besides, bigger things were on his mind. "Nothin', Geegaw."
     Gadget continued with her occasional tapping. As Monterey listened to it
carefully, remembering his daydream, he realized that there was some type of pattern
to it. He wasn't sure what Gadget was up to exactly, as she was several cells down, 
but it wasn't just something to keep her mind occupied. Glancing over at the guard, 
he also remembered that "Geegaw" had mentioned a distraction. Whether or not his 
hunch was right, Monterey decided to give it a try.
     It appeared his timing was perfect, for no sooner than had he decided to give 
it a try than he noticed that Gadget had stopped her tapping.
     "Let's see...." he mused, looking about the bare cell. The walls appeared to be
roughly cut from rock, and in the corners some loose gravel had collected. A smile 
slowly spread across Monterey's face as he thought about what he had mentioned to 
"Geegaw" only moments ago. Kneeling by the gravel, he sifted through until he found
the largest bit he could find, which really wasn't very large.
     Just as long as it gets his attention, Monterey thought as he tore a strip of 
cloth from his jacket, Or better yet, ticks him off.
     Working quickly, he fashioned the strip into a crude sling, placing the rubble 
bit inside. He moved back over to the front of the cell, lining up a shot with the 
stoic guard, who was more concerned with staring straight ahead than at the 
prisoners.
     "Better safe than sorry," Monterey mumbled, stepping back out of sight in the
back of his cell. He quickly began to spin the sling around, until it gave a low 
hum. Monterey waited calmly, keeping the sling spinning and hoping he could make the
first shot count.
      A moment later, the guard, still a foot away, stepped over so he could see 
what the cause of the subtle noise was. The instant Monterey saw him, he let the 
stone fly, taking only long enough to make sure his aim allowed his shot to get 
through the bars. The stone was whipped from the sling, its vast reserve of kinetic
energy burning up as it sped across the short distance to the guards forehead.
     The guard's head snapped back, but the stone was too small to do anything other
than leave a horrible stinging. Which is exactly what Monterey was hoping for. The 
guard fixed Monterey with a killing look and drew his katana, stalking up to the 
bars. Monterey backed away, hoping that the guard couldn't reach through the bars to
him. The back of cell, however, blocked him much sooner than he counted on, and he 
suddenly found himself dropping to the ground to evade the tip of the sword slashing
across his scalp.
     Scampering over to the corner, Monterey breathed a sigh of relief, only to have
it taken away as a sharp stinging pain raced down his back as the tip of the sword 
managed to scrape across the very edge of his skin. Ignoring the pain from his 
bruises, Monterey spun about, trying to maneuver out of harm's way again. He would 
have just charged the mouse, except that he knew he'd never reach the guard before 
the blade reached him. Still, it was either that or allow the guard to torture him 
like this, until he was too weak and tired to dodge anymore.
     Before he could make up his mind, however, the guard toppled to the ground
with a yelp. Looking up as he caught his breath, Monterey saw Gadget standing 
outside the cell, having just delivered a nasty leg sweep in hopes of taking the 
guard out quickly. Unfortunately, the guard was more resilient than that, and 
quickly regained his feet.
     Gadget, not counting on this, took a fearful step back as the mouse raised his
blade for a killing stroke, only to have himself jerked back forcefully into the 
bars of Monterey's cell. Monterey, who had been quick to take advantage of the fact 
that the guard had been standing within arm's reach, pushed the mouse outward again,
just so he could yank him back into the metal bars with a crash. Whimpering, the 
guard released his weapon, crumpling to the floor.
     Wiping the hair from her eyes, Gadget breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks 
Monty."
     "No time for that, luv!" Monterey still held the unconscious guard, refusing to
take any chances. "Can you get Zipper out?"
     "Yes."
     "Good. Get him out first," Monterey motioned down to Zipper's cell. "He can
pick through these locks in a flash, but he needs to be able to reach them."
     Nodding, Gadget darted over to Zipper's cell door.
     "But how'd you get out, hon?" Geegaw asked.
     "Oh, it was really quite simple once I realized what to do," Gadget explained
calmly as she inserted her tail into the lock on Zipper's door. "Using the coin, I 
tapped against the lock on my cell door with my ear against it, so I could hear the 
resonance inside. By tapping across the entire surface of the lock, and computing 
the differences in sounds caused by the coin, I was able to visualize what the 
general conditions of the locking mechanism were on the inside, which was a single 
shaft, dual pin combination."
     "Just like a sub using sonar..." Kan stated in amazement.
     "Once I knew what I was dealing with," Gadget grinned as the lock sprang open
on Zipper's door, "I knew it would only take me a few moments to pick it with my 
tail. Of course, I couldn't do anything until the guard's attention was diverted 
elsewhere, but Monterey took care of that."
     She carefully picked Zipper up, bringing him to the next cell, holding Tham. As
Gadget held him up, Zipper easily reached the small hand of his good arm into the 
lock, slipping it back until he could hit the release mechanism, taking all of three
seconds. As he repeated the process for each of his trapped compatriots, freeing 
them all in less than twenty seconds, Gadget studied the heavy shackles on Zipper's
feet. She carefully eyed it, slipping the tip of her tail inside. A few minutes of 
prodding later, and the shackles fell to the ground with a loud clamor.
     Thanks Gadget, Zipper indicated with his good hand.
     Making sure the guard was securely bound and gagged, Monterey tossed him
into one of the cells, slamming it shut.
     "Now what?" Geegaw asked.
     "We have to get out of here," Tham answered. "And fast. Who knows how long
it'll be before Chan comes back to bring us to his Uncle for sentencing?"
     They all turned with a start as they heard a series of footsteps running in the
outer hallway, towards the dungeon door.
     "Apparently," Kan said grimly, "not very long."