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Contagion
by Ellen Brand
"Tell me again, Egon, why we're here," Peter Venkman whined from the
back seat. It was hot in the rental car, as the four Ghostbusters drove
through the California
desert. Peter's humorous complaints had been entertaining the other
three for the past half-hour, but now even he was starting to sound peeved.
Egon Spengler, sitting next to him, sighed. "We are here, Peter, to
investigate that call we received the other night. The one that cut off
in mid- sentence, remember?
You were the one that took it, if I recall correctly."
Peter shivered slightly, despite the heat in the car. The tall, lanky
physicist was right, as usual. Peter HAD been the one to take that call
the other night, and he had
spent the past two days wishing he hadn't. A Doctor Frank Weber had
called them from Crissman, California, a small town in Orange County. The
man had been
hysterical, raving about strange lights and some sort of unstoppable
menace. Peter would have been inclined to rule him a psycho, except for
one thing. The call had
been interrupted by a crash, a blood-curdling scream, and then the
line went dead. Peter had then called the Orange County Sheriff's department,
only to be told that
there was no contact with the town of Crissman whatsoever.
"Why is it," the brown-haired Ghostbuster asked petulantly, "that everyone
immediately heads TOWARDS a blood-curdling scream? Wouldn't your first
instinct be
to run away?"
Winston Zeddemore chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. "You're
the psychologist, Pete. You tell us. You're right, though, I never thought
it made much
sense."
"Gee," interjected Ray Stantz, the fourth occupant of the car. "How could we not? That guy sounded terrified, Peter. You said so yourself. He called us for help."
Peter sighed. "I really hope we get paid for this one. A lot. I have this feeling that we're going to be earning it."
A little further on, the car ran into a roadblock. Winston rolled down
his window as one of the troopers approached the car. "What's going on
here?" Zeddemore
asked.
"No one allowed in the town of Crissman, sorry. You'll have to turn
around and go back," the woman replied. Peter, who was also sitting on
the driver’s side of the
car, rolled down his window as well.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but we're the Ghostbusters. We received a call the
other night from a Dr. Weber, in this town. His statements seemed to indicate
a problem of a
supernatural nature, and he seemed to think we could help. We were
cut off in mid-call, so I called the Sheriff's Department, and they said
that there was no
communication with the town. Has that changed?"
The trooper regarded him for a long moment, then shrugged. "No, actually
it hasn't. We're not supposed to tell the public about this, but you gentlemen
are
professionals. After your call, Dr.- Venkman?" At Peter's nod, she
continued. "After your call, we sent a couple of officers up to investigate.
We lost contact with
them, as well. Currently, we're blocking off the town, waiting for
the top brass to decide whether or not to bring in the National Guard."
"Hmmm." Egon removed the PKE meter from his belt and pointed it up the
road. "I'm detecting elevated levels of PKE coming from the town. Whatever's
up there,
it is most definitely supernatural." He put the meter away, turning
towards the trooper. "I suggest very strongly that you let us investigate.
I doubt that your
department or even the National Guard is equipped to handle what might
be in there."
The woman shrugged. "I'll call it in." She headed back to her car, and Peter turned towards his friends.
"Okay, Egon, Ray, what's going on here?" the psychologist asked seriously. "I already don't like this."
"It could be any number of things," Egon replied, pushing his glasses
up on his nose. "There have been many reports of mysterious disappearances
throughout
history."
"Right," Ray added. "Like Roanoke Island, or the Bermuda Triangle or-"
"Or the Mary Celeste, yeah, I know, Ray," Peter interrupted.
"But all of those obviously took place in a short span of time, and there
was never any evidence of
violence. That phone call was DEFINITELY evidence of violence."
"But remember, Peter, most of those disappearances took place back when
it would have been much harder to communicate. Perhaps whatever caused
those
disappearances covered its tracks," Egon reminded him.
"So we're going to charge into a situation that we have no earthly idea about?" Winston asked, resigned. "Here we go again."
"Look on the bright side," Venkman informed him, grinning wryly. "Maybe the cops will tell us to turn around and go home."
"Well, here she comes," Ray pointed out. "What did they say?"
The trooper sighed. "They don't like it, but nobody has any better ideas.
If you gentlemen would check it out, the Sheriff's Department would be
happy to pay your
bill."
Peter sighed. "Well, at least they're going to PAY us for risking our
lives this time." The roadblock was removed, and Winston drove the rental
car on up the road
towards Crissman.
"I REALLY don't like this," Winston said quietly. The town of Crissman
seemed to be completely deserted, without a soul around. The only movement
on the silent
streets was a few lonely sheets of newspaper whipped around by the
desert wind.
"No kidding," Peter agreed. "It's gonna be dark soon, and I forgot my
nightlight." The sun was slowly sinking down behind them, making their
shadows stretch
before them towards the eastern horizon. The atmosphere of quiet tension
reminded Peter of the time that the four of them had gone to Tombstone,
Arizona to bust
the ghosts of the Earp gang. The moments directly before the shooting
started had been exactly like this.
"Hmmm." Egon was entranced by the readings on his PKE meter, his calm
demeanor a sharp contrast to the jumpiness of his companions. Peter shot
the blond
physicist an irritated look.
"I hate it when you say that, Egon. It's almost as bad as 'Uh-oh,'" Venkman complained, eyes ceaselessly scanning the area.
Spengler raised an eyebrow at his friend. "These readings are most fascinating.
They don't seem to conform to any type of ghostly entity that we have ever
encountered. I believe we're on the trail of something completely new."
"Wow!" Ray cried. The youngest of the Ghostbusters, Ray's enthusiasm occasionally got the better of his common sense. "This is great!"
Winston and Peter shared looks of amused resignation. "Right, Ray," Winston sighed. "Real great."
The group moved off down the streets, Ray and Egon taking readings at every turn, Peter and Winston guarding their backs.
"Pete, did you see those shop windows we passed?" Zeddemore asked quietly.
The psychologist nodded. "Yup. I don't think vandals broke them all,
either. I REALLY don't like this, Winston. I'm seriously advocating getting
our rears out of
here, NOW."
The older man regarded his friend curiously. Peter Venkman liked to
present the image of a self-centered jerk, and in fact put a great deal
of effort into it. However,
Winston had known him long enough to see beyond that, to the brave,
selfless man hiding behind the façade. If the psychologist was seriously
suggesting that they
run away, something about the situation was giving him very bad vibes.
The Ghostbusters turned down another street and found themselves in
a cul-de-sac that seemed to be the town square. Ray looked around and shrugged.
"Looks
like a dead end."
Peter winced. "Did you have to use the word 'dead,' Ray?" A sudden noise
behind them made the four men whirl. Filling the street behind them was
a veritable army
of shambling, emaciated humanoid figures that could only be called
zombies. They were a dusky gray color, with blank white eyes and long talons.
All four
Ghostbusters swallowed hard.
"Egon," Winston said levelly, "what are they?"
The physicist shook his head. His blue eyes were wide and frightened
behind his glasses, but his voice gave no hint of the fear he felt. "I
have no idea, Winston.
However, I think it might be a good idea to open fire."
Ray nodded. "Yeah. I don't think they're the Welcome Wagon." In unison,
the four men unshipped their throwers and moved into a back-to-back formation.
The
zombies advanced on them, beginning to surround them.
"Fire!" Peter cried. Four streams shot out, making contact with the
advancing horde. The zombies struck with the beams fell to the ground,
smoking, but another one
always moved to take its place.
"There's too many of them!" Ray called.
"Keep firing!" Egon shot back. "We've got to find a break in the press!"
Suddenly the sound of a gunshot drew everyone's attention. At the entrance
to the cul-de-sac, on the main road, was a cherry red convertible. A young
boy, no
more than thirteen, sat in the driver's seat, and in the passenger's
seat stood an attractive redheaded young woman. "Come on!" she cried, unloading
another round
from her shotgun, knocking yet another zombie to the ground. "They
won't be distracted forever!"
"Head for the car!" Peter cried, giving Ray a gentle shove. "Go!"
"We'll cover you!" Winston added, doing the same for Egon. The four
quickly made their way through the crowd of zombies, breaking out through
the hole that the
woman in the car had so thoughtfully made for them. While Peter and
Winston laid down cover fire, Ray and Egon scrambled into the back seat.
Peter and Winston
joined them, and the car roared off, leaving the zombies behind.
Looking at his three friends jammed into the back seat of the car with him, Peter grinned. "I love my work."
The car pulled up outside a small, one-story white building. Quickly,
the six of them hurried inside, the woman bolting the door behind them.
Winston quickly took
stock of their surroundings. They appeared to be in a waiting room
of some kind. Judging by the age of the magazines on the tables, it was
probably that of the town
doctor. There were no windows anywhere, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
The last thing he wanted to worry about was zombies coming in through the
windows.
"Are you four all right?" the woman asked, looking the Ghostbusters over with a critical eye.
"We're fine," Egon responded. "If I may ask, who are you, and what exactly is going on here?"
She sighed. Setting her shotgun down on the table, she sank onto one
of the couches in the waiting room, indicating for the rest to do the same.
Once everyone was
seated, she began to speak. "My name is Andrea Howard. I'm one of Crissman's
two doctors- general practitioners. From your outfits and weapons, I would
guess
that you four are the Ghostbusters, which means Frank managed to get
through to you. What exactly did he tell you?"
Peter swallowed. "I'm Peter Venkman," he introduced himself. "I took
Dr. Weber's call the other night. He didn't say much- he was kind of hysterical.
All we got
was that something supernatural was going on, and that we were needed
out in Crissman. Then the phone cut off. I assume that those things we
saw out there found
him." He was short and to the point, none of his usual flirtation in
his manner. This was definitely not the time.
Andrea nodded. "We think so. He went to go call you and he never came
back, so we figure the zombies got him. Oh, by the way, this is Jake West.
I wound up at
his house when all hell broke loose, and we've stuck together."
The boy, a short blond with brown eyes, nodded at the Ghostbusters.
Peter couldn't help but notice how tightly the boy clung to Andrea. He
didn't blame the kid.
The woman was a rock, seeming very calm in the midst of all the craziness
that had occurred.
"So what exactly happened?" Ray pursued, once the introductions had been completed. "Where did these zombies come from?"
Andrea sighed. "That's a long story. Two nights ago, a strange light
was seen out in the desert. Nobody thought much of it; there are all sorts
of stories about ghosts
and such. While everyone was going about their business, all the bodies
in the cemetery on the edge of town started pulling themselves up out of
their graves." She
shivered. "They headed into town, started killing anybody they could.
No weapon seemed to stop them permanently, until you showed up with those
packs. Some
people tried to get out of town. They didn't make it. The zombies are
watching the road, and they just- swarm over the cars. Nobody gets more
than a hundred
yards." Peter suddenly remembered the sheer drops he had seen on either
side of the road as they had come up, and shivered a little himself.
"Frank and I were working when the zombies showed up. We cleared out,
in his car. That's the red one out front. We wound up at Jake's, which
is on the outskirts
of town, away from the roads. Jake was waiting there for his mother,
but- she didn't come home."
"She's probably hiding," the boy said. "Those zombies couldn't catch her."
Andrea winced, leaving no doubt in the Ghostbusters' minds what she
believed. "Anyway, we agreed it was too dangerous to try and get out of
town, so Frank said
he'd go call you. Jake's place doesn't have a phone, so he headed back
into town." She shrugged. "He didn't come back either. We've spent the
last two days hiding
from the zombies and trying to find someone still alive in this town."
"How many are there?" Winston asked, knowing that he wasn't going to like the answer.
"That we know about, counting the people in this room- six," she replied. "Jake's mom- well, we're still hoping." The five adults fell silent at this point.
"Dr. Howard," Egon finally began, "do you know what might have triggered
all this? I mean, obviously the light triggered the zombies, but why did
all this happen
now? Has anything strange happened recently?"
"Any new artifacts in the museum?" Ray added.
Andrea shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I don't know what might have triggered it."
Egon and Ray looked at each other, ready to start tossing out theories.
Before they could do so, however, Peter interrupted them. "Dr. Howard,
just how smart are
these zombies?" he asked, swallowing.
"I don't know what you mean, Dr. Venkman."
"Well, for instance, can they open doors?"
Everyone followed his gaze in time to see the door to the rest of the
office swing open. There in the doorway stood a swaying zombie, which seemed
to sweep the
room with its dead white eyes. Tall and gaunt, the creature still had
a thick shock of black hair, implying that it was relatively fresh.
Andrea gasped. "Oh, dear God. Frank!"
The zombie, which had been Dr. Weber, hissed, lunging at Andrea. Instinctively,
Peter threw himself at her, knocking her out of the creature's path. Its
sharp talons
scraped across his back, and he bit back a cry of pain.
"Car!" Winston cried, unshipping his thrower. "Now!" More zombies had
followed the first, and the oldest of the Ghostbusters laid down a barrage
of cover fire,
following his friends out to the car. "Punch it, Ray!" he cried, leaping
into the back seat. Stantz nodded, flooring the accelerator. The car roared
away from the clinic,
leaving the zombies behind.
"Well," Peter said brightly. "That was- ungh!" He suddenly doubled over as a wave of pain shot through him. Andrea, next to him, turned quickly.
"Dr. Venkman? Are you- oh, shit." She cut off seeing the scratches on his back. "Dr. Stantz! We have to get him somewhere safe!"
"Any suggestions?" Ray hollered back, never taking his eyes off the road.
"As few windows and doors as possible," Winston replied.
Andrea nodded. "My personal office, rather than the one I shared with Frank. It's at my house, across town. Jake, can you give Dr. Stantz directions?"
The boy, sitting in the front seat between Egon and Ray, nodded. "You bet, Doc."
That settled, Andrea turned back to Peter. He was pale, and sweat was beginning to appear on his brow. "Hurry up, Ray," he said weakly. "I don't feel so good."
Once at Andrea's house, Egon and Winston picked up Peter, who by this
time was unconscious. Quickly, the two men carried him inside. Andrea locked
the door
and led the way into the living room. "Put him down on the couch, face
down. I have to clean those scratches on his back, for all the good it'll
do." They did as she
ordered. Andrea collected her medical kit from the office, remarking
as she did so, "Could somebody check the house? I'd rather not have any
unexpected surprises
jumping out at me."
Winston took a look at Egon, who was obviously unwilling to leave Peter's side, and nodded. "Yeah. Ray and I'll check it out."
"Can I go too?" Jake asked hopefully.
"Better not," Andrea replied. "Go into the kitchen and start making
me up some cold compresses, okay? Dr. Venkman's going to be running a fever
soon, and we'll
need to keep his temperature down."
Egon raised an eyebrow. "You've seen this kind of thing before?"
"Not everybody who got attacked by a zombie died right away," she replied,
unzipping Peter's jumpsuit and peeling it away from the top half of his
body. Then she
gently pushed his T-shirt up away from his wound. "Jake and I ran across
a number of people who had merely been wounded. Some of them, a fairly
small
percentage, turned into zombies, the way Frank did." She swallowed,
then quickly went on. "Most of the others went into some sort of toxic
shock. That's what Dr.
Venkman here is experiencing. His body is having a toxic reaction to
something that was introduced into his system when the zombie scratched
him."
"Will it kill him? And why the difference?"
She shook her head. "I don't know on both counts. I've never had a patient
live long enough to be tested, but not necessarily because of the toxic
shock. Their
wounds were pretty bad, too, much worse than Dr. Venkman's. We've got
to keep his body temperature down. If it gets too high, he could have brain
damage."
Andrea finished cleaning the scratches on Peter's back, and taped a
dressing over them. "Help me turn him over, please," she requested. Egon
did as she asked, just
as Jake came out of the kitchen with a bucket full of water and wet
towels.
"Here's the cold compresses," Jake told her. "Should I go make more?"
She nodded. "Yeah, and put them in the fridge. We may need them." He nodded and left again.
When she turned back to the couch, she found that Egon had already begun
bathing Peter's forehead with one of the compresses that Jake had left.
She raised an
eyebrow. "You've obviously done this before."
Egon chuckled. "This isn't the first time I've had to nurse him through
a fever," the physicist replied, looking down at his friend in fond exasperation.
"For a man who
makes such a production out of minor injuries and illnesses, Peter
is extremely stubborn about the major ones. He'll run himself into the
ground rather than take it
easy."
"You've known each other a long time?" Andrea asked, coming to sit next to him.
"Seems like forever," Spengler nodded. "We met in college, my senior
year, his junior. We were assigned to a project together in one of our
classes." He chuckled
dryly. "Needless to say, it was not love at first sight. He thought
I was a nerd, and I was sure I would wind up doing everything on the project,
and he would get half
the credit."
"What happened?"
"He surprised me. That was only the first surprise in our relationship,
of course. I don't think he's quit yet. The subject was one that interested
him- astral travel, I
believe. I don't really even remember what it was. He insisted on doing
his half of the research, and his part of the project was of high quality.
Over the course of
working together, we became friends, and we just never drifted apart."
"What's he like?" she asked curiously.
"Peter? He can be childish, vain, exasperating, and occasionally infuriating.
He continually forgets to do his chores, always has an angle on something,
and has a
rather- basic sense of humor." Egon chuckled, remembering some of the
practical jokes Peter had pulled on him over the years. "He is also the
bravest, kindest,
most understanding man I know. He's a psychologist, you know, and a
very good one. If any of us have a problem, he's the first one we go to.
He works very hard
to maintain his image as a jerk, but he's actually a very warm, caring
individual, with the habit of putting everyone else first. I've trusted
him at my back on a hundred
busts, and I've never had to worry that he wouldn't be there to cover
it. If any one of us gets hurt on a bust, it always seems to be him."
"Accident-prone?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not hardly. Peter always finds some sort of way to put himself between us and whatever threatens."
Andrea smiled. "You're a lucky man, Dr. Spengler." Her gaze fell on Peter. "And so is he, I think."
"How is he?" was the first thing Ray asked as he and Winston returned from securing the house. Andrea shrugged.
"No worse, no better. He's obviously fighting whatever it is." She cocked an eyebrow at Egon. "You didn't mention he was stubborn."
The physicist shrugged. "It's been a part of him so long, I've ceased to notice."
"Any idea exactly what's wrong with him?" Winston asked.
Andrea sighed. "Your guess is as good as mine, I'm afraid. I can't believe
that those scratches could have become infected this seriously in this
length of time, but
that's all that makes sense with these symptoms."
"Hmm." On a hunch, Egon took out his PKE meter and took a reading. "Aha!"
"What is it, Egon?" Ray asked.
"Peter's PKE levels are elevated far beyond what they should be. Whatever this illness is, it seems to be supernatural in nature."
Winston raised an eyebrow. "Egon, are you saying that we are dealing with a ghost VIRUS?"
"Unlikely, Winston," Spengler returned. "Viruses lack the motivation to become ghosts. No, I doubt that this is a disease as we know them."
"Hey!" Ray cried. "I think I've got it! Maybe it's not a disease, but
a poison. Some kind of psycho-spiritual taint or contamination! It's introduced
into the
psycho-spiritual level by the wound. The toxic shock is most likely
the actions of a- a psychic immune system. If your system is weak, you
become a zombie.
Stronger people experience an immune response, and go into toxic shock."
Egon's brows came together. "It's possible, Raymond. There are many
instances of the mind and spirit affecting physical health. Even the more
conservative medical
sciences admit the existence of psychosomatic illness, and thautaumurgy,
healing via mental or spiritual power, has been known since ancient times."
"This is completely nuts," Andrea told them, "but so are zombies. Besides,
it does make a certain amount of sense. A fever, like the one Dr. Venkman
is
experiencing, is the immune system's natural response to an invader.
The body turns up the temperature to try and denature the enzymes and proteins
of the invading
microorganisms. If there is a psychosomatic component to this, it would
certainly explain why a spiritual ailment is causing a physical reaction."
She shook her head,
smiling. "Anybody hears me talking like this, and I'll lose my license."
"We won't tell a soul," Winston grinned.
"So now that we know what it is," Jake West piped up, startling them
all, "what do we do about it?" The boy had finished making up more compresses,
and had
finally returned to the living room.
"Well, to stop this, we have to figure out what started it. And the
best way to do that is do research," Winston decided. "I say we head to
the library and check it
out." Egon and Ray nodded. Winston Zeddemore was the team's resident
mystery buff, and definitely knew the most about solving a puzzle.
"Right. Dr. Howard, will you be all right here?" Ray asked.
The redheaded doctor nodded. "You go on. Jake and I will keep an eye on Dr. Venkman."
"Here we are," Winston announced, stopping the car. "The Crissman Public Library." The three Ghostbusters looked up at the large building in dismay.
"It’s pretty dark," Ray sighed.
Egon nodded. "Bring the flashlights," the physicist instructed. "We’ll likely need them."
Gingerly, the three of them made their way inside, expecting at any
moment to be leaped upon from the shadows. "It’s only been a couple days
since all this
happened," Winston mused. "The electricity’s probably still hooked
up."
Ray reached out and flipped the switches on the plate nearest him. Throughout the library, lights flickered on. "Yeah, I’d say that’s a safe assumption."
"I think we should split up. We can cover more ground that way. I’ll
check through the microfilm readers, see if I can’t find an answer to all
of this in back issues of
the local paper," Egon suggested.
"I’ll look in the card catalogue for something on the history of the area," Ray volunteered. "There has to be something in here. California’s got quite a history."
Winston nodded. "And I’ll take the hardcopy issues of the paper. Sometimes
they don’t put everything in the microfilm." The three men split up, each
heading for
their personal destination.
Winston set a load of papers down on the table with relief. He hadn’t
remembered just how heavy newspapers could be, and this was the third load
he’d transferred
in and out of the back room. Taking a breather for a second, he looked
up to see Ray leafing through the card catalogue in frustration.
"You all right?" the older man asked quietly.
The occultist looked up, startled. "Oh, yeah, Winston," he replied,
not at all convincingly. "I just can’t find anything on local history,
and that’s ridiculous! Places like
this always have one or two sources on the area’s history."
"Well, maybe it’s in a special collection," Zeddemore replied.
Ray thought about that, then nodded. "Could be. Maybe there’s a card
catalogue behind the librarian’s desk." He moved to head over there, but
Winston restrained
him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Ray, I’ll ask again. Are you all right?" Of all the Ghostbusters, Ray
Stantz was the most sensitive and sympathetic. It was one of the qualities
that made him such a
good friend, but it also meant that he tended to get very down when
something bad happened. It was fairly obvious that Ray was hurting over
what had happened to
Peter. Winston had known the other three for a number of years now,
and they were the greatest friendships he had ever had. No matter what,
though, he knew that
the friendship the other three had was stronger and deeper even than
that. This did not unduly bother him, though. Considering the strength
of the feelings involved,
determining "closer" was like trying to measure the spaces between
electrons- done on purely theoretical terms.
"Well-" Ray could see that the other was not about to be satisfied with
a single offhand answer. "I’m scared, Winston. Peter’s always been there
for us, and we’ve
always been there for him. What would we do if we lost him?"
Winston had been wondering that himself. Peter had once described Ray
as the heart of the Ghostbusters, and Winston had to admit that it was
more than
applicable. Ray was the heart, Egon was the brain, and Winston had
always seen himself at the common sense. Going by that analogy, Peter was
the backbone of
the team. Despite his frequently expressed reservations about risking
their safety, the psychologist was usually the one who provided the team
with their courage,
kidding around to break the tension and bolstering them all with unflagging
support. Plus, also like the backbone, he helped maintain the team’s structure.
No matter
what, if things were going badly, Peter knew exactly how to pull them
all together. His sense of humor combined with his excellent understanding
of human nature
was often the only thing that could keep them all on an even keel.
What would they do if they lost Peter Venkman?
"We’re not going to lose him," Winston replied, in answer to both Ray
and himself. "You know Pete. He’s a fighter. He’s faced down worse fevers
than this without
batting an eye. We WILL find out what started all this, and how to
stop it. He’s never let us down, and we won’t let him down, either."
"What if we can’t find it, Winston?" Ray sounded so young and despairing. "What if there’s nothing to find?"
Winston sighed. He didn’t really know how to answer.
"Hey, I think I found something!" Ray’s exclamation drew both Winston
and Egon over to the table where the occultist sat, eagerly devouring a
book he had found in
the second floor private collection. "This is a journal of all the
ghost stories written about the Crissman area. This one talks about a tale
that some of the Indians in the
surrounding area told the settlers who came in. Apparently, long ago,
a tribe of Indians lived in this very spot. But then some sort of darkness
came upon them, a
contagion that racked the body and stole the soul."
"Sounds familiar," Winston interjected.
"The elders of the tribe sealed the contagion away, but it had already
decimated their people and their land. They left, to find another home,
and no more tale is told
of them," the engineer finished.
Egon adjusted his glasses. "Most interesting, Ray. It fits nicely with
something I’ve discovered in the issue of the paper from five days ago.
Buried on the fifth page of
the Arts and Entertainment section was an article about a local archaeological
dig. Apparently, they’ve been digging up Indian artifacts for some time.
The newest dig
was scheduled to begin on the day that the strange light was seen in
the desert, the day that all the trouble started."
"Of course!" Ray cried. "The Indians sealed off the source of the contagion,
and went away, but the newest dig must have uncovered it again. That means
that we
can pinpoint the source of the taint with the PKE meters, now that
we have the search area narrowed down."
Winston nodded. "We’d better get back to Dr. Howard’s and let them know what we’ve found."
The three of them rose, when a shuffling sound met their ears. Ray gulped.
"That may be a little harder than we thought." The three of them moved
back-to-back-to-back as the shadows began to move.
Peter groaned, slowly swimming to consciousness. He had an awful headache,
and his limbs felt as if they were made out of water. Slowly, he sat up,
realizing that
moving too fast would only backfire on him. Looking around, he took
stock of his surroundings. It looked as if he was in somebody’s living
room, with polished
hardwood floors, walls the color of burnt toast, and knickknacks covering
virtually every available surface. He could vaguely recall Andrea telling
Ray to take them
to her house, before he had passed out. He still felt sick and achy,
but at least he was back in his right mind.
"I see you’re up," Andrea commented, coming back into the room. Peter
turned towards her a little too quickly, and had to fight back a wave of
nausea as the room
spun around him. "Feeling better?"
"Not really," he muttered, raising his hands to his head. "I feel like I spent WAY too much time on the roller coaster."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you’re lucid, too. That’s a change."
"Lucid? Was I hallucinating?"
Jake, still by Andrea’s side, nodded enthusiastically. "Majorly! You
were yelling something about a Class V, and I think you thought you were
chasing a ghost at one
point. Another time, you were saying something about ‘Slimer.’ Who’s
Slimer?"
Peter groaned. "He’s our pet ghost, so to speak. He has an appetite like a garbage disposal, and he REALLY likes sliming me."
Andrea chuckled. "I’ll go get you something to drink," she told him.
"You need to keep taking in fluids, with that fever and all. Jake, keep
Dr. Venkman company
until I get back, okay?" The boy nodded, and she headed into the kitchen.
"What’s it like being a Ghostbuster?" Jake asked curiously, sitting
in a chair near the couch. Peter grinned. Despite how sick he felt, this
was the part of the job that
always gave him a charge. Kids regarded what they did as the coolest
thing on the planet, and he was always glad to tell them about the job.
"Messy," Peter chuckled. "Ninety percent of the ghosts we go after seem
to leave behind slime of one type or another, and its almost always getting
on us. Me more
than the other guys for some reason. It’s dangerous, sometimes, when
we go up against a major bad guy, and it can get scary."
"You get scared?" interrupted Jake, his eyes wide.
"All the time," Peter replied solemnly. "There have been busts where
I’ve been so sure that one of us was going to buy it-" he shook his head,
pushing those
memories away. "One good thing about it, though, is that I know the
other guys are always gonna be there to back me up. They’re almost like
my family." Peter
examined the boy keenly, slipping into psychologist mode. "You know,
Jake, it’s perfectly all right to be scared. Everybody gets scared now
and then, especially in
dangerous situations. There’s nothing wrong with being scared, if you
don’t let that paralyze you, and there’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re
scared. Sometimes
it helps the fear go away, at least a little."
The boy thought about that for a long moment. "I’m scared," he finally
admitted. "I’m afraid my mom isn’t going to come home. We’ve been looking
for her for two
days." Jake’s head came up, and his brown eyes locked with the psychologist’s
green ones. Softly, he asked, "We’re not going to find her, are we?"
Peter swallowed. "I don’t know, Jake," he responded honestly. "People
can survive against incredible odds. My friends and I have proved that
a number of times.
But-"
"It’s not likely," the boy finished. He smiled slightly. "It’s okay,
Dr. Venkman. You don’t have to sugar-coat it. I lost my dad a couple years
ago. Plane crash. For a
long time, we didn’t know if he was one of the survivors or not. I
should know better than to get my hopes up by now."
Peter closed his eyes, against the wave of weakness that swept through
him, and against the memories of his own youth, when he’d spoken those
words far too
many times. A cool sensation on his forehead made his eyes fly open
again. Jake was gone, but Andrea was patting his forehead down with a cold,
wet cloth. He
forced a half-grin. "Here I am, alone with a beautiful woman taking
care of me, and I’m too sick to do anything about it."
She chuckled. "Look on the bright side, Dr. Venkman. You’re also too sick for me to slap you." Peter winced in mock fear.
"How long have I been out?" he asked. She shrugged.
"I haven’t exactly been keeping track. I think about an hour or so. Your friends went off to the library to try and find more information about what’s going on here."
"I hope they’ll be all right," he muttered. Then he fixed her with an amused look. "Did you hear me talking to Jake?"
She nodded. "Yes, I did. Dr. Spengler was right, you are a good psychologist."
"Egon said that? Out loud?" he asked, astounded. Then he shook his head,
bringing himself back to the conversation at hand. "You know, it’s all
right for you to be
scared too. You’ve obviously been the stable one in this group since
all hell broke loose, but you need to have your reactions to this. Don’t
suppress them, or they’ll
just end up causing problems later."
"I’ll be scared when there’s time for it, after this is all over. Besides,
I had my reaction two nights ago, when everything happened." Quickly, she
changed the subject.
"You’re pretty good with kids, I see. Do you have any of your own?"
He shook his head, amusement creeping into his green eyes. "Not yet. Although I wouldn’t mind some- with the right lady. I just haven’t found her yet."
"Not for lack of trying, I would imagine," Andrea retorted. "Your track record with women has even reached California."
"Yeah, well-" Peter shrugged uncomfortably. The speed at which he changed
dates was a bit of a sore spot for him. Either they wanted to get too serious
too fast, or
they were just looking for the quick status boost that dating a Ghostbuster
would provide. "So, are you single?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I think, Dr. Venkman," she replied firmly,
"it’s time to take your temperature." Sticking a thermometer into his mouth,
she effectively
cut off the conversation.
Peter endured his four-minute silence good-naturedly, watching Andrea
instead. Removing the thermometer from his mouth, she frowned at it. "Still
high," she sighed.
"Hundred and five."
"Not quite life-threatening yet, but not good," he agreed. She looked at him in curiosity, and he gave her a lopsided smile. "I’ve had fevers before," he explained.
"So I’ve been told," she responded dryly. "Here, drink this." She passed
him a glass of ginger ale. "It’ll help you replenish your bodily fluids.
With that fever, trust me,
you need it."
Sipping at his ginger ale, Peter regarded her with interest. "So why did you get into medicine anyway?"
"What, you think it’s an unusual field for a girl?" she asked. Despite the teasing note in her voice, Peter thought he detected a bit of a challenge there as well.
"Not really. It’s just that almost everybody has a story, a reason why they do what they do. I was wondering about yours."
Andrea sighed. "Well, my dad was a doctor, actually. Small town GP, here in Crissman, as a matter of fact. He was Frank’s partner. I idolized the man."
"And you wanted him to be proud of you?" Peter probed gently. Andrea laughed.
"My dad would have been proud of me if I had been an accountant. He
was always proud of me. No, I didn’t go to med school to make him proud
of me, exactly.
It was just- we were so much alike, and I always wanted to be like
him. He was always so happy as a doctor that I knew I would be, too."
Her blue eyes got a little distant then. "He got sick while I was in
school. Cancer, myodysplasia. It’s sort of a pre-leukemia. Attacks the
bone marrow, that sort of
thing. I remember watching him get sicker and sicker, but he never
let it get him down. My dad was a fighter. The day I graduated from medical
school, he was so
proud, I thought he’d burst. He made a couple of jokes about us going
to practice together- Howard and Howard, said we ought to find a Fein to
work with us."
She shot Peter an amused look. "My dad was a complete and unapologetic
Stooges fan," she explained. "Anyway, after that, he got sicker, and a
couple months
later, he was gone. But I was always so glad that he was able to see
me graduate, and know that I was a doctor." She turned to him, cocking
her head. "What about
your family?"
"Mine? Well, it was usually me and my mom. My dad was on the road most
of the time. Ostensibly he was a traveling salesman. Actually, he was a
traveling con
artist. He still is, really. Anyway, he was gone a lot. My mom pretty
much raised me. I loved her, and she loved me, but the fact was that we
hardly had any money,
or any things. ‘Til I went to college, she and my dad were the only
family I had, and I kind of grew up holding everything inside.
"Then I met Egon. At first, I thought we were gonna hate each other,
but somehow we wound up friends. And not just friends like I’d had before,
who would listen
to you, talk with you, have a good time with you. With Egon, it was
almost as if we were brothers. He was always there for me, from Physics
tutoring to nursing me
through whatever illness I’d managed to contract. For a long time,
I was scared to death that it was all going to turn out to be some really
sick cosmic joke, and I’d
have everything snatched away from me. It took me a long time to relax.
"A few years later, Ray came along, and then after we started the business,
I met Winston. Three guys who would and have put their lives on the line
for me without
a second thought. It’s a little scary, sometimes, how strong it is.
But I don’t think I’d trade it for the world."
Andrea looked wistful. "I wish I had friends like that."
"They’re not just friends," Peter replied. "They’re family. Ray- Ray’s
like your little brother- your genius little brother. He can fix just about
any piece of machinery he
gets his hands on, and more than once, he’s come up with the solution
to something that looks impossible. He also is the only adult man I know
to sit down daily and
watch every episode of Murray the Mantis.
"Egon’s a genius, too, more of the logical, Mr. Spock type. He can be
so serious that you forget that there’s a really evil sense of humor buried
under there. I should
know- we’ve been sniping at each other and playing practical jokes
ever since Columbia. Sometimes you can’t understand a word he says, but
he always knows
what he’s doing.
"And Winston, he’s the anchor. The three of us, we’re all scientists,
even me. Sometimes we get a little too wrapped up in the scientific aspect
of things, and he’s
always the one to haul us back and tell us we’re crazy. He’s definitely
the common sense of the team." He stopped and blinked. "I don’t usually
run on at the mouth
like this. Sorry."
"I’m the one who should be apologizing," she responded. "I should know better than to ask personal questions of a guy with a fever."
"So, as I was asking before, do you have kids of your own?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "That’s not exactly what you were asking, but no. I guess I just haven’t found the right person yet either."
"Well, looks to me as if you’ve already adopted one."
"Jake?" She considered that. "Maybe. I’ve been taking care of him since he was born. In a way, I guess I’m all he has left. I just hope that he doesn’t lose me, too."
"Do you want me to tell you that everything’s going to be all right?"
"I would rather you tell me the truth."
Peter chuckled. "Well, Egon, Winston, and Ray are out there working
on the problem. There are not two guys in the entire world that I trust
the brains of more than
Egon and Ray, and if pure stubbornness counts for anything, with the
three of them, this should be over in another hour. They have always- ALWAYS-
come
through for me before."
Sighing, she sank down on the couch next to him. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."
Slowly, he slid his arm around her shoulders, and she did not push him away. "Don’t mention it."
Back at the library, things were not nearly so peaceful. Zombies were
beginning to close in on the three Ghostbusters. "Spread out!" Winston
yelled, as the shambling
creatures began to advance on them. He rolled to one side as one of
the zombies leaped towards him. As he rolled, Winston pulled the thrower
from its resting place
in one swift motion, swinging it into the place and thumbing the trigger.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Egon and Ray doing the same,
throwing themselves
in various directions. Then all his attention was drawn to the creatures
surrounding him. It seemed as if no matter how many he blasted, another
was there to take its
place. He needed an out, and he needed one fast.
Ray had his back to the Young Adult section, frantically blasting away
at the zombies attacking him, when a crashing noise caught his attention.
He looked up just in
time to see Winston follow the chair he had just heaved out of one
of the large front windows. "Egon!" the engineer called. "We’ve got to
get out of here! They’ll just
keep coming until they overwhelm us!"
"I’m open to suggestions, Raymond," the physicist replied, never taking his attention from his own attackers.
Ray scanned the library frantically, his mind working. "I’ve got it!
When the lights go out, head for the window! I’ll be right behind you!"
So saying, the auburn-haired
man suddenly cut and ran, reaching the librarian’s desk and vaulting
over it easily. "Okay, guys, lights out!" Stantz yelled, slamming all of
the switches down at once.
The library was suddenly plunged into darkness, throwing the zombies
into confusion. Egon quickly took the opportunity to throw himself out
of the window that
Winston had broken, landing on the lawn below. For a second, he wondered
why none of the zombies had followed him, and then the sound of a proton
pack firing
from inside answered that question. Ray was making a target of himself,
acting as bait to keep the zombies off Egon’s trail.
"RAY!" Egon yelled, his bass voice barely audible over the sounds of mayhem inside the library.
"Egon!" Winston’s voice called. Egon turned to see the older man sitting
in the driver’s seat of the car. The physicist ran over there, his long
legs eating up the ground
beneath him.
"Winston! Ray’s still in there!" he cried. Just then, the front doors of the library burst open, and Ray came running out, a flood of zombies on his heels.
"Get in the car!" the occultist yelled, waving at them. Egon did as
instructed, hopping into the shotgun seat while Winston revved the engine.
With an incredible flying
leap, Ray landed in the back seat of the convertible, and Winston hit
the gas, leaving the zombies behind.
"Ray, are you all right?" Egon asked in concern. "You weren’t injured, were you?"
Stantz shook his head. "No, Egon, I’m okay. Wow, that was kind of fun. Of course, I wouldn’t want to do it again, but it was cool anyway."
Winston shook his head. "Ray, you are a strange man."
"More compresses, Jake. His temperature’s going up again," Andrea ordered.
Sitting on the couch, Peter watched her with a slightly confused expression.
Not long
after their earlier conversation, Peter’s fever had taken a turn for
the worse, and he was losing his lucidity. He wasn’t hallucinating yet,
but he was beginning to go
hazy on them.
"Where’s Egon?" he muttered. "I would have thought he’d be playing mother hen, like he always does."
Andrea sighed. "Dr. Venkman, please try to focus. Dr. Spengler and your other friends went to the library, remember?"
"Call me Peter," the psychologist mumbled. "Ev’rybody does. Well, everybody except Janine."
Jake came back in with another load of towels. "Thanks, Jake," Andrea said absently, taking one from the bucket and applying it once again to Peter’s forehead.
Suddenly he reached up and stopped her wrist. "Did anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?" he asked dreamily.
She raised an eyebrow. "Not recently, Dr. Venkman. Now let go of my wrist. We have to keep your temperature down."
Peter subsided, looking up at Andrea with half-closed eyes. Suddenly
a splintering crash caught all of their attentions. Peter sat up, trying
desperately to focus, as the
door shattered inward, and a zombie made its way into the living room.
"Holy shit!" he managed, rolling off the couch. He landed beside his proton
pack, and
grabbed at the rifle. Fever or not, Peter had been using his pack day
in and day out for a number of years. There was no way he was going to
miss. He snapped off
a quick shot, and the zombie fell smoking to the ground.
Andrea and Jake quickly hurried to Peter’s side, helping him to get
to his feet. "We’ve got to get out of here," Venkman mumbled. "I don’t
want more of them
showing up." He squinted, trying to focus. "Dr. Howard, you’d better
wear my proton pack. I don’t think I’m strong enough, and I know we’re
going to need it."
She nodded, and Jake quickly helped her into it. Once it was situated,
she and Jake draped Peter’s arms around their necks and hurriedly helped
him out of the
house.
They were about halfway down the road when Winston pulled up in the car. "Hey, he’s awake!" Zeddemore cried, seeing Peter.
"Sort of," Andrea replied, loading the psychologist into the back seat. "We had some uninvited guests back at my place. Find anything at the library?"
"Yeah, we think so," Ray answered, supporting Peter against his side
as the car took off again. "Turns out that this is coming from something
that the archeological
dig outside of town uncovered. We’re headed there now. Hopefully, we
can stop this there."
"We’d better. I don’t think Dr. Venkman has much time."
At the dig site, everyone piled out of the car, Peter supported between
Andrea and Ray. Egon pulled out a PKE meter and began scanning the area.
Getting a signal,
he pointed to a cave in one of the rock walls of the area. "In there,"
the physicist informed them. "Whatever it is, it’s big."
The six cautiously made their way up to the cave. Once inside, they
quickly saw the source of their troubles. A huge fountain of black energy
was pouring out of a
hole in the earth, spreading through the sky. The energy even looked
menacing, roiling and churning threateningly. Looking at it, Peter groaned.
"Aw, man, I think I’m gonna be sick. Wait, check that. Sicker."
"Ray, are you sure this is a good idea?" Winston asked. "Isn’t this thing dangerous?"
The engineer shook his head. "No, not really. It’s only dangerous to
living beings if it’s absorbed through actual contact, like an injury from
one of those zombies.
Otherwise, you’re perfectly safe."
Peter grimaced. "Define ‘perfectly safe.’"
As usual, Ray and Egon ignored him. "The readings would seem to indicate
that this flow is pure negative energy," Egon mused. "A suitable application
of positively
charged energy will most likely disrupt it and cause it to dissipate
harmlessly into the psychosphere."
"Rats, and me without my mood slime," muttered Peter. Egon shot him a look, which the brown-haired Ghostbuster returned in all innocence.
"Peter, our throwers should be able to provide the necessary amount
of energy," Ray told him. "But we’re going to need all four of them, at
full dispersal, fired at just
the right places."
Andrea looked at Peter, who by this time was sitting on the ground.
His green eyes were glazed, and he was obviously slipping in and out of
true consciousness. She
looked at Ray and squared her shoulders. "How do I use this thing?"
As Ray was giving her a crash course in using a proton pack, Jake walked
back to the entrance of the cave. Looking out and down, Jake could see
a mass of
zombies shuffling towards them across the valley below. "They’re here!"
the boy called, running back towards the others. "You’d better hurry this
up."
"Careful, Dr. Howard," Winston cautioned. "These things have a bit of a kick to them."
Andrea nodded, unshipping her thrower and aiming it at the flow. "Ready."
"Ready," Egon echoed.
Winston nodded. "Ready here, too."
"All right," Ray replied. "Ready- aim- fire!" The four of them pressed
the triggers on their proton rifles, the four streams striking the black
energy with pinpoint
accuracy. Around them, the entire cave began to shake as the energy
flow twisted and thrashed. Andrea ducked as a shot of black energy came
her way, but
managed to keep her proton stream on target.
"Keep going!" Egon cried. "It’s working!"
"It better be!" Winston shot back. "This place is gonna come down on our heads!"
The rumbling continued, growing stronger with each passing moment. Just
when it seemed as if the entire cavern would collapse, the flow suddenly
broke up into
black mist, wafting away on the breeze. The rumbling did not stop,
however. In fact, it continued to grow, and pieces of ceiling began to
rain down on them.
"Everybody out of the pool!" Ray called, heading for the entrance. Andrea
was right behind him, pushing Jake before her. Egon and Winston brought
up the rear,
supporting an unconscious Peter between them. The six of them made
it out of the cave just as the entire thing collapsed. Egon and Winston
laid Peter down on the
ground. Andrea was instantly by his side.
"His fever has broken!" she cried, feeling his forehead. "I think he’s going to be all right. Come on, Peter, stay with us."
Slowly, as if with immense effort, one of Venkman’s eyes rolled open a crack. "You- called me Peter," he smiled slightly.
She shrugged. "Got your attention, didn’t it? Don’t pass out on me again. You’re still unstable."
"I’d have to be," he grumped. "I let Egon and Ray talk me into this job."
Winston laughed. "Yeah, I think he’s gonna be okay," he told her.
Ray looked around him in confusion. "What I want to know is- what happened to all the zombies?"
"Well, I would theorize that when we destroyed the energy flow, they
were rendered discorporate by the sudden lack of energy to power them,"
Egon replied. Jake
looked over at Ray in confusion.
"What did he say?"
Ray grinned. "He said they dried up and blew away," he translated. "I guess it’s finally over."
Peter looked at his three friends and grinned. "Can we go home now?"
he asked. The sounds and bustle of LAX flowed around them as they sat in
one of the
waiting areas. Egon chuckled.
"As soon as our plane arrives, Peter. I must admit, I’ll be rather glad to see the last of California for a while."
"Aw, it wasn’t so bad," Ray replied, looking up from his magazine. "We
stopped the contagion from spreading, saved two people, and got paid pretty
well for it. All
in all, I think it was a pretty good trip."
Peter grimaced. "Yeah, well you weren’t the one who had to spend the past three days living on hospital food. Never again, I mean it."
"Does this mean that you’re no longer a card-carrying knight in shining armor?" a voice said behind him. He turned to see Andrea Howard grinning at him.
"Slightly tarnished," he replied easily. "At the risk of sounding cliché, what’s up, Doc?"
"PETER!" Egon, Winston, and Ray groaned in unison.
Andrea just laughed. "Hospital food or not, your sense of humor seems
to have survived intact. Actually, Dr. Venkman, I just dropped by to see
you off. Jake would
have come, but he’s clearing up a few loose ends with Child Services."
"What’s going to happen to him, anyway?" Ray asked. "Did they find his mother?"
Andrea nodded sadly. "I’m afraid so. She never made it out of her office.
Jake doesn’t have any other relatives, and as the town doctor, I practically
raised him. So,
I’ve applied to adopt him, and the board doesn’t see any obvious barriers
to it. As soon as the adoption is final, we’re moving out of Crissman,
and probably away
from California."
"Good," Peter nodded. "He doesn’t need the memories that place will bring up, and neither do you."
"Where are you gonna go?" Winston asked.
She shrugged. "I’m not really sure yet, actually. It depends on what job offers I get and where. So far I’ve had two or three from across the country."
Peter grinned. "Well, Dr. Howard, if you’re ever in New York, be sure to look us up."
She smiled back. "Dr. Venkman,- you’ve got a deal."
The End