AN: Happy New Year, everyone. May you all be facing a less stressful January that I am.
This chapter is a bit longer than previous, seeing as some pretty big stuff happens. I hope it is of some interest, at least.
All characters belong to Bill Hartman and Billionfold Inc.
"Tucker, down!"
Tucker ducked, narrowly avoiding the ectoplasmic beam headed his way.
"Got it," he called.
The ghost followed him, small beams of energy piercing the ground around him.
Sam raised the thermos, fixing the beam on the distracted ecto-ox and sucking him away.
"Thanks," Tucker panted, trotting to her side.
"No problem," Sam replied, spinning the cover back on the thermos and twisting to toss it in her backpack.
"What is that, the third one today?"
"Fourth for me. I chased a ghost dog out of my parents' garden this morning," Sam informed him, fussing with her bag's zipper.
"How does Danny do it?"
Sam sighed, shifting her pack back into place.
"He has ghost powers, for one," she ticked off on one hand, eyes darkening but remaining miraculously tear free. "Then he never sleeps, doesn't finish his homework, and always shows late for class."
"Class!" Tucker cried, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging her toward the school. "Class starts in ten minutes!"
Sam followed at a lazy lope, glancing at her own watch. They were going to be as bad as Danny if they kept this up. It was the third day in a row they were both late, not counting the first day when they'd skipped altogether.
"Tucker, how long has he been gone now?" Sam asked, ignoring the honk of a passing car as she sped across the crosswalk.
"Three… days…" Tucker panted, "not… counting…"
"The day the police made us wait? So that's four. Four days, Tuck. Why haven't we found anything?"
"'Cause we're… busy… hunting…" he gasped, out-of-shape feet dragging.
Sam stopped suddenly, nearly taking the feet out from under Tucker has he clutched her arm.
"What if he's been captured by ghosts?," she said, eyes wide. "What if he's in the Ghost Zone?"
Tucker stared up into her eyes, still struggling for air.
"Of… course…"
"We need to get through the portal," Sam said, "we need to find him."
"Now?" Tucker asked, voice decidedly high pitched.
"Yes, now."
"But what about class…" Tucker reminded her, halfheartedly.
"Class can wait," Sam informed him, leading the way back toward Fenton Works.
:::
Jazz, taking her senior skip day to full advantage, was already waiting for them at the house.
"Why didn't we think of that before?" she cried, ushering them rapidly into the house and down to the basement.
"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?" Sam asked, cautiously following Jazz down the stairs.
"Out at the police station," she explained, zooming around the lab and gathering bits and pieces. The place looked like a tornado had hit it, what with more tools on the ground than the tables. The weapons vault was open, the portal splattered in some sort of odd colored goo.
"What happened here?" Tucker asked, tiptoeing his way toward the Speeder.
Jazz sighed, her motions slowing ever so slightly.
"Mom hasn't been… well… she's been kind of frustrated lately."
"So she trashed the lab?"
"Yeah."
Tucker nodded, sharing a glance with Sam.
"I think she blames ghosts for his disappearance," Jazz explained, tossing an armful of stuff into a cardboard box and heading back toward the Speeder. "I mean, she thinks that if she wasn't paying so much attention to ghosts then maybe she could have seen this coming."
"She blames herself."
"Yeah."
Jazz set the box inside the Speeder and began clearing things from around it. Sam and Tucker knelt to help.
"How's your dad handling it?"
"He's spending all his time taking care of Mom and me. He makes sure we eat, makes sure I have my homework done, makes sure we both sleep some. But… I don't know, I haven't seen him eat in ages, and every time I come downstairs at night for warm milk or something, he's there. I can't remember the last time he slept in."
"It sounds like he's taking it hard himself."
Jazz nodded, lip clenched strongly between her front teeth.
"Hey," Sam said, abandoning the ecto-gun remains she was relocating and moving to Jazz's side. "You know we'll find him, right?"
Jazz nodded.
"We have a lead now. We know he's probably in the Ghost Zone. If he's in human form the Speeder will be able to track him, and if he's not then the we'll use the Boomerang."
Jazz attempted a watery smile, still silent.
"Ahh!" Tucker yelled, followed by a massive crash.
The girls leapt to their feet, peering around the Speeder to the boy spread eagled on the floor in a tangle of machinery.
"I'm alright," he offered, just as one of the parts next to him sputtered and crashed.
Sam smirked.
Beside her, Jazz started laughing.
Both freshman stared at her like some sort of alien, watching her giggle madly. Yet, even in their confusion, they felt giggles of their own start to climb free. Sam took another look at Tucker's machine scattered form and burst into laughter. Tucker managed his indignant huff only so long before he too was vibrating with humor.
When at last the giggles faded, they were all sitting in a rough circle, eyes wet. Their fear for Danny was now somewhat smothered by a new emotion.
"So we're gonna use the Boomerang?" Jazz asked.
"Seems like our best bet," Tucker agreed, climbing out of his accidental mess.
"And it has worked before," Sam added, shoving stuff out of the Speeder's path with what looked like it had once been a large broom.
Jazz nodded, wiping residual tears from her eyes, and stood.
"Then maybe Dad will have a good reason to cook dinner tonight."
:::
Danny wandered around the yard, eyes warily tracking the infamous hunter. This was the second yard time in a row that Danny had been allowed to wander freely without pressure from Skulker, and it was starting to creep him out. The other ghosts in the yard had lost interest in him ages ago, but Skulker seemed completely immune to monotony. That is, until yesterday when the hunter simply decided to join in on a halfhearted game of football with the others.
So why was he suddenly loosing interest? Better yet, why had everyone lost interest?
The movement that usually occurred in the yard – the games, the fights, the competitions – they were all gone. Some small groups were whispering conspiringly, but otherwise ghosts were just wandering aimlessly. Even Skulker was leaning up against the wall of the complex, eyes on the sky.
The listlessness had happened fairly slowly over the course of the last few yard times. First the fighting seemed to die down. There was no name calling, no screams of indignant anger when the referee called foul, no sudden scraps out in the yard. Then the referee stopped calling fouls and ghosts drifted in and out of the game areas. Reluctant games of basketball would end not twenty points in. The fighting stopped altogether, with even Skulker backing off. Everyone just kind of… slowed down.
It was eerie: eerier than the Ghost Zone on any given day. It wasn't just the quiet, either. It felt like something was… off. Danny had never been a very intuitive person, that was Jazz or Sam, but it felt to him like something bad was going to happen. There was no other way to describe it: just that deep sense of foreboding.
He was approaching Skulker when it happened. If anyone was high enough in the prisoner hierarchy to know what was going on, it'd be him. Besides, Danny needed to get some of the dignity back Skulker kept beating out of him.
The very world around them seemed to sink inwards. Yet, it wasn't all like that. It was like some things were shrinking and some were expanding and the world was being pulled from everywhere at once. The room grew darker, the strange ambient light of the Ghost Zone dulling slightly in the stretch. The air grew heavy with silence, even the whispers gone quiet. In all the motion of the world around them, the ghosts stood stock still - everything was still as the world twisted and bucked and finally snapped back into place.
Several ghosts stumbled, many dropped to the floor to keep their balance. Angry, confused mumbles filled the area.
"What was that?" asked Skulker, stepping from the wall and walking toward the ghost boy.
Danny fought the urge to flee, struggling to steady his stomach. His eyes were still fighting to adjust to the lower light, his skin tingling.
"I don't know," he answered, honestly.
"Boy, if your parents are screwing with the Ghost Zone again…"
"My parents? What about your boss?"
Skulker turned to glare at the boy, but otherwise said nothing.
"Everyone line up by the door!" called one of the wardens.
"Hey, what did you just do?" called a voice from the crowd.
"Yeah, what is this?"
"What the hell, man?"
"Line up by the door!" the warden hollered once more, wand raised. "Do not make us resort to violence."
The crowd was restless as it drifted toward the door, all the listlessness of before forgotten. Jeers from the prisoners kept wardens tense and snappy, throwing extra restraints on even the weakest of ghosts. By the time Danny came to the front of the line, Walker himself was there to oversee the transfer.
"Are you going to tell us what's going on?" Danny asked as he was led on past the head warden.
Walker spared him a smirk, but it lacked the usual gleeful glint.
"You don't know either…" Danny blurted.
Walker's eyes narrowed as he leaned in close to the boy. Nose to nose Danny could see his jailor's fear, thickly shielded by his attempt to be intimidating.
"Get him to his cell," the warden growled, stepping back to allow his underlings to shove Danny forward.
Danny watched over his shoulder as the guards pushed him forward. Walker was straightening his jacket as he stood, beady eyes glaring over the ghosts of the crowd. Aware of Danny's stare, he spared him a narrow-eyed glance before he returned his eyes to his duties.
"Pay attention," one of the guards scolded, shoving Danny's shoulder.
The halfa snapped back to attention, watching the prisoners angry faces pass as he was led back to his own central cell.
