"The sorry bastard shot me! I can't believe he did it!" Clancy bellowed. "Owww! Shit, Stephenson . . . that hurts like bloody hell!"
Helen flinched as gunfire erupted around the concrete barrier they were crouched behind, spraying them with flecks of rock. The best cover they could find. Her heart pounding in her ears, she wondered if she would be deaf. "I . . . I don't think it's him doing the shooting. Exactly. Now, hand me your belt."
"I'm bleeding out of my fucking leg, and you want my belt?" Clancy had sweat rolling down his face, and she knew he was in pain. But, there was nothing she could do about that.
"For a tourniquet. No shut up and give me your belt." Helen's voice was calm, but inside, she was reeling.
"Good idea," Manfred whispered behind her.
"Shut up!" she hissed as Clancy huffed and puffed to take off his belt. "If you had told us he was there shooting at anything that moved, we wouldn't even be here!"
"I didn't know you were there!" Manfred protested, his eyes wide with fear. "Plus, I didn't think he'd actually do it, either . . ."
"Lebowitz is a prick, but I don't think he'd shoot at us. If he knew what he was doing," Helen muttered. "This is going to hurt, Clancy."
He steeled himself, holding his wounded leg. "Just do it and get it over with," he said through clinched teeth.
As gingerly as she could, she put the belt under his leg and tightened it. Clancy sucked air, but didn't yell out.
Tough old bastard.
When she was done, she collapsed next to her injured partner. "Well, announcing ourselves didn't get us anywhere," she mumbled.
"I didn't expect Lebowitz to be floating a foot of the floor shooting up the place, either," Clancy hissed. "Now, tell us exactly what happened, Manfred."
Manfred was only too glad to share. "Lebowitz and me, we busted in here, and there wasn't anything. Nobody. Quiet like. Then, then, this . . . thing came down from the ceiling and grabbed Lebowitz. I . . . I shot at it, but it had him. Almost like it was . . . was taking him over or something." Manfred's eyes looked wild.
Helen couldn't blame him. "And?"
At this point, Manfred didn't care if he looked like an idiot, not as scared as he was. "They two of them – Lebowitz and this thing – floated to the middle of the room over there. And, it started saying something about 'bring him here' and 'do as I say'."
"Lebowitz was doing the talking?" Helen said, turning around and risked another peek over the barrier. Sure enough, Lebowitz was still there suspended above the ground, a shiny glow to his eyes. Whatever seemed to be controlling him was swirling about the ceiling, reaching down every so often to nudge Lebowitz, almost like a puppet.
He spotted her, and the thing made him raise the gun.
Bring . . . him . . . to . . .me . . .echoed from the ceiling.
Helen ducked before he fired, spraying them all with dust.
"Not Lebowitz! That thing!" Manfred's voice trembled as he pointed towards the ceiling. "What in holy hell is it?"
"Class Five. Maybe," Helen muttered, her mind racing for a good outcome to this situation.
"Huh?" Clancy asked.
Helen shook her head impatiently. "Listen, we've got to get you out of here."
"Good luck with that," Clancy griped. "Every time we move for the exit," he motioned across twenty yards of open space towards the hallway door, "Lebowitz opens fire. I'll be damned if he gets me again. . ."
"You're OK!" a new voice whispered hoarsely.
Helen and Clancy pulled their weapons, and Manfred shrieked like a little girl.
Helen lowered her gun first. "Jesus, Drew! You scared the shit outta us!"
The rather large black man grinned at her, then turned to her partner. "Nice day to get popped by a psycho, huh, Clancy, my man?"
Clancy muttered something that sounded a lot like 'up yours.'
"Where's Spots?"
"He was outside talking to dispatch. Lucky bastard," Drew muttered.
Helen always liked Drew. "Where'd you come from?"
Drew pointed back where he had come from, his large frame appearing uncomfortable crouched down with the rest of them. "Damn concrete stretches almost to the other side of the room. Thanks to Lebowitz here," he raised his voice loud enough that more shots rang out in their direction, "I'm going to slump like this for a week!" Another grin. "I always hated that son-of-a-bitch."
For once, Manfred didn't take up for his partner.
They were quiet for a moment – all except for the popping noises and the rushing sound of the otherworldly wind rustling empty boxes across the cavernous room.
"So . . . any ideas?" Manfred asked, hopeful optimism in his voice.
"I'd shoot him if I could. Didn't work," Clancy shifted and flinched. "Bullets just ping offa him like he's got on some sort of clear armor on or something. That thing on the ceiling swoops down, and it's like a barrier."
"Guns, worthless. Check," Drew said. "We could tackle him?"
"Who says we won't glance off him like the bullets did?" Helen asked, hoping she made sense. None of this made sense.
"Let's see . . ." Drew popped up over the barrier, gun drawn and fired his weapon three times.
Manfred didn't even protest.
"That thing swoops down in time to deflect," Drew said calmly as he crouched back down to safety, more of Lebowitz's bullets plunking into the concrete on the other side. "He's not covered constantly."
Helen stared at him, huffing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "This doesn't . . . I don't know . . . seem strange to you? Just a bit."
Drew blinked once. "Well, yeah. But, hell, isn't it great?"
Helen almost asked him if he could see himself as a Ghostbuster. He had the attitude for it, that was for damn sure. "So . . . a diversion's in order, then?"
"I gotta know something . . . does that retard out there carry more than one weapon?" Clancy interrupted her random thoughts.
They all looked at Manfred, who finally realized they were talking to him as he fidgeted on the dirty concrete floor. "Uh . . . no. But, he does carry an extra clip, just like the rest of us."
"Hasn't he fired that freakin' gun more than 32 times?" Clancy asked annoyingly. "Because I think he has. And, I think that black bastard blob up there is supplying him with bullets."
Helen didn't think of that. By the stricken look on her face, Clancy knew she hadn't.
"We could be stuck here forever!" There was a hint of panic in Manfred's voice.
"Keep your panties, on, Manny. We'll get out of this," Drew said. "And, I have another question."
"If it's bad news, we don't want to know," Helen said, half-joking.
"Why doesn't it get us? Why just Lebowitz?" Drew cocked his head, deep in thought.
Manfred looked like he might bolt, despite the danger. "You mean . . . swoop down and . . . and possess us?" He practically squeaked at the end.
A voice from nearby. "Just stay put, it won't hurt you! Unless you go out there!"
All heads jerked towards the voice. It was coming towards the corridor where Helen and Clancy had crept before Clancy was shot.
"Egon! What the hell took you so long?" Helen asked. Finally! Maybe someone could do something!
Drew grinned. "The Calvary's arrived, folks!"
A flurry of bullets had them all scrambling for cover.
"Traffic," Egon answered.
"You alright?" Ray called out. Helen could hear the worry in his voice.
Great.
She could barely make them out in the darkened doorway, crouched just inside. She kept her answer clinical. No need to worry him anymore than he was. "We've got one down- Clancy. Lebowitz shot him in the leg."
Another flurry of bullets that had Drew cussing like a sailor.
"I take it, that's Lebowitz?" A different voice. Peter.
"It is, but . . . it's not." Helen called out. "If you get my drift."
"How many more over there?" Winston said.
"Me, Clancy, Manfred and Drew."
"That it?"
"As far as we know."
"Tell me what happened – short version," Egon said, getting to the point.
So, Helen did, Manfred filling in the blanks. They told them about the bullets and the ghostlike apparition only drifting down when necessary and their guns being useless.
"What is it?" Drew finally asked
"We don't know," Egon answered honestly. "But, we better get you out of there before we take care of it."
"Imaginary bullets, remember?" Drew mocked. "If we even stick a finger over this barrier, Lebowitz busts a gut to fire at us. Just hit him with those proton thingies and get it over with."
"It'll kill him." Ray said.
"So?" Drew shrugged.
Manfred shot him a dirty look.
Helen stifled a snort.
Ray could see her huddled on her knees next to Clancy.
She wasn't hurt. That had to count for something.
He risked another glance out the door.
Sure enough, there was this Lebowitz, hovering a few inches off the floor.
Ray had never met the guy, but he assumed his eyes didn't glow like that on their own. And, those glowing eyes locked in on him just as black smoke darted from the ceiling down to the man.
Ray ducked back against the wall as more fire erupted.
"Don't rile him, Ray! Jeez!" Peter said.
Ray's own eyes were wide. "It made him do it. Just came out of the ceiling."
"And, those bullets are some sort of manifestation of its power," Egon added.
"Worse than hollow points?" Winston asked.
"Much," Egon added, studying his PKE meter, which jumped with each surreal bullet that was fired.
Ray's mind was churning. There had to be a good ending to this. "Why doesn't one of us go around to the back? Distract that thing long enough to get Lebowitz away?"
"It moves too fast," Peter said.
"I think Ray might be on to something," Egon said, thinking himself. "But, it can't be one of us."
Ray didn't like the sound of that.
"We need all of us together. The power on this thing is off the scale. If we're spread out, it might not be as effective."
Peter stuck out his thumb towards the others.
Ray's eyes widened. "No way! Not in a million years!" he protested, a little louder than he should have. More shots rang out, making them duck again.
"It is her job," Peter said.
Ray couldn't think of enough words to protest. They all died in his mouth.
Egon pursed his lips in thought. "They're going to have to tackle Lebowitz. This will have to be timed just right." He ticked it off on his fingers. "Diversion, which distracts the Five. It floats back up to the ceiling just in time for someone to tackle Lebowitz to get him out of the way. . ."
"Then, we blast 'em!" Winston said enthusiastically.
"Right," Egon nodded. "But if any of it goes wrong . . ."
"Hell, it's all we've got. Let's run it by New York's finest out there and let them decide who'll be bait," Peter said nonchalantly.
Ray shot him a dirty look. "She's not going out there," he said stubbornly. "She's just not."
"Let them work it out! Hey! We've got a plan!" Winston called out.