.
Danny stopped just beyond the edge of the mist-shrouded island, straining his senses forward, trying to get an idea of what to expect. This island had only recently floated into easy view of the Fenton Portal, and both Danny and his parents liked to have an idea of who their neighbors were, however temporary they would be. After all, those were the ghosts most likely to use the Fenton Portal.
"I think," said Danny, into his radio, "that whoever lives here has very strong beliefs regarding what ghosts should be like."
"Not picking up anything more specific?" asked Jack, voice crackling through the radio. "Like, what those beliefs are?"
"Not really," said Danny. "Except… it feels… quiet. Silent? Speaking might be difficult."
"Make sure to remember the radio keyboard, then, sweetie, and be prepared for text-only communication. Situations like that are what it's for."
"Right," said Danny, nodding.
"And turn around and come back the moment you feel uncomfortable, or like you might be in danger," added Maddie. "We can manage without advance information."
"I know, I know," said Danny, rolling his eyes. "You said this all before I left."
"We just want you to be safe, son," said Jack.
"I know," said Danny. "Well. Anyway. I'm going in."
"Copy that."
The mist felt like tiny, fuzzy, needle pricks on his skin. Like carbonation. His clothes became wispy and ragged, his skin paper white and transparent. His feet were barely more than outlines over white and ash-gray plants. Danny sighed. A traditionalist view of ghosts, then.
It was utterly, oppressively silent, here. Even the ever-present background hum of the Ghost Zone was muted. Danny opened his mouth and grimaced as nothing came out. He snapped his fingers. Still no sound. With another sigh, Danny picked the keyboard attachment off his belt and sent a short message to his parents.
After a short journey, Danny came across a set of small, run-down buildings. A ghost town in grayscale. It seemed that this person, or these people, shared some traits with Poindexter.
There did not seem to be any people in the town, however.
He came across an open space, a wide intersection of roads, where the mist seemed to clear away slightly, giving Danny a longer range of view. Most of the buildings there were regular. One had a sort of Greek revival style to it that made Danny mark it as a town hall. Another might have been a store of some kind, by the windows. The bleached quality of everything made it hard to tell.
In the center of the intersection was a white obelisk.
As Danny looked at it, he felt something wet run from his eyes. He wiped at his face and his hand came away black. Interesting. It didn't hurt or anything… A warning?
There was a faint metallic gleam at the base of the obelisk. A plaque?
Danny was here to get information.
He approached the obelisk carefully, noting that his eyes only started to tear when the obelisk was directly in his field of view. Of course, when reading the plaque, looking at the obelisk was unavoidable.
The words weren't in a language that Danny knew, but he could understand anyway. The island was a memorial. A remnant of a great battle, or perhaps a war. Details were lost in translation.
This looked like the remains of an American town. It really wasn't. And then the line about the people who lost…
Danny swallowed. Time to go. Definitely time to go.
The fastest way out was straight up.
He sighed as he reentered a world of sound and color. Much better.
"Hey, Mom, hey, Dad, I don't think anyone from that island is going to bother us…"