Chapter 5
That night the chill of late autumn was even more pronounced than it had been the previous eve. The three active Ghostbusters shivered in their uniforms despite the heavy undergarments they all wore. "I sure wish Yaeger was here," Peter grunted, zipping his collar as far as it would go. "It doesn't seem fair that we have to suffer by ourselves."
"Forget him, Pete," Ray admonished, crouched by Venkman's feet. "I'm more worried about you right now. Did you have to tell that thing to come after you?" He looked earnestly up into Peter's face; Peter smiled.
"It wasn't my first choice, no," he admitted with wry humor. "My first choice was to have it chase Dean Yaeger."
"Peter!"
"But," Venkman hurried on, stifling his youngest colleague by tapping him on the nose, "I figured this way we wouldn't have to chase it all over the campus." He leaned against the building and waved one hand expansively. "We just sit right here and let it come to us."
"You mean to you," Egon pointed out, adjusting his weaponry more comfortably across his shoulders. "Still, it was a good plan. If it works then at least no one else will be killed before Marie wakes up."
"No one else," Ray repeated unhappily. "But I guess you're right; we can handle it better than the police can."
"We?" Peter cocked one brow then reached down to tug at a strand of auburn hair, forcing Ray's head up. "What mean we, Kimosabe? You can't carry a proton pack over that stitched up back of yours."
Ray's eyes hardened. "If you're going to face M'Tumba," he stated flatly, "then I can carry a pack -- and will."
Peter shrugged and gave up. "At least we'll--"
"Shhhh." Egon raised a hand, stopping Venkman mid-phrase. "I think I hear something."
"This could be it," Ray whispered into a walkie-talkie. "Stand by." He attached the device to his belt then shrugged into his accelerator pack, biting his lip to keep from crying out when the straps bit into his wounds. Still, he maintained his silence and climbed wearily to his feet with Peter's unobtrusive assistance. "Do you see anything?" he breathed, peeking around Egon's shoulder.
The tall blond froze, his head cocked in a listening attitude. "I'm not...."
"Uh, fellows?" Peter's hoarse croak brought the other two around at once.
"What?" Egon began.
"That." Peter gestured unnecessarily to the glowing red eyes regarding them from a distance of not more than a score of feet to the rear. The massive node they took for a head shook from side to side, watching the trio with undisguised malevolence.
"Go for the eyes!" Egon shouted, opening up with a quick burst. The other two followed suit, rending the night with an impressive display of unbridled protonic power. The tripled energy stream struck true, hitting the nether-being in the nearest of its glowing eyes. It howled angrily and vanished.
"We got it!" Ray cheered, turning off his thrower. He strode forward toward the now empty spot of earth on which M'Tumba had stood. "We got--!"
"It's not destroyed." Peter caught up with his friend in two strides, snagging him by the collar and yanking him to a halt. Ray gasped at the extra pressure on his back, and Peter released him immediately. "Sorry," he apologized, "but that thing is still here somewhere. I can feel it."
"So can I." Egon spoke from around the building's corner where he was avidly scanning the plaza for signs of renewed attack. "It's waiting its chance. Keep alert -- and together." Disdaining his own advice, he strode a little distance beyond the building, catching sight of several uniformed figures on the far side of the square; he waved. "The police have the area cordoned off," he reported. "At least no human will enter the danger area."
Peter spared one hand to brush his brown hair out of his face, returning it immediately to his particle thrower. "Wish it would make a move," he muttered. "I hate waiting."
As if on signal a low growl filled the air, at first seeming to emanate from every point of the compass. The three men turned slowly in their tracks, sensing danger but seeing nothing. "Looks like you're about to get your wish," Spengler commented from his post a little apart from the others. "Where is it?"
Ray had turned twice when some primal survival instinct directed his attention to the library roof far overhead. His eyes widened at the sight of the half-seen monstrosity crouched there, dark appendages writhing against the night sky. "Up there!" he shrieked, bringing his weapon to bear. "It's on the roof!"
He loosed off a shot but the creature was in motion even as he spoke. It slithered over the edge, dropping to earth mere feet from Peter and Ray, and precisely between them and Spengler. M'Tumba roared its hate and lumbered forward, head down.
"I can't get to its eyes!" Peter yelled, shooting off burst after burst with no effect. "We can't stop it!"
"RUN!" Ray gave Peter a shove, nearly knocking him to the ground. Terrified, the two men turned and ran for their lives, the creature in hot pursuit. Though in good physical condition, the two were soon breathing hard with the attempt at maintaining full speed for so long a time. Behind them the air whooshed with the passage of those tentacle-born claws no more than inches from their heads. Galvanized to even greater speed, the duo flew over grass and tarmac, dodging in and out between buildings, and desperately seeking some kind of shelter from their huge pursuer. M'Tumba followed steadily, it's slithering gait allowing it to maintain a steady pace regardless of the terrain.
"It's ... gaining on us," Ray panted, risking a glance over his shoulder. "We ... can't ... outrun...."
"Save your breath!" Peter ordered, beginning to wheeze himself in the cold night air. "If we can find.... Look! Head for those buildings; maybe we'll ... find some place to hide ... in there."
The two redirected their steps toward a neat grouping of walls and foliage some yards to their left, even increasing their speed slightly at the feel of the fetid breath hot on their necks.
A final burst of speed gained them a respite of a few seconds, long enough to reach the small cluster of spaced buildings picturesquely surrounded by older elms. They wasted several seconds futilely pounding on locked doors with no response, never daring to stop long enough to blast an entrance of their own. They circled the final structure still at top speed, looking around frantically. Finally, Ray's eye lit on three stout boles growing relatively close together at an angle to one wall. He tapped Peter's arm, gesturing. "Over ... over there!" he gasped. "Maybe it can't fit ... between...."
There was no need to finish. The two reached their hoped-for shelter in seconds, diving between the trunks just as the beast reached them. That same unearthly yeow rose again as the humans hit the ground, rolling to opposite sides of the trunks. The elms shook under the impact of a massive body striking them and then falling away.
Peter and Ray lay winded for a split second, then staggered to their feet, their backs braced against unyielding stone as M'Tumba pulled back, unnatural intelligence shining in its eyes. It regarded the pair consideringly, then stuck a tentacle through the trees, its claws missing Ray by inches. He stumbled out of the way, his ankle turning under him and depositing him with a crunch into a pile of leaves where he sat breathing heavily. "This isn't ... going to work for long," he managed.
Peter glared balefully at the entity, patience evaporating. "Time to kick some ass," he growled, opening up with his proton rifle again. The stream played across the extended claws and the creature hissed and withdrew more annoyed than hurt. Peter used the short time interval to cross to Ray's side and pull him up.
"We've got to keep going!" Venkman yelled, automatically pulling a leaf out of his friend's hair. Ray arrested the act by grabbing his wrist, the light of inspiration in his eyes.
"Peter, wait! Vegetation! Your proton stream -- get ready to fire it! Quick!"
Instead of obeying, Peter gave him a violent shove, narrowly preventing the younger man from being cut to ribbons by another -- smaller -- tentacle. "It's coming around the left!" he said, pulling Ray back to his feet and manhandling him to the far side of their tenuous shelter. "Move!"
"Peter!" Ray stopped short, bending to sweep up a leaf-laden branch from the ground. "Fire, Peter! It's made of vegetation!"
"So what?" Venkman demanded, finally training his thrower at the advancing entity. "Our throwers don't put out heat."
"We can still get a spark."
Peter triggered off his weapon, the bolt streaking upwards to the barely seen malevolence now less than six feet away.
"Keep firing!" Ray stuck his dried branch into the energy stream then yelped when the branch suddenly caught, singing his fingers.
Ignoring Venkman's assault, M'Tumba moved forward again. Multiple tentacles writhed at first sight of Ray's primitive flambeau and the creature slithered to a halt. "It's afraid of the fire!" Ray cheered, bravely advancing. The creature retreated, albeit reluctantly, until the trees again separated it from the humans.
Peter, too, located a large branch, igniting it from Ray's and brandishing it like a sword. The M'Tumba retreated another step then crouched, waiting.
"It knows we can't start a major fire without changing our position or burning ourselves to a crisp," Peter remarked with far more calm than showed on his face. "It can just wait us out."
"OW!" Ray cried out as his torch flared up, catching his hand in a searing wave. He automatically dropped the branch, reeling back as the pile of leaves at his feet crackled once and then caught. "Oh, no!"
"We've got to run for it," Peter decided, edging out from behind the elms an inch at a time. His torch, too, was fast running out of fuel; it sputtered and died down. "Blast," he muttered, blowing on it desperately. He turned to flee but M'Tumba was upon them in an instant. A single swat by one of its razored tentacles was sufficient to send Peter's branch flying off into the night and the man himself to the ground clutching his arm.
"Peter!" Ray yelled, throwing himself in front of the fallen psychologist and bringing his particle rifle to bear. He fired a steady stream which M'Tumba ignored, then fell back as the creature again lashed out, missing his head by inches. Tripping over Peter's outstretched leg, he came down hard beside his friend, raising one arm instinctively to ward off that next, fatal blow.
At his side, Peter cursed loudly -- obscene, furious oaths punctuated once by, "Didn't mean to bring you down with me, pal." And then he was firing again, blood dripping from his gashed arm, his aim point-blank and hopeless.
Enjoying its victory, the nether-lord reared up, prepared to strike the final, fatal coupe de grace which would end the battle once and for all.
That night the chill of late autumn was even more pronounced than it had been the previous eve. The three active Ghostbusters shivered in their uniforms despite the heavy undergarments they all wore. "I sure wish Yaeger was here," Peter grunted, zipping his collar as far as it would go. "It doesn't seem fair that we have to suffer by ourselves."
"Forget him, Pete," Ray admonished, crouched by Venkman's feet. "I'm more worried about you right now. Did you have to tell that thing to come after you?" He looked earnestly up into Peter's face; Peter smiled.
"It wasn't my first choice, no," he admitted with wry humor. "My first choice was to have it chase Dean Yaeger."
"Peter!"
"But," Venkman hurried on, stifling his youngest colleague by tapping him on the nose, "I figured this way we wouldn't have to chase it all over the campus." He leaned against the building and waved one hand expansively. "We just sit right here and let it come to us."
"You mean to you," Egon pointed out, adjusting his weaponry more comfortably across his shoulders. "Still, it was a good plan. If it works then at least no one else will be killed before Marie wakes up."
"No one else," Ray repeated unhappily. "But I guess you're right; we can handle it better than the police can."
"We?" Peter cocked one brow then reached down to tug at a strand of auburn hair, forcing Ray's head up. "What mean we, Kimosabe? You can't carry a proton pack over that stitched up back of yours."
Ray's eyes hardened. "If you're going to face M'Tumba," he stated flatly, "then I can carry a pack -- and will."
Peter shrugged and gave up. "At least we'll--"
"Shhhh." Egon raised a hand, stopping Venkman mid-phrase. "I think I hear something."
"This could be it," Ray whispered into a walkie-talkie. "Stand by." He attached the device to his belt then shrugged into his accelerator pack, biting his lip to keep from crying out when the straps bit into his wounds. Still, he maintained his silence and climbed wearily to his feet with Peter's unobtrusive assistance. "Do you see anything?" he breathed, peeking around Egon's shoulder.
The tall blond froze, his head cocked in a listening attitude. "I'm not...."
"Uh, fellows?" Peter's hoarse croak brought the other two around at once.
"What?" Egon began.
"That." Peter gestured unnecessarily to the glowing red eyes regarding them from a distance of not more than a score of feet to the rear. The massive node they took for a head shook from side to side, watching the trio with undisguised malevolence.
"Go for the eyes!" Egon shouted, opening up with a quick burst. The other two followed suit, rending the night with an impressive display of unbridled protonic power. The tripled energy stream struck true, hitting the nether-being in the nearest of its glowing eyes. It howled angrily and vanished.
"We got it!" Ray cheered, turning off his thrower. He strode forward toward the now empty spot of earth on which M'Tumba had stood. "We got--!"
"It's not destroyed." Peter caught up with his friend in two strides, snagging him by the collar and yanking him to a halt. Ray gasped at the extra pressure on his back, and Peter released him immediately. "Sorry," he apologized, "but that thing is still here somewhere. I can feel it."
"So can I." Egon spoke from around the building's corner where he was avidly scanning the plaza for signs of renewed attack. "It's waiting its chance. Keep alert -- and together." Disdaining his own advice, he strode a little distance beyond the building, catching sight of several uniformed figures on the far side of the square; he waved. "The police have the area cordoned off," he reported. "At least no human will enter the danger area."
Peter spared one hand to brush his brown hair out of his face, returning it immediately to his particle thrower. "Wish it would make a move," he muttered. "I hate waiting."
As if on signal a low growl filled the air, at first seeming to emanate from every point of the compass. The three men turned slowly in their tracks, sensing danger but seeing nothing. "Looks like you're about to get your wish," Spengler commented from his post a little apart from the others. "Where is it?"
Ray had turned twice when some primal survival instinct directed his attention to the library roof far overhead. His eyes widened at the sight of the half-seen monstrosity crouched there, dark appendages writhing against the night sky. "Up there!" he shrieked, bringing his weapon to bear. "It's on the roof!"
He loosed off a shot but the creature was in motion even as he spoke. It slithered over the edge, dropping to earth mere feet from Peter and Ray, and precisely between them and Spengler. M'Tumba roared its hate and lumbered forward, head down.
"I can't get to its eyes!" Peter yelled, shooting off burst after burst with no effect. "We can't stop it!"
"RUN!" Ray gave Peter a shove, nearly knocking him to the ground. Terrified, the two men turned and ran for their lives, the creature in hot pursuit. Though in good physical condition, the two were soon breathing hard with the attempt at maintaining full speed for so long a time. Behind them the air whooshed with the passage of those tentacle-born claws no more than inches from their heads. Galvanized to even greater speed, the duo flew over grass and tarmac, dodging in and out between buildings, and desperately seeking some kind of shelter from their huge pursuer. M'Tumba followed steadily, it's slithering gait allowing it to maintain a steady pace regardless of the terrain.
"It's ... gaining on us," Ray panted, risking a glance over his shoulder. "We ... can't ... outrun...."
"Save your breath!" Peter ordered, beginning to wheeze himself in the cold night air. "If we can find.... Look! Head for those buildings; maybe we'll ... find some place to hide ... in there."
The two redirected their steps toward a neat grouping of walls and foliage some yards to their left, even increasing their speed slightly at the feel of the fetid breath hot on their necks.
A final burst of speed gained them a respite of a few seconds, long enough to reach the small cluster of spaced buildings picturesquely surrounded by older elms. They wasted several seconds futilely pounding on locked doors with no response, never daring to stop long enough to blast an entrance of their own. They circled the final structure still at top speed, looking around frantically. Finally, Ray's eye lit on three stout boles growing relatively close together at an angle to one wall. He tapped Peter's arm, gesturing. "Over ... over there!" he gasped. "Maybe it can't fit ... between...."
There was no need to finish. The two reached their hoped-for shelter in seconds, diving between the trunks just as the beast reached them. That same unearthly yeow rose again as the humans hit the ground, rolling to opposite sides of the trunks. The elms shook under the impact of a massive body striking them and then falling away.
Peter and Ray lay winded for a split second, then staggered to their feet, their backs braced against unyielding stone as M'Tumba pulled back, unnatural intelligence shining in its eyes. It regarded the pair consideringly, then stuck a tentacle through the trees, its claws missing Ray by inches. He stumbled out of the way, his ankle turning under him and depositing him with a crunch into a pile of leaves where he sat breathing heavily. "This isn't ... going to work for long," he managed.
Peter glared balefully at the entity, patience evaporating. "Time to kick some ass," he growled, opening up with his proton rifle again. The stream played across the extended claws and the creature hissed and withdrew more annoyed than hurt. Peter used the short time interval to cross to Ray's side and pull him up.
"We've got to keep going!" Venkman yelled, automatically pulling a leaf out of his friend's hair. Ray arrested the act by grabbing his wrist, the light of inspiration in his eyes.
"Peter, wait! Vegetation! Your proton stream -- get ready to fire it! Quick!"
Instead of obeying, Peter gave him a violent shove, narrowly preventing the younger man from being cut to ribbons by another -- smaller -- tentacle. "It's coming around the left!" he said, pulling Ray back to his feet and manhandling him to the far side of their tenuous shelter. "Move!"
"Peter!" Ray stopped short, bending to sweep up a leaf-laden branch from the ground. "Fire, Peter! It's made of vegetation!"
"So what?" Venkman demanded, finally training his thrower at the advancing entity. "Our throwers don't put out heat."
"We can still get a spark."
Peter triggered off his weapon, the bolt streaking upwards to the barely seen malevolence now less than six feet away.
"Keep firing!" Ray stuck his dried branch into the energy stream then yelped when the branch suddenly caught, singing his fingers.
Ignoring Venkman's assault, M'Tumba moved forward again. Multiple tentacles writhed at first sight of Ray's primitive flambeau and the creature slithered to a halt. "It's afraid of the fire!" Ray cheered, bravely advancing. The creature retreated, albeit reluctantly, until the trees again separated it from the humans.
Peter, too, located a large branch, igniting it from Ray's and brandishing it like a sword. The M'Tumba retreated another step then crouched, waiting.
"It knows we can't start a major fire without changing our position or burning ourselves to a crisp," Peter remarked with far more calm than showed on his face. "It can just wait us out."
"OW!" Ray cried out as his torch flared up, catching his hand in a searing wave. He automatically dropped the branch, reeling back as the pile of leaves at his feet crackled once and then caught. "Oh, no!"
"We've got to run for it," Peter decided, edging out from behind the elms an inch at a time. His torch, too, was fast running out of fuel; it sputtered and died down. "Blast," he muttered, blowing on it desperately. He turned to flee but M'Tumba was upon them in an instant. A single swat by one of its razored tentacles was sufficient to send Peter's branch flying off into the night and the man himself to the ground clutching his arm.
"Peter!" Ray yelled, throwing himself in front of the fallen psychologist and bringing his particle rifle to bear. He fired a steady stream which M'Tumba ignored, then fell back as the creature again lashed out, missing his head by inches. Tripping over Peter's outstretched leg, he came down hard beside his friend, raising one arm instinctively to ward off that next, fatal blow.
At his side, Peter cursed loudly -- obscene, furious oaths punctuated once by, "Didn't mean to bring you down with me, pal." And then he was firing again, blood dripping from his gashed arm, his aim point-blank and hopeless.
Enjoying its victory, the nether-lord reared up, prepared to strike the final, fatal coupe de grace which would end the battle once and for all.
