Chapter 3: A World of Trouble

"Only those who get into scrapes with their eyes open can find the safe way out." -- Logan Pearsall Smith.

"Suspension?"

"Okay."

"Shocks?"

"Okay."

"Steering box?"

"Okay."

"Transmission?"

"That's okay too."

"Brakes?"

"Working."

"Brake pads?"

"Ray, they're fine!"

Winston leaned out of the window and glanced down as Ray tugged himself out from underneath Ecto-1. The engineer was covered in grease and looked utterly frustrated. He stared into Winston's grinning features. "Well, honestly, Winston. Something isn't right! You heard her on the way back home!"

"Hey, man, relax!" Winston climbed out of the car. "She's running fine now. It was probably just some debris or something."

"Or something," Ray muttered. He froze and his eyes widened. "Or something!" he dived inside the vehicle and returned a moment later armed with his P.K.E. meter. Winston watched in disbelief as the engineer flipped it on and began running it over the car.

"What are you doing?!" he asked incredulously.

"What if she's got a ghost inside her, Winston? You know how she sounds when Slimer's riding along. Remember what happened when she got possessed? It was a nightmare to fix the poor girl back up afterwards!"

"Ray!" Winston grabbed the shorter Ghostbuster and swung him around to face him. "Ray," he said firmly, taking the meter off him. "You're taking this way too seriously, man. She's running fine. More than fine. For a lady of her years, she's perfect. You know it, I know it. Let it go. Besides," he added with a twinkle in his eye as Ray opened his mouth to protest. "How would you know how hard it was to fix her up after the earth elemental possessed her? I was the one who did all the work!"

Ray's shoulders slumped. Although it was officially Winston who kept the car running smoothly these days, Ecto-1 remained Ray's greatest weakness. That fateful day, years ago, when he had seen the ancient black ambulance-hearse parked dejected and forgotten, he had known with certainty that he had found the perfect car for the job. He had spotted the potential hidden underneath the dirt that caked her form - the sleek lines, the efficient design, the hint of grandeur in the tail fins that flared out from the rear wheels. It didn't matter if the transmission was broken, the suspension in tatters and wiring shot. In fact, for him, it had been part of the appeal, part of the reason it had been love at first sight.

Peter and Egon had never understood his obsession with the car, nor had he even tried to explain it to them. It wasn't that he didn't fully comprehend it himself - although that was certainly part of the reason. It was that Ecto-1 had claimed him heart, mind and soul and it was a relationship he didn't want to share with anyone.

At least until Winston had come along. Winston, the former army veteran and ex-construction worker who shared his appreciation for hard labour and his awe of all things mechanical. In Winston, he had found a kindred spirit, someone who instinctively understood how special Ecto-1 was, the only other person who had ignored her garish exterior to see the beauty that lay hidden beneath. It was because Winston had also fallen in love with Ecto-1 that Ray had trusted him enough to give her up to him when he had more urgent matters to deal with. Ecto-1 was Ray's girl and Winston's baby and as long as she had both of them to protect her, Ray was convinced she would last forever.

"You're probably right," he sighed reluctantly. He gave Ecto-1 another lingering look, not willing to give up his concerns quite yet. "Although maybe..."

"No maybe!" Winston barked in a tone that would have made a drill sergeant proud. "Ray, we've been working on her all day. We're taking a break."

Ray sighed and closed the door. "Alright, maybe you're right," he conceded at last. Ray trusted Winston's judgement when it came to Ecto-1. Winston seemed absolutely convinced there was nothing wrong with her and he knew as much about her quirks and kinks as he did. If Winston thought everything was fine, why shouldn't Ray believe him? There wasn't any reason, the engineer realised. Just possessive protectiveness that made him excessively sensitive whenever they made a major adjustment to old girl's system, as if she was being sent in for major surgery and there was a chance the operation could fail. "She does seem to be running a lot better now..."

"Of course she is," Winston said with a chuckle. "She's got both of us looking out for her."

Ray brightened. "Yeah, she has at that," he patted the hood affectionately, then followed Winston across the room towards the reception area. His eyebrows knitted together at the sight that greeted him. Janine was sat at her usual place, reading a book on plants, half hidden behind a potted sapling that was looking droopy and forlorn. Peter had parked himself at one end of her desk, feet propped up on another chair playing cards with himself and the pair seemed to be talking in a very animated fashion. Slimer was floating up and down the stairs, stiff-backed and alert, looking as serious as Ray had ever seen him. His curiosity grew even stronger as their conversation came to a sudden stop. The guilty looks they shared faded into relief as they recognised Winston and Ray and both relaxed again.

"What's going on?" Winston asked, sounding as curious as Ray felt.

"And what's the Spud up to?" Ray added, glancing back at the little ghost. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Slimer was patrolling.

Peter shot him a quirky grin. "We told him to guard the stairs in case Egon came down," he tapped his nose with a conspiratorial wink. "Janine can't think what to get him for his birthday."

"I know you've all sorted out what you're going to get him so I wanted to get him something special, something you guys might not have thought of. But nothing seems appropriate and I'm running out of time," she sighed.

The engineer felt a subtle shift in emotion at that, transferring his concern for Ecto-1's new engine to Janine's current predicament. The secretary was very particular about special occasions. She was always the driving force that ensured everyone at the firehouse enjoyed their birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. She had even created a special occasion for Slimer to celebrate the day he had been accepted as part of their mismatched family so he wouldn't feel left out. Usually, she was the one helping them to find the perfect present not the one needing help and Ray suddenly realised with a certain amount of guilt that they were all in danger of taking the secretary's varied social skills for granted. He had assumed Janine already had a present for Egon, it certainly hadn't occurred to him to ask and now he felt remiss. Of all of them, this was the occasion that mattered the most to her.

"Hey, we can put our heads together," Ray grabbed a seat and sat down. "I'm sure between the four of us we can come up with something."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ray."

"Okay." Winston agreeably perched himself on the opposite side of her desk to Peter. "So what're we looking at here?"

That was as far as he got. At that moment, the desk vibrated as the phone leapt into life. Janine started then grabbed it. When she spoke, her mournful tone was gone, replaced by a brisk, commanding voice that immediately let the callers know they were dealing with professionals and not the quacks so many of their clients initially feared they were.

"Ghostbusters Central!"

Ray watched the multitude of emotions that flitted across her features in interest, unable to hear what the caller was saying at the other end. The secretary frowned. "I see. What kind...?" Her expression shifted to one of rapt concentration. "Uh-huh. Everywhere or just in one spot?" She paused and her eyes widened in obvious horror. "Oh that's terrible! Yes! They'll be there at once!" She hung up and slammed her fist into the alarm to alert Egon and turned back to the other three. "That was the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. There's been some kind of fireball in one of the gardens. It might be some kind of elemental - wind or fire. Lots of people have been injured and it sounds like some are trapped - it was the police who called us."

"Man, that sounds like a world of trouble," Winston muttered.

Egon skidded to a stop next to the desk in time to hear that last comment. He was holding an active P.K.E. meter already. "The readings we detected yesterday have been growing stronger. I have been unable to find an origin for them but..."

"...but we first detected them at the botanical gardens yesterday so what's happening now could be related!" Ray finished quickly, seeing at once what Egon was thinking.

"So, what? We're definitely dealing with an elemental then?" Winston demanded.

"It could be any one of a number of entities," Egon replied grimly.

"Looks like we're going to need to pack some serious firepower on this one," Peter mused. "Right, Egon?"

"Right, Peter." Egon nodded in agreement, already moving towards Ecto-1.

Upon experiencing Ray's driving, it was sometimes impossible to believe how much Ecto-1 meant to him. Making the journey in half the time any of the others could have managed it, he screeched to an ungraceful stop in the botanical gardens' parking lot and they all climbed swiftly out of the car. As they sorted out their equipment, Peter scanned the crowd of shocked visitors, emergency vehicles and news crews for some kind of leadership. Eventually spotting it in the form of Deputy Police Chief O'Malley, he yelled out the officer's name and jogged over, followed closely by the rest of his team.

"Who called us?" Peter asked as the policemen turned in response to their approach.

Ray shifted his P.K.E. meter uneasily as a sudden silence descended over the parking lot at the sight of them. Usually when the Ghostbusters were called in, everyone in the vicinity was already expecting their arrival. Sometimes the reaction was negative, often it was positive, but it was always animated. Ray had never seen such a profound stillness and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in response. Apparently, even Egon felt it because his attention snapped up from his own meter to observe the surroundings.

"Interesting," the physicist mumbled then dropped his gaze back to his readings. Ray frowned in silent agreement. It was quite obviously a shock for people to see the Ghostbusters here at all. If most of the people visiting the centre had not expected them, that meant the problem either wasn't supernatural or that the threat was invisible or highly localised. He didn't like either option and quickly whipped out his ecto-goggles, settling them firmly on his forehead. He had a hunch he was going to need them.

"Aye," O'Malley agreed. "I don't know if this is up your street but it sure doesn't look right to me. A few of the fellows agreed so we called you out."

Peter nodded. "Better safe than sorry," he agreed. "What have we got?"

O'Malley turned and waved. In response a tall, thin man of middling years and wearing an expensive business suit approached them. "Ghostbusters, this is the centre's director, Professor Mick Birkenall."

The engineer watched as Peter swiftly cast an eye over him before holding out his hand. Ray knew that Peter was already actively assessing their employer even before the man had spoken. How the psychologist responded initially was often an indication of how the business relationship would develop. "Doctor Venkman, sir," he said smoothly. "And these are my associates, Doctors Spengler and Stantz and Mr Zeddemore."

Ray nodded once as his name was mentioned. Peter had decided to make an academic impression on the man. That meant Peter either thought the director feared the Ghostbusters were frauds or that he was anticipating academic condescension.

"Glad to have you aboard, Doctor Venkman," the director did indeed look openly doubtful. "The problem is the Charles Austin Memorial Garden. There was an earthquake and something near the entrance caught fire. People started evacuating the centre until the power was cut. When it was restored, we got everyone else out that we could but we can't get inside the Memorial Garden to reach the people still trapped in there."

Suddenly realising the director didn't even know how to begin explaining why the Ghostbusters had been called, Ray decided to start with the basics. "Professor Birkenall, what made you decide this was a supernatural event?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter give him a quick nod of approval and he felt an answering surge of confidence. He had been right then, the director wasn't someone who had ever had reason to believe in the existence of a paranormal world until now.

The professor sighed. "That, gentlemen, you had better see for yourselves," he said. Nodding to the police, he allowed the Ghostbusters to break the police cordon and led them inside.

As they walked through the gardens, Ray found his sense of unease increasing. They looked exactly as he had seen them the day before. Although cloudy, there was no sign of bad weather approaching. A light, cool breeze ruffled his auburn hair as he walked, carrying the scents of many different plants but no hint of smoke. Nowhere could he see any damage, either from an explosion or from fire.

"Hm," Egon said softly. He hadn't looked up once since entering the gardens, concentrating completely on his meter but Ray understood the sentiment. Lowering his ecto-goggles, he began scanning the area. A moment later, he lifted them again. Seeing the inquisitive looks on both Peter and Winston's faces, he gave them a baffled shrug. His goggles had detected nothing supernatural, aside from the ambient psychokinetic flux that the meters were reporting.

Their guide, however, had not stopped here and continued through, leading them to the Memorial Garden. Only when his destination came into view did he stop and the Ghostbusters could see what had made him pause.

There was no sign of fire that any of them could detect but what was visible was a swirling gale-force wind that seemed to form a barrier between them and the garden beyond. Caught up in the storm's wrath were plants, furniture, bags, pots and a myriad other items.

It was only with difficulty that they could see into the garden beyond. There was no sign that the plants were in any way being damaged by the storm raging about them but there were definitely people in there. People lying on the ground, unmoving as if asleep, unconscious... or dead.

"We've seen no sign of the fire that was reported but if you manage to get closer, you'll see those..." the director swallowed thickly. "People... have terrible burns."

The Ghostbusters exchanged uneasy looks. "This is the only place there's a storm?" Ray asked.

The director nodded. "No-one can get into the garden to check whether those people are alive or dead. The wind could be a solid wall for all our ability to penetrate it. Where's it coming from?" He gestured to the sky above him. "There's no weather front above us. It's like nothing on this Earth."

"Which is why you called us." Winston finished.

"Yes, exactly."

"Hm." Egon pointed his meter at the garden and began to walk forwards. Ray winced. Although he was often accused of being impulsive and lacking in respect for potential risk, Ray had never considered himself to be anywhere near as bad as Egon, who had a tendency to conclude risk based on probability. Sometimes, the physicist didn't even seem to bother with that much if he thought the chance for scientific research outweighed the value of his own life - which seemed to be distressingly often. It wasn't that Ray was unable to understand the value of scientific research, it was that he was more willing to accept the value of human life than Egon was. Not that he felt Egon was cold and indifferent to human emotion but he did suspect that Egon sometimes wished he was.

The engineer would have been very surprised to discover that the others felt exactly the same way about him that he felt about Egon. He would have been further astonished to realise that Peter and Winston commonly laid wagers as to which of the pair they would next be hauling out of harm's way thanks to some interesting unknown anomaly that just had to be investigated.

Apparently, this time it was Egon's turn to play mad scientist and Ray could hear Peter's loud sigh.

"Uh... Egon..." the psychologist protested mildly. "We don't know..."

The strangled gasp from Egon and a sharp crackle that sounded suspiciously like something electrical short-circuiting was enough to start them all moving. The physicist stumbled backwards, clutching his arm, his P.K.E. meter clattering groundwards to lie in a charred, smoking heap.

"Egon? You alright, man?" It was Winston who reached the injured man's side first.

"Psychokinetic energy too strong. Overloaded the meter," Egon muttered between clenched teeth, his eyes blurring with tears of pain as Peter carefully turned over his hand to reveal the electrical burns now adorning the long, thin fingers.

Heeding the lesson Egon had learned the hard way, Ray decided to try a slightly different approach. They needed to confirm the meter had not been malfunctioning and he thought he knew a way to do that without hurting anyone else. Carefully adjusting the settings of his own meter, he laid it on the floor. A moment later, it too shorted out in a small but spectacular explosion.

"It's supernatural alright," the engineer confirmed. "And it's so powerful our equipment isn't calibrated to cope with it."

"You said that no-one could get into the garden." Winston commented to the director. "Did anyone get hurt trying?"

The professor's response was a shake of the head. "No, not that I'm aware of."

Winston nodded. Squaring his shoulders and cradling his thrower, he stepped forward.

"Winston, I don't think..." Peter began but it was too late. Winston reached the winds and his determined stride seemed to waver, slowing. He gritted his teeth and bore down, fighting the tornado for every footstep he managed to take. Then, suddenly, the winds seemed to shift. With a yell of surprise, he was lifted bodily off his feet and flung backwards, landing almost at his colleagues' feet.

"Winston, are you hurt?" Ray demanded, reaching down to help him up.

His response was a grunt of disgust. "I'm fine but that's the mother of all hurricanes!"

"It's a manifestation," Egon corrected wearily, fighting to regain control over his protesting nerve endings. He continued to cradle his injured arm as he contemplated the sight before him. "Whatever supernatural entity resides within, it clearly has control over the elements. Mr. Birkenall," he turned around. "Is this the only place any supernatural activity has been documented?"

The director nodded. "Whatever it is, it only seems interested in that garden."

"Hm. At the seminar yesterday, the speaker stated the garden was bequeathed to the centre in Doctor Charles Austin's will. Has there been any kind of supernatural activity associated with the botanical gardens prior to this memorial?"

"None that I know but maybe you could find something we've never heard of?"

Egon nodded. "It's possible. How about Doctor Austin's estate?"

The director looked startled. "I have no idea. I wasn't directly involved in the affairs at Doctor Austin's premises. You would need to talk to Doctor Newman about that. He was the botanist in charge of creating the Memorial Garden."

Listening to this in silence, Ray frowned and nodded at Egon in agreement. They definitely needed more background information. Seeing the look that passed between the pair, the director stepped forward a pace. "We can do that now, if you like," he offered.

"Are there any helicopters around here?" Winston asked suddenly.

"Thinking of a change in career?" Peter asked dryly.

"No. Peter, maybe we can get a better view of what's happening from above? Maybe we can even land if we come in by air. There's reporters and police around here, right? Someone should have a helicopter we can borrow for a bit to run a flyby."

"Actually, that's a good idea," Ray said enthusiastically. "I'm sure I saw a news crew in one when we entered. We need to know if this wind barrier is around the whole of the garden and a helicopter would be the fastest way of finding out."

Peter nodded and then gave Egon a speculative stare. "How bad is that hand?" he asked bluntly.

Egon looked down at his injured hand then straightened defiantly. "I do not require treatment," he replied immediately. "We should interview the scientists while we are still here."

The psychologist gazed at him for several moments as if unsure whether to believe him but the physicist's stare remained firm and unwavering. Eventually, he nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Ray, Winston, go and track down a helicopter and see if you can get into the garden that way. I'll go with Egon to meet Doctor Newman," he looked at them expectantly. All three Ghostbusters nodded in agreement, so he returned his gaze to the director. "Lay on, MacDuff," was all he said.