Chapter 6: House of Dust
"The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labour." -- Albut Camus.
Silence hung over the botanical gardens like a death shroud. Tugging the collar of her uniform, Janine shivered and tried to ignore the feeling of doom that was sinking slowly into her muscles. It wasn't easy. She had never seen the gardens so deserted during business hours. The five people standing outside the Charles Austin Memorial Garden were the only living beings in the entire complex and not a single individual was smiling. Even Peter was looking more subdued than usual as he studied the wind shield with an uncertain gaze.
She backed away silently until she was certain she wasn't in the direct view of the Ghostbusters. She had argued strenuously to be included on this mission. Confronted by the magnitude of this threat, they had been reluctant to involve her at all but, precisely because of the strength of the demon, they had been left with no choice. They needed four throwers - at least four throwers.
Egon had made a valiant and defiant effort to shoulder his proton pack to prevent her from being included on this bust but all he had succeeded in doing was revealing that the burn treatment he had received had not been limited to his hand but had encompassed his entire lower arm. As angry as they had ever seen him, Peter had immediately confiscated his equipment, raging about the physicist's stubborn pride. As much as they needed four throwers, Egon was currently a liability they couldn't afford. Out of options, the physicist had grudgingly conceded defeat and the Ghostbusters had reluctantly allowed Janine to replace him. Egon was now relegated to controlling their attack through judicious monitoring of the P.K.E. meters.
She stared through the gauzy air at the garden beyond. Vaguely, she could see the bodies adorning the grass, although she couldn't make out the detail; a small mercy she was grateful for. Winston had said nothing more about what he had seen and Ray had avoided the subject completely but neither of them had slept well and Ray, in particular, looked hollow-cheeked and dark-eyed as the Ghostbusters moved along the perimeter of the manifestation, trying to find its weakest spot.
Their search was hampered by the distance they had to place between themselves and the barrier to ensure their meters would survive the ordeal. Thus far, there had been some smoking and strained beeping but no accidents, so for the moment, she was free to think about the insanity of the situation she had become involved in. Oddly enough, it was Slimer she found herself dwelling on. They had forced him to remain at the firehouse, something that had upset him greatly. Usually when Janine suited up it was because the Ghostbusters were in trouble and that often meant that she'd take Slimer with her for moral support. She found herself missing the little green ghost now. Being in uniform without him made her feel strangely naked.
Biting back a sigh, she turned as the four Ghostbusters walked over to her. "We've found it," Ray said wearily. "We better get started."
Egon nodded in agreement and looked at Peter. "Ray and I have redistributed the dispersal stream to produce a highly focused particle beam. By concentrating all four throwers on the same location, you should be able to bisect the barrier."
"He means we've turned the throwers into ectoplasmic lasers to make it easier to cut through the shield," Ray explained quickly.
"Whatever," Peter said impatiently. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get paid." He pulled free his thrower. "Just tell me where to hit."
Ray nodded and led them to the weakest section of the barrier. Janine took a deep breath and pulled free her thrower suddenly feeling sick as he spoke. "Ready? Aim!" Four throwers buzzed into life, pointing at the hurricane wall ahead of them. "Fire!" Ray yelled and his thrower bucked as it activated.
Janine had never helped out on a bust when the protonic energy had been this highly charged - the recoil almost knocked her backwards as she activated the thrower and fought desperately for control. As quickly as she could, she directed it to target the same spot as the three more experienced Ghostbusters. Although they weren't standing close, she could feel the heat emanating from the throwers in waves and felt her skin begin to sweat in response. The winds seemed to howl above the scream of the proton packs and she blinked back the dust that was stinging her eyes.
"It's not working!" Winston yelled above the noise.
"Increase the frequency by 50," Egon's commanding voice somehow carried more efficiently than if he had shouted. Without switching their throwers off, the four quickly obeyed and Janine felt her shoulder wrench as she struggled to hold the bucking weapon steady with one hand while readjusting it with the other. The heat streaming off the weapon increased, drying out the air in front of her and singe the back of her throat. She could feel her lungs gasping for air and tears were beginning to blind her eyes.
"Is it working now?" Peter demanded, his voice hoarse from similar effort.
"Yes," Egon replied calmly. "Move forward. Slowly."
Trusting the physicist, Peter stepped forward, holding his thrower steady and walked towards the wind barrier, allowing the particle stream to carve a path through the air before him. As he reached the perimeter of the psychokinetic shield, he could feel the pressure on his thrower building as if something was fighting him. "Egon..." he began nervously.
"Peter! Get back!" Egon barked.
The psychologist didn't need to be told twice. When the physicist used that tone of voice, it never meant anything good. Bolting backwards, he felt a surge of heat flush across his back as he was lifted bodily off the ground and thrust forward.
He was vaguely aware of a hard impact and a sharp pain in his chest. Slowly he realised the sharp pain came from his lungs; he was gasping for breath, his lungs burning as though he had just run a marathon. His limbs trembled as he attempted to push himself off the ground and he could feel a constricting weight forcing him back to the ground. For the first time, fear stabbed through his mind, waking him fully and he lashed out at whatever it was that bound him into place.
"Ow! Godammit... Peter!"
That was Ray yelling, he realised suddenly. So loudly, it was almost in his ear. A moment later, the engineer rolled into view and the pressure on his back suddenly eased. In relief, the psychologist slumped. "That's what you get for using me as a crash mat," he quipped weakly, slowly pushing himself up to his knees and looking around.
The courtyard in which they had been standing was a sooty, dishevelled mess, as if a smog-bank had rolled through the area and deposited all that it carried before moving on. Taking several more deep breaths and finding it easier to breathe with every passing moment, he forced himself to his feet, searching for his team.
Winston and Ray were already climbing to their feet and Egon was helping Janine to stand up. For the most part, they looked charred, sooty and dazed but otherwise unharmed.
"Egon. Do I want to know what that was?" Peter's voice was deceptively mild.
"The combined force of the throwers created an energy build-up in the wind barrier. When it reached critical mass, it exploded," Ray said with a weary glance towards Egon.
"Essentially correct," the physicist agreed.
"So the barrier is down?" Winston demanded
"Yes."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Everyone okay?"
There were nods from the three men and an angry growl from Janine. "Ready to rock," she snapped, an irritated glint in her eye that made the psychologist smile. She hated being dragged through the mud as much as Peter did.
"Alright, let's finish this." He cocked his thrower and began to move forward, flanked by the three armed Ghostbusters.
As they entered the garden for the first time since it had opened to the public two days ago, Peter came to an abrupt halt. He couldn't help it. For the first time, he had a good look at the garden - a beautifully laid out Moroccan design with just a hint of Oriental influence. It was wide, spacious and would have been relaxing in any other situation.
Now, however, a body blocked his path. He couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. He couldn't tell what kind of clothing the victim had been wearing. He couldn't even tell if they had ever had hair or what height they had been in life. With a strangled gasp, he turned his eyes away but found his gaze settling on another body. A smaller one but it was just as hard to establish features.
Without thinking, he stumbled back a step as he became aware of the other four bodies, realising with horror that the one he had noticed first was the least injured one; that the others were barely identifiable as human.
It was then the smell now permeating the garden hit him and his knees caved as if he had been hit with an iron bar. Something clamped around his arms and dragged him back but he was too stunned to struggle. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the sound of someone retching and wondered vaguely if that was him.
"PETER!"
His eyes snapped into focus as he suddenly realised Winston was nose to nose with him, shaking him.
"You okay, man?" he demanded, his tone panicked.
"Winston," Peter croaked. "You look like crap."
"I'm prettier than you, Flyboy," was the relieved retort.
Peter swallowed and tested his weight. He was still standing, he realised. And he wasn't going to crumple into a heap as soon as Winston let go of him, although he was certainly shaking like a leaf.
He took a deep breath then another and slowly felt his mind begin to wake up. He swallowed thickly. "Okay... that was... that..."
"Yeah." Winston's voice was too quiet.
He turned slowly, looking for the others. Janine was the one who was on her knees retching, he realised. Not that he could blame her, his own stomach was still churning restlessly. Ray and Egon were with her, so he couldn't immediately tell what state of mind they were in.
"How are they?"
"You and Janine saw most of it. They were too busy getting you two out to pay much attention."
They. The psychologist lifted his eyes, searching Winston's face intently. The mechanic swallowed thickly and looked away. Peter gripped his arm tightly in understanding then made his way over to the others.
"Is everyone okay?" Peter asked.
Ray looked up slowly. His face wasn't white, it was grey. A horrible, lifeless shadow that accentuated every line and crag of his face and his eyes were so dark they were almost black, shining brightly with unshed tears. "What are we going to do, Peter?" the engineer whispered.
As if it had been on a time-delay, a small explosion seemed to detonate in the back of Peter's mind, white-hot rage surging through his veins.
"We're going to kill the son of a bitch who did this!" His vicious growl was enough to make even Janine look up. She looked fragile, almost hollow, and was trembling violently.
"You got that right," Winston whispered, hefting his thrower. "That thing's just made this personal."
Egon glanced uneasily between the four of them and knelt back on his heels. "I think that would be a mistake," he said with characteristic bluntness. "Given the events that have taken place recently, it would be logical..." he trailed off as four pairs of eyes suddenly pierced him, stilled into speechlessness by the rage in each of their faces.
"How can you say that, Egon?!" Ray exploded suddenly. "Didn't you see what's in that garden?! We've got to end this now! Before that happens again! You said it yourself, we're the only ones who can stop it from destroying the world! The barrier is down now but what if it comes back just because we walked away and left the demon alone?! It would be our fault, Egon! Our fault for not stopping it when we had the chance because we were too afraid to step into that garden. It's not like you have to go back in there anyway! You can stand out here and not have to worry about what happened in there. We're the ones who are going to have to go back in there, not you! You may be a smart man but you haven't been in there, you don't know what you're talking about!"
Egon stiffened, anger flaring in his eyes. Peter stepped forward before it could escalate. "Barrier's down, we can hurt him, Egon," he said quietly. "You know Ray's right. We have to do this now."
The physicist's eyes narrowed. He glanced from Ray's unrepentant glare to Peter's expression of false calm and the anger drained away to be replaced by something so cold that the psychologist experienced an involuntary shiver. Egon nodded abruptly in agreement and rose stiffly to his feet, picking up his P.K.E. meter once more.
Janine pushed herself to her feet, grim and pale but determined as she looked at the four of them.
"Ready for this, Janine?" Winston asked her softly.
"I'm a Melnitz," she whispered, letting her own anger surge. She needed that rage. She needed it to keep the fear and horror at bay long enough to do what they needed from her and she needed to do it now. Before she could dwell on what she had seen, before the fear became stronger than the anger. Before she lost her nerve and fled.
"You go, girl." He managed a smile for her then turned quickly to face the garden. She stepped up next to him, trying to pretend it was just another bust, that what was in there didn't exist and felt the comforting presence of Ray flank her on the other side. Peter moved into position and with a grim nod, ordered the advance.
Their plan was simple. Ignore the bodies, concentrate on the trees and as soon as the cedars came into view, blast them. Side by side, they stepped through the entrance, locked onto the trees and their throwers leapt into life.
Fire exploded around the two trees, leaping in an arc that was reminiscent of an electric current. As each Ghostbuster throttled up to full power, the trees themselves became obscured by the blinding heat radiating from them. Eventually, unable to stand the increasing temperature, the four began to retreat, shutting off the streams and blinking as they regained their focus.
The two trees were unharmed.
For a moment, they stared at them. "Again!" Peter snapped grimly, raising his thrower.
"Peter! Three o'clock!" Egon shouted behind him.
The psychologist swung around and his thrower activated automatically at the shadow that swept towards him. With an unearthly scream of rage, it banked off, aborting its attack to take up position a little further away. Peter adjusted his aim and prepared to fire again when a strangled cry escaped Ray, a sound that almost seemed to echo the noise the ghost had just made.
"Oh my God, Peter! There's six of them!" he exclaimed in horror.
"So?" Peter wasn't in the mood for puzzles.
"They're the people, Peter," Winston whispered in horror. "The people Humbaba killed."
Peter's hands trembled and he lowered the thrower. Sure enough, there were six ghosts. Ghosts that looked remarkably human until he looked at their faces, into the hollows where eyes should have been. Ghosts without a soul, as if everything that had once made them human had been ripped out of them, leaving only a mockery of what each of them had once looked like in life.
And they were hovering next to the two trees as if...
Peter swallowed. "They're protecting it. The thing that killed them," he whispered. It was too much even for him.
"Any violent death can create a ghost," Egon said softly from behind them. "They could no more break through the wind barrier in death than they could in life and were consumed by the demon that now controls them."
There was no surprise in that tone, Peter noticed absently. "You knew this already, didn't you Egon?"
"Yes." Egon's voice was sad.
There was a slight puff from Ray, as if he had just been kicked in the stomach. "That was the logic you were trying to explain to us?" he sounded sick. "I thought..."
"It doesn't matter," the physicist said roughly. "You're going to have to trap them."
"Can't we help them disperse peacefully?" Winston asked reluctantly. "Don't you think they've suffered enough?"
There was silence. Egon didn't answer and the ghosts were lining up as if readying themselves for a charge.
"We can't," Ray whispered in horrified realisation, watching those hollow faces turn towards them, seeing the truth written across their insubstantial features. "Even if we could free them from Humbaba, they're completely mad. There's no chance of dispersal for them. They wouldn't understand."
As if on some unseen cue, the six ghosts seemed to join hands and began to wail, a piercing keening that seemed to rise like the wind. The air began to stir into life, slowly picking up speed. On the breeze came a chill, biting their skin and searing them to the bone.
"They're rebuilding the wind barrier!" Egon snapped. "You have to trap them now!"
"This sucks," Peter whispered, raising his thrower once more and firing. The ghosts scattered and spun around to attack, dodging the stream. Catching one of the ghosts, he was forced to let it go and dive to one side as the ghosts swirled around him. He yelled in surprised pain, feeling a cold, icy touch slide through his body as if he had been stabbed through the chest with an icicle.
As the ghosts mobbed Peter, Winston caught one of them from behind, tossing in a trap. With screams of rage, the remaining five scattered again and Peter dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Even from where he was standing, Winston could see the psychologist's skin had taken on a cold, blue sheen.
Ray shouted a warning for Peter to move as he caught a second one but the psychologist didn't seem to hear. Janine ran forward, her thrower scattering the four remaining ghosts before they could touch him again. One ghost circled, charging straight for her. With a startled yelp, she opened fire and caught it dead centre.
"Hold it!" Ray yelled from the other side of the ghost.
Janine gritted her teeth. The ghost was writhing violently within the stream and maintaining the snare was taking everything she had. "How much longer, Ray?" she demanded, her voice trembling with effort.
"I've got the trap!" he replied, tossing it into the firing line.
Feeling as though she was been shaken apart at the seams, she fought it every step of the way as it howled with protest. As she finally wrestled it over the trap, its skeletal face at last seemed to locate its tormentor and she froze as those charred, empty sockets burned into her eyes. Unable to breathe, she could feel herself being drawn into that black, soulless stare, dragged away from the noise and light around her until only empty silence remained.
"Janine! Now!" Ray's voice was a scream that shattered the moment like an opera singer hitting high C in a room full of mirrors. With a gasp, she found herself once more back in the garden, struggling with the ghost. With a last heave, she threw the creature into the light and heard the hiss of a full trap closing.
Who turned the heating off? She wondered vaguely as she looked around for more ghosts. She couldn't see any but there did seem to be a lot of shouting. She heard Winston yell out something about midday that she didn't quite catch. That's funny, she mused thoughtfully. I could have sworn it was later... ow! Her thoughts scattered as something hard impacted with her body. OW! she thought again, more insistently as she felt the impact again, this time harder, more unyielding. She looked up but her neck muscles groaned in protest. Whatever had hit her was icy, her body didn't like this cold but had no strength with which to push away. Never mind, she told herself sleepily. I'll just wait a few minutes and try and again.
The sound of something sparking on the edge of her hearing caught her attention. She contemplated ignoring it but, a moment later, she felt the heat that followed. Warmth. Someone had lit a fire nearby. She could use some of that right about now, she decided. With a groan of protest, she forced herself to turn around and move in the direction of the heat, grudgingly admitting that it was becoming easier to walk the closer to the fire she came.
When she entered the pool of light, however, the fire wasn't what she expected. For a start there were two of them, set in circular firepits. The second thing she noticed was that the flames were a bright, incandescent blue and although she could feel no wind, they danced insistently in front of her, drawing her in with an almost irresistible force.
"Blue fire," she mumbled. "Pretty."
"Janine?"
With a startled yelp, she found herself staring into Egon's eyes. He looked, she was forced to admit, absolutely furious although why was a complete mystery to her.
Also a mystery was what she was doing lying flat on her back as he knelt beside her. Her own particle thrower was balanced awkwardly in his injured arm, as he fought to control its aim with his good hand. A little confused, she tried to rise but found her limbs unresponsive. Her muscles were shaking and she sank back in disbelief. When on earth had it become so cold in here?
"Don't move," Egon growled and fired, the particle beam far too close to them both for comfort. Then he shouted, his tone fierce. "Got him, Winston!"
"Clear!" The mechanic yelled back and the sound of the trap hissing shut echoed through the garden as the last ghost sank from sight. The physicist sagged next to Janine, pain etching deep lines into his face before he pulled himself together and looked up sharply.
"Peter's unconscious," Ray said tersely. "What about Janine?"
"Conscious," Egon replied. He glanced down at her again, the pain retreating from his face as the rage once more took centre stage in his expression. "Janine, do you know where you are?" he asked and his voice sounded harsh to her ears.
She swallowed, her mouth was so dry she found herself wondering when the last time she had a drink was. "Garden," she managed. "Brooklyn."
He nodded but didn't seem particularly relieved. "Can you stand?"
"Too... cold," she mumbled, trying to rise anyway. Egon grabbed her and helped her to her feet but her knees gave out almost immediately. She couldn't feel the ground beneath her and was barely aware of what her feet were doing.
However, she could feel the heat being generated by his body and turned into it almost instinctively. "Humbaba dead?" she asked hopefully.
"No," he replied shortly and she could hear the rage flaring in his voice again. She winced and almost fell once more. The only thing that held her upright was his steel grip.
"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling the ice in her soul take root at the hostility that she could feel racing through his body.
He didn't respond and she didn't expect him to. She didn't know what the expression on his face was; she couldn't bear to meet his gaze, finally understanding why he was so angry. She had compromised the team. They had needed her to be the fourth thrower and she hadn't been up to the job. Now Peter was down, she was barely able to move and Egon had been forced to take up the slack despite his injury. They only had two healthy Ghostbusters and it was all because she hadn't been able to handle a bunch of 2-day old Class III ghosts.
"Guys, we need to get out of here!" Ray exclaimed in alarm. "The barrier's coming back up!"
"What?!" Winston demanded. "How?! We busted the ghosts!"
"Debate it outside!" Egon snapped. In one swift move, he unceremoniously heaved Janine into a fireman's lift and headed out of the garden as fast as he could. Just a few steps behind him, Winston and Ray hefted Peter's body between them and followed.
The five tumbled into an ungracious heap in the courtyard hearing the howl of the wind as the barrier exploded into full force behind them.
Carefully, Ray backed away and activated his P.K.E. meter, scanning the new barricade. His face fell as he watched the meter smoking in his hands.
"How bad?" Winston asked apprehensively.
"It's stronger than the last one," the engineer said softly.
"But we can take it out like we did the last time, right?"
Ray shook his head and sighed. His sooty face was tear-streaked and unnaturally pale. He looked ready to collapse with exhaustion. "Not a chance, Winston. I don't know how we're going to get through this thing now."
"You mean... you mean we just went through that... busted those ghosts... for nothing?!" The mechanic looked appalled.
"I don't know what to say, Winston," tears were beginning to form in Ray's eyes again. Tears of frustration, anger, helplessness and a whole host of emotions he couldn't have put into words. "But I think we've just made things worse."