Chapter 1

--"Mom? Dad? Where's the Nasty Burger?"
--"Strange how one massive fireball of highly combustible condiments can ruin your whole future."

Lieutenant James Rayburn surveyed the entire chaotic scene; all he could do was shake his head in disgust. Ever since Amity Park became the ghost capital of the world, this place has really been bizarre, but today—How could things go so wrong?

He had called the bomb squad after the initial explosion, but there seemed to be no other form of threat any longer. Yet, things were far from wrapped up.

Sgt. Alex Falls, who headed the explosive department, came walking up to him, picking his way through the rubble. "Lieutenant, I called the families and they should be here in a few minutes."

Rayburn nodded, "Did you tell them what about?"

Falls shook his head, "I just couldn't sir, I leave that up to you."

"This has to be the worst part of my job. You and your people finished up your report? The captain and the mayor will be here soon."

Falls flipped through his notes, "The explosion was caused by the building pressure and heat to a vat of the restaurant's 'secret sauce'. After this little episode, Nasty Burger is going to get so many lawsuits, that sauce of theirs may never see the light of day again."

Rayburn sighed, "Never did like their stuff, who knew it would be lethal? How many casualties do we have?"

Falls flipped through his notes again, "It's kind of hard to tell, pieces were blown here, there, everywhere. By all accounts, we can see that a total of six people died in the explosion. They were right at the point of combustion, they never had a chance. Victims in order of age: Lancer, Ron S. Age: 47, Fenton, Jack R. Age: 39, Fenton, Madison "Maddie" A. Age: 34, Fenton, Jasmine "Jazz" D. Age: 16, Manson, Samantha "Sam" M. Age: 14, and Foley, Tuckard "Tucker" C. Age: 14. I doubt there were anymore victims, but we'll keep checking."

"Witnesses say they saw the town's favorite ghost boy, Danny Phantom, hanging around the scene. I'll bet dollars to donuts that they'll be pinning the blame on him for this mess."

"They might, but they'll soon try to go after a real flesh and blood person, when it goes nowhere. What else can you do to a ghost? They're already dead… Speaking of ghosts, how's the boy doing?"

Rayburn didn't even have the heart to look, in the boy's general direction. When they had arrived at the scene, the fire department had gotten busy putting out the flames, while the bomb squad got ready to go in immediately after. That's when one of the officers had found the boy sitting next to the adjacent building. He was crouched in a fetal position, watching the fire. He was perfectly okay—physically anyway. It had to be some sort of miracle…or in this case, a curse.

It was soon discovered, that the boy's identity was Daniel "Danny" J. Fenton. They found this out through records; the boy hadn't talked since they'd uncovered him. All that he did, was stare at the explosion site; his eyes blank and void. Sometimes, he would look down at a strange mechanical thermos, still clutched in his hand. The side of it was cracked, and the digital read out kept reading "Ghost Escaped" in flashing lights. However, Danny would only look at it for a few seconds, before looking back at the flames once again.

Sgt. Falls shook his head in sympathetic understanding. "Still hasn't said a word? I wouldn't either. How would you like to lose everything that ever meant anything to you, in only a few seconds?"

"You think he saw everything?"

"I wish I could say he didn't, but I think I'd be lying."

"Poor kid, you family and friends, all in one day? I'd hate to look in his mind."

A shrill voice called from behind him, "Lieutenant! Lt. Rayburn! I demand to know why my wife and I were called to this scene of chaos."

Sgt. Falls shrugged his shoulders in sympathy—before turning tail and walking as fast as he could in the other direction. Saying behind him, "I'll go check on the others, sir."

Benedict Arnold, Rayburn sighed, It's time to face the music. Turning around, he saw the man who addressed him and his wife, uneasily stumbling over the rubble: Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy and Pam Manson, the parents of one of the victims.

Meeting them halfway, he shook hands. "Glad to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Manson. I wish it could be in better circumstances."

Jeremy Manson swiped his hand away, "What do you mean by calling us down here? What do we have to do with all this?" indicating the debris all around them.

Sighing the officer responded, "Mr. Manson, I'm not going to prolong this anymore than it has to. I'm not good at this, so I'm going to tell you straight out. There was an explosion today, at the Nasty Burger. It was the result of an accident dealing with an overheated vat of condiments."

Pam Manson looked at him strangely, with her hands on her hips. "And what exactly does this have to do with us? We don't eat here."

"No, but you daughter does…did. Look, I'm sorry to tell you, but your daughter's dead."

The two stood there, looking at him as if waiting for him to say it was a joke. But, of course, he never did.

Jeremy was the first to speak, "I hope you know that that joke is in very bad taste. So bad, it might be lawsuit worthy."

Rayburn sighed, the first thing people did when faced with bad news, was try to deny it. "This is not a joke Mr. Manson. We've checked her dental records and had DNA testing. Your daughter, Samantha, died in the explosion with five others."

Pam looked from him to her husband, should see his face slowly change, as if he was accepting this crap! She turned around in indignation and whipped out her cell phone. "I'll clear this up right now, and trust me, you'll be very sorry for worrying us for no good reason."

She hit Sam's number on speed-dial. The officer watched her, shaking his head feeling sorry for the parents in denial. They had already collected pieces of Ms. Manson's cell…it, like her body, had shattered into hundreds of pieces.

Pam, heard the disconnected voice message again and again, but continually kept putting in her daughter's number. She kept making excuses, her voice going from self-assured to hysterical. "What's wrong with this thing? I've told her to keep her phone on, why doesn't she ever listen! Come on, Samantha! Come on, Angel! Pick up. Pick up!"

Jeremy, felt his heart crack with each call she made. He scanned the wreckage, the truth beginning to dawn on him. As his eyes slowly filled with tears, Rayburn finally realized that he had gotten through to one of them.

The husband took the phone from his wife's frenzied hands; she looked up at him, trying to see some kind of hope…she found none.

"Jeremy, please! Please! Please tell me she's alright!"

The blond took his wife in his arms, "Darling…she's gone."

Once she heard him say those dreaded words, she almost felt her sanity crack in two. "No! No! Please don't say that! Not my baby! My baby!"

She cried in his shoulder, hysterically for a while, but then she began to die down. Slowly, she looked up from his shoulders, her eyes bizarrely void and empty. She looked over at a pile of rock, pointing with her trembling, manicured hand. He voice turned sweet and innocent.

"Look, Jeremy. I knew she wasn't gone. Samantha? Come here darling. Come to mummy."

She tried to go out and hug the rock pile, but her husband stopped her. "Don't do this to me Pam. Please…I can't handle it."

He hugged her in a deep embrace, tears falling down his cheeks. Pam hugged him back, but her voice still held the sweet tone of a little girl. "Why are you crying Jem? If you want to cry, I'll cry with you if you like."

Rayburn shook his head, which he seemed to be doing a lot lately, as he left the couple, broken and crying feverishly in the ashes of their only child…

And man, here came the Foleys. It was time to go through torture once again…

"Were there any survivors?" Manson asked from his scrunched up spot on the rocky ruins.

Both Rayburn and Mr. Manson had stayed at the scene. Both Mrs. Manson and Mrs. Foley had collapsed physically from the sudden grief. They had to be restrained and taken to the nearby hospital. Mr. Foley went with them, being as supportive as he possibly could given the situation.

Rayburn could tell the men too, were totally grief-stricken. However, they chose to cry on the inside—for now.

In answer to the man's question, he answered, "The accident claimed six lives, which almost included an entire family. The only one to survive was a Daniel Fenton, his parents and sister however, didn't make it."

Manson looked up at him from where he was sitting. His eyes were red and tear-stained, a strange light in his eyes. His face, which was used to charming the crowds and society party guests, looked haggard and edgy, like he hadn't had sleep in weeks. His voice was ragged, like that of a chain-smoker. "Danny Fenton? H-how did h-he survive?"

"Well, thank goodness he was outside the restaurant at the time of the explosion, or else he would have been a goner too."

"Where is he now?"

The officer pointed to near the ambulance area. "He's over there now. We'll be calling child services to see if we can—Mr. Manson?"

The man had left him and was walking toward where he had pointed. He was obviously, going to see the Fenton kid. Well, maybe he can reach him in ways that we can't. He decided to let them talk alone for a while.

"Danny? Danny Fenton?"

Sgt. Falls turned to see Mr. Manson coming his way! He had been over with the nurse checking on the Fenton boy, not surprised that the 14 year-old hadn't moved an inch from when he'd last seen him. And that wasn't the last of his problems! He had six dead victims on his hands—and one just happened to be the daughter of one of the richest men in town! Now he had that same grieving parent, coming towards him at breakneck speed! I thought Rayburn was going to take care of this.

He put his sympathetic smile on his face, ready for whatever the man was going to yell at him about. "Mr. Manson, I'm so sorry for what happened. We're doing our be—"

Suddenly, with a force stronger than he'd expected, he was swept aside by the man's arm! As if he was swatting a droning horsefly!

Falls hit the ground hard, pain shooting up his left arm. Struggling to sit up, he gritted his teeth and open his eyes. He was surprised at Manson's strength and behavior! He had always thought of him as a high society, rich boy snob.

"Why?"

Falls looked up at Manson, surprised bythe man'stone of voice, but even more surprised at what the man was doing.

Jeremy Manson held the Fenton boy by the neck, thrust up to a brick wall! A strange look was in the man's eyes, as he watched Fenton try to gasp for breath.

The nurse was in as much shock as he was. She quickly ran from the scene, shouting for help.

Jumping up from the ground, Falls unlatched his gun but didn't draw it. "Mr. Manson! Let go of the boy. I know you must be hurting right now, but I have to ask you to—"

Totally ignoring him, the man kept his hold on the boy. His voice sounded drawn, as if he was intoxicated, but kept racing in a crescendo of frenzy. "Why? Why are you alive? WHY?"

He squeezed his hands harder; Fenton pulled at the man's grip trying to grasp a breath, his eyes held expressed fear and shame, all at once. Falls had had enough and reached up to pull Manson away, only to find himself pushed away again!

Putting his hand back around Danny Fenton's neck, he let go of all restraint…

"You should be the one in there! You should be the one dead, lying blown to bits! My Sam trusted you, even when we didn't! Why didn't she listen to us? WHY DIDN'T SHE LISTEN? She was my baby…my angel…and you took her away from me. You RUINED our family! My wife is going out of her mind, because of you! I always knew your family was bad news. You watched didn't you? You watched her die! Didn't you? Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU!"

BANG!

A shot rang out, stopping the crazed voice.

Jeremy let go suddenly, falling to the ground, clutching his bleeding leg. His head smacked down hard on the concrete, knocking him totally unconscious.

Lt. Rayburn holstered his weapon and approached calmly, while all the other police officers scrambled on the scene. Helping Sgt. Falls from off the ground, he watched as the medics were going to work on Manson.

"I feel sorry for that family. Their only child dies, and the whole familyis fallingto pieces. Who knew one accident, could affect so many lives?"

Falls rubbed his neck and nodded in agreement. "Where's the Fenton kid, is he okay?"

"I don't know. I don't see him."

Both Rayburn and Falls looked around for the boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. At least nowhere, they could see…