"And that's another one in the bag," Gordon said as he finished placing Bassett into the containment unit.
"It looks like I'm going to have to add a few new components to the containment unit," Jefferson noted. "The rate of new ghosts being added is greater than I had originally calculated."
Pulling the trap out of the transfer dock, Gordon dropped it into the bin that was labeled with "Traps to be reused" and followed Jefferson up the stairs back to the main floor of the firehouse. They passed Amy, who was on the phone with her sister discussing a casserole recipe.
When they reached the second floor, Hogarth was sitting on the sofa watching baseball. Singing coming from the bathroom indicated that Constance was in the shower. Muncher was nowhere to be found.
"Hogarth, have you seen Muncher?" Jefferson asked. "I needed him to help me with some tests in the lab."
"Don't know, don't care," Hogarth said, keeping his eyes on the screen. "As long as he's not bugging me, I'm in a perfect state of mind."
Jefferson gave Hogarth a look before heading into the lab, while Gordon went into the kitchen to brew some tea. Muncher was nowhere to be found as Jefferson entered the lab. He looked in the pile of scrap metal, but there was no sign of the little blue ghost.
All of sudden, a loud scream pierced the silence that filled the laboratory. Recognizing it as belonging to Hogarth, Jefferson spun around and saw Muncher zip through the wall and into the lab. He was gibbering frantically, and Jefferson knew he must have done something to enrage Hogarth.
"What did you do now, Muncher?" he asked.
Hogarth burst into the lab wearing his proton pack. Knowing the destruction Hogarth could cause in his pursuit of Muncher, Jefferson quickly rushed forward.
"Have you lost your mind, Hogarth?!" he said, pushing Hogarth's neutrona wand away from the direction of Muncher.
"Are you kidding?" Hogarth retorted. "That little glob of blue slime puked pieces of a manhole cover onto my lap! Let me blast him!"
"Hogarth, Muncher is a ghost who doesn't know better. You need to be patient with him. The work we collect from studying him could earn us the Nobel Prize!"
"Like presenting information on creatures most people believe don't exist is gonna win us a fancy award," Hogarth snapped.
"Hogarth, you stood up for Muncher when he helped us fight Gertrude Aldridge. That can only mean a part of you deeply cares for him. If you blast him, do you really think you'll feel any better?"
Hogarth glared at Muncher, who gave him a pleading look.
"I know I'm gonna regret this," Hogarth said, "but I guess he can stay."
Muncher let out a cry of joy before flying through the wall and disappeared.
"How about we go work on Ecto-1SF?" Jefferson asked. "We can work on putting that new mobile containment in."
~GB~
It was late when Guy Farnsworth finally walked out of the Final Destination Truck Stop on Interstate 280, about ten miles from San Francisco. With his biological fuel tank filled by the double-decker cheeseburger and fries he had feasted on, he was more than ready to finish his long journey from Phoenix to the City by the Bay.
As he made his way over to his semi, he heard the most hideous sound that ever touched his ears: The sound of a truck engine in terrible condition. Turning around, Guy saw an old, dilapidated tanker truck pull up behind him. It was covered from grille to taillights in rust and could not have been built later than the 1950s. From looking at the grille styling, Guy determined that it was likely a Peterbilt. He looked up into the dark cab, in an attempt to make out the driver. However, the darkness of the night made it impossible to see anything.
As Guy took a step closer, he was startled by a sudden sound that resembled that of an unearthly shriek. The grille of the tanker truck stretched and reshaped itself in the form of a mouth with razor-sharp teeth. The headlights compressed and became glaring yellow eyes. Snarling, the truck rolled forward towards Guy, who began to back away in sheer fright before he heard the sound of a truck engine behind him. He turned around and screamed when he saw that his own truck had the exact same snarling glare.
Guy's truck roared forward, prompting him to dive out of the way moments before it could run him over. As he stood up, he watched in horror as his truck left with the tanker, rushing down the highway towards San Francisco. Without hesitating, he quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. There was someone he needed to call.