Chapter Seven: Heat 'Em Up
Egon Spengler nodded in approval. Winston had replaced the cuffs with rope and Slimer had performed the rope trick that had proven its value in the original instance. A layer of slime, hardened by a quick thrower burst and the rope could not be removed without being cut off. As the retrieval approached, Team One arrayed themselves in the doorway, tense and wary. One final check of Peter's thrower settings and preparations were complete.
He studied Wordsworth a moment. "While I have little doubt that you have given Sergeant Parker and his team as much trouble as you could, I do recognize that you did not arrive in our universe by choice," the scientist began, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.
"You got that right," the bound man hissed.
"I do apologize, but you will feel some discomfort during the procedure. While I could compare it to a very light thrower backlash or perhaps the sensation of having a ghost pass through you, I doubt that you are familiar with either effect."
"Get it over with," Wordsworth demanded, both belligerent and fearful. Given what Egon knew of his counterpart, he was not at all surprised by Wordsworth's attitude.
"Very well," Egon agreed. He turned toward Peter. "As we did with Stantz, we shall fire on the count of three, aiming for his chest. I shall fire near the left shoulder and you will fire near the right. Winston will man the portal." He looked at Team One. "Please remain by the doorway and be prepared to follow instructions."
Without waiting for a response, Egon leveled his thrower at Wordsworth. Peter did the same. "One. Two. Three."
Twin thrower beams leapt out, perfectly on target. Wordsworth yelled, coloring the air with swear words, but did not lose consciousness.
"Winston. Alter the portal settings precisely two degrees on my mark."
"Ready," Winston called.
"Mark."
The throwers gave a brief buck as power increased. The streams darkened from yellow to gold, sparks flying. By the door, Constable Callaghan gasped. Wordsworth squinted against the increased light, but did not close his eyes, even as he clenched his jaw and bunched his shoulders.
"Spengs?" Peter asked, tilting his head at the officers.
"Quite right, Peter. Everyone, when I say 'mark' close your eyes. That includes you, Wordsworth." Wordsworth snarled, but Egon ignored that, listening for his meter. The generator roared to life, adding its growl to the building hum of the throwers. The green, potato shaped Slimer shrieked and vanished through the ceiling, though the generous floor space meant the slime he left behind dripped on the floor rather than any of the humans. Still, the meter did not shrill.
Wordsworth no longer yelled, reduced to gasps and pants. Peter's breathing next to Egon was equally harsh as he held his thrower steady. In the doorway, Team One alternated between whispered prayers and hisses of frustration. And still, the meter did not shriek.
Time stretched, seconds feeling like hours. The throwers vibrated, going slick with sweat from their wielders' hands. Then, just as Egon feared their Wordsworth had lost the watch after all, the meter shrilled, its wail rising above the room's sound level. Egon counted under his breath as the meter's shriek built to truly painful levels.
"Mark!" he bellowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Light flared throughout the room, searing their vision even with eyes shut and, in some cases, arms raised against it. Egon counted under his breath, waiting for the blaze to die.
The white light died almost sullenly, reluctant to release its grip on the room. When it did, Egon gave one final order, "Power down, Peter."
Both throwers cut off, Peter's a beat behind Egon's. The meter's shriek died at once and the generator's background rumble slowly fell away as well. Egon opened his eyes and began blinking the spots out of his vision, peering as best he could at the figure in the chair.
Ed clenched his fists as the Ghostbusters fired at Kevin. Evil twin or not, he looked like Wordy and that made watching him suffer particularly hard. Dr. Spengler didn't even flinch as he ordered Zeddemore to alter the portal settings. Light built, but the meter Dr. Stantz had set so carefully didn't even beep.
"Come on, come on," Ed muttered. Jules looked like she was praying and Spike was murmuring something in Italian, a mix of fear and begging in his voice. Sam and Lou were stricken, unable to say anything as they watched, wishing they could do something, anything, to help.
Greg's eyes were on Kevin as well, concern and sympathy radiating from him. At Ed's mutters, he placed a hand on his team leader's shoulder. "Have faith, Ed."
On cue, the meter shrieked, making all of Team One lurch backward in surprise. Sarge waved them inside the door and reached out to slap the controls to shut the door. The barrier dropped, protecting the rest of the station from the light of the throwers.
Greg's action was none too soon, for Spengler bellowed, "Mark!" as the barrier fell and the team closed their eyes, turned away, and brought up their arms to shield their eyes. The light was even brighter than the initial flash Ed had seen, practically searing the room in a fierce brilliance that also lasted far longer than the initial flash. When it finally died, Ed looked up, blinking hard.
Wordy sat in the chair, slumped; arms tied behind his back with rope and a fresh bruise on his face where he'd been punched. Ed raced across the room to Wordy, barely even glancing at the now correct SRU patch. Ignoring the rope and the bruise for the moment, Ed grabbed his best friend and hugged him, hard.
Wordy felt the world twist around him as white light flared and a tingling sensation raced along his limbs. He saw Stantz smirk at him and then the world turned inside out.
He came to in a chair that felt like a briefing room chair. Before he could look up or even gather himself, someone grabbed him and hugged him. He blinked, trying to see who it was and fighting the urge to struggle.
"Wordy!" Spike yelled in joy from the other side of the room. A human-sized rocket hit Wordy from the side, shoving him into the first person who'd grabbed him. The next thing he knew, he was being hugged half to death from all sides. How his team managed to avoid the glass still embedded in his back, shoulders, and vest, he didn't know and didn't care. Sam and Jules bypassed Spike and got on Wordy's opposite side, Lou shoved Spike over to make room, Sarge was by Jules, tears in his eyes, and Ed; Ed, who'd grabbed him first, did not let go, but did shuffle aside enough to make room for Sarge.
Home, I'm home. Wordy let out a muffled sob of relief and let himself lean a bit further into Ed's arms. The group stayed as they were for almost a minute. There was a hiss from the doorway as the steel barrier rose. Wordy jumped a little at the noise.
"Constable Wordsworth," Commander Holleran intoned.
Team One parted, slow, reluctant, but sure. Ed helped Wordy stay upright and turned him toward the commander; the team leader scowled at the sight of the glass shards and began to pick them free. Jules retrieved a trash can for Ed to drop the shards into, then moved to Wordy's other side to help. Holleran sucked in a breath at the sight of Wordy's face and the first few shards Ed pulled free; some of them marked with blood. Wordy shifted, getting his feet under him and stood on his own, restraining a cringe or two as the glass shards were pulled loose. "Sir."
Holleran inspected his constable from head to toe, frowning at the damage and the bulging pockets from Stantz's haphazard organization efforts. He might have said something about the rope, but Greg ducked between Ed and Jules to cut Wordy loose and took over Ed's part of the shard removal, nudging Ed to put his arm around Wordy's shoulders and keep the exhausted constable upright.
Finished with his inspection, Holleran looked his constable in the eye. "Once you're debriefed and seen to, I don't want to see you before next Monday, Constable." His attention turned to the Ghostbusters. "Thank you for your efforts, gentlemen. We can discuss things further in my office."
"Wait," Wordy said, looking at the Ghostbusters; behind him, his teammates paused in their efforts to watch.
"Yes, Constable Wordsworth," Dr. Spengler inquired.
"The ah, other Dr. Stantz wanted me to pass on a message."
Team One and the Ghostbusters exchanged startled looks at the mention of the other Ghostbusters. "You met them, Wordy?" Sarge asked gently, moving so Wordy wouldn't have to twist around to look at him.
"Yeah, Boss, I did," Wordy confirmed; looking over at Sarge was easier than looking at Dr. Spengler.
"I doubt the encounter was all that pleasant," Dr. Spengler muttered.
Wordy pulled his arms forward, flexing his wrists. Careful not to drop anything, he pulled his vest off and set it on the table, blinking in surprise at the fact that most of the glass shards were already out. Even more carefully, he pulled his bullet-proof vest off and passed it off to Spike. Then he tugged the silver pocket-watch free from its hiding place; his team gasped and tossed the watch a few glares – okay, a lot of glares, most of them just on the edge of lethal. With a tiny smirk at his teammates' reactions, Wordy stepped forward and offered the watch not to Spengler, but to Stantz. "He said to tell you that he never told his team where you found the first watch."
Venkman let out a low whistle. "Wow, Spengs, guess we taught him something after all."
"You did," Wordy agreed. "He asked me if my team was looking for me…"
"Always," Sarge and Ed said at the same time. The rest of Team One smirked at their Sergeant and their Team Leader's simultaneous response.
Wordy chuckled and nodded. "That's what I said. I don't think he meant for me to hear, but he said I was lucky."
All four Ghostbusters smiled at that, trading looks that spoke of how close their team was. "You certainly are, Constable Wordsworth," Dr. Spengler observed. "As are we Ghostbusters. I pity anyone without such friendships as we possess."
Zeddemore looked toward the watch. "What are you gonna do with it, m'man?" he asked Dr. Stantz.
Dr. Stantz grinned and looked a question at Dr. Spengler. The latter frowned, but inclined his head. "Peter?" Stantz asked.
"Sure," Dr. Venkman agreed. He fielded the watch, cast a smirk at Team One, and dropped the watch on the ground. The watch landed with a tinkle and crash of breaking glass and components. To finish the job, Venkman stepped on the watch, drawing more cracks from the device. "And it's out!" he crowed, gesturing like a baseball umpire calling the last out of a championship game.
Team One cheered.
"
"You okay?" Ed Lane asked his best friend, an anxious look on his face. Wordy had just gone through an experience that still ranked as Ed's worst SRU experience and, if the debrief was any indication, been minutes away from being permanently stranded thanks to the Mirror Egon Spengler. It made the squabble he and Wordy'd had that day seem petty and insignificant. If that had been the last time Ed saw his friend… Ed tried to cut the thought off, but it stuck, refusing to leave him alone and it took an act of will to keep his eyes on Wordy's.
Wordy looked at his best friend. "No, Ed, I'm not okay. But right now, all I want is to go inside and hug Shelley and the girls." He stiffened, seeing the guilt in Ed's eyes, then asked, "What about you, Ed?"
Ed looked away, swallowing hard. Darn it all…
"Ed?"
"I'm fine."
Wordy huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm with Sarge. You might want to do the math on all the 'I'm fine's one of these days."
"I'm not the one who was stuck in hell for the past day," Ed couldn't help but snipe.
"No, but you did have to listen to my 'twin' the whole time."
Ed couldn't meet his friend's gaze. Wordy waited. "Maybe in a couple days, Wordy."
Wordy nodded. "I'm going to hold you to that, Ed."
He climbed down and walked to his front door. Shelley met him and pulled him inside. The girls crowded around their father and Wordy folded all of them into a hug. Ed watched for a minute before he put his car in gear. Yes, they had Wordy home, but darn it, that had been far too close. And he was never calling the Ghostbusters flim-flam artists ever again.
"Kevin?"
Wordy flinched, just a bit, and looked up at Shelley, his eyes sheepish; it was going to be a couple days before he could take hearing his own name without remembering his 'twin' and his 'twin's' team. "Hey, Shel."
She joined him on the couch, her expression concerned. "When Ed called, I knew he wasn't telling me everything."
Wordy managed a bit of a chuckle at the understatement; he'd bet his next paycheck that Ed hadn't told Shelley anything, except maybe that he was missing. "Well, it's kind of…out of this world," he remarked, keeping his voice as upbeat as possible.
Shelley leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. "Tell me." When Wordy gave her a slightly uncertain look, she rapped him lightly on the ribs. "Everything, Kevin. Including why you just flinched at your own name."
With a chuckle at his feisty, stubborn wife, Kevin 'Wordy' Wordsworth grabbed her hand and pulled it closer. "Well, it started during patrol yesterday…"
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
~ T.S. Eliot
~ Fin
