"Come on, Tucker," Danny growled. "Pick up already, would you?"
Tucker, however, clearly didn't comply, because the phone continued to ring. Danny sighed and hung up, then sent his friends another text message. Where r u? Tucker had to be getting the message. He wouldn't be going anywhere without his precious technology. But he also wouldn't purposely not answer his phone, and neither would Sam. (At least, they wouldn't avoid it when he was calling them.)
Danny snapped the cell phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. Jazz would say that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, and there probably was. He was always getting into trouble because he was impatient. But he was still edgy because, despite what he'd told his worrywart of a sister, he wasn't sure everything was going to be fine.
So far, things had been too weird to just be fine. The only real good luck he'd had that hadn't had strings attached was the fact that his dad's invention didn't do what it was supposed to.
At least…. At least, he didn't think it did. Danny glanced towards the boxes. He'd left the thermos behind there, and he knew it was empty except for the Box Ghost. It wouldn't take much to get him back in there. And it would, at the very least, let him know if he had anything to worry about in the future if he ever did have to go ghost and his parents turned up. Besides, if a ghost didn't turn up, his dad might keep working on it, and if he somehow made it better, Danny might be in trouble.
More trouble than he was in now, at any rate.
His decision made, Danny grabbed the thermos before rejoining his parents. Jazz had returned to her book, curled up on one of those uncomfortable wooden chairs that were set out against one wall. He didn't know what she was reading, but he figured she'd chosen her position to keep an eye on him; she had a pretty clear view of nearly everything in the room.
"How long does that Ecto-Entrapper thing last, Dad?" Danny asked. "I mean, when does it stop attracting ghosts?"
"I'm not sure, son, but you can bet this baby will draw the ghosts out wherever they're hiding!"
"Within a hundred feet, judging by the preliminary tests," Maddie added. "Here, sweetie, I can take that." She reached for the thermos.
Perfect. Danny handed it to her, muttering his thanks, and accidentally-on-purpose hit the release button. "Oops," he said as the cap flew off and the Box Ghost burst out in front of them. He bent down to grab the cap, stifling a shiver as his ghost sense went off.
"Ah ha!" the Box Ghost cried. "You cannot hold me in a cylindrical container! I am the—" Here he broke off, his eye catching sight of the boxes by the corner. "I am the Box Ghost!" he continued, sending a blast of power towards said boxes. "Master of all things cardboard and square! Beware!" The boxes in the question glowed blue and shakily started to rise.
Danny's parents had, of course, taken immediate action. Even as the Box Ghost had been talking, Maddie had exchanged the thermos for an ectogun and her double-ended staff. Jack took hold of the Fenton Bazooka and pressed the button of the Ecto-Entrapper again for good measure. Both were telling the Box Ghost in no uncertain terms what they thought of him.
Danny picked up the thermos but didn't activate it yet. He wanted to see whether the Ecto-Entrapper would have any effect—providing it would have one on the Box Ghost, who would probably stick around anyway, just because of the boxes. Danny watched in silence, idly thinking that he could've had the Box Ghost in the thermos by now (or at least exchange some wittier banter than what was currently being said).
The Ecto-Entrapper didn't seem to do much, but Danny had fought the Box Ghost often enough to notice that it had had an effect. He wasn't moving as quickly as usual, and he seemed to have more trouble keeping things straight. He was slower. Even the boxes he'd controlled, which normally would have been tossed at them by now, were still hovering in place above the corner.
The Box Ghost himself was about five feet in front of Danny, doing no more than trying to dodge the ectoblasts sent at him by Maddie with the ectogun. Well, technically, he was dodging everything sent at him by Jack, too, but Danny knew he would've been better off not trying to. He was more likely to get hit that way. Not that he'd tell the Box Ghost that if he couldn't even figure it out himself.
Danny sneezed. "Great. I'm getting a cold on top of this. That's what I get for not getting enough sleep." Sniffling a bit, he activated the thermos and sucked the Box Ghost inside just as another one of his mother's shots hit home. The boxes in the corner fell back to the ground with a thump, and Danny screwed the cap back onto the thermos.
"You got him, Danny-boy!" Jack cried, clapping him so hard on the back that Danny nearly dropped the thermos. The way things were going today, it would land on the release button and they'd have to deal with the Box Ghost all over again. It wasn't hard; it was just annoying, and rather pointless. The only thing Danny could give him credit for was the way he kept managing to get out of the Ghost Zone, which was a lot more often than even Skulker managed. The only ones who could top the Box Ghost were probably Cujo and Wulf, but since they could either dig or slash their way out, they didn't really count.
Besides, Danny had more important things to worry about than the Box Ghost. His parents didn't exactly know about his nightly activities, and he wanted to keep it that way. "Yeah, I think your invention does work, Dad. He hardly moved."
"And you got him," Jack said. "That's my boy! Taking after his old man."
Maddie laughed. "We'll have to plan a family outing, and you and Jazz can learn some more of the finer points of ghost hunting from us."
Danny cringed. "Uh, yeah. Sounds great, Mom." He passed the thermos off to her again and went to sit by Jazz.
She raised her eyes over the cover of her book and closed it when he sat down, her finger marking her place. "I've got to hand it to you, little brother. That was pretty clever of you."
"Yeah, except for the fact that Mom and Dad want to take us ghost hunting now, so we can get more practice."
Jazz smiled. "I'll see if I can talk them out of it. I talked them into taking a family trip when that cowboy ghost kid was pestering you, didn't I? What was his name again?"
"Cowboy—?" Danny blinked, then realization dawned. "Oh, yeah. Youngblood." He gave her a weak smile and quietly added, "I forgot you already knew my secret by then."
"I saw you transform a few months after the accident, remember? I just didn't tell you until I had to, because I wanted to wait until you wanted to tell me. To trust me." She was quiet for a moment before continuing with, "You do trust me, don't you?"
"Sure I do. You cover for me, and you haven't told anyone, and—"
"I know," Jazz interrupted, "and I know you'll trust Sam and Tucker more, at least now, but I meant it when I said you could tell me anything. You're my little brother, and I love you, and I think you're doing a wonderful thing defending our town, but I also know you're under a lot of stress, and—"
"And that's slipping into 'Psychologist Jazz' talking," Danny cut in, "and I don't need her right now." He sneezed again.
Jazz frowned at him and dug a neatly-folded tissue out of her pocket. She handed it to him. "No, right now you need someone to remind you to cover your mouth. I don't want to get sick."
Great. She was back to mothering him. That had not taken long at all. "There's probably something going around. You'll get it soon enough anyway."
"You need to get more sleep. You're almost dead on your feet, and that's only going to weaken your immune system. You have to—"
"Jazz," Danny said, jumping in before she could get any further, "I can't get a hold of Sam or Tucker."
Jazz stopped mid-sentence. "Neither of them?"
Danny shook his head. "They aren't answering. I've phoned them both a bunch of times, and they aren't answering their texts."
Jazz's worry faded. "So they're not by their phones, that's all. Being without technology isn't a crime."
"It is for Tucker." Jazz clearly did not grasp the seriousness of the situation.
"Well, you have other friends, don't you? Try getting a hold of them."
Danny looked at her blankly.
Jazz sighed. "Like Valerie, and, oh, I don't know; I can't keep track of all your friends."
"All my friends?" Danny repeated. "This from the sister who once said I barely had any friends, besides Sam and Tucker?" He didn't bother adding that she was right. After Sam and Tucker, Valerie probably was his closest friend—which was rather disconcerting, since she really had it out for Danny Phantom.
"Acquaintances, then," Jazz amended, "but I had thought you thought of Valerie as more than an acquaintance."
"Yeah, when she's not trying to destroy my ghost half," Danny muttered. But he knew Jazz wouldn't give up, so he tried Valerie's number.
No answer.
He tried Sam and Tucker again for good measure, but each time, the phone just kept ringing.
"Don't any of them have answering services? I would've thought something would have cut in by now."
"Yeah, but nothing's cutting in." Danny hung up the phone again and tucked it away. "I don't get it."
"I'm sure it's nothing," Jazz said, but Danny could see that she didn't believe that. Just like he had in their last conversation—which had been, what, ten, fifteen minutes ago?—she was only saying what he wanted to hear, trying to make him feel better.
"Yeah. Nothing. Because it's always nothing whenever it looks like something bad is going to happen."
"Mom and Dad are going to be here all day," Jazz said, evidently deciding against commenting on his tone, "just in case anyone else shows up, but I'm sure we can convince them to let you go home to rest."
Danny raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful.
"Then you can go look for Sam and Tucker." Danny opened his mouth, but Jazz added, "I'll stay here in case they come back and tell them where you are."
"Fine." It wasn't like he had any better ideas.
"You're welcome," Jazz said pointedly as she stood up. He rolled his eyes but got to his feet as well and followed her. Maybe if he kept yawning and sneezing, his parents would be more likely to agree. The worst that could happen was his mother taking him home and insisting she try to treat him, but he was pretty sure this was a normal cold coming on and not some weird ecto-induced ghost disease. He hadn't heard of any ghost colds, at least.
Not that that stood for much, but Jazz was probably right. He needed more sleep. He was pretty sure no one functioned well on less than four hours of sleep every night. It was actually kind of hard to remember the last time he'd gotten four hours of sleep at night. He'd gotten that much in school, he was pretty sure, but at night? It was like the ghosts purposely came out then, just to be cliché and to make sure he was barely maintaining a C average. It was a wonder he wasn't failing more than math and gym. Heck, it was a wonder he wasn't failing English, given the number of times he'd cut Lancer's class….
But still. As nice as sleep sounded, he wasn't going to be getting any anytime soon because, as per usual, something bad was happening, and someone, somehow, had it out for him. He just wished he hadn't been separated from Sam and Tucker. It was somehow a lot easier to face everything down when he knew they were backing him up. At least Jazz was right: he could still count on her. And, while safely in his human form, Mom and Dad would do what they thought was best for him, too.
So maybe, just this once, things weren't as bad as they looked after all.
Tucker, like Sam and Danny, kept a spare bag in his locker to use as a backpack. It was a survival kit of sorts—except not for surviving in the wilderness or the halls of Casper High. It held a small assortment of ghost hunting equipment (or, in Danny's case, a spare thermos) and, more importantly at the moment, it was in a bag. While Sam might be perfectly content to lug all of this around town in plain sight, he was trying not to get any lower on the social ladder. Of course, there wasn't much lower to go, but he had a reputation to keep.
With a bit of effort, Tucker managed to pick the lock on the door separating the auditorium from the wing down which his locker was found. It was a skill Sam had figured the two of them should learn, in case Danny ever got into trouble and needed their help when they were locked out of whichever building the ghosts had taken the fight into. He wasn't exactly sure how Sam had learned it in the first place, but there were some things it just didn't pay to ask about.
When Tucker finally did leave the school, bag slung over his shoulder and stuffed full of various ghost hunting equipment and what he'd deemed essential technology, he stopped in front of the Booo-merang again.
He didn't pick it up.
He couldn't.
He stared at it instead. This was the first time it had failed them, and he knew why that had unnerved Sam. It unnerved him, too. If the Booo-merang could track down Danny ten years into the future, why couldn't it find him now?
"Don't worry, buddy," Tucker whispered. "We'll find you." Then, squaring his shoulders, he started off. Sam was right; he needed to start looking if he expected to find anything.
Tucker started at the Nasty Burger. When he got up in front of Valerie, she asked, "You want the usual, I'm assuming?"
Tucker shook his head. He didn't normally turn down food—well, meat, anyway—for any reason, but he was worried. And he could run faster when he wasn't stuffed full. "Have you seen Danny?"
"Danny? Isn't he at the ghost hunters' convention his parents are hosting?"
"They're not there."
"Not there? It's supposed to be open until five. Why aren't they there?"
"I don't know."
Valerie frowned. "Where's Sam?"
"She's out looking, too." Then, making a choice, he added, "Something weird happened this morning. All the other ghost hunters who turned up left, so it was just the Fentons, and then they disappeared."
Valerie looked shocked by this news. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again and asked, "Did you try calling him?"
"He's not answering."
"Oh, man, I want to help you guys, but if I leave my shift early, I'll lose my job." She bit her lip. "You wait for me here for a bit, okay? I'm going to see if I can get someone to cover for me."
Tucker nodded and slipped into a seat at one of the empty tables. It wasn't too busy here now; it was still a bit too early for lunch, and most of the teenagers that normally occupied the place had yet to arrive. So when he heard footsteps coming up to him, he rightly assumed it was Valerie. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, the brim of her visor peeking out of the top.
"You can go?" Tucker asked, surprised.
Valerie nodded. "Stan said he'll take my shift, since it's not too busy, but I'll have to do double time next week when I'm better."
"When you're better?"
"Told him I was sick," Valerie said dismissively. She grabbed his arm and dragged him outside. "Okay, what do you know?"
He couldn't tell her everything. That much was obvious. She didn't know that the Booo-merang picked up Danny, for instance, and she definitely had no clue why it would do that anyway, and he didn't feel like making up explanations. He hadn't expected her to offer to help him, anyway. He'd just wanted to know if she'd noticed anything. "Not much more than what I already told you." He shrugged. "Sam and I figure there's a ghost behind it. We're not sure who, but we think it might be the one that grants wishes."
"Desiree," Valerie breathed. Trust her to know the names of the ghosts she hunted. "But who would wish the Fentons away? I mean, Danny's Dad's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but their family's the one with the ghost shield that helped saved the town when we got sucked into the Ghost Zone. As much damage as they do, we'd be in a worse spot without them."
They'd be in a worse spot without Phantom, too, but Tucker didn't think he'd ever hear Valerie admit to that one. "You still have all your ghost hunting equipment, right?" Tucker asked, forgetting himself for a minute.
Valerie stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Oh. Right. She didn't know he knew. Great. "Uh, um, I mean, uh…." Tucker grabbed an ectogun from the bag and shoved it at her. "I said, you'll need some ghost hunting equipment, right?"
Valerie narrowed her eyes but nodded. "Yeah." She took the weapon and looked it over. "Point and shoot, right?"
"Right," Tucker said, relieved that Valerie wasn't going to start pressing him. That had been close. Maybe she did actually think she'd misheard him. "Look, I know it's not much to go on, but maybe…."
"I get it. If we're going to find Danny, we need to find out what happened to him and his family. And if there's a ghost behind this, then we're going to kick some ghost butt, right?"
"If we can," Tucker agreed, remembering that Valerie didn't know how practiced he and Sam were. "You've still got my number?" She should, if only from the brief time they'd been dating. Or from the time she and Danny had been dating.
"I've got it right here," Valerie said, holding up her own phone. She didn't bother asking if Tucker still had her number, and he figured she probably knew he did. He still had a list of all the numbers of the girls in school from the time Danny had been chosen as the judge for that beauty pageant. True, it had been rigged, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Something good had to come out of all the ghost hunting they did.
"Call me if you find anything, then. I'm going to keep looking."
"Okay." Valerie bit her lip, then said, "Good luck."
"Yeah. Thanks. Same to you." Tucker headed off again, but he found his feet carrying him back to the school. As he'd told Valerie, they figured that whoever had pulled this off had been a ghost, and because of the wishing, they suspected Desiree. But usually, the other ghosts knew when one of them was trying to take over Amity Park or capture Danny or whatever else. Sometimes they worked together; sometimes they just let whoever was trying their luck have a go. But maybe, instead of searching, they should just ask.
The Box Ghost might not know anything, and he might not give them answers if he did, but Tucker was willing to try anything at this point.
Grabbing the Booo-merang on his way back inside the auditorium, Tucker found the thermos where Danny had left it behind the boxes stacked in one corner. He briefly thought about moving somewhere else, since the boxes would distract the Box Ghost, but at least the boxes would mean he'd stay put.
Tucker opened the thermos and pressed the release button, waiting for the familiar blue ghost to show his face.
Nothing happened.
Tucker shook the thermos. "Come on, I know you're in there. You always come out as soon as you can. What's the hold up?" He gave the thermos another vigorous shake. "There're boxes out here," he added, wondering if he could tempt the Box Ghost from the thermos.
But why the Box Ghost would stay in the thermos was beyond him. The ghosts didn't exactly like it in there. It was cramped quarters at the best of times.
Finally, however, Tucker heard a distant laugh and the Box Ghost made his appearance. "Beware!" he cried. "I am the Box Ghost! I—"
"Will be sucked back inside here unless you answer some questions," Tucker interrupted, shaking the thermos threateningly. He had it capped again, but that didn't mean he wasn't ready to use it.
The Box Ghost, who had been holding his hands over his head in what he clearly thought was a menacing manner, dropped them back to his sides and blinked at Tucker. "You're not the halfa," he said, as if he'd only just realized that.
"You saw Danny?" Tucker asked eagerly.
"I am not here to answer your questions!" the Box Ghost boomed. "I am—ouch!"
Tucker had out the Fenton Lipstick and had sent off a quick shot at the Box Ghost. "Where's Danny? You were expecting to see Danny, right? So where is he?"
The Box Ghost looked around again and slowly started drifting towards the boxes piled in the corner. Tucker followed, one hand on the lipstick and one on the thermos. "He is in the other place," the Box Ghost finally answered. "I am not going back there, for I am the Box Ghost, and I am…."
Tucker ignored the Box Ghost as he continued ranting, trying to figure out what he meant. The other place? The only other place Tucker knew about was the Ghost Zone, but the ghosts usually called it the Ghost Zone. As for not going back there, well, none of them ever wanted to go back, but they always did, so that wasn't anything unusual.
"Who took him there?"
The Box Ghost, who had stopped ranting and instead been caressing the boxes, looked up at him.
"Was it Desiree?" Tucker pressed. When he still didn't receive an answer, he held up the lipstick again and looked pointedly at the Box Ghost. The boxes glowed brightly, so Tucker added, "Throw them at me and I'll turn 'em to ashes."
The threat seemed to work, even though Tucker wasn't sure if the lipstick—or anything else that he had with him—would actually do that. "The wishing ghost," the Box Ghost said at length, "is not in control. She would not have held me there."
"So it's not Desiree?"
But the Box Ghost, instead of answering, flew out of the room, the boxes following behind him. Tucker sighed. He'd figured the Box Ghost wouldn't stick around forever, but it would've been nice if he'd answered just one more question. Or been clearer with what he had answered. The Ghost Zone was a huge place. It was going to take them forever to find Danny and the rest of the Fentons.
At least they had a place to start now. With Valerie on the lookout for ghosts in Amity Park, he and Sam could head off in the Spectre Speeder. Valerie had enough equipment and a thermos or two herself, so she could keep things in order here. Plus, she had the guts to go up against whoever it was, since the Box Ghost didn't seem to think it was Desiree, and she probably had a bit more skill than some of the ghosts gave her credit for. She'd be able to handle things until they got back.
Tucker put the now-empty thermos onto the table with the rest of the ghost hunting equipment and got in touch with Sam via the Fenton Phones, telling her what he'd found out. She didn't have anything to report—no sign of ghost activity or of the Fentons—and agreed to meet him at FentonWorks. The sooner they set out, she said, the sooner they'd find Danny.
All Tucker could do was hope that the Box Ghost had been telling the truth and that Danny really was in the Ghost Zone.
A/N: So, Sam and Tucker are working with Valerie and it looks like Tucker finally got a few answers for all his trouble, even if he isn't entirely sure what to make of those answers. And the Fentons still have no idea precisely how bad things are, but we'll get to that. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews.