11
With all of the equipment working, the guys should have ideally been able to get some idea of what they were dealing with and begun a sensible plan to subdue it. They didn't always bust ghosts: understanding what was causing a phenomenon and then seeking to rectify it was a better way to handle some situations. Not all ghosts, demons, or other spirit-types required imprisonment in the containment unit or getting blasted with protons into another dimension.
They had seen entire communities beset with strange occurrences before, but it was alarming to see people fleeing a town en masse. A glow they'd attributed to a nearby small airstrip proved to be emanating high above the town, undulating with ghostly ribbons of transparent color like a miniature, localized aurora borealis. Egon took a reading and mentioned, "It's producing an astonishing amount of electromagnetic radiation."
From the driver's seat, Pete asked, "Does that mean we're all gonna get cancer?"
His co-workers ignored him.
Ray pondered a PKE meter. "Readings are all over the board. Whatever's happening is affecting things across a broad spectrum. I wouldn't be surprised if we ran into everything from cold breezes all the way up through The Rapture."
Pete made a face of incredulity. No one commented.
Then they drove into a stink that made them retch and gag. "I think I accidentally drove to Jersey," said Pete, trying not to breathe. Nobody found his attempt at humor funny.
The stench vanished and the outside temperature dropped so abruptly that the windshield began to fog. Ray asked, "Is it gone, or are we just used to breathing it?"
Mentioned Egon, "Some poisonous gases are only detectable for the first few inhalations."
"That's reassuring," Pete told him, playing with the climate controls in an effort to see.
The big old converted ambulance sputtered and died, but kept coasting as the headlights dimmed. The guys grunted when the proton packs in the back clicked into life. They all turned in their seats as the devices began to make strange sounds. Ray unbuckled himself and reached for the nearest one, yanking his hand away in pain as the scent of singed flesh stung their nostrils. "I can't turn 'em off!" he called over the alarming racket. He turned the PKE meter around and tried to whack at the emergency dump button of one with the blunt handle. "They're going critical!" he shouted, and three doors flew open so three Ghostbusters could evacuate. The slowing vehicle continued to roll several yards before coming to a stop, crazy lights and sounds emanating from the interior. No one had been hurt in the exodus, but they immediately sought cover or lay on the ground covering their ears, eyes closed, waiting for the explosion.
"I don't like this," Venkman decided, tired of waiting for an explosion that never happened. The Ecto-1 was silent and dark, still where the front right tire had come to rest against a curb. He peeked through the windows, pulled open a door and sighed. "I think it's safe now."
The horn honked and he went airborne, landing hard on asphalt with his fingers laced behind his head. After a moment his cohorts started laughing and he sighed again, dropping his forehead forward.
"The activity seems isolated, but unless it's surrounded by ley lines, I can't imagine there's an entity or energy pattern that insists on existing solely within lines drawn on a map."
Dr. Spengler squinted at Ray while he helped Peter to his feet. "Boundaries could also indicate there are wards in place, spells designed to entrap something within a specific area."
"Or that act as a gateway," Ray added.
"Okay," Pete said, dusting himself off, "we've been through this before. You can sit and analyze the crap outta anything for weeks, or we can cut straight to the heart of the matter and see if we can't shut this thing down now."
"Let's go," agreed Dr. Stantz, staring at his PKE meter as he started hoofing it toward the center of town. Spengler followed until they heard a car engine turn over, and then Peter was cruising up alongside them with the window rolled down. "You boys goin' my way?"
Streetlights flickered, hydrants burst and water gushed out hundreds of gallons a minute. A couple of animated vehicles cruised by, doing nothing dangerous aside from running stoplights and stop signs. "Those cars have ghostly drivers," announced Ray. "Low-level, not very powerful, easy to dispense with."
"Do we get 'em?" Dr. Venkman asked.
"That could take all night," Spengler noted as a riderless bicycle rolled by.
In the center of town electronic alarms shattered the night, every store's security system registering break-ins and fires that weren't actually occurring. They hoped they wouldn't have to stop there. They'd have to wear earplugs just to keep their sanity.
Farther they rode and the Ecto-1's radio came on and wouldn't stop riding the dial. Pete mentioned, "This is the most annoying haunting I've ever seen."
A few hapless police officers and civil servants in reflective vests could be seen running about. They didn't try to stop anyone to find out more about what was going on. Thick fog billowed from around the edges of manholes they rode over until they finally all popped simultaneously, heavy iron discs soaring through the air and landing with sidewalk-cracking force all around them.
"We have to go on foot," Ray said reluctantly.
They were hesitant to grab their packs, but the units were cool to the touch and powered up as expected on the first try. They grabbed flashlights when Egon warned about falling into dark, open manholes, but their flashlights flickered and dimmed in such a manner that they were nearly useless.
There was a large gathering ahead of them, moving slowly from a side street, silhouettes in patchy fog.
"Hello, citizens!" Ray shouted, waving a hand enthusiastically. "We are the Ghostbusters and we're here to restore your way of life and your peace of mind!"
Pete cocked an eyebrow at him. "Where did that come from?"
"I think it was a commercial for some kind of insurance I saw on late-night TV."
"Watch your step!" Egon warned them. "Open manholes in the street! You might want to remain up on the sidewalks!" They moved toward the pack, ready to ask the first person they encountered if they could give them any details or perhaps help them determine the actual source of the manifestations.
The group began to pick up steam. "I think they're running from something," Peter said unhappily.
Ray stopped.
"Run," Venkman insisted loudly. "Run, Ray, run!"
Peter turned tail and fled back toward the car. Ray remained in place, certain the crowd would part around them and he could perhaps be the first one to throw a stream at whatever was chasing everybody. Egon sidestepped into a narrow alleyway.
The crowd surged upon them. They made terrible rough, gasping, cracking, breaking noises, farting sounds, wheezes, squeals and rattling whistles. A miasma preceded them. Certain it was they he should be running from, Dr. Venkman hightailed it for the Ecto-1 and dove within, scrambling over seats to lock all of the doors.
The first few people hurried past Dr. Stantz as he tried not to inhale the sweet-earthy stench of rot. His nostrils flared and his eyelids twitched and acid rose in his throat, choking him. Turning away, he coughed and gagged, vomiting bile. Someone ran into him and fell. He staggered from the impact and tried to reach for the person's arm to help him or her, only to have the limb produce a sickening wet pop before it slid free of a tattered, stained sleeve that turned to ribbons. The arm he grasped was skinny with a texture like beef jerky. As if caught in a dream, he turned the loose limb to examine it, and the skeletal hand caught his sleeve and held tight like a pit bull. He uttered an involuntary cry of fear, and suddenly there were more colliding with him, clawing at him, bits and pieces of them breaking free in the melee. Hair fell across his face like a spider-web and he started to thrash and swing the wand end of his pack wildly, freeing chunks from his attackers. They overwhelmed him quickly, squirming and making their terrible dry, squeaky noises, their bones clattering and clacking like tree limbs whipped by a bad storm, and behind them followed a tsunami of rats.
The first few runners passed the big car, and Pete watched one of the panicked idiots drop out of sight into a manhole. It proved shallow, however, but the thing that crawled out presented a different silhouette, broken and missing a part or two from the initial fall. Nothing slowed it down, however, and the scientist pressed his face to the glass of the nearest window to squint out into the night. "No way," he gasped softly. "This isn't real." As more of the things emerged from the fog, some ran into the vehicle and decided the best way around it was over it. Pete jerked back into a seat when a rotted head gaped at him through the glass. It lacked eyes and ears and had a hole where the nose should have been. The bones were dark and rough-textured with what he assumed must be the remains of rotted flesh. The smell began to seep into the car and he moaned, struggling to start it and do something with the air controls. His activity seemed to attract the things and more and more surrounded him, crawling on and rocking the Cadillac. Pete waved the business end of his wand back and forth between what were mostly still faces knowing that it was in his best interest to wait until they had actually managed to break into the car.
Dr. Spengler stood with his back to a Dumpster, his pack switched off, silent as shadow. He saw the re-animated corpses smother Ray and watched more become a large mound where the car had been. He dared not fire into the groups for fear of hitting his colleagues. Unlike Peter who often imagined the worse and Ray who's imagination sometimes ran away with him, Egon had no preconceived notion that they were dealing with Hollywood-type zombies who would of course tear their victims to pieces and/or transform them into fresh zombies. He knew by the smell, by their gates, the terrible noises they made, and the few who managed to actually pass very close to where he remained hidden that they were undoubtedly dead bodies made re-animate. He squatted to poke at something a couple of them had trailed in passing and found it to be rich soil. Deeper within the alley was a slightly wider area encompassed by two and three-story buildings, all of which featured locked doors. He backed slowly away until he was certain that shadows concealed him, and then turned and hurried for a fire escape. With a leap, he managed to grab the bottom of the steps that would normally drop to allow people to escape from upper floors to the safety of the asphalt below. It remained in place, so he walked it hand over hand, feet dangling until he was able to work one boot up against a slight ledge created by a window frame that indicated where there had once been glass in what was now a solid brick wall. He used the leverage to help maintain his position as he reached for a better grip, finally attaining it and pulling himself onto the second-story level. He was just in time, for below him stood a little girl in a stained and frayed-edged dress watching him through pale, clouded eyes. He exhaled loudly as he watched her, trying to catch his breath. Another figure wandered into the alley, and he decided it was time to try an experiment. When he powered up his pack, the lights and sound attracted a few more visitors. The girl had wandered just beneath him, still staring upward. He was relieved it seemed unlikely they'd be able to get to him. Lowering himself to one knee for a better shot, he sighted in the little girl and let loose with a wavering, near-blinding beam of whoop-ass. She flew backward from the blow and writhed, hoarsely exhaling what should have been screams, what was left of her flesh crisping away into wisps of airborne soot, her skeleton glowing a freaky mottled red-orange like dying embers before shattering onto the asphalt. He powered down. Nothing but a god-awful smell and a few wisps of smoke remained. Whatever had been animating her had not been an actual spirit. Drawing hope from the experiment, he stood and let his gaze wander farther up the alley. The size of the crowd was astonishing. He speed-dialed Winston and dropped the phone back into his pocket before lighting up his guests.