14

The door was locked, and rather than break in, the guys walked around the exterior until they found a rear door that had been damaged enough to allow entry. "It was jimmied from the outside," noted Egon. "No alarm system, or someone knew how to deactivate it."

"Don't you think if they knew how to deactivate it, they'd have had a key to get in with, Egon?"

Spengler looked at Venkman and shrugged airily.

"Why was the bar closed?" Zeddemore wanted to know as they slowly entered past stacked cardboard boxes bearing the names of popular carbonated beverages, juices, and alcoholic spirits. "I mean, blizzards, hurricanes, earthquakes…you can always find a bar that's open."

Egon mentioned as he scanned ahead of them, "I wouldn't exactly categorize this as an act of God."

Pete muttered, "Good point."

The small area they'd first entered became a much larger space that ran left and right. The place was dark for the most part, though a strange, cold, bluish-grey glow emanated from what they figured must be the bar area. "Split up," Egon said, gesturing for Ray and Peter to go right while he and Winston moved left.

"Divide and conquer," Venkman murmured with a grin.

Stantz told him, "I don't think it's meant-"

"Shut up, Ray." They crouched and stepped as quietly as possible, the only sound a steady faint whine from the PKE meter.

The odd lighting was soon found to be coming from a series of neon fixtures scattered about the place, each depicting the name of an alcoholic beverage along with a logo or other design. "You'd think they'd've turned those off before they left," whispered Ray as they stood at the edge of the bar area. In a step or two they'd be visible to anyone in the patron section unless they ducked low or crawled.

"Look," Pete said softly, and squatted, moving forward awkwardly like a duck until he was directly behind the bar. He reached toward the shadows of an open shelf, and slowly withdrew his hand with a huge carton of Goldfish Crackers in it, unopened. "Want some?"

Ray looked back at him haplessly.

"I used to live off these when I was kid and my dad and I hung out in the neighborhood bars."

"Really?"

He struggled with the milk-carton style top. "Oh, yeah," he continued, not catching the tone of Ray's voice. "And pretzel chunks and bowls of peanuts…and this one place he took me to served up unlimited bowls of popcorn, absolutely free."

There was a terrible clatter in the back punctuated by a yelp, and both of the Ghostbusters fell to their butts and swung their backs against the bar for cover.

"There's others?" queried a stranger.

Pete and Ray looked at each other, then upward slowly. There was a long pale neck extending over the edge of the bar that ended in a mop of black hair.

The racket continued as Winston attempted to free himself from the bucket he'd stepped in when they'd ambushed a closet full of cleaning supplies. Trying not to lose his balance, he crushed a plastic bottle of wood polish and collided with a flimsy metal shelf that had hanging space for brooms and mops beneath it. Knowing they were made, Egon clicked on his proton pack and stepped into shadows, covering his friend. Winston finally freed his boot and cast the broken bucket aside in aggravation before looking for his colleague. "I can't believe you backed up into a dark corner," he groused.

A pause, and then hoarsely, "I'm keeping you covered."

"You have more lights on you than a Christmas tree. Anyone in the vicinity would see you long before they saw me."

Sheepishly, the tall scientist emerged back into murky light.

The mop of stringy hair lowered slowly as the large, pale full-moon face it partially concealed came into view. "Hello, my pretties."

Peter tried to joke as he nudged Ray, "He thinks you're pretty."

Ray clicked on his proton pack.

A snaky pale arm defined with lean, ropy muscle and a strange, delicate pattern of black lace tattoo ink slithered down to seize hold of Pete's sleeve. "I know you," the strange, oddly modulated voice told him, "you're those guys from TV."

Ray tried to rise gracefully into a standing position, but the weight of the gear he carried made the process too slow and a bit ungainly. He pointed the end of his neutrino wand directly at the stranger and said, "We're the Ghostbusters, Buddy."

The elegantly long-limbed figure backed away fluidly, and they could now see he wore a loose black T-shirt with rips in it and a strange slogan inside some kind of bizarre-looking pentagram. Beneath it he wore an even more ripped dishwater grey shirt that showed through the top layer here and there. About his nonexistent hips coiled a ridiculously long belt studded with dull pyramids of burnished metal broken up every foot or so by a metal skull pierced with a ring. His pants were baggy and decorated with unnecessary zippers, rings, buckles and studs; they were black with stitching so white it nearly glowed beneath the neon. His footwear appeared to be heavy black boots bristling in a line of pointed metal spikes across the toes. He posed in a flippant, bemused manner like an over-acted vampire from some silly teen slasher film, his smile a bloodless line that stretched a tad too far across his ghastly pale features. "I see…but there are no ghosts here."

"Oh, we deal with all kinds of freaky," Venkman told him, using the edge of the bar to help pull himself to his feet. "Let me guess, tried a séance, turned into possession?"

One dark eyebrow rose, but where the eyes should have been were two indistinguishable smudges. It was difficult to tell if the guy even had eyes. "Is it still possession if both parties consent?"

"What did you try to summon?" asked Ray.

"Power."

"What kind of power?"

"Oh," the tall, lean figure told them, performing a lazy sort of spin, "the powerful kind."

"What color was it and did it come in solid, powder, liquid or herb form?" asked Pete.

The eerie smile returned. The guy had high cheekbones on a very slender face with a narrow chin that flared out at the jaws, and a long, prominent, slender nose. "I like the funny ones."

Venkman found that encouraging. "Oh, I can go all night."

"But can you go for eternity?"

Egon had maneuvered to one side of the bar, Winston to the other, both just out of sight, locked and loaded. They watched quietly, waiting for a weakness to manifest, or a distraction. By Spengler's best guess, the stranger was not merely possessed by a single entity, but acting more like the puppet of something so large that it would probably be impossible to manifest all at once. Unfortunately, he wasn't even certain if the lanky guy was still alive.

"What's that design on your shirt mean?" Pete tried, leaning casually across the bar-top with his proton thrower beside him.

The figure looked down and plucked at his attire. "Hmm…I have no idea. I think it just came this way."

"You got a thing for pentacles, though?"

"Symbols are impotent."

"Really? Wow. Hadn't thought of that before. So, where did you grow up? Are you from this area? Originally?"

The figure leaned back and shook his hair to the side, but his features remained blurry. "Places, spaces, time…it's all the same to me."

"Heh," Peter chuckled briefly, resting his jaw atop the heels of his upraised hands, "y'know, I got this friend you just gotta meet." When nothing happened, he thought about the last few minutes, then turned to Ray and asked, "Where's our friend?"

"She went with…no…I don't know! I'm not sure she even came in with us!"

Peter smiled pleasantly as he pretended to relax again. "You wanna head out, get some pizza maybe?"

"What I want…is to shake you from my back like fleas."

"Me, personally? Or, uh, did you mean, like, all of us?"

The man spun again with his hands outstretched before him and barstools, high-top tables, and two billiard tables slammed into the walls, raising clouds of dust and wood shavings, causing a couple of the neon lights to explode.

"All of us," Pete confirmed, turning toward the back of the bar. "Guys?"

Winston threw first, and they waited, trying to see what would happen next. The figure uttered an ear-shattering gurgling scream and convulsed wildly in place before popping like a stepped-on jelly donut. They groaned as chunks of wet viscera and goo laced with stretches of skin, tufts of hair, and shreds of fabric rained upon them. The worst were bone fragments and metal shrapnel that peppered them and opened fresh scratches across Venkman and Stantz. There hung in the air a fine red mist, and they all wished they could hold their breath long enough for it settle. The stench was horrific-too much like a butcher shop in need of a thorough scrub-down. Peter shuddered, aware he was sticky with Goth. Ray looked like a puppy that had just been kicked.

Egon stepped into view, waving his meter about. "I hate to say this-"

"Please don't then," Peter groaned. "Oh, God, oh, God…." He inhaled shakily and nodded, swallowing. "Okay, fine, what is it? No—wait. Let me guess…all we did was irritate it."

Turning a circle, the other man said, "I don't believe this is in actuality Ground Zero." They watched him walk away, following readings.

Winston gasped, "I…I didn't actually just…just kill a guy, did I?"

"Pretty sure he was beyond saving," Ray said.

"Pretty sure?"

Stantz smiled and patted the other man's shoulder, leaving a red handprint on his uniform. "Sorry, Z."

"And where is our little friend?" Peter wondered, trying to stop replaying the exploding ghoul in his mind.

"Oh, right." Ray looked around and finally noticed a dark shape in the shadows seated at a booth in a corner near the front of the establishment. "A-Amanda?"

"Hm?"

"'zat you?"

"Me?" they heard in her soft, distinctive voice.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Pete asked.

"Show?" She scooted from the long bench seat and stepped over debris carrying something in her hand. When she was close enough, they saw it appeared to be a half-eaten cheeseburger and fries on a plate. She was spotless; not even a bit of errant lint besmirched her.

Peter turned to look at Ray and saw him smearing gore over his uniform with a handful of cocktail napkins featuring green four-leaf clovers. When he looked back, the food was gone. "Hey! You saw that right?"

Winston looked at him strangely. "Saw what?"

"The cheeseburger and fries?"

"When?"

"Just now," he said, pointing at the girl.

Winston squinted. "I don't see anything."

"Not now! It's gone now!"

"But you said just now!"

Pete scowled at the girl, who seemed clueless while she chewed. She swallowed and he knew it was too late to say anything.

They heard Egon's voice call, "Hey, guys!"