Disclaimer: I still don't own "Ghostbusters" (see chapter 1 for full disclaimer). Mind the language, it's still rated PG-13.
3
Prisoner 013335
"This place is ridiculous." People working themselves up, fighting, stressing, emptying their bank accounts. Why?
Phil was gazing around the shopping mall with the enthusiasm of a man on his way to the dentist for a wisdom tooth extraction. He regretted not doing the sensible thing and ordering Erin's Christmas gift online; this whole trip could have been avoided and he could be buttoning up last minute work back at Columbia University before heading out to his mother's house for the holiday weekend. If he had one clue what Erin wanted for Christmas, he could have done so. However, Erin was the typical girlfriend-maddeningly cryptic about what she wanted for a gift. Phil had decided it was better to bite the bullet, bring her to the mall, and eliminate the margin of error.
Erin personally liked the decorations, the music, and the buzz of activity of Christmas shopping. It reminded her of shopping with her parents as a little girl and having her picture taken on Santa's lap. She'd realized the existence of Santa was completely preposterous by age three, but playing along with the myth had made her parents happy, so she did it. "Some people would say the mall is just part of the Christmas experience. We could have our picture taken with Santa at his inflatable toy store…" She smiled at Phil hopefully
Phil stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. "And if you hang it in your office, I'm sure Dr. Filmore will be happy to sign off on your tenure. That's not the kind of thing a person of science would do."
"Well, I think it's whimsical," she counted. He rolled his eyes, and Erin relented. "No, no…you're right. Probably a bad idea."
Erin still gazed at the throng of people around Santa's "workshop"…particularly the handsome blonde man dressed as an elf. He was wearing a flashing red Rudolph nose and entertaining the kids in line. His oversized nametag identified the elf as "Kevin".
"Do you know what you want for Christmas?"
She tore her gaze away from the handsome elf to the sulky man in the tweed blazer. "Huh? I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Impatience bit into Phil's tone. "Do you know what you want for Christmas?"
"Phil, it's supposed to be a surprise! Whatever you get me will be fine." As long as it's a diamond ring. Otherwise, she was going to eat a bathtub full of ice cream while enduring another bought of full-blown self-loathing.
Phil hadn't even asked what Erin was doing for Christmas. He either assumed they'd be getting together or had made other plans. She had a feeling she knew the answer. He was probably going to his mother's house in the Hampton's again. Their umbilical cord didn't stretch much farther than New York City.
She wondered if the handsome elf had plans for Christmas…
"No woman in history has meant it when she's said that. If I guess wrong, you'll pout for a week but will deny it the whole time. Just tell me what you want," Phil said. He stopped in front of the jewelry store. Didn't women always want jewelry for Christmas? That's what the relentless advertisers wanted people to believe. "What about these Pandora charm bracelets? I supposed the name is meant to subliminally warn men what terrors will be unleashed if we don't buy this for our wives or girlfriends?"
He thought he was being funny. Erin simply stared at him.
"Pandora's Box?"
"Yes, I got the reference." She wanted him to get her something romantic, but that clearly was not going to happen. If she picked out a ring, the hint would be wasted on Phil and the petite slip of a salesgirl would give Erin a sympathetic stare…or worse, ask if they'd set a date so that Phil could announce to everyone in the store that they weren't engaged.
"Bath salts," she answered finally.
The answer pleased him. Erin knew it would. "That's a practical choice."
"Yes."
He checked his watch. They'll be done well before their lunch hour is over. He was certain they'd waste half the afternoon at the mall. They made their way to Bed, Bath, and Beyond in silence. Phil made a mental list of what still needed to be done before he left work. Erin only wanted to go home and eat a bathtub full of ice cream…and she wanted to eat it off the chest of that gorgeous blonde elf.
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The holding cell in the S.D.A. version of Homeland Security was a lot more high-tech than the one back in Holtzmann's universe, she noted idly. Too bad the bunks weren't more comfortable. It reminded her of Princess Leia's prison cell on the Death Star in Star Wars. If she weren't nursing a headache and had her tools, she would have enjoyed pulling apart the wall panels until she found all the microphones and cameras hidden around the room. There was a 'vent' at the top she was reasonably sure could pump gas into the room. That was creepy as hell when she thought about it.
Holtzmann had no idea how she was going to get out of this building, much less find her way back to the firehouse to look for Jagannath's medallion. That was assuming Evil Blonde Erin hadn't already guessed that "Spengler's" arrival had to have a connection to the firehouse and sent her people to search the building. If they got to the ghost rock first, Holtzmann was well and truly screwed.
She didn't bother to sit up when the cell door buzzed open; she only turned her head to see whether it was a friendly face or Darth Vader with his little drug robot come to question her some more.
Abby Yates was standing in the doorway.
"Shouldn't you be dressed as a Stormtrooper, Luke?" Holtzmann greeted her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Abby was at her in an unsettling way…like she couldn't decide whether to hug Holtzmann or thought she was a ghost. Holtzmann watched her as she drew a small remote from her coat pocket and pointed it at the small green light from one of the hidden cameras above the cell door. The green light turned red.
"They'll be experiencing technical difficulties…it will only take them about two minutes to fix it," Abby explained.
Okay, this was starting off a little more promising than the reunion with Evil Blonde Erin. Still, Holtzmann didn't dare get her hopes up, but she did make the effort of sitting up and facing Abby.
In two minutes, Erin would find out that Abby was here against orders and either fire her or throw her in jail. Abby didn't care. There wasn't a day since the explosion at the firehouse that she hadn't prayed to have her friend in front of her, alive and whole. She would gladly trade her career for two minutes just to be able to talk to Jillian again.
Abby approached the woman timidly, still staring. "You really do look like her. I've always heard theories of counterparts in parallel universes, but…wow." She pointed to the bunk, asking permission to sit. Holtzmann shrugged and slid over to make room for her.
She produced a familiar tube-shape can and offered it to Holtzmann. Potato chips. "I don't know if you like them, but Jillian used to eat these when she was nerv-"
Holtzmann snatched the can and dove in, immediately feeling better. Her stomach was unsettled from the effect of the injury and the drugs they'd pumped into her. "You should know, bribes aren't going to get me to cooperate. Now, if it was two cans we were talking about…"
Abby smiled. "No bribes. Nothing like that. Unless Director Gilbert asks, then it's totally about that."
She was staring still. Holtzmann understood, but it was getting unnerving. "Okay, the staring is getting a little creepy, Abs."
"Sorry…it's just…how can you be here?" she finally asked.
"Short answer: Don't know. All I know is that this is definitely not my New York City, which means I probably came through some kind of trans-dimensional barrier without realizing it. Had to have been that ghost medallion."
Abby was puzzled. "Medallion?"
Holtzmann regretted the slip of the tongue-she didn't really know if Abby is trustworthy in this universe no matter that she seemed friendly. She hoped Abby really had shut down the surveillance equipment in the cell. "Otherwise, I have a head injury and all of you are hallucinations. Or maybe I'm having another nervous breakdown…which still makes all of you hallucinations."
"We're real, believe me. You have no idea how freaked out Director Gilbert is right now…how freaked out everyone is."
"Tell me."
Abby looked at the floor. She didn't know where to begin-how different their timeline might be from the universe where Jil-where Holtzmann came from. "Jillian and Erin and I were roommates at M.I.T."
Holtzmann groaned. "Aww, not M.I.T…."
Abby wondered what was wrong with M.I.T., but let that bit go. "The three of us were best friends. Jillian was pretty much a celebrity, being the daughter of a Ghostbuster and all. She had a guaranteed job at the Spectral Defense Agency waiting for her when she graduated. She had her father put in a recommendation for me and Erin. We hired in together."
She noticed that Holtzmann had grown quite pale, the potato chip in her hand dropping, forgotten, to the floor. Alarmed, she asked, "What?! What's the matter?"
"My dad's alive?"
The implications of that question were not lost on Abby. She laid her hand on Jillian's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Sure. Your parents are kind of legends, actually."
Holtzmann waited for the explanation, but inside she reeled. Alive…my dad's alive…Jillian Spengler's dad…but that made him her dad, too, didn't it? In a way?
"See, I don't know what it's like in your universe, but here we've been through about thirty years of ghosts running amok. Not just in New York-all around the world. Five different times, they almost caused extinction-level apocalyptic events. The Ghostbusters saved us, but the government decided that privatized paranormal defense wasn't enough. The branches of the Ghostbusters across the country were absorbed into Homeland Security, and the Ghostbusters became consultants for a special division of Homeland Security that became the Spectral Defense Agency.
Abby sobered thinking back on it. She twiddled her thumbs anxiously. "We thought we were being hired for research and study of spectral life forms, to think up new systems of containment. We didn't know that the S.D.A.'s primary directive was to find a…permanent solution to the spectral threat to Earth. Jillian was hired to aide in the creation and construction of a bridge device that would allow us to pierce the spectral barrier and unleash a cataclysmic weapon into their dimension."
"Ghost genocide?!" Holtzmann was shocked that Abby and Erin would go for that...that Jillian Spengler would go for that. Defense against malevolent entities was one thing, but not every ghost intended harm to humans. Beyond that, there were other ramifications to such a device that Spengler surely had to understand. "A device like that would generate a cross-rip that would permanently shred the barrier. If the cross-rip was uncontrolled, it could tear this dimension apart."
"Exactly what Jillian tried to tell them. Director Peck and Senator Gorin and the mucky-mucks didn't listen. They stole her weapon designs and had other scientists use it to complete the work. Built the weapon off-site in the old Ghostbusters firehouse under the name of a dummy corporation staffed by scientists who weren't on the official government payroll so the S.D.A. could deny connection to the work. By the time she figured out where they were hiding the device, it was too late.
"You're right. Jillian was right: The device generated a dimensional cross-rip that was going to tear the planet apart in a matter of minutes…it all happened so fast." Abby was blinking hard, fighting the tears. "They couldn't shut the weapon down once it activated. Jillian found a way…she managed to reverse the power flow so the weapon overloaded. It went up in seconds. She didn't have time to get clear of the blast. There was nothing we could do."
Jillian had made the S.D.A. evacuate the scientists and civilians from the area against Director Peck's orders, to save as many lives as possible (not that anyone needed much prompting to flee the area with the gaping hole in-well, in the universe-looming above the building). They'd been in the midst of the evacuations when the building went up, pieces of it sucked into the nexus before it winked out of existence.
Abby lapsed into silence, but Holtzmann didn't need an explanation for what would have happened if Jillian Spengler had been inside the firehouse when that weapon detonated. It would have been every bit as bad as crossing the proton streams. There wouldn't have been one single atom left of her.
Still, it was a freaking awesome way to go if you had to go…
"I'm sorry, Abs." She put an arm around Abby's shoulders, feeling the sobs that the woman was doing her best to stifle.
Eventually, Abby brushed at her eyes, trying to regain some composure. "She's the reason I stayed with the S.D.A., even though I wanted to walk away. If she knew I was still here after all the lies, knowing what they're capable of, she'd never forgive me. After what happened to her-I just wanted to make sure nothing like that ever happened to anyone, human or ghost, ever again." Abby hadn't been able to stomach the idea of being made to help engineer any more weapons, so she'd gone back to school. She was working on her medical degree through one of the S.D.A.'s accelerated programs.
Abby finally dared to look up at Holtzmann. "Seeing you brought it all back…but it's also kind of like having her back again."
Holtzmann caught the slip. "Abby, dear Abby, you realize I'm not Jillian Spengler, right?"
"But, you're the same person-from a different dimension, yes, but how different can you be?"
Holtzmann thinks of Patty and Erin. "You'd be surprised."
She nodded. Holtzmann was right. "Don't be too hard on Erin. She went after the Director's job because she wanted to prevent another doomsday weapon from being built. But, you work with vipers every day and you start to act like a snake, too."
"Is that why the mob was trying to kill me? Pissed off that Jillian almost destroyed the world?"
"The Ghostbusters really became a pain in the S.D.A.'s ass after Jillian was killed. They have a lot of sympathizers who think the S.D.A. is too radical and wants the agency shut down. The S.D.A. really smeared Jillian's name after the accident. They had to let her take the blame, make it out like she sabotaged humanity's last chance to permanently be rid of ghosts. Part of the world thinks she was a crazy woman who nearly killed us all. Some people think you were a hero who saved the world from the S.D.A.'s radical weapon. And some people think since you were the daughter of a Ghostbuster, you were just trying to save the ghost realm and sold out humanity. Erin's afraid if they find out you're alive, they'll think you're her ghost coming back for revenge or some bullshit thing like that. People are freaks."
"Abby…I admit this is a very strange situation, but I told you before, I'm not Jillian Spengler."
"Doesn't matter. As far as the S.D.A. will be concerned, you being alive puts their whole secret at risk. They aren't going to settle for locking you up. If the Erin doesn't take care of it, Senator Gorin has plenty of other goons who will. If she hasn't issued a DX-4 order on you yet, she will by morning. We have to get you out of here."
"'We'?"
As soon as Abby opens the door, alarms begin to blare: "Alert: Security breach, prisoner 013335. Alert: Security breach, prisoner 013335…"
The guards outside the door charged into the room. Abby pulled a flashlight from her pocket and jabbed it into the first guard's sternum. The flashlight had a built-in Taser that rendered him unconscious. Holtzmann jumped at the second guard, ignoring the head rush from the sudden movement, and knocked him head-first into the steel wall. He slumped to the floor.
Abby held up the taser gun. "No woman should be without protection, right?" she cracks.
Holtzmann grinned, not being able to resist a high five with her.
"That being said, if you really do turn out to be Jillian's ghost and try to suck my planet into a parallel universe, I am going to be mad as hell," Abby warned her.
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The exterior looked like a darkened warehouse in a broken-down section of New York City. The surrounding streets held nothing of interest-more warehouses, an abandoned tire factory, low income houses that had half-collapsed-so there were few cars or pedestrians in the area. The hearse would have stood out if it had parked to near the warehouse that was the S.D.A.'s field office simply because of the lack of other traffic in the area.
A taxicab, however, could park a block or two over without drawing immediate suspicion…so long as the driver propped his feet through the open window and opened a newspaper as if he were playing hooky from work and wanted an empty street to hide away. The S.D.A. guards (dressed as vagrants) wouldn't immediately chase away the vehicle.
Had they seen the driver-or the trio of ghosts hidden in the back seat-they would have sounded the alarm immediately.
Ray peered at the building. Specifically, he watched the small towers erected at each of the four corners of its roof, green lights pulsing at regular intervals. A passerby would have mistaken these for radio antenna or cell towers.
He didn't have long to wait. Precisely on schedule, the green lights changed to red.
Ray reached for his pager and keyed in the message: Spectral barrier disabled. Go.
He looked into the rear-view mirror, catching the eye of the ghosts in the back seat.
"Go."
Jagannath, Slimer, and the swan-shaped yellow ghost Ray had named Arlo eagerly swooped out of the vehicle and descended upon the very startled S.D.A. guards.
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Spectral barrier disabled. Go.
In an abandoned parking garage five blocks away, Egon set aside his page and turned the key in the ignition. Miraculously, Ecto-1's engine rattled to life (it belched out a cloud of black smoke, but it started).
The man riding shotgun (well, proton shotgun in their case) grinned at Egon. "Another Christmas in the trenches," Winston quoted one of his favorite holiday movies as the vehicle rolled from the safety of its hiding place onto the street. Not like they could blend in, even if they had repainted the vehicle black and removed the telltale ghost logo.
Janine had subjected Egon to enough Christmas movies that he caught the reference, nodding at its appropriateness. "Indeed," he said.
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"Um, Abby, exactly what are they going to do to you if they catch you helping me?"
They were making their way through the parking garage, which Holtzmann did not think was a great exit plan as it afforded many places for security guards and agents to lay in wait. She held the taser weapon, the better to convince a guard that Abby was her prisoner if they should be caught.
Holtzmann was also thinking that wasn't going to be hard for Erin to figure out who helped her escape, regardless of whether Abby had temporarily shut down the camera when she opened the cell door.
"I don't care about that," Abby said, determined. She had keyed up the security systems with her tablet, patching into the cameras to track the search patterns of the agents in the building. For added fun, she was using Erin's stolen password to do her hacking. It was never hard to figure out the Director's current password; twenty years, and her friend still based her passwords on episode titles from The X-Files, Abby shook her head.
"Well, I do care…I'm not letting you go to jail for me."
"Don't worry, I think our diversion has arrived." She held out the tablet so that Holtzmann could see the security camera transmissions.
When Abby had brought down the security systems, it had temporarily deactivated the spectral barricade designed to keep ghosts out of the building. She'd hoped the Ghostbusters were nearby, ready, and it seemed they were because ghosts had flooded into the building. They vapors and apparitions were apparently having a ball creating a diversion for the guards who would have otherwise caught up with Abby and Holtzmann by now. The ghosts were methodically searching the prison cells and every room of the building, searching for something.
Someone.
Which was why Abby was surprised to find agents and security start swarming into the parking garage before she and Holtzmann were even within sight of an exit. Erin was in the lead.
Holtzmann grabbed Abby by the arm and made a show of dragging her friend into the stairwell toward that led down to the loading dock while holding out the taser (like that would have done any good if the agents decided to simply shoot both women).
"Holtzmann-stop!" Erin shouted.
Abby and Holtzmann stopped. The stairwell door was locked and Abby couldn't pull out her tablet to disable the lock without betraying her part in the escape plan.
"Okay, Abby, I'm really sorry about this-it's for your own good." Holtzmann wrapped an arm around startled Abby's neck and pinned Abby's other arm behind her back. She held the taser near Abby's neck, but kept her thumb far from the trigger. "For what it's worth, you're my best friend in any dimension, and I love you, Abs."
She shouted at the advancing guards. "Stop right there! I don't need weapons to snap her neck, Director Gilbert! You're Jillian Spengler might have been a harmless little ghost hugger, but I'm a whole other story."
"What?" Abby whispered.
"Just go with it," Holtzmann shushed her. "It was pretty clever, sending your little lackey to sweet talk me into giving you my weapons' secrets. You knew having Abby turn on the waterworks would get to me, didn't you?"
Erin glared at Abby. Whether Yates had gone to that cell out of displaced loyalty to Spengler's dopple-ganger or whether she had tried to elicit more information from the prisoner (and Erin suspected it was the former), she was furious with the doctor. She had no doubt that she would discover her own password had been stolen and used to aid in Holtzmann's escape. They would be having an extensive conversation about Abby's judgement and disciplinary actions (perhaps some jail time) once this situation was under control.
For now, she had to get the phalanx of ghosts out of the building and contain their prisoner. "Holtzmann, this isn't personal…"
"Really? Cause, I'm doing the math in my head and it's kind of adding up to you guys not being able to let me live if you're going to prevent worldwide panic…plus, you kind of need to me to keep quiet about Spengler taking the fall for that bomb you guys built. Correct me if I'm wrong."
Erin did not correct her.
"Yeah…so, I'm thinking I'll be better off taking my chances with the lynch mob-"
The stairwell door exploded open from the inside, a flood of ghosts pouring into the garage. A few disappeared into the blasts from the agents' proton weapons before the remaining guards were sent flying into walls and parked vehicles. The ones who avoided the first attack from the ghosts were forced to run as the specters used blasts of telekinetic energy to send the parked cars careening towards them. Erin dove behind a sedan, dodging flailing talons and bursts of ectoplasm and flying vehicles. The burst of telekinentic energy knocked both Holtzmann and Abby from their feet.
Jagannath and Slimer spied the familiar blonde woman. Whether this was the person they were meant to liberate or not, they recognized a friend and swooped towards her. Slimer keened happily, "Jil-lan!" The ghosts descended upon Holtzmann, lifting her off her feet, and dragged her into the stairwell in the space of two seconds before the guards could stop them.
The other ghosts followed, telekinetically shutting the door behind them. A small golf cart flipped end-over-end and landed in front of the door, blocking it from pursuers.
Erin moved out of her hiding place, fuming at the guards. "Someone explain to me how the Government's finest can't apprehend one tiny, unarmed scientist in the highest security building in the country!"
One of the guards pointed out: "They threw freaking cars at us!"
Abby groaned as she sat up, ears popping from the AP-Xh shift that had accompanied the ghosts and rubbing at her throat. Erin move to kneel beside her.
"I thought I could change her mind about cooperating."
Erin ignored the bullshit lie, carefully tilting Abby's chin so that she can check her neck for bruising. "We'll discuss your error in judgement later. For now, are you hurt, Dr. Yates?
Rather surprised at the concern in Erin's voice, Abby shook her head.
"Good." She gestures to an agent. "Take Dr. Yates to the infirmary, please. The rest of you, try to track where the hell those ghosts are taking Dr. Holtzmann."
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The ghosts made quick work of the doors to the loading dock-and the guards who swarmed to block the escape route. It was disconcerting to Holtzmann to be dragged along by the ghosts, especially while they were dodging proton streams and explosions from proton grenades (otherwise, she might have enjoyed the sensation of flying more). She had to remind herself that these ghosts had saved her from the mob and, logically, they were probably not abducting her with malicious intent.
She hoped.
They deposited her five blocks away, on the corner of a deserted street. It took a second to stop her knees from wobbling as she reoriented herself to standing. The ghosts glided away, leaving her standing there. "Hey! Wait a second-!" she wasn't going to get very far if she had to run from S.D.A. pursuers on foot.
That was when she spied the taxicab pulling up to the curb. Something told her this was her ride, so she ran for the car.
A familiar face grinned at her from behind the wheel.
"Dr. Holtzmann, I presume?" Ray greeted.
When she came alongside the car and he got his first good look at the young woman they had just rescued, all he could say was "Holy shit…"
The message from Patty Tolan-"Bad Karma"-was her message to the Ghostbusters that there was an event of supreme importance taking place, possibly an apocalypse-level event. It could mean anything from a new weapon being created to a prisoner in need of rescue (usually an innocent specter corralled for questioning and elimination). Once in a great while, it was a scientist being coerced into helping with weapons research.
Today, the message had meant something else. After the bizarre voice mail from "Jillian", Ray had suspected another imposter. The Ghostbusters had encountered freaks who fancied themselves to be the reincarnated daughter of Egon and Janine or possessed by her ghost. Such freak shows caused endless misery for Ray's friends. There was no way he was going to share that message with Jillian's parents, which was the reason he'd sent a message for Patty Tolan to go check the firehouse.
She was the only S.D.A. agent the Ghostbusters full trusted. As a girl, she had been befriended by Winston during his days volunteering with the youth centers. By the time she was grown up and graduated from NYU, she had been adopted as part of his extended family. She'd wanted to help the Ghostbusters prevent another tragedy like the one that had claimed Jillian's life. Patty had been able to assimilate into the ranks of the S.D.A. Never having associated publicly with the Ghostbusters (besides taking a few of Winston's classes as a child) and lacking a biological connection to Winston, there had been no legal basis to decline her application.
So, when Patty had returned the message "Bad Karma—Dr. Holtzmann" after visiting the firehouse to investigate a phone call from "Jillian", it had confirmed to Ray that there was more going on that some kook impersonating his deceased goddaughter. 'Bad Karma' meant 'come immediately'. 'Dr. Holtzmann' was the name of the person they were meant to rescue.
"Ray?!" Holtzmann wondered why that surprises her. She'd been running into familiar faces since the minute she crossed the dimensional bridge.
"You have me at a disadvantage, Dr. Holtzmann." Ray tried not to gawk as he got out of the taxi that he'd borrowed from an inattentive cabbie. She wasn't calling herself 'Jillian Spengler', which he took as a positive indication that she wasn't some kook.
But, what convinced him more than that was the trio of ghosts who descended upon her and the ectoplasmic hug Slimer subjected her to as he cried, "Jil-lan!" Her prisoner jumpsuit was doused in slime by the time he was finished. Jagannath also floated by, admonishing Ray: "Protect Honored One."
The ghosts could not be fooled. If she were an imposter, they would know. If she were a ghost, they would know.
What the hell was she then? Ray wondered.
"You were a friend back in my dimension," Holtzmann explains.
Back in her dimension? What did that mean? Ray offered to shake her hand, saving his questions for when they were in a safer location. "I still am. Welcome to the resistance-"
Ecto-1 was pulling alongside them. Ray swallowed as he guided Dr. Holtzmann to the back seat and held open the door for her. Egon was in the driver's seat. He was concentrating on watching for S.D.A. pursuit and didn't give Ray or their new passenger a glance as they got into the vehicle.
"Uh…Winston maybe you ought to drive?" Ray suggested.
Winston turned in the passenger seat to look back at them. "Why? What's going-" He saw their passenger and his eyes widened. "-oh my god. Um, I think you're right. Egon, seriously, I think you'd better pull over and let me drive, buddy. Now."
Holtzmann's head came up sharply at the name. Egon? She looked at the driver's reflection in the rear view mirror.
"Dad?" she blurted out in surprise.
Egon automatically looked at the rear-view mirror, locking gazes with her.
"Jillian?!"
He promptly ran the car into a row of trash cans, scattering them and sending pedestrians running for cover before he hit the brakes.
"Now can I drive?" Winston asked.
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Erin returned to her office at Columbia University, giving her bath salts to the department receptionist. It wasn't like Phil was ever going to share a bath with her, he'd never know she didn't use them, Erin thought sourly.
She was surprised to see someone waiting for her outside of her office. The campus should be empty on the day before Christmas Eve. She didn't recognize the short man with the curly hair and the backpack, but he looked a little older than the average student.
"Hello? Are you one of my students? I'm sorry, I'm not keeping office hours today," Erin informed him as she unlocked her door.
He followed her into the office anyway. "Ah-Doctor Gilbert. It's a privilege to meet a woman of your stature." He shook her hand. "Forgive the intrusion on the holiday. I'd just like a few moments of your time?"
Erin discretely looked to see if there were any campus security guards around because this odd little man had her radar going. She wondered if bath salts would be as effective as pepper spray if she flung them at him and ran. Then she remembered that Marion the receptionist had the bath salts anyway. "Um, I suppose I can spare a few minutes before my colleague gets here. He'll be coming soon. Can I ask what this is about?" She made sure to leave her door open, then hurried to her chair. At least she had the heavy wooden desk between herself and her strange visitor.
"Of course. My name is Rowan North. I am an associate of Doctor Abigail Yates," he introduced himself.
She felt that her eye twitched at the name, but she politely asked: "Abby? How is she?"
"She's well. Thank you for asking."
"You understand that I don't work with her anymore?" Erin reminded him carefully. If he was an associate of Abby's, he was clearly here to ask about ghosts or that damned book they'd written. Either way, it would be a conversation she wouldn't want Dr. Filmore or the other faculty to overhear.
Right on cue, Rowan continued. "I'm aware. May I ask why you abandoned your work in paranormal physics?"
Erin changed her mind-she's glad her colleagues weren't on campus to hear this little weirdo's questions. It would be better if the odd man murdered her then and now, because her career would be over if anyone found out about Erin's days as a paranormal investigator. "You're looking for an answer other than 'ghosts aren't real and the whole field is a sham'?"
"Sham?" Rowan hadn't expected to hear that from Dr. Gilbert. "You don't truly believe that? You wouldn't have invested so much of your youth on the pursuit of the paranormal if you did."
Erin wrinkled her nose, resisting the urge to smack him. Her youth? "Do you have any questions related to actual physics that I can answer for you? String theory, quantum mechanics, the theory of everything, or the tenth dimension? If you came to ask me about ghosts-"
Rowan perked up at the last bit. "I came to present you with the opportunity to prove your theory…an opportunity your former associate was too short-sighted to pursue."
That was alarming. How bat crap crazy did this man have to be if Abby wasn't willing to humor his ideas? If this was the kind of people Abby was associating with, Erin was deeply concerned. But, if you run around claiming ghosts are real, these are the kind of weirdos you attracted…
Erin's plan was to humor the freak and get him out of there as quickly as possible, track down Abby, strangle her for sending this creep to Erin, and then find Kevin the blonde elf and ask his favorite flavor of ice cream.
"How would I do that…for the sake of argument?"
Rowan smiled.
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It turned out their destination was a series of warehouse out on New York's waterfront It was a tense ride there, mostly made in silence. Holtzmann spent most of it staring at the back of her father's head (not her father, she repeatedly reminded herself. Jillian Spengler's father.) He rode in the passenger seat, pointedly not glancing back at her. She didn't know what to think of that. She finally just stared at her feet.
Ray reached across the seat and gave her folded hands a squeeze, smiling kindly. She returned the squeeze, but couldn't force the smile or glance his way.
Finally, the car braked to a halt at a warehouse near the waterfront. Egon all but jumped from the vehicle. Winston shrugged apologetically at their passenger and followed him, mentally rehearsing the lecture he was going to give the man later. He understood why his friend was upset, they all were, but hostility wasn't going to gain answers.
Holtzmann didn't move from her seat, still staring miserably at the floorboard.
Sighing, Ray feigned good cheer: "Well, here we are, ma'am. Welcome to the House of-"
Abruptly, Holtzmann's door banged open. A strong hand reached in, hooked her by the elbow and dragged her from the car. She found herself pinned to the door by a strong hand and staring down the barrel of a proton pistol wielded by an unsmiling Egon Spengler.
"Whoah—Egon! What do you think you're doing?!" Ray dove out of the car. He and Winston raced to pull him away from the girl, but he would not be moved.
"Egon! Let her go!" Winston ordered, pulling the proton weapon out of his hands before there was an accident.
"This is a trick!" Egon snarled. "She's some kind of plant for the S.D.A.! They're trying to smoke us out…Director Gilbert...or Senator Gorin." Egon grabbed Holtz's chin roughly, turning her head to look for plastic surgery scars. "You look like her, lady. I'll give you that. Nice touch with the 'dad' crap."
Holtzmann was too stunned to do anything but stare back and struggle to breathe while he had his forearm pressed across her throat.
"Egon!" Ray and Winston finally grabbed his arms and all but body checked him away from the woman.
"I trust Patty. There's an explanation," Winston said firmly.
"Egon-let her go," Ray ordered.
Egon stared Holtzmann down, but he holstered the neutrino pistol and backed off, still fuming.
Holtzmann coughed as she finally drew air back into her lungs, rubbing her throat. Not exactly how she would have pictured meeting her father for the first time…except that this wasn't her father. Dad but not dad…they didn't have terms for situations this far down the rabbit hole.
For lack of anything else she could say, when she caught her breath, she said only, "I'm sorry."
Ray not-so-subtly placed himself protectively between Holtzmann and Egon, just in case. "You can understand this is a bit of a shock?"
"Kinda like an EF5 tornado is a bit windy," Winston added.
"Abby told me what happened."
Sadness flashed behind Ray's eyes.
"What's going on out here? What is all the shouting about?" A feminine, authoritative voice boomed from inside the warehouse as the large door slowly rolled open.
Holtzmann blanched. She knew that voice.
She saw Ray and Winston both wince. "Oh boy," Ray sighed. "Dr. Holtzmann, there's one more thing I should warn you about…"
"Too late," Winston said as Janine Melnitz-Spengler appeared at the warehouse entrance.
Janine's attention was squarely on Egon for the moment. One glance at his grim expression, and she hurried to his side. "Egon, what's the matter? Are you all right? I heard you yelling." When he didn't answer right away, Janine looked to Ray and Winston for an explanation.
Her gaze fell on the woman standing behind the two men.
"Janine, this is Doctor Holtzmann," Ray emphasized the name, but his words fell on deaf ears. He and Winston and even Egon were completely off the red-head's radar now.
Janine was fixated on Holtzmann. Eyes widening, she slowly approached.
She wanted to run, distance herself before she caused them any more pain, but Holtzmann didn't have the heart.
"Jillian?" Janine breathed the name.
"Holtzmann," Winston repeated, afraid for Janine to start getting her hopes up.
"Long story," Ray added.
"Janine, don't-" Egon touched her elbow and tried to steer her away, but she shook him off.
Holtzmann made herself stand still and allow it as Janine slowly reached out and lay a palm against her cheek, just to see if the younger woman was real. "It is you," Janine gasped.
With that, she flung her arms around Holtz's neck and hung on as if for dear life.
Something in her cautious movements and mesmerized expression reminded Jillian of that night three months earlier when her birth mother had shown up at the hospital, begging to reconnect with her daughter. Holtzmann stood stiffly, at a loss, as much at a loss now as she had been that day.
Tentatively, she returned the embrace. "Mom."
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The warehouse obviously served as work space and living quarters for the original Ghostbusters. It was a large, two-story structure. The offices on the second floor have been converted into bedrooms from what Holtzmann could tell. The garage was at the front, directly behind two enormous rolling doors.
The central space had been two distinct work stations. One was cluttered with machine parts, auto parts, and various tools scattered haphazardly. It was dotted with newspaper clippings, schematics for their original proton pack and other equipment, and various personal photos. Judging by the photos, Ray and Winston shared that workspace.
The other workstation was meticulously organized. Five different computers—cobbled together from outdated units-were performing various operations. There were shelves and small freezer units with transparent doors stacked with petri dishes of spores, molds, funguses, and samples of various ecto-plasms. Beakers, tubes, Bunsen burners, and other equipment lined the tables. Newspaper clippings and photos are carefully arranged on a corkboard. One clipping was dated just a year before Holtzmann was born: "Apocalypse? No! Ghostbusters Save the World", with a photo of Egon, Ray, Winston, and Peter Venkman. A second clipping asks: "Who You Gonna Call?" with the same stock photo taken the day of Gozer's invasion. More clippings highlighted later ghost battles.
Holtzmann was more interested in the personal photos, all carefully preserved in glass frames. There was a photo of Egon, Janine, and baby Jillian (who wore a onesie that read "Daddy's Little Scientist"). It was the same photo that Janine had given Holtzmann, the photo that sat on her desk back in the other universe.
Another picture showed Egon and young Jillian elbows' deep in machine parts assembling a robot. There was a Christmas tree in the background. A third picture had been taken at Jillian's high school graduation, with all the Ghostbusters and (apparently) all their relatives crowded into the shot. Egon and Janine were kissing in another photo, the banner hanging behind them wishing them "Happy 25th!" The last photo was a candid shot of Jillian, seated at a laboratory table, so focused on her work that she probably hadn't noticed anyone was there taking her picture. Holtzmann wondered if it was the laboratory at M.I.T. or at the S.D.A.
She thought about the SDHC card that Janine had given her, feeling it's outline in her pocket to be sure it was still there, that Erin's goons didn't take it while she was unconscious or she didn't lose it in the firehouse. There would be no photos such as these on that disc.
"Hey," Janine put a hand on Holtzmann's shoulder, shaking her out of her reverie. She pressed a mug full of chicken soup into the younger woman's hands. Janine was pretty sure the S.D.A. hadn't bothered feeding her daughter while they had her locked up. "Come on, sit down."
Janine looped an arm through Jillian's and guided her to the back of the warehouse, which had been converted into a living space. There were space heaters, various couches and tables, a kitchen, and a flat screen television. Holtzmann aimed for the kitchen table, but Janine insisted she sit beside her on one of the overstuffed couches. Ray and Winston sat in chairs across from them. Jagannath and Slimer and Arlo floated in lazy circles in the ceiling above, swooping now and then to try to steal unattended food from the humans' mugs and bowls.
Egon paced, his gaze riveted to Holtzmann. She tried to ignore the suspicious stare.
Janine's fingers brushed the bandage on Jillian's temple. "You're hurt. What happened?"
"I think I freaked some people out when I showed up at the firehouse," was all Holtzmann would say. She didn't think telling her parallel-universe mom that an angry mob had tried to kill her was going to do anything to ease Janine's mind. Janine fetched a first aid kit and insisted on dressing the cut with a fresh bandage no matter how Holtzmann tried to wave her off.
Ray looked up from doodling on a clipboard to welcome her with a grin. "Feel free to use our guest room." He gestured to the upper level. "It's not much, but-well, it's not much."
Janine smiled. "We'd take you home but-"
Egon interrupted. "We're not taking her home, Janine."
His wife gave him the stink eye. "-but that's the first place that Director Gilbert will look for you."
"Now that we initiated a jailbreak from the S.D.A., I doubt we can't go home again, either. Ever," Egon mumbled.
Janine's lips curled into a frown. "That's the last thing I care about right now, and you're being-Egon, what are you doing?"
Egon had gone to his work station to retrieve a scanner. He marched back and pointedly began to scan Holtzmann. "A PKE meter? You think I'm a ghost?" she asked him.
"Ghost, imposter, shapeshifter. I certainly don't believe that you're my daughter miraculously back from the dead," he replied.
Ray raised his hand as if he were in a classroom. "Not to play devil's advocate, Egon, but Dr. Holtzmann hasn't claimed to be your daughter. She's been very up front about that."
"She's been exposed to a healthy dose of temporal radiation. There's also a residual energy signature that I don't recognize," Egon put away the meter.
"A trip through a trans-dimensional barrier would do that," Holtzmann said.
"No-a trip through a trans-dimensional barrier would make you an actual ghost, or aren't you familiar with particle physics, Doctor Holtzmann?" he fired back.
Ray interrupted, holding up the clipboard so Holtzmann could see what he'd drawn. "Does this look like the medallion that you took from your Jagannath before the…crossover?"
At the mention of his name, the blue ghost paused in his lazy circles to glide down and hover behind Ray and repeat: "Jagannath is friend."
Holtzmann examined the drawing. "There was some kind of writing, too. Looked like Sanskrit or something similar. The stone was green."
He nodded, noting the details. "Jagannath, Arlo, Slimer?" The ghosts resumed their excited fluttering around the room. "Go back to the firehouse. See if you can find any medallion."
Happy to be needed once more, the ghosts glided away, opting to go through the nearest wall in a splash of slime instead of using the open garage doors.
Ray pushed himself off the couch and headed for a bookshelf, pulling a heavy volume down. "There are multiple artifacts with the ability to alter time, fulfill wishes, create holes in dimensions. We just need to know if you're in a separate, parallel dimension or whether reality as we know it has somehow been altered from its original timeline…in which case, your exposure to the medallion—whatever it was-could be the reason you're the only one who remembers." He set the book on the kitchen table and began leafing through the delicate vellum pages.
"Let's assume that this blackout you mentioned was the point where you 'crossed over'," Egon resumed his pacing. "What precisely were you doing in the moments prior to that?"
"I was getting ready to spend Christmas with my mother," she said. Janine squeezed her arm.
Egon wasn't satisfied. "I said precisely-were you talking to your mother? Were you alone? What were you thinking about?" He was oblivious when Holtzmann leaned her head back to bang it against the couch cushion as he talked. "If it was a wish fulfilling artifact, whatever you were thinking or discussing is obviously the basis for your sudden change of reality."
Holtzmann felt herself blush. "If you really want to know-Janine gave me an SDHD chip with photos of my father. I was thinking that I wished I could spend a Christmas with him."
There. It was out.
She made herself as small as she could on the couch, not knowing how Egon would react. Janine's eyes widened, her face suddenly paled. Egon halted in his tracks. Holtzmann could see his mind fitting the pieces into place. "When we retrieved you from the S.D.A., you were surprised to see me," Egon recalled. "You were not, however, surprised to see Janine, Ray, or Winston. I should have realized: I'm deceased in your timeline. Correct?"
She didn't think an answer was necessary. Beside her, Janine drew a sharp, startled breath.
Egon absorbed the information. He took consolation that the death of his counterpart was more palatable that it would have been to find out the reason Holtzmann hadn't know her father was due to that Egon abandoning her and/or her mother.
"That being the parameter of your wish, the artifact would have relatively few options: Resurrect your Egon Spengler, bring you to a reality where Egon Spengler still lived, or kill you so that you would technically be with him in death. Clearly, it avoided the option that would have resulted in your death."
Ray agreed. "Which brings us back to not knowing whether we're in Jillian's timeline and the artifact somehow prevented your death or if she's been transported into our reality." He scratched his head, then held up the book so that they could see the etching on the delicate page. "Is this the medallion?" he asked Hotzmann.
She pulled free of Janine's deathgrip and walked to the table for a closer look. "That's it…Cintamani Stone?" Her stomach sank. "Oh boy."
Ray and Egon silently echoed her sentiment. Winston exchanged looks with Janine, knowing they were the only two people in the room not in the loop. "Do you want to ask, or should I?"
"You might know it by a different name. Some theorists call it the Philosopher's Stone," Ray answered.
"It's an ancient Buddhist tradition that the Cintamani stone was originally a star that fell to earth. It was thought to have wish-fulfilling abilities," Egon continued, in his element now that he had established the paranormal connection to what happened to Holtzmann. "The stone was rumored to have been hidden in the city of Shambhala in the etheric plane, but with fragments of it find their way into our dimension, where it could affect the course of human history. It was believed to be so powerful that the potential effects of some using it would be devastating…if not apocalyptic."
Winston rubbed his eyes. "I really hate it when he starts using that word…"
Ray was following Egon's train of thought: "That could be another reason why the Cintamani or the Philosopher's Stone or whatever you want to call it brought Dr. Holtzmann to a parallel universe…" All eyes turned to him, waiting for an explanation. "Not to be indelicate, but the only way to grant her wish without creating a paradox and tearing a hole in space-time continuum was to bring her to a dimension where her counterpart…where there's no chance of crossing paths with her counterpart. Maybe two Jillians can't exist in the same dimensional plane. It's all theoretical, of course."
"Theoretically, her absence from her dimension of origin could be just as destructive," Egon was pacing again. "Depending on her contributions to her own history."
Holtzmann had been thinking the same thing. "I haven't contributed too much-I just helped keep my friend, Abby, from quitting her research in the paranormal, helped found our Ghostbusters team, and designed and built the weapons that we used to prevent the Fourth Cataclysm. They should be fine without me."
Silence fell on the group for several seconds. Janine finally asked: "Still think she's an imposter, Egon?"
He refused to swayed quite so easily. "I think it's a clever story."
Janine stood now. "Yes—she just cleverly had cosmetic surgery to look like our daughter, surgery that left no scars, doused herself with cosmic radiation, had herself fake arrested by the S.D.A. knowing that Patty would help her escape and call us to come get her."
"Director Gilbert is certainly capable of going to such extreme measures."
"She should never have gone blonde. Some people are not prepared for the ride," Holtzmann added.
Winston stood. "This sounds like a family discussion, I'm just going to…polish the…something." He headed for the garage area.
"Right behind you," Ray followed him.
"Yeah, this is awkward, I think I should go, too-" Holtzmann started for the door as well.
Janine stepped in front of her. "Where are you going to go?"
"Good question, come to think of it."
"Stay then." Janine urged her back to the couch and tried to change the subject. "So, 'Holtzmann'? Is that your married name?"
The younger woman stared at the floor and cleared her throat loudly, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "You really don't want to hear that story," she warned.
Egon folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Why not? I mean, is it something you can't tell us? You're supposed parents?"
"Egon, I'm going to come over there in two seconds and pull your bottom lip over your face if you don't stop being an ass," Janine snapped.
Holtzmann tried to stand, but Janine pulled her down again. "There was a warm grate over at Grand Central Station. I think I'll see if it's still there in this dimension-"
"Jillian, sit," Janine insisted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me anything if it's too uncomfortable, just…please stay. I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind for Christmas Eve, but we're still your family." She cast a sidelong glance at her husband that dared him to say a word of disagreement. "I'll fix up the guest room. In the morning, I promise, we'll figure out how to fix this."
Jillian really saw no other options but to agree. She nodded, feeling the smallest knot of warmth in her chest when Janine responded with a delighted smile. She let the older woman lead the way up the stairs.
Janine paused just long enough to swat her husband in the back of his stubborn head on the way.
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"This is terrific. I can hear it now: 'Why weren't you at our Christmas party, Patricia?' 'Sorry, Uncle Bill, I was busy being baked by radioactive fallout. Good news is you don't need to put no lights on the tree, 'cause I'm pretty sure I glow in the dark now. It was a work thing, you know.'"
Patty probably had spent worse holidays working the graveyard shift at the MTA, but she couldn't recall specific examples at that moment. She stood with agents Hawkins and Rorke in the wreckage of the old Ghostbusters' firehouse, picking through the rubble. They all wore special badges that Abby had provided to warn them when they reached the maximum safe exposure to the lingering radioactive fallout in the area. As far as Patty was concerned, if you needed such a badge because you were standing in a nuclear hot zone, you weren't safe one way or the other.
What was worse was that this was the place were Jillian had died. She'd told Director Gilbert she could handle it. The director would always be suspicious of Patty, knowing her vague connection to the former Ghostbusters. She didn't want to give the woman any further cause to doubt her dedication and kick her out of the agency.
Now, Patty knew she had made a mistake. It bothered her to be there. It was like a knife in her guts. Yet, that pain was precisely the reason that Patty had to be the one to search the ruins. No one else should be messing with this place as far as she was concerned. Jillian had been her friend, her extended family…and the way the other S.D.A. agents were tossing pieces of the old lab equipment was pissing Patty off more with every passing second.
Finally, she pointed her flashlight at Hawkins and Rorke's faces, hoping the light freaking burned sense into their brains. "Yo-Crash and Eddie: You throw one more thing around here like it's trash, and I'm going to knock both your skulls together until you pass out. Got it? Show some damn respect!"
They shrugged her off, but were more delicate with their search.
Patty gazed across the wreckage of the old laboratory. There wasn't much left. An old PKE meter was half buried by mortar and boards. It's display panel had been shattered and the antenna broken off. There was a decrepit cassette player lying in pieces in one corner, the tape itself melted. It called up memories of her adopted cousin dancing as she labored over her gadgets and experiments. Patty had to look away from the demolished machine.
This Christmas officially sucked, Patty decided.
"Someone sat here." Hawkins shone his own flashlight beam onto the worktable. The dust had been disturbed.
Patty inspected that tiny area. "How did she get to the table without leaving footprints? Look-there are tracks going out the door, but none coming into the room," she said. "She couldn't have just…appeared."
"Well, if she's a ghost-" Rorke supplied.
"I'm not going to warn you again," Patty told him.
Something on the floor sparkled in the rubble when Patty's light hit it. It was some kind of necklace. She hoped it wasn't Jillian's "Screw U" necklace or else she was going to lose it in front of Huey and Dewey…
It wasn't. The metal was a weird, round medallion with a green stone inset at its center. "No dust on this," Patty observed.
A ghost suddenly burst through the wall in a spray of green slime, startling the bejeesus out of all three agents. Patty was so completely unprepared that she instinctively shrank back a step from the flying green blob. "What the-?" Her foot caught a broken board and she fell, landing hard on her backside.
The potato-shaped specter floated over and gave her a sloppy, slimy kiss with its oversized tongue. Its breath smelled like rotten flesh. That in combination with the dripping ooze nearly made Patty vomit. "Oh, lord have mercy…I do not get paid enough for this," she gagged.
Rorke drew his weapon and fired at the ghost. The bullet ricocheted off the metal cabinets, narrowly missing Patty. She screamed at him, "Are you kidding me with that? Put that damned thing away!"
Slimer went for him next, dousing Rorke so completely in ooze that the agent couldn't have hung onto his weapon if his life depended on it. The ghost floated away, chuckling to itself.
Jagannath used to commotion to quietly glide through the missing ceiling. He descended upon Patty and tore the medallion from her grasp…along with her own personally jewelry. "Hey! Hey! The bracelet's mine, damn it!" she screamed at him.
The ghost dropped the bracelet before it escaped with the medallion.
"Thank you." Patty crawled to retrieve it. She frowned at Hawkins and Rorke. "You two were no help at all. You know that, right?"
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"Let me get this straight: First, the ghosts helped Dr. Holtzmann escape from an angry mob. Then, they helped her break out of our maximum security holding area. Now, they stole the artifact right from under your nose? That's an unimpressive track record for a twelve-hour period, Agent Tolan."
Director Gilbert sat behind her massive oak desk, her face a stoic mask as she listened to Patty's report. Patty bristled a bit at her condescending tone and the owlish gaze. "Don't be drumming your fingers at me. You weren't there. Your boys-" She waved at Hawkins and Rorke, who stood beside her. "—almost shot my head off. Like bullets were going to stop the ghosts."
Abby occupied one of the chairs in front of the desk. Her laptop was open, and her fingers danced over the keyboard, searching the archives for any information on the medallion that Patty had described. Abby had also pulled several large volumes from her personal library. "I think I've found something," she announced.
She turned the laptop so that Erin and Patty could see the screen. "Does this look like the stone you saw?" Abby asked Patty.
Patty nodded. "That's it." She read the caption on the photo. "Cintamani Stone?"
Erin and Abby exchanged grim looks. "That's bad," Abby said.
"Define 'bad'," Patty said.
"A Cintamani Stone is like a genie in a bottle. Whoever has it can basically use it to reshape history any way they want it," Abby told her. "Some theorists believe ancient empires used pieces of it in their rise to power."
The director leaned back in her chair, mulling the full implications. "Doctor Holtzmann said that she didn't remember how she got into the firehouse. Agent Tolan, you said that there were no tracks going into the firehouse, that it looked as if she'd just manifested there."
"I don't think I used the word 'manifest', otherwise yes. Meaning what?"
"Meaning that Jillian's theory that she crossed from her dimensional plane into ours was likely correct. She must have found the Cintamani stone in her timeline and made some inadvertent wish that her in our parallel timeline," Abby said.
Erin rubbed her eyes. "This is a disaster. That stone in the wrong hands could rewrite our history, and we wouldn't even be aware of it. A hostile government could make themselves the ultimate world power. People could be removed or added to the timeline and change the course of human history. A madman would only have to think of a doomsday weapon and it would be his in a microsecond. These are worst case scenarios, of course."
Patty swallowed. "Okay, glad to know world apocalypse is only the worst-case scenario…"
"A parent could bring a child back from the dead," Abby said quietly.
"You think one of the Ghostbusters used the Cintamani to try to resurrect Jillian Spengler and brought her doppelganger into this dimension by mistake?" Erin asked.
Abby shrugged. "It's possible. Their wish could have dropped the medallion into Jillian's dimension, could have dropped it right into her lap."
Erin shook her head. "Frankly, I don't care if Doctor Holtzmann brought herself here or if mommy and daddy did it-that stone can't be out there where anyone can get their hands on it. Agent Tolan, Dr. Yates, your work on this case is done. " The Director held up her hand to cut off the speculation. "I have to track down Doctor Holtzmann and her ghost-hugger family. That's going to require someone with more experience at fugitive tracking."
With impeccable timing, Erin's phone buzzed and her receptionist announced: "I have Agent Beckman here to see you, Director."
Abby knew what that meant. She blanched. "Agent Beckman? That's a little extreme-"
"Dr. Yates, this is a fugitive with a weapon that can alter the fabric of our reality without our awareness. I would consider that extreme!" Erin countered. "I have no choice but to issue a DX-4 order. Holtzmann needs to be found. Be thankful I'm buying your story that she escaped from that cell all on her own, or Senator Gorin might have issued the same order for you. Good day, Dr. Yates."
Abby reluctantly moved from the office to return to the medical center…to write her resignation.
She wondered if the Ghostbusters needed another hand. Maybe being a fugitive would at least give her the opportunity to finally do some traveling…