Ghostbusters (26 page)

Holtzmann and Patty put on their coats. Patty said, “Holtz and I are gonna pick up a snack, something light. Probably a cheesesteak. Want one?”

Abby briefly wondered in what universe a cheesesteak was “something light,” but she didn't have the strength to make the comment. “I'm good, thanks,” she said quietly.

The two left. Abby saw the empty space on the wall where Erin's proton pack should be and sighed. Erin had finally apologized for bailing on her all those years ago.
Maybe I should apologize, too.

She got up and headed toward the bathroom. Then two distinct slow, loud knocks sounded on the restaurant's front door, a large Chinese character divided into two arched halves that led out onto the stair landing. She stopped, called, “Did you forget your keys again? Wear them on a lanyard. Christ.” She sounded cranky, but it was all bluster. She just didn't want those two to see her so down.

She walked back and opened the door. There was nothing there. She leaned out over the threshold, looking around at the landing. She could see all the way down the stairs to the street entrance. Nuttin'. Completely empty.

It had to be Holtz, trying to tease her out of her funk. It wasn't working.

“Very funny. So spooky,” she said.

She shook her head and shut the door, then headed back toward the bathroom. But before she arrived there was
another
knock at the door.

“Oh my god, what are we?” she groused. “In kindergarten? I'm not in the mood.”

She walked back to the door and opened it. Now it was dark, all the lights off.

She listened. There was no one there. It was as quiet as a tomb.

Ghosts,
she thought, but no, there were no ghosts hovering in the darkness. No Gertie, no Phantom of the Rock Opera. She shut the door, and this time she locked the dead bolt.

Unbidden, the scene where Rowan had electrocuted himself replayed in her mind. What had Erin said? That troubled, delusional people would read their book? She'd been right about that. Tomorrow Abby was going to find out what she could about that man—what had driven him to do what he did—not only the suicide but breaking down the barrier. Did he have followers? Was he part of a cult?

She couldn't deny that she was scared. She hurried into the bathroom, locked the door, and flattened her back against it. Her hands were trembling a little. She whooshed out a breath, seeking calm.

There was another loud knock.

This time on the
bathroom door
.

“Who is that?” she shouted.

No answer.

There was a noise coming from the sink—something rattling the drain. On alert, adrenaline pumping, she approached the sink.
I am a Ghostbuster,
she reminded herself.
Right. Unarmed, without backup.

The rattling continued. Then something green glowed inside the sink end of the drain. She reached the edge of the sink and, summoning all her courage, moved in for a closer look. Her chest was so tight she couldn't breathe.

Then a shape flew out of the drain and into her face. It moved so fast she couldn't see what it was; it hit her hard and she fell backward onto the floor. For a second she was too dazed and hurt to move. Then she stood up painfully, joints suddenly throbbing, and felt something on her face.

No. In my nose. Something is in my nose.

She touched her fingertips to her nostrils. Green ectoplasm was dripping out of her nose. Ropes of it.
Out of my nose. There is ectoplasm in my body. Oh my god! I've been invaded.
Then her ear bubbled with thick goo. It streamed down her earlobe. There was so much of it. And more from her nose. Lots more. She paced anxiously around the bathroom.

Got to tell them. Got to warn them. Need help!

Her abdomen contracted hard. Pain seized her. She grabbed her stomach and winced. A plume of ectoplasm spewed from her mouth across the bathroom floor. She doubled over in agony, vomiting again.

And again.

*   *   *

From the crack beneath the bathroom door, ectoplasm oozed across the room. Then it seeped around the doorframe, climbing up to the ceiling, and ran down the walls. Gallons of it, burbling and puddling. Infecting, eddying … On Kevin's desk, the old answering machine clicked on:

“Hello. You have reached the Ghostbusters hot line. Please leave your name, number, a description of your apparition, a description of what you were doing at the time of encountering the apparition, and a description of the actual encounter with said apparition
…”

 

20

Erin paced impatiently as the Ghostbusters office line greeting went on and on and
on.
She remembered when Abby had recorded it, how proud the two of them had been of devising such a painless way to capture anecdotal data. How wonderfully clever of them.

And long-winded.

Finally she heard the
beep
.

“Abby!” she yelled. “Jesus, shorten that greeting. It's Erin. Call me back! I think killing himself was just the next step in his plan!”

She hung up, massively frustrated. She'd tried Abby's cell phone and she didn't have Holtz's or Patty's. She had to get hold of someone who could help avert the Fourth Cataclysm!

Then, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a familiar face on her TV. It was the mayor. Below his image was a crawl reading “
Dinner with the mayor.
” It was an NY-Local 1 News broadcast, and the desk anchor was saying, “… Mayor Bradley is meeting with the diplomats at Lotus Leaf on…”

She
knew
where that restaurant was. She disconnected the call and ran for the door.

*   *   *

“It's interesting that we all call you Holtzmann,” Patty said as they collected their cheesesteaks and headed back to headquarters. “Jillian is a nice first name.”

Holtzmann smiled and shrugged. “It started in engineering school. Most of the other students were guys. Shy guys. I think they called me Holtzmann so I'd seem less like a girl.” She mock-shivered. “Because you know a girl is pretty scary.”

“And that's also why you became a practical joker?”

As Holtzmann pondered her answer, the sweet, heavenly smell of the bag full of food overwhelmed the familiar stench of their run-down neighborhood. “I was an oddball growing up. I think my teachers were actually a little afraid of me. I think outside the box. I'm kind of outside the range of social norms.” She smiled when Patty nodded her head in acknowledgment of the truth to that.

“I've always like putting things together. Inventing things. I had the best mentor in college. I really impressed Dr. Gorin when I nearly disintegrated everyone in the classroom.”

“Yikes,” Patty said, laughing. “Like I said, I was pretty normal except for how much I like to read. Studious kids still get teased, you know?”

“I've always wanted everyone to have a good time,” Holtzmann said. “I try not to judge people. Abby and I sure had fun in our lab at Higgins,” she said dreamily. “I was so happy when we snagged most of our equipment, and then those Homeland Security guys carried off most of it.”

“Agent Rorke is a hottie,” Patty said with a lilt in her voice.

“Even if he is a jerk,” Holtzmann replied. They grinned at each other.

“You know my uncle runs a funeral home,” Patty said. “That place always gave me the willies. Still does. You'd think that'd scare me off reading ghost stories and such, but I liked 'em.” She cocked her head. “You know, I worked down in the subway for a lot of years. Saw a lot of crazies. But nothing prepared me for what we've seen.” She shuddered. “What was
in
those mirrors, Holtz—I mean, Jillian?”

“You can call me Holtz,” she said. “I'm so used to it now that if you called me Jillian I probably wouldn't realize you were speaking to me.” Her smile faded. “I know. What we saw today … it had to be hell, I think. Someplace where angry ghosts are contained, or imprisoned. They wanted to come back here to wreak revenge, I suppose.” She blew the air out of her cheeks. “Now
they
were scary.”

“Amen,” Patty said earnestly. “Thank God it's over.”

“It occurred to me that he might have planted devices in other places,” Holtzmann said. “But that machine appears to have been the instrumentality required to break down the barrier. It's shut down now. But someone else could try again, you know?” She looked at Patty. “That's why I'm sticking around. That plus the working-for-free part.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can't get enough of that.”

Patty chuckled. “That's what I like about you, Jill—Holtz. You've got a sense of humor.” Her amusement faded. “Unlike
some
folks.”

“I
do
enjoy pushing the buttons of uptight people,” Holtzmann admitted. “Especially Erin.”

“Do you think she'll come back?” Patty asked.

“I don't know,” Holtzmann replied. “I mean, where else does she have to go?”

When they reached the door of the restaurant it opened easily and Holtzmann made a note to remind Abby to lock it when she was in there by herself.

They set down the food and Holtzmann looked around. Everything was as they'd left it. The bathroom door was shut.

“Abby,” Patty called. “We got you a sandwich because we don't want you picking off of ours. Come and get it.”

There was no answer.

Holtzmann called to the bathroom door, “Hey, Abby, you in there?” She walked to the door and tapped on it. “Abby? Everything all right?”

Just as she made a fist to knock, the door opened. Abby stood there with a slightly blank look on her face.

“Hey,” Abby greeted her.

“You okay?”

“I'm quite well,” Abby said pleasantly.

“Well, good,” Holtzmann countered.

Abby walked off.

Holtzmann shrugged. She said to Patty, “Not our best back-and-forth.”

She and Patty unwrapped their cheesesteaks and sat down to eat. Holtzmann looked over as Abby crossed to the far wall where their proton packs were hanging. The absence of Erin's pack poked a big hole in the symmetrical arrangement.

Abby walked over and picked up a long metal pipe. She looked down at it, weighing it in her hands.

“I found that in a Dumpster yesterday,” Holtzmann told her. “Figured I could use it for a new idea I'm playing with. Proton shotgun. Awesome, huh?”

She hoped the idea would cheer Abby up. Make her see that their ghost-busting days were not over, far from it.

Abby sauntered back over to the proton packs and removed their protective housings. Holtzmann watched, intrigued, wondering what the heck she was doing. Maybe she had come up with some cool new modification. Holtzmann was about to ask her, when suddenly Abby reared back and started beating the proton packs with the pipe, seriously wailing, throwing all her weight into it. It sounded like a blacksmith pounding on an anvil. Parts were breaking off and flying everywhere.

“What are you doing?” Holtzmann cried.

She ran over and grabbed Abby's arms, squeezing hard until Abby let go of the pipe. It clattered against the floor and rolled away. Abby grabbed Holtzmann by the throat; her feet crunched on broken bits of the proton packs. Then, seemingly with no effort at all, Abby just lifted her up into the air by the neck.

How is she doing this? Why is she doing this?
Holtzmann thought as she struggled, both hands prying against Abby's superhuman grip. Then Abby thrust Holtzmann's entire body through the window. The glass shattered outward and Holtzmann found herself dangling two stories up. Her windpipe was cut off and the world was turning shades of gray and yellow, fading to black. Abby was going to kill her!

This is not Abby,
she realized.
This cannot be Abby.

“Oh my god, you guys aren't playing a game, are you?” Patty cried, rushing at Abby from behind.

When Abby let go of Holtzmann, she started to fall and her life passed before her eyes: the joy of detonating her first explosive device. The excitement of her first kiss, which coincided with detonating her first explosive device. The prototype nuclear-powered skateboard … Then her full weight fell on her arm, practically dislocating it from the socket, and she realized she wasn't falling anymore, she was swinging against the side of the building—Patty had reached out the window and grabbed hold of her hand. With her left arm, Patty slap-punched Abby in the chest, bouncing her off the wall. Holtzmann scrambled, scraping her toes against the building's masonry, trying to gain a foothold, as Patty strained to pull her back in through the window. Holtzmann was level with the ledge when Abby jumped up and rushed them again.

Holtzmann looked on helplessly as Abby and Patty had the world's most awkward catfight. Open-hand slapping, pushing and missing, shoving and missing. Even though Patty was much bigger, she was at a serious disadvantage because she was still holding on to Holtzmann's wrist, fighting with her left hand, and she wasn't possessed by a ghost demon.

Holtzmann couldn't see it ending any way but badly.

Then, as Abby lunged again, Patty caught her behind the heels with a kung-fu leg sweep and cleanly flipped her onto her back. Abby hung in the air for a frozen instant, as if floating. Using her own momentum, Patty yanked Holtzmann headfirst through the window, let go, then spun and jumped on Abby before she could get up from the floor. She leaned over Abby as Holtzmann choked and gasped for air. Cocking back her arm, Patty bellowed, “Get out of my friend, evil spirit!”

Patty smacked Abby across the face hard with her open hand, making her head snap to the side. Even Holtzmann saw stars—

No, not stars, she realized.

It was the ghost of Rowan, exploding out of Abby. The sudden emergence created a sonic boom so loud that the rest of the windows shattered and the entire building shivered like they were caught in an earthquake.