Ghostbusters (30 page)

The scariest of the ghosts stopped harassing the somewhat less scary ghosts, and glared as if the Ghostbusters had invaded their sacred turf. Growling and shouting, they seemed to be working themselves up for a battle.

“I've never been good in a fight,” Erin said.

“Well, you'd better get good at it,” Abby said. “Power up!”

Erin and the others switched on their proton packs just as the ghost army rushed them, a mob of incorporeal monsters out for blood. Terrified but with nowhere to retreat, the Ghostbusters battled them with their proton streams and all the wonderful toys Holtzmann had recently invented. Erin used her beam to grab hold of a pimp ghost in a ridiculous wide-brimmed fuzzy hat and bell-bottoms, and threw him into the gang of deceased street punks. They kicked up like bowling pins, flying backward and into the ghosts behind them. Abby and the others picked up on what she was doing immediately, and started using ghosts caught in their beams like clubs, bashing the trailing evil spirits left and right. It was a messy but effective technique; using it, they managed to keep the waves of ghosts from overrunning them.

Patty used her “ghost chipper,” a device that sucked in a ghost, chopped it up into ectoplasmic bits, and shot the debris out the back like a burst of exhaust. She also had a proton sidearm that Holtzmann had made for her. Abby put on her proton glove, which she used to punch holes in the “bodies” of her oncoming phantom attackers. Holtzmann had also created two kinds of grenades—“air filters” and “test tubes”—plus a proton grenade launcher for Erin and a “drop-down” gun for herself.

As Erin sent a drug pusher ghost cartwheeling off toward Rockefeller Center, Abby used her proton wand to smash the face of a flasher pervert ghost that had broken through their guard and was almost on top of her. The beam made ectoplasm burst in a plume from its head and it rained down on them in big, gooey spatters. Explosions rocked the square. Erin cut her gaze and saw Patty throw a second grenade behind the line of approaching ghosts. When it went off with a resounding crack, it sent the spirits flying, arms and legs flailing, ectoplasm exploding.

Holtzmann hit a trigger on her proton pack and two smaller weapons popped out. She caught both and, a skilled deadeye, started taking down ghosts with dual-hand ambidextrous precision.

Patty gave her a look as if to say “Where'd you get those?”

“Just a little bonus I gave myself,” Holtzmann told her. “I'll whip you up a set if we manage to not die right now.”

Patty sent another ghost crashing into the crowd of surrounding ghosts, knocking them off their feet. The mob of spirits hesitated as they picked themselves up from the street. Instead of regaining their courage, they seemed to have lost it. The remaining winos, hookers, and purse snatchers shrank back, scared of the Ghostbusters.

Abby looked at the cowering ghosts, completely charged up. “All right! Anybody want a piece of this? Bring it on!”

“Okay, amp it down, tiger,” Erin said. “Miles to go.”

Abby nodded, but then walked totally badass through the crowd of ghosts toward the Mercado building as Erin and the Ghostbusters followed her. The ghosts made way for them, and as the evil spirits melted back, they looked very intimidated.

Approaching the Mercado, the Ghostbusters filed through the frozen ranks of police and National Guard. They had not moved a muscle; all were locked in what looked like the famous John Travolta disco pose, finger pointing up into the air. Right out in front were the two Homeland Security agents, even more tight-lipped than usual.

“Seems odd,” Abby said.

Odder still, Erin could see the eyeballs of Hawkins and Rorke moving in their rigid faces, tracking them as they passed.

A familiar roar from behind made her whirl around. Slimer tore past them in
ECTO
-1, and a group of partying ghosts had piled into the coffin compartment and clung to the roof of the car. They sang and yelled drunkenly as Slimer sped off.

“Well, at least somebody's having a good time,” Abby said.

When they reached the closed doors to the Mercado's lobby, Erin noticed a crack in the ground directly underneath them; the crack pulsed with unnatural light.

“All right, stay back,” Abby said, lifting up her proton wand to fire at the door.

Before she could do that, the doors slowly, eerily opened for them. Clouds of smoke rolled out of the lobby onto the sidewalk. It smelled like a mixture of burning hair and sulfur. The Ghostbusters wrinkled their noses—and went in.

The lobby had been transformed since Erin had last seen it. Everything was covered with ectoplasm: walls, stairs, furniture, and floor. Erin took a step and immediately slipped and fell, butt-planting in a puddle of slime. She got to her feet without comment; there were more pressing matters. A whirlpool of evil energy was slowly churning in the middle of the floor.

“All right, let's get down to the basement,” Abby said. “We'll start by turning off his little experiment.”

As they started over to the basement stairwell door, a grand piano shot past them, its lid propped up. Skiing on the goo on the floor, it crashed into doorway, completely blocking it, and the lid came down with a bang.

Erin shuddered as the keys began to move of their own accord, tinkling out an inappropriately merry tune.

All heads cranked around at movement from the lobby's grand staircase, behind and above them.

Erin looked up and saw a glowing, shirtless figure. It was Kevin, and it wasn't. He was much paler, his face was drawn, and there were circles under his ferociously beaming eyes.

“Kevin?” Abby said.

“Is this what this thing's name is?” It was Kevin's voice, only roid raging. “He seemed more like a Chet to me. I see there's five of you now.”

Abby, Holtzmann, and Patty looked as confused as Erin felt, then they all saw the Mercado tenant standing next to them, his eyes bugging, jaw dropped.

“Who are you?” Erin said.

“I was napping, I just came down to get my mail—”

“Get out of here!” Abby said.

The tenant ran out the front doors. A second later they heard him scream outside.

“Probably should've given him a heads up as to what's out there,” Patty said.

“Well, you've had a long journey,” Rowan-as-Kevin said. “You look winded. Have a seat.”

From all corners of the trashed lobby, chairs slid over the slime and came to a stop behind the Ghostbusters. As Holtzmann slowly sat down, her chair pulled out from under her. She dropped to the ground on her backside with a muffled “Ooooof.”

Kevin/Rowan chuckled and his blue eyes flashed.

“I appreciate the joke,” Holtzmann said as she struggled up. “It's a classic.”

“I have to compliment you,” Kevin/Rowan said. “I'm surprised you made it this far. You're intelligent, courageous, and I'm impressed. I'm willing to let you remain as my sex companions.”

“I'm willing to shove my foot up your ass,” Abby said.

“I saw your grandmother on the other side,” Kevin/Rowan told her. “I kicked her in the face.”

“Yeah, listen,” Abby said. “I know you're real cozy in the form of Kevin, but time to hop out. We like him.”

“Yeah, he just started figuring out our phones!” Holtzmann added.

“As you wish,” Kevin/Rowan said.

Rowan exited Kevin's body in a flash of vapor. Kevin was left unconscious; his body began to go limp and crumple, toppling forward. Erin and the others raced up the stairs and caught him as he fell, but were off balance and couldn't hold him. All five of them tumbled down the stairs, landing in a tangled heap on the lobby floor.

“What form would you prefer I take?” Rowan's voice said as they regained their wits.

“Nothing fancy,” Holtzmann said. “Just keep it simple.”

“I'll tell you what I prefer,” Patty said. “A nice little friendly ghost. Like in a sheet.”

“Oh?” Rowan said.

Before their eyes he transformed into a smiling white cartoon ghost. It looked very happy and nonthreatening.

“Is this what you want?” Ghost Rowan said. “Adorable clip art?”

“Yes,” Patty said, clearly relieved. “I have no problem with that. Thank you.”

Ghost Rowan's smile remained, but the expression in his eyes—which shifted from happy to way, way too happy—made it seem suddenly sinister.

“I don't know,” Erin said. “That looks a little murdery to me.”

The smile was so happy and so frozen that it indeed looked murdery.

“Hmmm,” Abby said. “It
is
starting to feel different.”

“This works for me,” Ghost Rowan said.

And with that, the ghostly form began to grow larger, the sinister look so pronounced there was no denying it.

“All right,” Patty said, “I didn't know this was going to be a development.”

Ghost Rowan grew bigger and bigger, towering over them. Erin and the others started backing up—memories of being squashed by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man were still quite raw.

“This isn't good,” Abby said.

When Ghost Rowan shoved his cartoon hands toward them, it was like being hit by a Category 6 hurricane; the blast of 175-mile-per-hour wind blew them off their feet and through the open doors.

Sailing backward out the lobby entrance, they landed on their proton packs and, shooting showers of sparks, skidded at high speed across the pavement. Helplessly, they slid into the front line of agents, soldiers, and cops. Like dominoes, the frozen figures toppled into one another and fell to the ground.

“Strike!” Rowan said, mixing metaphors.

When he laughed again the hurricane returned and there was a shrill crash. Erin looked up to see every window blown out of the Mercado, shattering sheets of glass followed closely by furniture and personal belongings. The accumulated junk of all the building's tenants smashed down onto the sidewalk and everything was dusted in glittering fragments—it was a massive, simultaneous eviction.

Then the whole building began to shake, and with it the sidewalk they were lying on. As they tried vainly to scramble to their feet, the Mercado itself exploded, disintegrating into an immense swirling cloud of dust and debris. Terrifying cartoon ghost Rowan emerged as if from a cocoon, out of the middle of the churning chaos—he was bigger than a skyscraper! Terrifying Ghost Rowan roared down at them.

“Run!” Erin cried.

They jumped up and ran with the gigantic ghost in hot pursuit. Erin ripped a page from the few action films she'd seen, turning around and backpedaling while firing her proton pack at it. The beam hit Ghost Rowan in the side, lighting up ten stories of his happy spirit body. He let out a scream of pain and stopped, bent over clutching the ectoplasm-leaking wound.

Seizing the moment, the Ghostbusters raced for the next corner, then cut down a narrow alley and hid behind a Dumpster.

“My man was taking some real creative liberties with what we agreed upon,” Patty said, puffing for breath.

The ground shook as Ghost Rowan approached. They crouched lower and flattened against the wall as he appeared at the mouth of the alley. Erin only got a glimpse of him, because thankfully he didn't stop and look their way, but that was long enough to see his cartoon sheet was badly scorched and he was limping along and snarling like a zombie—a fifteen-hundred-foot-tall zombie! As he passed, his foot came down on top of a parked car and crushed it like an aluminum can.

“See, that's just off-brand,” Patty said as the ground-shaking thuds grew more and more faint.

“What do we do now?” Erin said.

“We need to get back there and fire into the portal with more power,” Abby said. “If we can do that, then it could cause a reverse reaction.”

Ghost Rowan wailed in the distance, still looking for them. It sounded like he was flipping cars and tearing buildings apart—Godzilla style.

“More power?” Erin said. “Do we not have our packs set to max now? Because it does feel like this would be the time for that!”

“We're at max,” Holtzmann said. “Rowan's got everything too energized. Which is why I suggest the following … Now, it's a little risky. It's called ‘crossing the stream.'”

“The thing that was so powerful our atoms could implode?” Erin said. “That's ‘a little risky'?”

Patty looked around the corner and reported back that Ghost Rowan was turning his head in a full circle like an owl scouring the intersecting streets for any sign of them.

“I mean, he's really just doing his own thing now,” Patty said.

“Holtz is right,” Abby said. “If successful, it could cause a reverse reaction that would pull any ionized ectomatter back into its dimension of origin.”

“And if it's not successful,” Erin said, “then this is most likely not only a suicide mission but one that involves the most painful death conceivable of all time.”

“That's definitely a downside,” Abby said.

“Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we?” Erin said.

They dashed out of the alley and retraced their steps to what had once been the front of a Manhattan landmark. There was virtually nothing left aboveground. The lobby floor had disappeared, revealing the cyclonic supernatural portal below. Awestruck and disoriented by the rotation, Erin stopped short, lost her balance on some rubble, and for a terrible second leaned out over the edge of the maelstrom. The power emanating from it withered her and made her knees go soft. Holtzmann grabbed the collar of her uniform and quickly pulled her back to safety.

“Okay,” Abby said, “fire them up!”

With their customary whine, the packs powered up, and all four Ghostbusters discharged their wands into the spinning portal. As Erin aimed her beam she saw Ghost Rowan down the street—a hundred stories high, he was hard to miss—and at the same moment he spotted her. Ghost Rowan started lumbering toward them like a maniac skyscraper.