Raymond Stantz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gone_byebye) wrote2005-09-14 08:12 pm
gone_byebye) wrote2005-09-14 08:12 pm
(no subject)
Friday, October 5, 2002
Henry Hudson Parkway, Manhattan
Yellow Cab #10452
Back Seat
As Omar deftly swung past the maniac bicyclist who had decided that now was the perfect time to take his chances with the Henry Hudson, Ray couldn't help but experience a pang of regret. Ecto, ol' girl, he thought, if I get out of this and back to you, I am never going to take you for granted again. Not that he did anyway, but at a time like this, with Peter to one side of him and Egon to the other, and only about enough space for any two of them, he sure felt like he had.
"Have you given any thought to how we're going to actually get into the building once we get there?" Egon asked. "In all likelihood the police've already cordoned off the block."
"Yeah, Ray, and my charm and boyish good looks don't do much good against most of New York's finest."
"It's okay," Ray said quietly, trying not to let the latest curve dig anyone's elbows into his ribs. "I'll get us in there."
"As I recall," Peter said, "that's almost exactly what you said when Egon here pointed out that you don't have a proton pack yet."
"No, I said I'd manage when we got there."
"Close enough. Care to let-" Peter grabbed for the door handle; Omar was a damned fine driver, but everyone else on the highway had gone insane today. "Care to let us in on your little secret?"
There was a spring poking into his butt and he didn't dare shift his weight to either side. "Not in here."
"And why not?" Peter asked.
"Because I don't think our driver wants me to turn his cab into a convertible."
"I most certainly do not," Omar returned. "Thank you very much, Dr. Stantz, but I like my car the way it is."
"No problem, Omar."
68th Street and Broadway
Manhattan
Under other circumstances Omar would have peeled away from the corner as fast as his car's engine could take him, but the instinct of self-preservation is occasionally thwarted, and this was one such occasion. The phenomenon in the sky was no mere blackening cloudbank, no atmospheric disturbance- oh, no. No indeed. It was wrong. Above the hulking forms of the apartment buildings on the block ahead of them there was a vast space of not there, a terrible swath of sky that made the eye water and the brain ache just to look at it, as if dimensions four through nineteen had ganged up on one, two, and three and thrown them bodily out of existence. It is very, very hard not to stare at something so wonderfully monstrous as that.
Save, perhaps, when the terrified sussurrus of crowds a full side-street deep gives way to exclamations. He jerked his attention back to street level, where the crowds were starting to point towards his passengers-
Merciful Allah! he thought. Where did that man get a lightsaber? It can't be real, can it?
Apparently the police officer at the edge of the crowd had the same question. And apparently Dr. Stantz was prepared for it, because a few seconds later the POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS saw-horse lay in two smoking halves on the ground.
The crowds parted; the men from the university went through; Omar looked up at the sky once more, got into his cab, and set a course for Parsippany, New Jersey just as fast as he could possibly go.
Henry Hudson Parkway, Manhattan
Yellow Cab #10452
Back Seat
As Omar deftly swung past the maniac bicyclist who had decided that now was the perfect time to take his chances with the Henry Hudson, Ray couldn't help but experience a pang of regret. Ecto, ol' girl, he thought, if I get out of this and back to you, I am never going to take you for granted again. Not that he did anyway, but at a time like this, with Peter to one side of him and Egon to the other, and only about enough space for any two of them, he sure felt like he had.
"Have you given any thought to how we're going to actually get into the building once we get there?" Egon asked. "In all likelihood the police've already cordoned off the block."
"Yeah, Ray, and my charm and boyish good looks don't do much good against most of New York's finest."
"It's okay," Ray said quietly, trying not to let the latest curve dig anyone's elbows into his ribs. "I'll get us in there."
"As I recall," Peter said, "that's almost exactly what you said when Egon here pointed out that you don't have a proton pack yet."
"No, I said I'd manage when we got there."
"Close enough. Care to let-" Peter grabbed for the door handle; Omar was a damned fine driver, but everyone else on the highway had gone insane today. "Care to let us in on your little secret?"
There was a spring poking into his butt and he didn't dare shift his weight to either side. "Not in here."
"And why not?" Peter asked.
"Because I don't think our driver wants me to turn his cab into a convertible."
"I most certainly do not," Omar returned. "Thank you very much, Dr. Stantz, but I like my car the way it is."
"No problem, Omar."
68th Street and Broadway
Manhattan
Under other circumstances Omar would have peeled away from the corner as fast as his car's engine could take him, but the instinct of self-preservation is occasionally thwarted, and this was one such occasion. The phenomenon in the sky was no mere blackening cloudbank, no atmospheric disturbance- oh, no. No indeed. It was wrong. Above the hulking forms of the apartment buildings on the block ahead of them there was a vast space of not there, a terrible swath of sky that made the eye water and the brain ache just to look at it, as if dimensions four through nineteen had ganged up on one, two, and three and thrown them bodily out of existence. It is very, very hard not to stare at something so wonderfully monstrous as that.
Save, perhaps, when the terrified sussurrus of crowds a full side-street deep gives way to exclamations. He jerked his attention back to street level, where the crowds were starting to point towards his passengers-
Merciful Allah! he thought. Where did that man get a lightsaber? It can't be real, can it?
Apparently the police officer at the edge of the crowd had the same question. And apparently Dr. Stantz was prepared for it, because a few seconds later the POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS saw-horse lay in two smoking halves on the ground.
The crowds parted; the men from the university went through; Omar looked up at the sky once more, got into his cab, and set a course for Parsippany, New Jersey just as fast as he could possibly go.