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Oct. 29th, 2006 08:23 pmMonday, October 30, 2006
Early Morning
NYC
The first flare went up silently in the steel-grey hours before dawn, arcing from a building on the fringes of Fort Greene park. The second rose in answer moments later, from the shores of what had once been called Wallabout Bay. There was a third, northward, lifting from Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, and a fourth from the Queens side of the Pulaski Bridge.
By the time the fifth silent pulse of psychokinetic energy flared in answer, lifting into the skies over the South Street Seaport, it was already too late.
"Guys! Guys, WAKE UP!" Janine shouted. Ray sat up, rubbing at his face, but it was Winston who spoke first.
"Janine?" Winston said. "What's going on? How come you're at work this early?"
"I woke up really early because I hadda get a glass of water and I looked out my window and I knew I hadda get here RIGHT AWAY." Janine threw the bunkroom light switch, ignoring Peter's inarticulate protests. "The river's glowing, guys. The whole thing's lit up like a Christmas tree- the water, the bridges, everything! It looks like it goes clear to Astoria- you better get up! The city's gonna be calling in-"
As if on cue, the telephone rang downstairs.
"I'll get it," Janine said. "You guys better get dressed."
The Ghostbusters looked at each other, shrugged, and reached for their clothes in silence- all except Ray, who pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes until the sparks came, and muttered, "I hate October!"
Ecto was waiting outside, engine running. The police were strung up and down North Moore Street on motorcycles and scooters, and to a man, appeared to be ignoring the fact that no one was actually behind the hearse's wheel. "Okay, Detective, what've we got?" Venkman asked of the bedraggled-looking Chen. "Glowing river, unidentified mid-air shinies-"
Chen took a long draught from his Queequeg's cup. "Goddamn lousy American coffee couldn't keep a hamster up at night," he muttered. "It's worse than that, Dr. Venkman. Way worse. There's no vehicular passage anywhere along the river. That light's all the way up on the shore on both sides of the East River. There's places we can't even get on the FDR. Brooklyn's just as screwed. It's worse in Queens- half of Ward's Island is glowing like two days after Chernobyl."
"Let me guess," said Ray as he slipped into the driver's seat. "The border's along the line of where you guys found all those offering bundles."
"Exactamundo," Chen said, knocking back what was left of his coffee. "Not to put too fine a point on it, gentlemen, but we are screwed."
"Buck up, little camper!" Peter said. "We're on the job and ready to go. Lead the way, will you?"
Chen crumpled the green paper cup up in one hand. "Near as we can tell, the center of the phenomenon's in northern Brooklyn," he said. "Only problem is, none of the bridges are accessible, and the tunnel's been closed off for repair work for the past two days. We're gonna have to get you guys in over the Triboro. YO! Montoya! I'm gonna need a couple gallons of coffee from somewhere that doesn't suck!"
"Man, they weren't kidding about how far this thing went," Winston said as he stared out Ecto's front passenger window. "It's coming up the side streets and everything."
"That's just the reflection," said Egon grimly, fiddling with his latest iteration of the PKE meter. "The actual dome's not expanding. It's just getting stronger. What you're seeing is the reflection of the increased ionization across the planar barrier."
"Great, Egon, now can you explain it in English?"
"The shell over the river is getting brighter because it's pulling in more of the city's ambient spiritual energy, Peter. Someone is forcing psychokinetic energy into a type of barricade that keeps both the living and the dead from crossing. It's also being channeled in one direction- northward, or possibly northeast. I can't tell at this distance."
"So what's that mean for us?" Winston asked.
"It means that someone is doing something very, very big, and that the energy currents over the river are only the beginning," Egon said. "Somebody- our mystery Santeria practitioner- is calling something potentially enormous into the world, using the shores of the East River as their guidelines, and focusing all their efforts on directing it to a particular place."
"Any clue as to where?" Ray asked; he was too busy following the motorcycle cops to participate in the discussion.
"Astoria, I think. Potentially somewhere in the river itself. We never did determine the northern bound of those offerings."
Ray resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and kept driving.
"Well, gentlemen, here we are," said Detective Chen. "Suggestions?"
Ray leaned out Ecto's driver-side window and stared. Peter whistled. "I think you're right, Detective," he said. "We're screwed."
There is something about a shimmering ectoplasmic green barricade blocking off half the Manhattan span of the Triboro Bridge, all the Queens span, everything between the two spans, and the entirety of the Hellgate railroad bridge besides that does that to a man's sense of optimism.
"Not what I wanted to hear- hey, what's he doing?"
Ray had hopped out of Ecto and pulled his ecto-goggles down. He stared up and down at the green shell, considering it thoughtfully; at one point he reached forward and poked it with a single gloved finger. He yanked it back hastily. "That's gonna be a problem," he said, turning. "I think we- oh, crap."
The Ghostbusters blinked, almost in unison.
"Guys?" Ray said weakly. "I think you'd better have a look at this." He pointed southward, towards the part of the river that lay on the other side of Ward's Island.
It was difficult to make out the details from where they stood, thanks to the wall of energy, but there was very definitely something coming up the river. A lot of somethings. "What the heck is that?" Peter wondered.
"That," Ray said, adjusting his goggles, "would appear to be about... oh, I'd say several thousand foot soldiers. I could be wrong, but they look like they're in Revolutionary War-era uniforms. And they're pretty mad, by the look of it."
Chen looked down at his coffee cup mournfully.
"Excuse me, won't you?" said Ray. "I'll be right back."
"Where's he going?" Chen wondered aloud as Ray dashed for the door to the maintenance area on the left-hand side of the bridge.
Early Morning
NYC
The first flare went up silently in the steel-grey hours before dawn, arcing from a building on the fringes of Fort Greene park. The second rose in answer moments later, from the shores of what had once been called Wallabout Bay. There was a third, northward, lifting from Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, and a fourth from the Queens side of the Pulaski Bridge.
By the time the fifth silent pulse of psychokinetic energy flared in answer, lifting into the skies over the South Street Seaport, it was already too late.
"Guys! Guys, WAKE UP!" Janine shouted. Ray sat up, rubbing at his face, but it was Winston who spoke first.
"Janine?" Winston said. "What's going on? How come you're at work this early?"
"I woke up really early because I hadda get a glass of water and I looked out my window and I knew I hadda get here RIGHT AWAY." Janine threw the bunkroom light switch, ignoring Peter's inarticulate protests. "The river's glowing, guys. The whole thing's lit up like a Christmas tree- the water, the bridges, everything! It looks like it goes clear to Astoria- you better get up! The city's gonna be calling in-"
As if on cue, the telephone rang downstairs.
"I'll get it," Janine said. "You guys better get dressed."
The Ghostbusters looked at each other, shrugged, and reached for their clothes in silence- all except Ray, who pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes until the sparks came, and muttered, "I hate October!"
Ecto was waiting outside, engine running. The police were strung up and down North Moore Street on motorcycles and scooters, and to a man, appeared to be ignoring the fact that no one was actually behind the hearse's wheel. "Okay, Detective, what've we got?" Venkman asked of the bedraggled-looking Chen. "Glowing river, unidentified mid-air shinies-"
Chen took a long draught from his Queequeg's cup. "Goddamn lousy American coffee couldn't keep a hamster up at night," he muttered. "It's worse than that, Dr. Venkman. Way worse. There's no vehicular passage anywhere along the river. That light's all the way up on the shore on both sides of the East River. There's places we can't even get on the FDR. Brooklyn's just as screwed. It's worse in Queens- half of Ward's Island is glowing like two days after Chernobyl."
"Let me guess," said Ray as he slipped into the driver's seat. "The border's along the line of where you guys found all those offering bundles."
"Exactamundo," Chen said, knocking back what was left of his coffee. "Not to put too fine a point on it, gentlemen, but we are screwed."
"Buck up, little camper!" Peter said. "We're on the job and ready to go. Lead the way, will you?"
Chen crumpled the green paper cup up in one hand. "Near as we can tell, the center of the phenomenon's in northern Brooklyn," he said. "Only problem is, none of the bridges are accessible, and the tunnel's been closed off for repair work for the past two days. We're gonna have to get you guys in over the Triboro. YO! Montoya! I'm gonna need a couple gallons of coffee from somewhere that doesn't suck!"
"Man, they weren't kidding about how far this thing went," Winston said as he stared out Ecto's front passenger window. "It's coming up the side streets and everything."
"That's just the reflection," said Egon grimly, fiddling with his latest iteration of the PKE meter. "The actual dome's not expanding. It's just getting stronger. What you're seeing is the reflection of the increased ionization across the planar barrier."
"Great, Egon, now can you explain it in English?"
"The shell over the river is getting brighter because it's pulling in more of the city's ambient spiritual energy, Peter. Someone is forcing psychokinetic energy into a type of barricade that keeps both the living and the dead from crossing. It's also being channeled in one direction- northward, or possibly northeast. I can't tell at this distance."
"So what's that mean for us?" Winston asked.
"It means that someone is doing something very, very big, and that the energy currents over the river are only the beginning," Egon said. "Somebody- our mystery Santeria practitioner- is calling something potentially enormous into the world, using the shores of the East River as their guidelines, and focusing all their efforts on directing it to a particular place."
"Any clue as to where?" Ray asked; he was too busy following the motorcycle cops to participate in the discussion.
"Astoria, I think. Potentially somewhere in the river itself. We never did determine the northern bound of those offerings."
Ray resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and kept driving.
"Well, gentlemen, here we are," said Detective Chen. "Suggestions?"
Ray leaned out Ecto's driver-side window and stared. Peter whistled. "I think you're right, Detective," he said. "We're screwed."
There is something about a shimmering ectoplasmic green barricade blocking off half the Manhattan span of the Triboro Bridge, all the Queens span, everything between the two spans, and the entirety of the Hellgate railroad bridge besides that does that to a man's sense of optimism.
"Not what I wanted to hear- hey, what's he doing?"
Ray had hopped out of Ecto and pulled his ecto-goggles down. He stared up and down at the green shell, considering it thoughtfully; at one point he reached forward and poked it with a single gloved finger. He yanked it back hastily. "That's gonna be a problem," he said, turning. "I think we- oh, crap."
The Ghostbusters blinked, almost in unison.
"Guys?" Ray said weakly. "I think you'd better have a look at this." He pointed southward, towards the part of the river that lay on the other side of Ward's Island.
It was difficult to make out the details from where they stood, thanks to the wall of energy, but there was very definitely something coming up the river. A lot of somethings. "What the heck is that?" Peter wondered.
"That," Ray said, adjusting his goggles, "would appear to be about... oh, I'd say several thousand foot soldiers. I could be wrong, but they look like they're in Revolutionary War-era uniforms. And they're pretty mad, by the look of it."
Chen looked down at his coffee cup mournfully.
"Excuse me, won't you?" said Ray. "I'll be right back."
"Where's he going?" Chen wondered aloud as Ray dashed for the door to the maintenance area on the left-hand side of the bridge.
