by Nancy Holder
“Look at yourself!” Abby shouted. “You look ridiculous! Running around here. Can’t even catch a bunch of girls. You don’t seem very powerful.”
Abby powered up and zapped him a little with her proton pack. He growled back and then snapped at her with a mouth big enough to swallow a small airplane.
“Yeah, you don’t like that, do you?”
She zapped him a little more, a little longer. Same spot. He growled louder, and clearly pissed off, moved out from behind cover to try to grab her and smash her like a bug.
Erin knew what was coming; it was exactly what she would have done. Abby fired her proton beam right into his interstate cloverleaf of a crotch. Howling in pain, Ghost Rowan let go of the beanstalk.
“Okay, I have his attention—”
Abby turned and ran, flipping him the middle finger behind her. Ghost Rowan boomed after her, the suction of the portal helping him gather speed. Abby was almost to the sidewalk when the fire truck cable came up taut, stopping her cold and jerking her backward.
“Oh no—” Erin said. Abby was stuck in place with Ghost Rowan bearing down fast. There was enough cable before. Erin looked closer. A loop of it had gotten caught under the fire truck. As she started to run to it, she shouted, “Hold on! I’ll get it loose!”
Abby looked over her shoulder. Ghost Rowan was only two giant ghost-steps away.
“There’s no time,” she said. And with that, Abby untied the cable from her body.
“No, wait!” Erin cried.
Freed, Abby ran and without hesitation jumped into the portal’s spinning eye just as Erin unsnagged the cable. Propelled by the vortex’s suction and his own insane fury, Ghost Rowan dove into the portal right behind her.
Patty, Holtzmann, and Erin stood there in shock and disbelief as Ghost Rowan vanished. They were both gone. Forever. Erin took a step forward, suddenly choked up and at a loss for words.
“Abby—” she said. Then …
No way. Not like this.
Picking up the end of the cable, she charged toward the portal. As she ran she tied it around her waist, cinching the knot tight as she leapt off the sidewalk, legs driving for distance like an Olympic long jumper. She fell through the portal opening headfirst.
“Erin!” Patty cried in horror as the portal’s spinning slowed and it finally began to close.
Its final blast of unearthly light and sound knocked the two surviving Ghostbusters off their feet. Overhead, the dark clouds faded and daylight returned. It was over.
They sat up and watched smoke rise from the sealed portal; it grew thicker and thicker, obscuring their view. Neither of them could speak. Then, shooomp! As if they had been shot out of a cannon, Erin and Abby burst from the portal and crashed to the ground.
Holtzmann and Patty ran over to help them. Both were covered in ectoplasm and looked bewildered. Also, their hair had turned stark white.
“Oh!” Patty said, looking at their hair.
The Mercado building re-formed, all the chunks of plaster, shattered glass, and tenants’ possessions—clothes, body creams, Bee Gee records, and porn magazines—streamed back into the structure, ostensibly returning to cabinets, nightstands, and between mattresses and box springs.
“What did I just see?” Abby said in wonder.
“What year is it?” Erin said, dazed.
“Twenty forty,” Holtzmann said, keeping a straight face. “Welcome back.”
Abby and Erin looked around, then said in unison, “We did it?”
“You did it,” Holtzmann said.
“We all did it,” Erin said.
It was a truly joyful moment.
“That’s right,” Kevin said, leaning casually against a building. “We all did it.” He smiled proudly.
“All right,” Erin said, “we didn’t all do it. What did you do?”
“A lot, actually. I’ll have you know I went over to that power box”—he gestured—“pushed a few buttons, then everything got sucked into the portal and it closed up.”
“That had nothing to do with anything!” Erin protested.
“No,” Abby said, “that may have helped. Good for you, Kevin!”
“It did not help!” Erin said, noticing that he was holding a half-eaten sub. “Where did you get that sandwich?”
“I was looking for you and I looked in that deli over there.” He smiled kindly and wisely at her, like a cut-rate version of Obi-Wan Kenobi. “Listen—let’s not turn on each other now. That’s not what the Ghostbusters are about.”
“He has a good point,” Abby said.
24
On a TV, the channels kept changing.
Click:
The reporter was saying, “—in the aftermath, still trying to understand what happened—”
Click:
The reporter on another channel: “—the government trying to claim the event wasn’t supernatural—”
Click:
A man on the street: “I’m telling you, I did not evacuate. I saw this shit. I got in a cab being driven by a skeleton. Don’t tell me that was no science experiment gone wrong.”
Click:
A reporter was asking Mayor Bradley: “You’re honestly going to sit here and tell me that we didn’t see ghosts and our water was tainted with hallucinogens by terrorists?”
“Yes,” His Honor said firmly. Then he blinked. “Wait. What?”
Click:
Another reporter: “—the Ghostbusters have been quiet about taking credit—”
A smiling woman shook her head. “Oh, it was the Ghostbusters. I saw them. It was bad. Ass.”
Click:
The channel changed to a Yankees baseball game.
The TV was hanging on the wall of a crowded family-style restaurant. Erin watched tables of people talking and laughing while others got into the game. Then she turned her attention back to her tablemates: Patty, Abby, and Holtzmann. She and Abby had dyed their hair back, but it looked a bit off—the same, but different somehow. Holtz said they looked edgy. Erin wondered if she could embrace the edge with as much enthusiasm as she had embraced the cusp.
Abby was craning her neck around looking for a waitress. Erin figured that if hottie Kevin had shown up by now, they’d certainly have drinks and probably free snacks, too.
“Saved New York and we still can’t get someone to serve us,” Abby grumbled. Holtzmann stood, raised a drink, and said, “I’d like to make a toast.”
Erin made a show of rolling her eyes. “Oh, here we go.” She prepared herself for a sly joke or maybe even a Class 6 prank.
“When I first met Abby,” she began, “I was so happy to finally have my first real friend. And now with all of you, I have my first real family.” Her eyes gleamed. “I truly love you guys.”
She sat down. Erin could see that the others were as startled by Holtz’s lack of teasing as she was.
“Damn, that was like a real thing,” Patty said.
It was a bonding moment, sweet and real. Their relationships had been tested in the crucible of an interdimensional apocalypse, and they had come out best friends forever—“forever” being a metaphorical term … or maybe not …
Then who should come crawling out of the varnished oak woodwork but Jennifer Lynch. She snaked over in her snaky way and said, “What did I tell you? People always move on. We want to thank you for your discretion. It’s not working at all. But thank you.”
Erin smiled good-naturedly at her. “It’s better to keep a low profile. Who cares about credit? Let’s just focus on the important stuff.” She loved how Abby smiled at her in return. I’ve learned my lesson. And boy, was it the hard way.
“I’m sorry we can’t give you any kind of formal recognition,” Ms. Lynch continued, “but please know that what you did was phenomenal.”
Patty spoke for the group. “We appreciate that.”
“Mayor Bradley also sends his thanks. He couldn’t voice that out loud, but he said it with his eyes,” his assistant added.
; Holtz went next. “Tell him I said…” And she stared back at Ms. Lynch with her eyes.
I love that sassy woman, Erin thought.
“Well, we’d like you to continue studying this … subject,” Ms. Lynch said. “We need to be better prepared. Just in case. Whatever you need to keep you going. Anything at all.”
Holtz got a calculating look. “Anything?”
The hive mind buzzed as the Ghostbusters pondered the vast possibilities of “anything.” They exchanged looks. And smiled.
* * *
A few days later, they stood across the street from the beautiful firehouse with its loft sleeping accommodations and its monthly rent of twenty-one thousand dollars. They had taken the mayor at his word and now this beauty was theirs.
“Oh, hell yes,” Patty crowed.
She and Holtzmann ran off toward it, with Holtzmann shouting, “I claim the upstairs!”
“You can’t claim an entire floor!” Patty protested.
“Just did!” Holtzmann riposted.
Erin and Abby shared a moment. This was their doing. Victory was so very sweet.
“Not bad, Ghost Girl,” Abby drawled.
“Thank you.” Erin inclined her head graciously. “I will proudly take that title.”
After exchanging warm smiles, they attempted the elaborate Abby/Holtz handshake. Fingers, thumbs, and elbows went every which way—a total disaster.
“We’ll get our own,” Abby promised her.
Their reverie was broken when a black hearse with a red roof slowly rolled up to them. Both of them blanched, and Erin said under her breath, “Oh no. Is that…?”
“Patty’s uncle,” Abby confirmed.
Patty’s uncle Bill hopped out of the hearse. He was not smiling and telling them they were awesome. He was frowning.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
Patty marched out. “I already told you.”
He scowled. “I don’t want to hear that my hearse is in another dimension!”
Patty was indignant. “Look, if I could cross over and get it for you, I would!”
They began to argue. Abby nudged Erin and said, “Let’s let them work it out.”
And they did just that.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, they had mostly moved everything in. Although there were still a few boxes to unpack, they had settled into their new home.
The more things changed, the more they remained the same: that evening, Abby was standing outside the main door dealing with Benny, the Chinese food delivery guy. He favored her with a knowing nod as he handed her their take-out order. Abby pulled out her soup. It was packed tight with wontons. It was all wontons and no broth.
“I know what you did,” Benny declared. His eyes sparkled with hero worship.
Abby flushed. “All right, don’t get weird on me.”
“You’re very brave.”
“All I want is a healthy ration of wontons to broth, not this madness. This is just a science laboratory. Keep it cool.”
He nodded, his eyes still sparkling. Abby walked over to Erin, who was opening up a box.
“The new book?” Abby said excitedly.
“It’s here.” Erin was just as excited. She pulled out a copy of their brand-new book and examined the back cover. They had updated their author photo. They’d decided on black turtlenecks again. You don’t mess with the classics.
Abby took it and read the cover.
“Ah,” she began. “A Glimpse into the Unknown—”
“Oh, did we go with the shorter title?” Erin asked, confused. “I thought—”
Abby gave her a look and continued. “‘A Journey into a Portal: Catching Sight of the Other Dimension: Discovering the Undiscoverable: A Curiosity Piqued and Peaked.’”
Erin smiled. She had gotten her way.
“I still think we should’ve gone with There and Back Again: A Scientist’s Tale.”
“Well, next time.” No way.
The phone rang. Kevin was at his desk and he picked up the phone on the first try. He was finally getting it right.
“Ghostbusters,” he said into the speaker. “Please give a detailed description of your apparition.”
Abby gave Kevin the thumbs-up as she and Erin passed his desk. As they continued walking, Abby handed Erin an envelope. It was from Columbia University. Erin deliberately did not react.
“Something fancy for you there,” Abby said, and there was uncertainty in her voice.
“Not really interested.” Erin tore the envelope in half.
Abby’s brows shot up. “Really? Wow.”
“What would I want with those people? We’ve got a good thing here.” Then, because she didn’t want to fly under false colors, she revealed the truth. “Also, I recognized that envelope. It’s just the alumni office asking for contributions.”
Abby ducked her head. “But still. I can’t help but notice how you’ve been keeping it real low key. Working hard getting this place together.”
“Well, we’ve got a lot to do.”
They reached Holtzmann, who was tinkering with some new gadgets. Everything looked very impressive and rather fanciful.
“Speaking of which,” Erin said, “how are you doing over here?”
Holtzmann’s natural enthusiasm could not be suppressed. “I am working on some next-level stuff. Real outside the box, like ‘put me back in the box because I’m scared of what I’m doing’ sort of stuff.” She made an “eee” face.
Abby checked out the large containment unit. “This thing running?”
“Quite smoothly,” Holtzmann said with pride. “I would say don’t be in a room with it for longer than an hour at any one time.”
“Well, I think we can probably aim higher,” Erin ventured. She was about to go on when she noticed a woman in gloves studying some wires behind the unit. She had steampunk stylings—a brown waistcoat over a white blouse and flared trousers. Also, the same “Screw U” pendant as Holtz.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Erin said, alarmed. “I didn’t see anyone there.”
“You haven’t met?” Holtzmann asked. “This is my mentor.”
Elizabeth Gorin, Erin filled in.
Abby said, “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet—”
“This is reckless, Jillian,” Dr. Gorin admonished her protégée. “You’re breeding fissile plutonium with insufficient criticality moderation. All someone has to do is sneeze too hard and everyone in this building is disintegrated. Do you know how powerful that is?”
Holtzmann shuffled her feet. “I was bad.”
Dr. Gorin thwacked off her gloves, put them on the counter, and stared at Holtzmann.
“And I’ve never been more proud of you,” she said warmly, gathering Holtzmann up in a hug. “Now let’s make this more powerful, shall we?”
“Yeah.” Holtzmann was totally in.
Erin smiled, but she was a little freaked. “Yay … power within reason.”
“But don’t limit yourselves,” Abby said.
“Definitely not,” Erin amended. “But at the same time, imagine a ‘responsible cap.’” She made air quotes.
Just then, Patty ran downstairs. She wore an ear-to-ear grin.
“Hey, you gotta check this out! Come up to the roof!” she told the group.
Erin, Abby, and Holtzmann headed up, while Dr. Gorin stayed behind, smiling after them.
Once they were all assembled on the starlit rooftop, Patty opened her arms to the skyline of midtown Manhattan. She said, “I guess it’s a thank-you from New York.”
It was a panorama of gratitude written in lights on the tops of buildings, in lights on the sides of buildings:
We ♥ GB
We ♥ New York
Thank you GB
You rock GB
GB Forever
Even the Empire State Building was lit up with the Ghostbusters logo on the side.
Wow, Erin thought, and we’re not even in Star Wars. It was a truly special moment.
&
nbsp; “That’s very thoughtful of them,” Holtzmann said.
“Well, that’s not terrible,” Abby deadpanned.
“No, it’s not.” Erin was happy, so happy. “Not terrible at all.”
As they admired the show, more lights came on up and down the city, revealing dozens of logos—and more messages of thank-you from the people of New York. People who knew that four intrepid women had literally saved them from a fate worse than death.
And that’s why we did it, Erin thought, and if need be, why we’ll do it again.
The expressions on the faces of her sister Ghostbusters assured her that they were all thinking the same thing:
We will protect this city from ghoulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night.
EPILOGUE
And so they kept researching the paranormal and fine-tuning their PKE readers and taking lots of notes and eating lots of wonton soup. Benny the delivery guy had developed a massive crush on Abby, and Erin was trying to get her to agree to go out on a date. Dr. Gorin was helping Holtzmann refine the containment unit.
About a month after New York had thanked them, Patty was listening to EVP recordings they had made during their initial consultation with a new client, a woman who claimed to hear whispering at night in her living room.
She sat wearing headphones listening to white noise. Nothing. Then … something. Her brows rose. She rewound the tape and turned up the volume. Then she wrote a note, her forehead furrowed, and took off her headphones. She looked at the other Ghostbusters with consternation.
“What’s up?” Erin asked. “Did you get something?”
“Yeah,” Patty replied. “What’s ‘Zuul’?”
www.tor-forge.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NANCY HOLDER has published more than eighty books and two hundred short stories. She has received five Bram Stoker awards from the Horror Writers Association, a Scribe Award from the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers, and a Pioneer Award from RT Book Reviews. Her books, which have been translated into more than two dozen languages, include The Rules and the New York Times bestselling series Wicked. She is on the faculty of the Stonecoast MFA in Creative Writing program offered through the University of Southern Maine and lives in San Diego with the writer Mark Mandell. You can sign up for email updates here.