Original Story By Bo Holbrook
Revised Version by Bo Holbrook and Fritz Baugh
GBI Case File GBNS-1997-15/001
“You think they’ll come through this time?”
To which the blond haired one replied “They’d better--I’ve got a date tonight”
The dark haired young man was wearing a Ghostbusters shirt, his eyes masked by a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses. The blond one was dressed very well for someone his age--he fancied himself something of a ladies' man, after all…
“The apocalypse is coming and you’re still only concerned about getting laid.” quipped the dark haired young man.
“Man, you’re one of those glass is half empty types aren’t you?”
In response to this the dark haired young man promptly slapped the other young man in the back of the head.
“And if you say 'Watch the hair' I’m going to hit you again.” He added as the blond haired young man rubbed the back of his head, He says “You see? That’s that bullshit I’m talking about...”
As they watched, the cloud crept closer to land...
“I was watching that, Brother…”
“You were sleeping, asshole” replied the angry barfly
The long haired man looked at him for a second and shrugged his shoulders “Fair enough. Let me buy you a drink and we’ll call it square.” He said as he motioned for the bar tender. “Scotch on the rocks barmaid” As the bar tender turned his back the long haired man slammed the other man’s head against the top of the bar, knocking him out cold. H slumped over as if asleep. As the bar tender turns back around the long haired man took the scotch from him “He passed out. Change the channel.”
The bartender obliged and switched the channel back to the news. “Thanks” the long haired man says. He turned his attention back to the TV.
"We interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast with a special news update. Reports indicate the Ghostbusters have mobilized on Liberty Island in an effort to stop the ominous dark fog which is heading for Manhattan. We go now live to our field reporter Frank Wilson.”
It switched over to a live feed of a birds eye view of the fight inside a news chopper.
“Thanks Tom, Frank Wilson here with a live view of the action from here high above the Statue of Liberty and it truly is a site to behold. The Ghostbusters fight the ominous black fog which seems to move with a life of its own. If you look closely you can actually see tentacles reach from within the black fog and try to grab the Ghostbusters. As far as we can tell they have at least 4 men on the ground and several in a chopper flyin…. OH GOD!”
The angle of the camera jerked violently as the 2 choppers nearly collided in mid air. When things came back into focus it became obvious the news chopper was heading for the black cloud...
Then the feed was lost, the screen filling with snow. The station cut back to the main news desk.
The long haired man’s eyes went wide as he promptly sprayed his scotch on the rocks all over the bar.
Back on the TV the news caster looked just as stunned. “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know what happened to our field reporter Frank. Apparently we lost the feed as they were heading towards the black cloud. I can only speculate at this point but our prayers are with Frank and we hope he makes it out okay. We’ll bring you any updates on the situation as they come to us. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.”
“I gotta to go...” The long-haired man tossed some cash on the bar and ran outside. He went up to a black hearse parked there--his hearse. He hopped inside and peeled out for parts unknown.
Though only eighteen, the young woman was already a Sophomore--she'd accellerated through high school and graduated two years early, a commendable academic accomplishment to anybody's eyes. As long as nobody reminded her she had an uncle who got his first college degree at age twelve...
She pushed a stray blonde hair out of her face and grunted with disapproval, her intense hazel eyes flashing with frustration. How in the name of the spirits am I supposed to study with her and her boyfriend making out on the couch?
She got up to go admonish them, her gaze lingering for a second on a newspaper from the previous Friday she'd kept. The headline read "Back In the Saddle?", and pictured four men in their fourties, all wearing flight suits and bulky electronic packs, posed pointing at the camera and three of them mugging for it. Only the tallest one seemed a bit uncomfortable.
The tall man with hair the same blond as the young woman's, and blue eyes with the same intensity.
“Jesus, Could you two give it a rest? That couch is dirty enough, without you dribbling bodily fluids all over it.” the young woman started to say, but the couple had already stopped. They were transfixed by what was happening on the TV.
"...To repeat, Mayor MacShayne has ordered the evacuation of the downtown business districts of Manhattan as the mysterious grey cloud continues to advance. He urges all citizens to stay in their homes until the emergency passes. He confirms that the Ghostbusters--both the new team and the original one, which miraculously returned to action last week, are attempting to deal with the problem..."
The woman's brow knit. It's time... she told herself, reaching into her shirt to pull out one of her most treasured posessions...
"If you stay here, maybe someday you can be a Ghostbuster again." she had told him ten years and a week ago.
In response, his face formed one of the few genuine smiles it ever allowed itself. "Perhaps so, Jennifer. And if that ever does happen..." he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key she now held. "You may come visit me at the Firehouse. This key will get you in."