GHOSTBUSTERS: The Return Page 5

  Egon used his PKE meter to sweep the area. "All clear."

  That gave the Ghostbusters the breathing room to slip their nutrona wands back in their sheaths and assess their personal damage. "Everyone okay?" Ray called.

  Egon and Winston told him they were fine. They picked bits of toilet paper off their uniforms and waved the wet parts of their jumpsuits back and forth in a vain attempt to dry them quickly.

  With a stab of concern, Ray realized that Venkman hadn't answered. He stepped quickly over to Venkman's stall. "Peter?"

  "Oh, I'm just dandy," Venkman said. He stepped out to reveal that his head and torso were covered in dripping, funky-smelling ectoplasmic slime - a souvenir of the alligator flying through his chest. He swept a hand across his face, then shook it to dislodge a large glob of slime. "But can someone please tell me why I'm always the one who gets slimed?"

  Louis tapped his foot nervously. "For lunch, I was thinking maybe we could go to that macrobiotic restaurant on Greene Street. See, from noon to two, they have an all-you can-eat brown rice bar for only $12.95 per person."

  "That's fine, Louis," Janine said. "but I told you, I can't leave the office unattended. I have to wait here until someone else comes back."

  "Did you tell them we had lunch plans?"

  "I'm sorry, sugar bear, but it's an emergency. At a school."

  "Sure, I understand," he replied, checking his watch for the fourth time in about five minutes. "It's just that, based on my figures, if we each take three helpings at the buffet and it amounts to more than three cups of rice apiece, that would be a savings of twenty-three percent over the regular menu price."

  "Y'know, you can take your coat off and sit down if you want."

  "Oh, no, thanks I'll just leave it on, in case they come back."

  Janine ran an emery board around the edges of her thumbnail, then blew off the shavings. "Suit yourself."

  Louis kept tapping his foot. He hummed a bit, trying to appear nonchalant. But he couldn't contain himself. "Of course, if they're not back by two o'clock, then we'll miss the buffet. So in that case, we'll get a better deal if we go to Natalio's for their ten-percent-off Tuesday special. I have it all worked out on a color-coded flow chart..."

  Janine rose from her chair and moved close to him. "You're so organized. I just love that in a man..."

  "You do?"

  "Mm-hmm." They leaned in toward each other, their lips drawing near.

  "Awwwwwwww..." squealed Slimer. The potato-shaped ghost floated nearby with a moon-faced expression and a mouth overflowing with uncooked pancake batter.

  At just that moment, the front doors opened, and the Ectomobile pulled into the parking bay. Ray and Egon followed in its wake, deep in conversation. As was usually the case when they got into one of these kinds of discussions, Janine couldn't make heads or tails of what they were tanking about. In fact, she'd long since decided that it wasn't even worth trying.

  "...took some ambient Kirlian readings on our way back," Egon said.

  "Let me guess. Off the scale?"

  "Not even in the same zip code as the scale."

  Ray frowned. "Hmmm. Was the phenomenon localized around the school?"

  "Mostly. But not as much as I'd like."

  "Sounds like there could be something big brewing."

  "I'd say. A lot bigger than just a few spectral alligators."

  Louis tugged excitedly on Janine's sleeve. "Great! They're back! Come on! If we hurry, they might still have some of the preservative-free, whole grain dessert left at the buffet!"

  "In a minute. I just have to give them their messages." Janine started to walk toward the Ectomobile, but she slowed and stopped about halfway there, trying to figure out what was going on. Winston had gotten out of the driver's seat and opened the back door. He was gingerly reaching down toward the person inside.

  "Easy, Peter. We're back. Let me help you. Careful, try not to get anymore on the seat."

  With Winston's help, Venkman stepped out of the car. He was moving stiffly, and it took a second for him to get his footing. The cause was fairly obvious, though. He was covered from head to toe in greenish, mucus-like slime. The dripping substance oozed down his body and was already starting to pool at his feet.

  "I'm showering here, you know," Venkman said. "I'm not having this stuff clog up my drain again. Last time, it attacked the plumber and tried to mate with his snake."

  Janine took a good look at Venkman, then gave a dismissive wave. Slimed again. No biggie.

  She stepped crisply over to them. "Hi, boys," she said. They mumbled greetings as they started to unpack the Ectomobile.

  She flipped through a handful of small pieces of paper. "You got a bunch of calls while You were out. Doctor Spengler, the Psychical Research Society called to remind you that they still haven't received your renewal yet, and they want to know if you're coming to the annual dinner and seance."

  "I guess so. I'm supposed to give the keynote chant."

  Janine handed him the paper and went on to the next one. "The Mayor's office called. He's coming down here in an hour and a half to hold a press conference out front."

  As one, they groaned. "He's coming here?" Egon said. "He never comes here."

  "Election year," said Ray.

  Winston opened the back of the Ectomobile. He started pulling out piles of smoking traps, and passed handfuls to Ray and Egon. "Not to mention we just saved a school full of kids. Now, that's a photo op."

  "Oh, well. Anything for me?" Ray asked Janine.

  "No. But Doctor Venkman got three calls from a Mister Gary Milken."

  "Gary who?"

  "Probably a telemarketer," said Venkman. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

  "Okay," said Ray. "We'll stash the livestock in the containment unit."

  "Or the walking deadstock," said Egon. The three of them headed downstairs to transfer the trapped ghostly alligators into the high-tech storage unit in the basement.

  Venkman started to make his way laboriously upstairs. He was on the second step when Louis called after him "Well, I guess I'll be taking lanine to lunch now. If we catch the traffic lights just right, we can still..."

  Venkrnan moved down a step and looked at him with a fixed, irritated stare. Slime dripped from his arm as he waved around at the otherwise empty room. "Don't you think someone should be here to man the phones and door?"

  "Well, you're back now. Can't you do it?"

  Venkman glared at him. All was silent, apart from the gentle plip plip of dripping slime.

  Louis shifted nervously. "I, um, I guess we could wait five minutes."

  "Thank you," said Venkman.

  Once again, he started up the steps. But before he got beyond the third step, he heard a deep voice from the parking bay. "Excuse me, Doctor Venkman?"

  He looked down to see a group of well-dressed men in designer suits. He stared at them with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd been dipped in ectoplasmic slime and would really prefer to be standing in a hot shower. "Yes?"

  The gray-haired man in front of the group stepped forward and extended a hand. "Gary Milken."

  Resignedly, Venkman walked back down the stairs. "Most persistent telemarketer I've ever seen. You must work on commission."

  "I'm sorry?"

  Venkman shook his hand, coating it with slime. "Never mind. Let me guess. The ghost of your greatgrandmother won't get out of your rumpus room, the walls are dripping blood, and you keep hearing a voice that whispers, 'Get out of the house.' Well, Ms. Melnitz here will be happy to assist you. And in the meantune, please...stay out of the house." He released Milken's hand and started back toward the stairs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very important date with a shower."

  Milken chuckled. "I'm afraid there's been something of a misunderstanding." He produced a handkerchief in his left hand and casually used it to wipe the slime off his right, as though this sort of thing happened to him every day. He passed the wet, greasy handkerchief off to a young man behind
him, who looked at it distastefully before sticking it gingerly in his pocket. "We're not here to hire the Ghostbusters. We're here because of you."

  "Oh," said Venkrnan. "Well, if you're here to deliver a subpoena, it's not really a good time right now."

  "No, no, nothing like that. We represent the New York State Independent Party. Ordinarily, I would have waited for you to return my calls, but I understand you're scheduled to participate in a press conference with the Mayor in a little while. I wanted to be sure to catch you before then."

  Despite the waiting shower, Venhnan had to admit that he was starting to get curious. "Why's that?"

  "Doctor Venkman, do you know when the New York State Independent Party won its last mayoral election?"

  "Mmm...no, can't say as I do."

  "1926. We'd like to change that."

  "So you came all the way down here to ask me to vote for you? I don't want to criticize your campaign strategy, but at this speed, you should finish off the voters in Manhattan by the year 2620. Then, of course, there's Brooklyn..."

  One of the well-dressed men behind Milken muttered to the equally groomed man beside him. "Jumps to a lot of conclusions, doesn't he?"

  "Yes," muttered his neighbor, "but he's quick on his feet. And witty."

  "Witty's good."

  Milken continued as though he hadn't noticed them. "We're here for much more than your vote, Doctor Venkman," he said with a winning smile. "To defeat Mayor Lapinski in this year's race, we'll need a special candidate - one with the commitment and charisma to lead this city out of its current hole and into a bright new future. We think you've got what it takes to do it.

  "Doctor Venkman, how would you like to be Mayor of New York City?"

  Venkman stared at him, not quite understanding any of this, let alone believing it. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was speechless. "M-me. . . ?"

  "Who better? You've devoted your life to helping others. While the current administration spends its time down in City Hall, kowtowing to the special interests, you're out there in the streets every day, keeping the public safe."

  "But - but I'm not a politician..."

  "We see that as a plus. The voters are tired of politicians. They don't trust them."

  Venkman's brain was racing so fast that he was having trouble keeping up with it. It wasn't a question that he had ever expected to hear. All his life, his approach to the world had been an ongoing series of hustles, scams, and dodges seeing just how much he could get away with instead of really working at anything. Even when he was six years old and subcontracting his paper route to the neighborhood kids, Venkman was always looking for an angle.

  In fact, that's what had drawn him toward parapsychology in the first place. It was all so nebulous that universities would give him a paycheck without him actually having to deliver anything of substance. And when they did finally catch on and the cash cow went off to pasture, he convinced Ray and Egon to start up Ghostbusters. Of course, at the time, he never suspected that they'd actually wind up catching ghosts - or risking their lives doing it. But even with all the risks, it still beat working a "real" job.

  And now these people were asking him whether he wanted to take the reins of one of the largest and most prominent cities in the world? Whether he wanted to spend his days managing the million different tasks that made the city run? Whether he wanted to hold the final sign-off on the police, the civil services, and city contractors?

  This was...

  It was...

  It could be...

  ...the greatest scam on Earth!

  Forget about the nice house, he thought. Forget the endless stream of free dinners and all the famous rich people coming to you, begging for favors. Forget about never having to pay attention to parking laws or traffic lights. Just imagine what you could do with a gazilliondollar city budget - every year!

  Venkrnan left the stairs to greet the group with a broad smile. "Gentlemen," he said, "You've got yourselves a candidate."

  Milken ignored the slime as he grasped Venkman's hand warmly in both of his own. "Excellent!" he said. "Welcome aboard. I foresee great things in our future."

  "Gary, you have no idea."

  Janine and Louis stared at each other in disbelief. "Mayor Venkman?" said Louis.

  "I wonder if there's still time to move to Jersey," said Janine.

  The politicians in the room seemed much more enthusiastic. Unlike Milken, the rest of his team found it harder to forget about the slime. But despite some frowns and wincing, there were hearty handshakes all around.

  "Now. don't worry," Milken told him. "I recognize that your experience running a city government is. .shall we say, limited. That's why we're going to pair you up with a deputy mayor who knows more about the ins and outs of this city than any man alive." He pulled over a small, balding man with wire-rimmed glasses and a combover. "Sid here served as auditor, city planner, and ombudsman in three separate administrations. He'll be there by your side, every step of the way."

  For the second time that day, Venkman was speechless. Auditor? Ombudsman? All the dozens of schemes that had flooded his mind in the past ten seconds were evaporating just as quickly.

  But he recovered fast. There might still be a way out of this.

  Venkman threw a slimy arm around Milken and steered him away from the crowd. "Y'know, Gary," he said, "I'm sure Sid's great. He seems very talented, and that hairdo - well, what can I say? It's a chick magnet. But if you want to build this campaign as an alternative to the usual politicians and party line, maybe it would be better to go with someone who has less experience."

  Milken's eyes narrowed with interest. "What would you suggest?"

  "Someone fresh - unsullied by the machinations of the political machine. Someone who could spend time focusing on this big, beautiful city instead of all the nitty-gritty little details. Someone who wouldn't get thrown by new ideas, just because they're not the way things have always been done."

  "Hey, what's going on? Winston had a puzzled look as he came back up from the basement.

  "Someone," Venkman said, "like him."

  Milken studied Winston for a moment, considering the point. "Hmmm...two Ghostbusters," he said, mulling it over.

  "But people don't vote for deputy mayor," said one of the well-dressed men behind him. "It's an appointed position."

  "True," said another. "But we play up the idea. With Peter Venkman, you don't just get one man, you get a team. Two local heroes for the price of one."

  "Interesting," said a third.

  The second man consulted a file folder. "He's got a nice background. Former Special Forces, Strategic Air Command training... There's the whole military hero/served his country angle."

  "He could bring in the minority vote," said a third.

  "Now, wait a minute..." said Sid.

  "Huh?" said Winston.

  "It's unconventional," said Milken.

  "I'd say 'unconventional' is what you were going for when you decided to recruit me," Venkman replied.

  "True," said Milken. "I can't can't say that the conventional approaches have paid off very well for us in the past eighty years." He gave Venkman a confident nod, and shook Winston's hand. "Mister Zeddemore, welcome to the team."