GHOSTBUSTERS: The Return Read online

  "Huh?" said Winston.

  "Now, we'd better let you get to that shower," Milken told Venkman. "You've got a lot of work ahead of you. We'll be in touch."

  Venkman saw them off with a flurry of waves, handshakes, and friendly slaps on the back.

  "Huh?" said Winston.

  Janine and Louis just stood there, stunned by the whole spectacle.

  Ray and Egon walked in from the basement, carrying armfuls of now-empty traps

  "Did we miss anything?" asked Ray.

  CHAPTER 5

  Even back in the days when the Ghostbusters' headquarters was still a fire station, the block had rarely been host to such excitement. The Mayor stood in front of the large bay doors, flanked by the Ghostbusters and his usual entourage. Beyond them was the crowd of reporters, with their microphones, cameras, and broadcast vans. Beyond that, the crowd multiplied with curious onlookers who'd been drawn by either the media circus, the rumors of the morning's events, or just a bit of free entertainment and a chance to sneak into the background on the TV news.

  "...another piece of evidence," the Mayor was saying, "Of the effectiveness of our campaign against quality of afterlife crimes. I'm especially glad to announce the safe rescue of these children, without the loss of a single life. As you all know, I have always been devoted to promoting the well-being of our children, because children are our future."

  The Mayor wrapped up his statement. "That's about it. So, if there are any questions... ?"

  A flurry of hands went up among the crowd of press people. "Does this mean there are more of these things in the sewers?" one asked.

  "We haven't seen any signs of it. Still, in the interest of public safety, I've ordered the DPW to check every sewer drain throughout the five boroughs. They expect to finish the job in under five months."

  "Will there be any school closings for fear of future attacks?" another asked.

  "No. At this point, we have no reason to think this was anything other than an isolated incident."

  "Was PETA or the SPCA verified that the alligators were handled humanely?"

  "I can assure you that no animals - living or dead - were harmed in this incident."

  "Can we get a first-person account from one of the Ghostbusters?"

  "Why, sure," said the Mayor. Boys?"

  Venkman moved eagerly toward the microphones. As he passed Mayor Lapinski, the Mayor whispered an almost-friendly warning: "Remember to make me look good, now."

  Venkman stepped forward and smiled for the cameras. Freshly showered and wearing a newly-pressed set of coveralls, he pulled himself up to his full height and tried his best to look every inch the hero.

  "I won't lie to you. Things got a little hairy today," he said, in his most sincere voice. "But everyone came through it okay. The kids are safe, the ghosts are under wraps, and as far as these kids' families are concerned - as far as we're concerned - that's the bottom line. As long as the safety of this city is threatened, someone's going to have to put himself on the line to protect it. That battle needs to be fought right here in the streets, and it needs to be fought from the highest offices in City Hall, too."

  The Mayor smiled to himself. Venkman had indeed managed to find a way to bring this around to a plug for him. As tenuous as the link might have been, Venkman did it in a way that probably didn't sound too terribly strained. He still wasn't pleased about signing that lousy contract business they'd pulled, but maybe the deal was beginning to pay dividends after all.

  Lapinski started to take a step forward to rejoin Venkman at the mike.

  "That's why," Venkman told the reporters, "I've decided to run for the office of Mayor of the greatest city in the world, that tarnished but beautiful lady - New York City!"

  The crowd exploded into chaos. There was a roar of noise as two dozen reporters shouted out questions at the same time. Flashbulbs were popping all over the place. With no warning whatsoever, a routine press conference had erupted into a major scoop.

  The Mayor's jaw dropped. What did Venkman think he was doing?!

  "Doctor Venkman!" shouted one of the reporters. "When did you declare your candidacy?"

  "Just now," he replied with a smile. "Weren't you paying attention?"

  "Doctor Venkman!" yelled another. "What ticket are you running on?"

  "The New York State Independent Party, along with my good friend and future deputy mayor, Winston Zeddemore." There was another flurry of flashbulbs as Winston waved, a little awkwardly, to the cameras.

  "How do you stand on public transportation?"

  "Well, usually, I hold the pole in my left hand," Venkman said, "To keep me steady when the train stops."

  "Do you think you can win?"

  "I wouldn't be doing this if I thought I'd lose."

  Venkman gestured for the newspeople to settle down, and put his sincere face back on. "Let's get serious here for a minute, people. Yes, I am a candidate for Mayor, and yes, I am planning to win. I think the people of this fine city are tired of putting up with the same old political machine. I think they're ready for new blood and a new attitude. I think they're ready for someone who won't play politics - who'll do what it takes to get the job done."

  "Doctor Venkman!"

  "Doctor Venkman!"

  The Mayor finally managed to push his way to the front and place himself between Venkman and the crowd. He forced a smile. "Sorry, boys. That's all we have time for."

  "Gee, I can hang out for a while," said Venkman. "I don't have anywhere to go."

  Lapinski turned toward him, the forced smile still on his lips. But his eyes weren't smiling. "Some of us have cities to run. And some of us should be off chasing ghosts."

  "Mister Mayor!" called one of the reporters. "How do you feel about Doctor Venkman's candidacy?"

  "Well, boys, I always enjoy a little competition. Maybe one of these days, I'll find some."

  The reporters chuckled appreciatively.

  "I'm always in favor of people trying to improve themselves. Unfortunately, I think Doctor Venkman will find that the people of New York are smart enough to value the voice of experience... and a mayor who knows what he's doing. You can't fix the school board with a ray gun."

  "Still," he continued, "That's one of the great things about America - anyone can run for office, no matter how unqualified they are. I'll offer Doctor Venkman my deepest condolences later, after the voters have spoken. But in the meantime, at least, it looks like we've got us a horse race!"

  Lapinski shook Venkman's hand for the cameras. As the photographers snapped away, capturing the moment for posterity, he muttered under his breath, "I'll break you for this."

  "Arnie," Venkman muttered back, "did anyone ever tell you that you're cute when you're desperate?"

  "He announced?! How could he announce?" Ted Golden paced back and forth in Milken's richly paneled office, gesturing wildly. "He - he's not even on the ballot yet! I'm still working on his message points!"

  Milken sat back in the chair behind his desk, watching an all-news channel. He took in the live feed of the press conference with satisfaction. "Relax, Ted," he said. "This is a minor hiccup at most. There's no real harm done."

  "Relax? No harm done? Five minutes into this campaign, and he's already a loose cannon!"

  "That unpredictability is part of the idea, remember? He's not a politician. Besides..." Milken pointed at the television screen, which showed a close-up of Mayor Lapinski. Milken could almost see the veins bulging in his forehead. "Isn't it worth it to see all of this happen during Lapinski's own press conference?"

  Golden stopped pacing for a moment and looked at the screen. A smile almost crossed his lips. But then he threw his arms up with a growl that was a mixture of frustration and resignation. "I'd better go finish those message points before he gets into even bigger trouble." He stalked out of the office, shaking his head.

  Milken studied the image of Venkman and Lapinski on the television screen. This could work - they might actually win this thin
g. Venkman and Zeddemore's celebrity could carry the day more effectively than talent or experience ever could. Voters liked the image of someone strong enough to protect them.

  But the election wasn't over yet. In fact, it had hardly begun. While the candidates might be the public face of the campaign, there was an awful lot that still had to be done behind the scenes.

  Milken switched off the television, rose from his desk, and walked down the hall to a large open area where a handful of aides sat at desks making phone calls. Campaign manager John Fielding was crouched over one of the desks, giving instructions to the aide who was sitting there.

  "How are we doing?" Milken asked the room in general.

  "Great," Fielding replied. "I sent an aide over to file the initial paperwork on Venkman and Zeddemore. Fortunately, we already had the campaign finance report done, so we just had to fill in their names. I take it you heard that Venkman announced?"

  "I heard something to that effect, yes."

  Fielding grinned. "Did you see Lapinski's reaction?"

  "I enjoyed every minute of it. How are we doing on the petitions?" In order to get their candidates on the ballot, they were going to have to get more than seven thousand people to sign the necessary petition.

  One of the aides covered the mouthpiece of his phone so that she could answer. "Amazing. It's only been a few minutes, but the volunteers from the field have been calling in to say they've got three hundred signatures already."

  "Impressive. How are they doing it so fast?"

  "Strategic placement," said Fielding. "We got a few dozen just by sending them over to that school with the alligators during pick-up time. Another hundred from the crowd at the Mayor's press conference."

  Milken smiled at the irony of that.

  "The rest I'd already sent out to places where I figured people would want to see a couple of Ghostbusters in City Hall. Movie theaters showing action films. Science fiction book stores. Places like that. And we haven't even started on the boroughs yet."

  "Excellent. At this rate, it's conceivable that we might even be able to file the petitions by next week."

  "Meanwhile, Stu's working the unions, trying to drum up support there. Ted's working on message points."

  "So I've heard."

  "I'm drafting a first pass on their platform. And we've got Venkman and Zeddemore coming in tomorrow for photos and the start of their training."

  Milken clapped him on the shoulder. "Great work. We're on our way."

  * * *

  It had been a rough rehearsal that afternoon. The piece itself wasn't particularly difficult. It wasn't the sort of thing that a roomful of beginners could handle, but the New York Philharmonic had performed music that was far more complex. No, what made it rough for Dana was the fact that she had spent at least an extra hour trying to deal with a perfectionist conductor and a first oboe with a head cold.

  The longer-than-usual session meant that Dana was late for picking up her son Oscar from day care. It would have been nice if she could have called Peter, or even Janine, and asked one of them to get Oscar for her. But Dana still hadn't started returning Peter's calls yet, so doing something like that probably would have caused more problems that it would have solved. It also would have been nice if she could have asked Oscar's father to take care of his son. But the last she'd heard, her ex was off on an extended tour of Europe, performing a series of one-man minimalist symphonies.

  Fortunately, it wasn't the first time that work was going to keep a parent from getting to the day care center on time. A quick call, and one of the assistant teachers assured her that it would be no problem to keep him for the extra time. Of course, it also got her yelled at by the conductor for taking valuable time to make the call, but it was a small price for a mother to pay.

  By the time Dana was finally released, ran crosstown to get Oscar, stopped off for groceries, and caught a subway home, it was already well into dinnertime - and she hadn't even begun to cook yet. With Oscar in one arm and a couple of bags of groceries in the other, Dana fumbled her keys free from her bag and somehow managed to open the door. Oscar wasn't exactly crying at the moment, but he was hungry enough to be pretty grumpy by now.

  "Eat. Want eat."

  "l know, kiddo, I know. I want to eat, too. Just another minute," she told him, bouncing him up and down as she spoke in an unnaturally happy tone. "We're home. Here we are. I'll give you some dinner in a minute, okay? Okay."

  Swooping through the apartment, she set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, dropped Oscar into his high chair, returned to the living room to shrug off her coat and toss it over the arm of a chair, and hit the button on her answering machine on her way back to the kitchen.

  There was a beep, and a familiar, filtered voice filled the apartment. "Dana, it's your mother. When is that adorable grandson of mine coming for a visit? Not to mention that boyfriend of yours. Not that I'm pushing, dear, but you're still not getting any younger. Well, call me."

  Another beep. "Hi, it's Peter. Call number seventeen. I'm a dope. But a cute one. Please call back. 'Bye."

  Dana rummaged through the refrigerator. There had to be something she could give Oscar that didn't have to be made fresh. She picked up a half-empty container of leftover dim sum and considered it briefly. Nah, he'd never touch it.

  Beep. "Number eighteen. Did I mention I'm a jerk? Please call. 'Bye."

  Beep. "Me again. You've really gotta call me. I've got some big news this time. You're not going to believe it. Call me, okay?"

  Dana smiled and shook her head as she continued to dig through the fridge. Right, big news, she thought. Probably "We belong together." Bologna? A half- eaten stuffed cabbage? She was starting to seriously consider feeding Oscar chocolate for dinner when she spotted the perfect thing.

  Beep. "Hello, Dana. This is Egon Spengler speaking. Peter would like me to tell you that he truly does have important news to share with you, and that I... What was it?... Right. And that I am serving as an independent third party to verify that this isn't some cheap scam to get you on the phone. Please call him so we can get this over with. Thank you."

  Despite herself, she smiled. As she dropped some leftover pasta onto the tray of Oscar's highchair and blew a stray lock of hair off her face, Dana wondered whether she'd been too hasty with Peter. Not just because she could use an extra pair of hands to help with her errands, but because enough time had passed to let her cool off and remind herself that it was true - he really was kind of cute.

  "And a dope," she told Oscar.

  He munched happily on his pasta in reply.

  Dana filled a sippy cup with tap water and set it down beside the pasta on his tray. That should keep him busy for a few minutes, she thought.

  She took advantage of the brief respite to finally take off his jacket. She went inside and hung the two coats in the closet beside the front door. She started back toward the kitchen and then, almost as an afterthought, flipped on the television so she could listen to the news while unpacking the rest of her groceries.

  Returning to the kitchen, Dana asked Oscar, "What do you say, kiddo? Ready to keep the title of best - informed two-year-old on the block?"

  She started to pull groceries out of the bag, taking care to bypass the potato chips that were near the top of one. She knew that if Oscar saw the chips, he'd refuse to eat anything else. Instead, she took out a banana and held it out toward him. "Banana?"