Ed Naha
Ghostbusters II
"The universe is full of
magical things patiently
waiting for our wits to
grow sharper."
— EDEN PHILLPOTTS
"Spengler, are you serious
about actually catching
a ghost?"
— DR. PETER VENKMAN
1
A bright winter sun blazed down onto the streets of Manhattan as Dana Barrett struggled with two sagging bags of groceries while at the same time pushing a baby carriage.
Long-armed and lithe in figure, Dana was able to balance the bags in her arms while still maneuvering the carriage in a straight line.
Pausing for a moment, she took a deep breath of crisp air. She loved New York. It was the city's air of excitement, of life that appealed to her. As she contin ued walking, she thought about how her life had changed in the last four years. How many women could say that they'd been a struggling cellist, been attacked by a devilishly possessed chair, been transformed into an ancient demon, and, finally, become a mother of a bright-eyed baby named Oscar—all in the few years since she'd moved to the Big Apple?
Not many, she figured. At least not many who were allowed to roam the streets without a straitjacket.
Dana wheeled her baby up to the front of her
building on East Seventy-seventh Street. At curbside, a car was being hoisted up by a city tow truck while the driver screamed, red-faced, at the parking-enforcement officer. The man was threatening to do something to the cop that dogs usually reserved for hydrants.
Dana clutched the grocery bags, trying desperately to dig her keys out of her purse.
Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Frank, her building's superintendent, was leaning against a wall, pretending not to notice Dana's dilemma. Typical, she thought. Frank was the sort of fellow who lived in the future. If something needed repairing, he'd put it off until tomorrow, or next week, or, if it was really important, next month.
Dana turned and smiled sweetly at Frank. "Frank, do you think you could give me a hand with these bags?"
The unshaven, middle-aged man shrugged. "I'm not a doorman, Miss Barrett. I'm a building superintendent."
Dana resisted the temptation to hurl a few choice canned goods at Frank's head. "You're also a human being, Frank."
Frank considered this point. Yup, he was. Reluc tantly he walked toward Dana. "Okay. Okay. It's not my job, but what the heck. I'll do you a big favor." With a grunt he took the sagging grocery bags out of Dana's arms.
"Thank you, Frank, you're a prince."
"Better." Frank grinned. "I'm a super,"
Dana set the wheel brakes on the baby carriage and rummaged through her purse. "I'll get the hang of all this eventually," she muttered.
Frank leaned over the baby buggy and began mak ing funny faces at little Oscar. "Hiya, Oscar. What do you say, slugger?"
Oscar regarded the crazy person above him with a great deal of disinterest. The baby couldn't figure out why most adults acted goofy when they were around him. Little Oscar sighed and concentrated on his paci fier.
Frank didn't notice. "That's a good-looking kid you got there, Ms. Barrett."
Dana found her keys at the very bottom of her purse. Typical. "Thank you, Frank."
Dana turned to her superintendent. "Oh, and are you ever going to fix the radiator in my bedroom? I asked you last week."
Frank blinked in astonishment. "Didn't I do it?"
Dana flashed him a patented grin. "No, you didn't."
"Okay," Frank said, still holding the soggy bags. "That's no problem."
"That's exactly what you said last week."
Frank thought hard about this. "Phew! Deja vu."
While Dana and Frank stared at each other, little Oscar's baby carriage began to shake and rock, as if being cradled by unseen hands.
The wheel brakes unlocked themselves.
Dana, still smiling stoically at Frank, reached for Oscar's carriage. "You wouldn't mind carrying those bags upstairs, would you, Frank?"
"Well... actually ..." Frank began.
As Dana extended her hand for the carriage, the carriage moved forward, just out of her reach. Dana glanced at the carriage suspiciously, as it came to a stop two feet before her.
She walked over to the buggy and tried to grab it again. The buggy shook and shot out of Dana's reach. This time it didn't rumble to a halt. It rolled merrily down the block, little Oscar inside, clapping and chirping with glee. This was fast. This was fun.
Dana fought back the urge to emit a shriek. She continued to plunge forward through the crowds of pedestrians, shambling about the streets of Manhattan.
Behind her, a befuddled Frank still stood, holding the leaking grocery bags. "Uh..." he considered. "Ms. Barrett? What should I do with these bags?"
Dana decided not to tell him what to do with the bags. She sprinted after the runaway carriage.
Little Oscar raised a tiny fist as his baby buggy zoomed down the Manhattan street.
The baby giggled happily, watching the Upper East Side zip by.
Dana jogged, awestruck, after the baby carriage.
She shouted to everybody, anybody, for help. "Please," she screamed. "Please help my baby! Please help him!"
Several passersby tried to reach out and stop the runaway buggy. Every time they did so, the carriage deftly swerved out of the way, leaving the would-be rescuers stunned in its wake.
Little Oscar continued to giggle as the baby car riage picked up speed and zigzagged like an Indy 500 race car.
Dana continued to gallop forward. The baby buggy seemed to have a life of its own. Dana yelled for help. One burly man tried to tackle the baby carriage and found himself being lifted and thrown over it by some unseen force.
In the speeding baby buggy, baby Oscar clapped his hands with glee. Zoooooom, he managed to gurgle. Zooooooom.
The buggy tilted and whirled past everyone on the street.
The buggy headed for a crosswalk.
Cars, trucks, and buses zipped through the congested intersection ahead.
Dana watched in horror as a city bus glided across Seventy-seventh Street. Effortlessly the baby buggy sailed over the curb and into the intersection.
The carriage was speeding toward the front of the bus.
Dana took a deep breath and, tilting her head down, sent her long legs pumping toward the intersection like an Olympic sprinter.
Inside, baby Oscar watched in fascination as the large vehicle zeroed in on the buggy.
The bus driver, spotting the runaway carriage, twisted the steering wheel before him frantically.
The baby carriage came to a dead stop in the middle of the street.
The bus driver, still pawing the wheel, managed to send the vehicle swerving around little Oscar, missing him by inches.
Car horns blared and brakes screeched as Dana leapt into the busy intersection, quickly snatching Oscar out of the buggy.
She held the baby tightly in her arms and stared at the baby carriage.
The carriage seemed normal—now.
It stood in the center of the intersection, immobile.
To the casual passerby it appeared to be just another carriage.
Dana backed away from the buggy, Oscar in her arms.