Stantz grabbed a long coiled cord with a bobbing flotation device on the end. It was attached firmly to his utility belt. "Stand back," he ordered his companions.
He took the cord in his hand and, swinging the flotation device over his head, cast the line into the water like a master fisherman. The bob at the end of the line sank beneath the depths of the slime.
Spengler watched the line sink farther and farther down, calculating the depths on a small hand-held de vice. "Six feet. Seven feet. Eight feet."
The line stopped moving.
"That's it," Stantz announced. "It's on the bottom."
Suddenly the line began to wriggle again. Spengler continued to calculate. "Nine feet. Ten feet."
Winston was confused. "Is the line still sinking?"
Spengler gaped at the river. "No! The slime is rising."
Stantz glanced down and saw the slime climbing up over the edge of the train station platform and oozing around his boots.
"Let's get out of here, boys!" he yelled.
He made an attempt to pull the cord out of the water. The cord seemed stuck. Worse yet, the line seemed to be tugging back!
"Help me!" Stantz yelled. "It's stuck!"
Winston leapt in front of his good friend Ray and began to pull the cord as well. Winston and Stantz couldn't budge the cord from the river of slime, and slowly the slime began to pull the two men toward the edge of the platform... closer and closer to the bubbling, churning, living depths below.
Spengler tossed down his monitoring device and joined the tug of war. The three men grunted, sweated, and strained, but whatever was pulling on the cord from below was clearly stronger ... in a superhuman way.
Stantz worked a free hand furiously, trying to cut the cord from his utility belt.
If he didn't sever the tie, he was a dead man. Or at least a very slimed man.
The cord held fast to his belt.
Stantz grimaced and attacked his belt buckle.
Quickly, frantically, he worked at the belt. Finally he yanked the entire belt from his waist.
The belt and cord were yanked toward the river of slime.
Spengler and Stantz broke free from the cord in time. Winston, however, unaware of Stantz's lifesaving move, held fast to the cord.
The startled Ghostbuster found himself yanked off his feet and high into the air.
Still clutching the cord, Winston was pulled deep down into the slime river.
"Ray!" he yelled, gurgling. "Egon!"
Stantz and Spengler glanced at each other.
"Bummer," Spengler muttered.
The two remaining Ghostbusters, summoning up every ounce of courage, dove headfirst into the swirling slime after their comrade.
Stantz and Spengler were unable to swim through the percolating muck. As helpless as flies trapped in molasses, they floated out of the station and into a swirling tide of ooze.
The slime twisted and turned, Stantz and Spengler bobbing like corks in its wake. They tried their best to surface every so often to fill their lungs with air.
Stantz squinted into the swirling stream of slime. Bobbing before him was the flailing form of Winston.
Stantz and Spengler felt the pull on their bodies lessen. The flow of ooze was slowing down. Breaking up to the surface of the slime swirl, they found themselves in a massive chamber. The end of the old New York Pneumatic Railroad line. The slime seemed to calm down, grow dormant.
Sputtering, coughing, and gagging, the three Ghost busters floated atop the gunk at the edge of the last platform of the long-deserted transportation line.
Winston pulled himself out of the slime first. Lying on his stomach, he reached down and yanked out Stantz.
The two of them then dangled over the platform and ensnared Spengler, dragging him up out of the ocean of ooze in one violent motion.
The three lay sprawled on the platform, gagging.
"Let's retreat," Stantz whispered.
"Retreat?" Spengler coughed. "I don't know the meaning of the word...."
"It means," Winston clarified, "let's get the hell out of here."
Spengler pondered this. "Oh. Okay."
Moments later the three slime-encased Ghostbust ers eased their way up through a dislodged manhole cover in the center of the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
For a moment the three men sat, exhausted. The slime covering their rubber suits began to percolate.
Winston suddenly leapt to his feet, thoroughly angry. "Nice going, Ray!" he roared. "What were you trying to do, drown me?"
Stantz's body tensed. He scrambled up to face Winston. "Look, Zeddemore," he replied menacingly, "it wasn't my fault that you were too stupid to drop that line!"
Winston's blood bubbled. He shoved Ray away from him. "You better watch your mouth, man, or I'll put your lights out... maybe for good."
Stantz's face formed an evil sneer. "Oh, yeah? Any time, man, anytime. Just go ahead and try it."
Egon Spengler snarled and jumped between the two of them. He raised his fists in a classic boxer's pose. "If you two are looking for a fight, you got one! Who wants to try it first? Come on, Ray. Try me, sucker."
Stantz wheeled on Spengler. "Butt out, you pencil- necked geek. I've had it with you."
Ignoring the still frothing Spengler, Stantz and Win ston grabbed each other by the shoulders and began to
wrestle and tussle, their movements resembling a slam- dance polka.
Spengler shook his head clear.
He knew what was happening.
Dashing between the two adversaries, he pulled them apart. "Break it up!" he commanded. "Break it up!"
His voice was so authoritative, the two fighters backed off, blinking. They were confused, addled.
"Strip!" Spengler yelled. "Right now! Get out of these clothes."
Spengler began yanking off his slicker and wading boots. Bewildered, Stantz and Winston also started to disrobe in the middle of Manhattan. Spengler stripped himself to his long johns first. When he was done, he helped the other two Ghostbusters wriggle free of their slime-encased outfits.
Spengler gathered up the discarded clothes and tossed them down the open manhole cover.
The three men, now clad only in their long under wear, stood in the middle of the street.
They found that they weren't angry anymore.
They weren't hateful, only bewildered.
Well, also cold.
Winston rubbed his head. "What were we doing?"
He faced Stantz. "Ray, I was ready to kill you!"
Stantz's face reflected his state of mind. He was totally animated. "Don't you see? It's the slime. That stuff is like pure, concentrated evil!"
Stantz cased the street and discovered that the three Ghostbusters were standing directly in front of the Manhattan Museum of Art.
Spengler caught Stantz's eye. "And the slime," he intoned, "is all flowing right to this spot."
"What are we going to do?" Winston asked.
"We have to get Venkman involved," Stantz stated. "And now!"
They began to trot at a hectic pace through Central Park and toward the Upper West Side.
Twenty minutes later, at Armand's Restaurant, the maitre d' felt his heart skip a beat. He was too young for a heart attack, he assured himself.
Three sweating men in long johns skidded to a halt before him. He tried to act suave. "May I help you?"
Stantz glanced into the dining room and spotted Venkman. "No," he told the maitre d'. "It's all right. I see him."