Hungry Ray - 2

[bloodcount]

“The Wheel of Destiny! ’Round and ‘round and ‘round she goes! Where she stops, nobody knows! You pays your money and you takes your chances!” Ray Stantz gave the Dimensional Locater dials another spin. His shadow stretched the length of the cool basement lab as he was illuminated by the shaky brightness of the Portal between Here and There. Stopping the dials he looked up with grinning expectancy and the Portal began to bring the nearest random dimension into focus. His fellow scientist and friend, Peter Venkman, well back from the nexus, gave a preparatory cringe. Then the scene clarified.

“It’s okay Peter! No bugs this time! Woo hoo!” Ray cheered.

Peter brought his arms down from his eyes and looked. “EW! Still!” He shook his head at the sight of a tentacled, multi-eyed Squid creature squatting comfortably over a hole in crystal ground.

“What the HELL?!” shouted the Squid.

Peter screamed in horrified delight. “Ray, we forgot the sight barrier screens! Sorry!” He apologized to the staring sheaf of tentacles. “Sorry to disturb you! We're going now!” He motioned at Ray, who began giggling hysterically, and the dials were spun again leaving the traumatized monster behind.

“Oh, Peter! An actual Alternative Universe that time. It spoke English!”

“He saw us, Ray! Screens up!”

“Aye Aye, Captain!” Ray hit the switch that would enable the voyeuristic dimension surfers to see but not be seen. “And, I’m sorry about that.”

Peter waved the apology away. “My fault, too. I can’t believe we’ve gone this long before something intelligent caught us. Hey, did you see the hole? I think it was on the crapper.” Peter grinned. “We should have thrown in a magazine.”

The thought of the Cthulhu wannabe goggling at one of Peter’s Playboys with a hundred eyes almost sent Ray to the floor. He mimed opening up a centerfold, which set Peter off, and their cackling rang all around the basement lab.

In the converted firehouse that made up their home there was nothing so attractive, or so suspicious, as loud, uninhibited laughter and the other residents began to wander downstairs. Speaking of being caught by something intelligent, Egon Spengler was the first to cautiously intrude his long, lanky frame inside and his expectant smile faded when he saw what his learned colleagues were up to. “Dimensional Surfing again? Didn’t I tell you…”

“What a waste of power that is,” Ray finished for him. “I know, Egon, I know.”

“Don’t get your girdle in a snap, blondie,” Peter provoked. “We’re doing it for science!”

“Darwinism in Action has already been proven, Peter, but if you want to contribute to the statistics, go right ahead,” Egon said, glaring down at Peter through his fringe of platinum hair.

Ray jumped in. “I’m sorry, Egon, but, there’s nothing wrong with fun exploration.” Ray saw Peter opening his mouth to comment on that before he noticed Egon waiting with resignation. He quickly shut up again. Ray grinned. Salacious comments are no fun when they’re anticipated. He continued, “Oh, we found some gruesome places! I’ve got the locations stored in the memory backup.” He grabbed up a Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookie out of a huge, white bag and bit into it with gusto as he pointed at his notes of today’s ‘research.’

“Gruesome places?” Janine Melnitz’s Brooklyn accent announced her arrival and Ray was glad. “Why can’t you guys look for beautiful dimensions?” She cautiously stepped over a toolbox and kept her arms close to her body to guard against getting any grease or grime on her fresh, stylish clothes. “Y’know, someplace nice?” she asked.

Ray snapped his fingers. “Someplace nice? I’ve got just the thing, Janine, another Alternative Universe. We found it an hour ago, Peter, remember? The Parlor.” Ray rose onto his toes and settled down again, cheerfully.

“The Parlor? You’re going to love this, Janine.” Janine looked at Peter with deep, well-founded suspicion but he nodded his head to reassure her, sincere for once. “It’s Victorian Era, with two moons. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re not playing with that thing again?!” Winston Zeddemore, arriving last, stepped through the door wearing a look of despair. He crossed his brown arms. “Remember what happened last time? I dearly hope?”

“Don’t worry, Granddaddy, we’re going someplace even you can’t complain about.” Peter waved his hands in the properly patronizing manner and Winston sucked his teeth, mentally measuring the distance between his fist, Peter’s face and the length of floor necessary to accommodate the psychologist when he went crashing down. Peter took an exaggerated step back and Janine giggled at them both.

“What dimension are you showing us, again, Raymond? The Parlor? As in ‘Step into my Parlor,’ said the spider to the fly?’” Egon inquired, arms also crossed, disapproving.

“Parlor Omega Alpha Delta Seven Six Three.” Ray mumbled, entering the coordinates into the locater and entering another cookie into his mouth, seemingly without tasting it. “No, Egon, it’s safe and normal. As normal as a totally different timeline can be anyway. As for why we try to avoid nice places, Janine, it’s just safer to stay away. I mean the temptation to cross over and join in or interfere is too strong.”

“Oh.” Janine looked surprised. “I thought you two were just morbid.” She moved closer, eager to see.

“We are. And we do find the occasional gems. Here it is.” Ray announced. “Remember, we can’t interfere. What rule is that, Egon?” he asked, grinning with anticipation at his long-suffering friend.

Egon pushed his glasses up with a long finger and watched the portal begin to clarify, obviously curious despite himself. “That would be Firehouse Iron Clad Rule Number Seven. ‘Observe The United Federation of Planets’ Prime Directive and Do Not Screw Around With Other Worlds.’” Egon rolled his eyes at Ray, the Trekkie. “An excellent rule, considering the trouble we’ve gotten into in the past. Are the sight screens up?”

“Of course they are, Egon, what do you take us for?” Peter looked insulted.

“I apologize.”

The wavering lights became still and were replaced with the warm glow of oil lamps and a fire in the cozy hearth of what looked to be a comfortably lived-in Nineteenth Century drawing room decked out in baubles, gifts and evergreens. Silver ribbons were twined around the austere family portraits. Every available nook and corner was stuffed with mistletoe and holly. Golden moonlight streamed in and everyone noted the two moons visible through the lace curtains of the bay windows. Ray dimmed the basement lights to highlight the effect and all four non-surfers exclaimed with wonder and delight. Peter and Ray shared a smug glance at their friends’ predictable reaction.

“Ooh!” Janine exclaimed. “Dickens! A Dickens Christmas with two moons! Look at that!” Janine stood on her tiptoes to catch a glance of the outside. There were cobblestone streets, turreted gingerbread houses and a glowing brilliance the moons lavished upon the falling snow and the bustle of the horse-drawn carriages. A lamp-lighter was, of course, lighting the gas powered street lamps, each one ringed with holly, and tipping his cap to friends and acquaintances as they rushed by on their holiday shopping errands, well bundled in colorful hand-knit mufflers and hand-sewn overcoats.

“Watson, the game is afoot! Call me a cab!” Winston exclaimed, delighted.

“Okay, you’re a cab, Sherlock.”

“Oh, that was bad, Peter.” Winston shook his head in disgust.

“Well, I can’t score every time.” Peter shrugged philosophically.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

“Shut up, Winston.”

Ray was overjoyed. Christmas! What perfect timing! He soaked up the absolute wonder beaming from every face beside him. God, his friends were so beautiful when they were smiling and enjoying themselves. His attention was torn between the people he loved and the seasonal slice of heaven before him. “Isn’t this wonderful?” Ray enthused, “We had no idea it’d be Christmas. It was summer in the Parlor just an hour ago so time must move differently between here and there but this is perfect! This is…” Strident, enraged voices coming from outside the Parlor door interrupted him and his face fell. “This is trouble.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you will!”

The door flew open and a young Victorian miss dressed in yards and yards of rich blue fabric decorated with bows of grey ribbon stormed into the room. She was too young to be used to her new hoop skirts and she was awkward. She was clutching a large painting to her chest and her cheeks were flaming with red rage. “Father, I won’t! I won’t paint a corpse!”

“Ewwwww!” Peter sympathized. “You tell him, Sweetheart.” Ray glanced over at Peter and then quickly looked away.

Father was a portly little man with a bald head, mutton-chop side whiskers and an ostentatious gold watch chain attached to his green velvet vest. His face was florid, too. “It’s but a miniature, Ophelia! A miniature of Old Lady Smythe with a lock of her hair built into the casing and angels and sunbeams and other such heavenly nonsense all about. What’s wrong with that?”

Ophelia’s curls bounced dangerously as she shook her head at her father. “What’s wrong with that? Old Lady Smythe has been dead for two weeks!”

“Well, they can’t bury her until the ice melts out of the ground. As cold as it is she’s kept very well so why not paint a portrait?”

Peter made a loud gagging noise and crumpled to the ground. Winston gave him a supportive pat on the back. Peter hated bugs but he hated dead things even more. Janine was rubbing at her mouth, trying to hide the grin that threatened to beam forth at his unease. Egon was studying Ophelia’s ungainly dress. He leaned towards Janine.

“Compared to her you’re as naked as an Amazon,” he observed with detachment.

Janine placed one hand on her chest and the other on her miniskirt in an imitation of the very-modest Venus De Milo and feigned insulted shock. “Egon! I’m not naked!”

“No, she’s NEKKID!” Peter howled from the floor and clapped his hands.

“Nekkid! Go Janine!” Ray laughed, joining in the applause.

Egon turned red. “I didn’t mean it like that.." Winston started to wolf whistle and Janine went into a scandalized swoon. Amidst the laughter Egon finally caught on. “Oh, shut up. All of you.” A shout of sincere pain and outrage from the Portal captured everyone’s attention again. Father had yanked the painting out of his daughter’s hands and was holding it up in front of her face.

“I suppose you think this over-imaginative magical foolishness will hang in the Louvre someday? You’ll never make a living painting magic!” he bellowed.

“Should we be watching this? This isn’t television, you all realize.” Winston mentioned. He was universally ignored. “Who wants some popcorn, then?” he asked sarcastically, hands on hips.

“I do. With lots of butter.” Peter answered, pulling himself up onto a stool comfortably.

“Me, too.”

“And me. With garlic salt on the side.”

“I want mine with just plain salt and no butter.”

Winston ignored them in turn.

“Miniatures will make money!” Father was shouting.

“Magic makes me happy! There are many magical paintings in the Louvre! Mystical, mythological and magical!!” Ophelia answered grabbing her painting back. Ray noticed that it was a rather well-done rendering of a female knight, reminiscent of Joan of Arc, fighting a fire-breathing dragon. How appropriate, he thought.

“There is no such thing as magic! Not now, not then, not tomorrow, not ever! There Is No Magic!” Father roared, perfectly purple now. Ophelia looked ready to slam her artistic effort down over his head.

“There IS magic! I swear!” Ophelia’s voice broke and a violent tear streamed down her face. Janine made a strange little whining noise of sympathy. Ray’s hand crept towards the controls.

“Idiocy! Sheer idiocy! There is no mag…AIGH!!!” Father’s face went white as he caught a strange motion out of the corner of his eye. He stepped back in horror. Ophelia turned to see what had frightened him and gave an astounded shriek.

With a shock the voyeuristic crew on the other side of the portal realized they had become visible. “Ray! The sight shields!” Peter yelled.

“Oops, I must have leaned on them. Hey, over there! Merry Christmas! Peace on Earth and Good Will and all that!” Ray called out to the dumbfounded Victorians and raised the shields again.

“RAAYYY!!!!”

“It was an accident! I swear!”

Ophelia staggered to sit in a parlor chair and her hoop skirts flew up revealing ridiculous lace pantaloons. She struggled to bring her dress down again as Janine and Winston whooped with laughter. Father mopped his head with a white handkerchief and took deep, bracing breaths. He waited a moment but no more impossibilities were forthcoming. “Ophelia, my dear girl, the fire has gotten to us both. Let’s rejoin the party.” Utterly deflated he staggered out the door. Ophelia clumsily stood…and hesitated. She looked in the direction of her unseen watchers with wide eyes.

“Oh, that poor thing!” Janine laughed and clapped her hands with delight.

“What are you happy for?” Winston asked.

“She was right!” Janine grinned at Ray and he smiled back not very sheepishly.

The victor began forcing herself forward inch by inch. As Ophelia reached the wall her observers were rather smitten with her bravery and amazement. Ray watched, fascinated, as she boldly reached out. He knew she could feel nothing but wall. Suddenly, she reminded him of Alice, trying to find a way into the Looking Glass and her look of wonder alone justified his unfortunate ‘accident.’ She moved away and picked up the painting that had fallen from her insensate fingers when the strange tableau of four terribly tall men and one half-naked woman had appeared on the parlor wall. She set it face up on the floor and scooted it against the wall with her foot as an obvious offering. Vindicated, Ophelia’s sudden smile was like the sun rising. Then she, too, trotted out the door, her hoops bouncing ridiculously.

Janine’s “Awwwwww!” echoed around the basement.

Ray turned to the controls again and flicked the proper switches. The portal extended its protective force-field to include both basement and parlor as it emitted a bombardment of invisible radiation that was deadly to all forms of microorganism within a hundred yards. Both worlds safe from infectious disease Ray walked over, reached out his hand and picked up the painting. Admiring the bright dragon flames Ray returned to spin the dials and the portal became blurry again as the Parlor was left behind.
“And Happy New Year!” Ray announced with finality and grabbed up another cookie. He set his new painting aside and looked around for a perfect spot to hang it. Winston wore a look of amused resignation and Janine continued to smile. Egon’s face was blank. Peter, however…

He was furious. “Happy New Year? Ray, are you nuts? You ‘leaned on the controls’ my ass! Thanks to you, she believes in magic, now.”

Ray looked up, surprised. “She believed in it before,” he began.

“But you proved it! How else is she going to explain what she saw? Or that painting disappearing? She’s going to go looking for magic, now, and she‘ll get herself killed or worse when she finds it!” Peter was waving his arms wildly and no one was amused or smiling now.

“She has a better chance of getting struck by lightning, twice, than finding magic and you know it.” Ray’s chin was up. “There is such a thing as magic in the world after all.”

“Don’t tell me there’s magic, I know damn well there’s magic!” Peter’s hand rose to his forehead and he forced it down. “AIIGH! The First, the very first, Iron Clad Rule of the Firehouse, people?!” Peter called.

“No Magic Allowed!” Ray answered him. “Peter, I didn’t hurt anyone.”

“How do you know?”

Ray finally lost his temper and interrupted Peter’s rant. “D’you really think I’ve killed that girl, Peter? Or did I just stop them fighting at Christmas? You’ve always said rules were made to be broken, I suppose if you had done it we’d all be laughing about it?” Peter suddenly looked aghast. Ray took a deep breath, trying to regain calm. God, he hated being mad. “Yeah, rules were made to be broken, Peter! I think I’ll break this one.” Ray jumped down to ground level.

“Ray, wait,” Peter started.

“Jinx! Jinx! Jinx, Baby!” Ray shouted back, flicking his fingers at Peter in the most evil, outrageous way. He looked like Fat Vegas Elvis gone horribly, horribly wrong. Winston snorted and Janine cracked up, a little too loudly, breaking the tension even further. Egon glared.

Peter blew out a relieved whoosh of air and followed along with Ray’s improvisation. Grabbing Janine by the shoulders he jumped behind her. “Please don’t break the Number One Rule, Ray! I’ve got too many mental, emotional, and scrotal scars because of magic!” Janine made a disgusted sound and jerked away from Peter’s cowardly grip.

“With all the hexes, spells, potions, incantations, and curses that have gone so horribly wrong around here you two shouldn’t even joke about it,” Egon snapped. Ray’s hands went limp at his sides.

Janine looked up at Egon, her eyes suddenly worried and dark. “Egon, drop it.”

Egon obviously wasn’t ready to drop it. “And, as an expert on the Occult, you, Ray, should know better than to encourage mystical leanings in anyone.” Ray turned on Egon, anger simmering again.

“Everybody relax,” Winston ordered. “There’s no magic here and there never will be magic here. Intentionally anyway.” He shot a reproving glance at Egon. “Ray was just having a little fun.” Egon drew in breath to refute Winston and Ray put his hands on his hips, ready for a good nine rounds.

“Guys, c’mon. Everything’s okay.” Janine’s hand was palm up, begging for peace.

Peter was helplessly rubbing his forehead again. “Stop! Stop it now, both of you. All of us. I’m sorry, Ray. It was wrong and stupid of me to blow up at you like that. Egon, darling, what do you have to say?”

“I have a great deal to say,” Egon started.

“Egon! I started this, I want to end it now, that okay with you?” Peter raised his eyebrows at the tall man. “Please?”

Egon looked at his best friend. His eyes traced the cobweb thin scars on Peter’s forehead, half-hidden by heavy chocolate-brown bangs. He turned away from Peter and backed down. “I’m sorry as well, Raymond.” Egon glanced over at Ray’s chest, suddenly ashamed to look him in the eyes. “I, ah, I worry too much.”

Winston and Janine made apologetic noises though they had nothing to be sorry about. Keeping the peace often meant apologizing whether they were blameless or not.

Ray went red and retreated back to the Portal. Look at what he’d caused now. He just had to get mad. Geez. “Oh, guys, don’t be sorry! Everything’s fine. I really shouldn’t have done it. Really.” Ray grinned and put a hand over his heart to show his sincerity. “And I promise No Magic, ever, ever, ever, amen!” He saw Peter force himself to stop rubbing his forehead and felt a crystal-clear shard of sympathy pierce him. Considering all that Venkman had been through he was actually handling this discussion with great calm. “I promise,” He repeated.

Oh, sweetheart, is magic really so bad? All this fuss you’re making. the memory of Ray's mother’s voice purred in his ear. He shook his head, dismissing it as usual. And as usual, he felt a surge of guilt for doing so. He cautiously looked at his friends, smile firmly fixed on his face, to make sure they hadn’t seen him denying a voice that wasn’t there. They hadn’t. He wolfed down another cookie.

Winston changed the subject with a disturbing thought. “Nobody’s going to believe that poor kid.”

“Aw, Winston,” Janine smiled. “She won’t tell. She’s a girl and only about thirteen. If I were thirteen, and something phenomenally wonderful happened to me, and I say what just happened was wonderful, then I would keep quiet for the rest of my life. My own secret, mine all mine.”

“What happened to you at thirteen, Janine?” Peter shrewdly guessed, leaning close and staring down at her accusingly.

A brief look of remembered wonder glowed in her eyes and Ray smiled to see it. Gosh, she was pretty when she wasn’t screaming into the phone or at Peter. “Sorry. It’s mine.” she said.

“C’mon! Spill your guts, Janine.” Peter demanded with a Victorian Fatherly voice.

“Nope. Mine, mine, mine.” She turned her gaze to the ceiling and refused to say another word and Ray could tell she was intentionally pulling attention further away from the upsetting scene that had occurred. He was grateful.

Winston interrupted, helping Janine pull. “Then what about Ophelia's dad?”

“I believe if ‘Father’ wishes to retain his position in society, and the business world, it would be in his best interest to keep quiet as well,” Egon answered.

Ray decided a little more play would restore everyone’s equilibrium even more. He turned to the Portal again. “Where to next? Another nice place?”

Peter looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping his lips with a forefinger. “Dickensland was nice but my teeth are rotting. We need some salt with our sugar, I think. Hey, Ray, while I'm cowering over there show these poor guys ‘Mordor!’” Peter turned completely around and rushed back to lean against the far wall. Taking a cue from this, the others also moved away leaving Ray alone at the Portal’s edge to work the increasingly chocolate covered controls.

“Here’s Peter’s personal nightmare!” Ray announced and Peter threw an arm over his eyes with a groan. The lights of the gateway between worlds began to flash until…

“Yecch!” Janine and Winston decided in unison. Egon gravely seconded their opinion and the three looked with disgust and dismay at the view before them. Peter refused to look at ‘Mordor’ again. The contrast between this dimension and the last was painful to see. It was like being awakened from a lovely dream by a cruel punch in the gut.

Black, hopeless, twisted and miserable but vitally alive, Mordor had no real sky. Just a grey and monotone miasma that extended down to the tops of blackened stone spires. Bizzarely enough, the unhealthy fog seemed unaffected by the constant wind. A quiver of motion brought all eyes to the ground. The fitful dim light reflected off shiny insectile carapaces and swampy puddles of bubbling water. The mud writhed with mean and terrible life.

Mordor crawled.

Ray lowered the sight screens again and, on cue, an enormous, reptilian beast slouched into view, forked tongue flicking hungrily in Janine’s direction. Its eyes glowed green without blinking. She withstood its cold, predatory evaluation of her for only a moment before she broke. “That’s it, goodbye!” Janine turned for the door and almost ran into Winston. Peter was still refusing to look and Egon was absorbed with the locater’s bio-reading of the beast. Winston was merely gazing philosophically at the nightmare illuminating the basement. Observing his friend’s reactions again, Ray was mildly insulted by Winston’s blasé attitude.

“Winston!” Ray called, Janine turned back. “Don’t you like this one?” He waved grandly at the scene and noticed that the grey light cast a huge shadow of his hands over his housemates. He wiggled his fingers. “Hey, look! A giant rabbit!” Even Peter looked up long enough to enjoy Ray’s impromptu shadow puppets. “An elephant!”

“Ray, you’re blocking the view, speaking of elephants,” Peter teased.

Ray adopted a terrible Scottish accent. “Hey, I’m dead sexy!” He threw a generous hip to one side and struck a pose. “I’ve got a dead sexy body!”

“You’ve got body-acceptance anyway, Poppin’ Fresh,” Peter began but Janine’s whack upside his head prevented him from finishing. Winston and Egon laughed.

“Thanks, Janine!” Unfazed, Ray brought his hands together again. “Look! A bird!”

“Rodan!” Janine bolted past Winston, pursued by the enormous flapping wings of a giant shadow bird and even more chuckling. She escaped into the hall, then turned back for a moment. “I’m going to pick up lunch. See if you guys can stay out of trouble for ten minutes, okay?”

“We can only try,” Egon’s amused bass voice answered her as Ray’s King Kong shadow hand tried in vain to capture her around the waist. Then she was gone.

Ray moved away from the light. “Seriously, Winston, isn’t this the most awful dimension you’ve ever seen?”

“Eehhh,” Winston shrugged, unimpressed. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Worse than that!” Peter was appalled. “Some of those bugs are as big as my fist!” He made a fist and shook it in the general direction of the screen, still refusing to look directly at it.

“I don’t like ‘em but my hell is not full of bugs,” Winston grinned. “King Bats, maybe, but not bugs.”

“Where have you seen worse?” Egon asked, genuinely wondering.

Winston pointed his thumb in the direction of the street. “Right outside. Come and see.”

tbc