SECRET OF THE MANDALA

CHAPTER III: And The Kitchen Sink, Too!

Everything was fine until the elevator jerked to a halt just as they were about to stop at the Lobby level. Ray glared up at the ceiling.

"All right Slimer, you've had your fun! The elevator is off limits!" He reached up and punched the talk button on the walkie-talkie that was clipped to his left shoulder strap.

"Egon, I think we may be stuck in the elevator. We need some help."

"THINK we're stuck?" replied Venkman in exasperation, "Well let's see."

He bent forward and began pushing random buttons on the elevator control panel.

"Think we're stuck, think we're stuck, think we're stuck, think we're stuck. Ray, you guys good with officially stuck in the elevator? Show of hands?"

"Does this kinda thing happen to you guys often?" asked Marty.

"Not always," replied Ray. There was a sudden clank of metal on metal. Something was fiddling with the doors. Ray raised his proton gun warily.

"Get ready," he said. The doors began to crack open.

"Kill it Ray!" snarled Venkman, eager for justice to be meted out on Slimer. The doors flew apart and Egon poked his head inside.

"Need a hand?" he asked with a trace of a grin. Venkman turned baleful eyes on Ray, as if somehow this was all his fault.

"You always fail me, don't you Ray."

Now reunited, the three Ghostbusters and Marty the Rookie jogged back down the corridor leading to the lobby. Sure enough, Slimer was there, flying circles near the ceiling.

"All right little buddy, time for you to get yours," growled Venkman as he aimed his proton gun. Perhaps Slimer heard for at that moment he turned and zoomed and the arches to the right of where the Ghostbusters were. They were about to follow him when two more ghosts zoomed into the room, their cackling sounding forth with an odd echo.

"Two more!" cried Ray as he fired a proton stream at one of the ghosts. Egon must have already blasted this one some because Ray managed to entangle it in a capture stream almost immediately.

"Forget the little Onionhead for now, this one's fighting capture real hard!" he grunted as he attempted to wrangle the ghost.

"He's a New York bellhop Ray. Just tip him!" quipped Peter as he turned his Proton stream on the struggling ghost. Marty stared on in fascination at these particular ghosts. It was indeed, or rather, had been a bellhop, the distinctive red coat and cap with brass accoutrements instantly recognizable. It's "face" was covered in scarred greenish skin and wide, bloodshot spectral eyes danced madly as the ghost wailed in its proton beam cage.

"Man, this is heavy," he breathed. He supposed he should have been slightly more wierded out by what was happening to him but after nearly erasing himself from existence, partly creating an alternate "Hell" Valley, participating in a real, no-holds-barred Western showdown, running from Prohibition-era gangsters, and the Crisis of Multiple Martys (plus a healthy dose of horror movies watched at his friends' houses) there wasn't much that could really freak Marty McFly out anymore.

"Marty, watch it!" cried Ray but it was too late. A wooden lamp stand crashed into Marty with enough force to knock him to the floor. The lamp stand flared with a red outline and then another of the Bellhop ghosts popped out of it, cackling madly. Coughing from having the wind knocked out of him, Marty stared up at the Ghost first in bewilderment, then in mounting anger. That thing had hit him on purpose! And it thought that was funny! Marty didn't get mad like he used to, not after what had happened with Buford "Mad Dog" Tannen in 1885, but this was one step too far.