"I tell you, Slimer, I just hate it when the guys go over there to the Netherworld." Janine Melnitz adjusted her glasses and glanced around the lab, almost as if she expected the Ghostbusters to appear before her out of thin air. I do expect it. Any second now. Egon promised they wouldn't stay over there for more than an hour.

The little green ghost merely muttered, "Uh huh," and drifted around the room, sniffing for leftover munchies to gobble up. When he didn't find any, he heaved a regretful sigh, drifted up to the ceiling, and hung there idly. The little spud would never be a great conversationalist, no matter how much Ray tried to teach him.

Since Egon had been trapped in the Netherworld a few years ago and Ray had designed a gizmo to enable the team to transition over to the parallel dark realm to rescue him, excursions had taken place more often than she liked. Sometimes they were for Egon to take P.K.E. readings, occasionally because Ray wanted to follow up on some weird detail he'd read in one of his creepy occult books, and once to rescue a stranded human they'd heard about. For a dimension the size of the known universe, only parts of the Netherworld abutted on their own dimension, and the difference of a fraction in the settings could transfer the team thousands of miles. Recall bracelets to trigger their return home were fragile, and Janine always worried that one of the guys would break his. Ray and Egon had industriously created a set of spares for them to carry. But in such a dangerous place, a bad fall could shatter bracelets all too easily. If the demons and other nasty creatures that lurked there ever figured out it was the bracelets that allowed the Ghostbusters to transition into their realm, the guys would be in big trouble.

Here was Janine, a secretary--make that executive assistant--holding down the fort, armed with a bracelet or two of her own, but hardly able to mount a solitary rescue. Who could she recruit if the guys didn't return? Louis Tully? Their accountant didn't exactly inspire confidence. A few cops? Even if New York's Finest generally approved of the Ghostbusters, they weren't exactly skilled in the use of the particle throwers. Maybe she ought to get at Egon about training a back-up team for just such a crisis.

Abruptly, the brilliant white light that signaled the Ghostbusters' return flared across the lab, and Janine retreated a couple of steps from the center of the radiance. Slimer shrieked and vanished through the ceiling. He was prone to panic at the most unlikely events and would return after the guys appeared.

Bursts of jagged red ran through the white transfer glow like lightning--uh-oh, that wasn't normal--then the luminance spit a tumbling Ray Stantz and Winston Zeddemore from its heart before it faded away. They rolled across the floor as if they'd been tossed like dice. Ray whacked his head against the leg of the table. Sprawled on the floor at Janine's feet, neither of them stirred when she cried out their names.

Peter and Egon were nowhere in sight.

Heart in her mouth, Janine flung herself down beside the two men. Already Winston was stirring, muttering unhappily to himself, but Ray lay unmoving, too much blood on his forehead from a cut near his hairline. He must have done it when he hit. Ray's hair was tangled, Winston's sleeve sported a tear just below the no-ghost logo, and the left sleeve of Ray's jumpsuit displayed a big scorched patch. Ray lay awkwardly, propped at an angle by the proton pack he wore on his back, his head lolling. For a terrifying instant, Janine thought he was dead and her scalp tightened with cold tension. Then he moaned faintly. Alive but hurt.

"Winston?" she pleaded.

He groaned and his eyelids fluttered, but he didn't respond. Sprawled mostly on his stomach, he had to be weighted down by the heavy pack, but she didn't dare move either of them, to remove the packs.

Still no trace of Egon and Peter. Her heart left her mouth and took up residence in the pit of her stomach, where it thumped miserably. "Stay there, Winston. I'll call 911," she said and flew to the lab phone, dragging it back to them on its long cord. It only took a few seconds to get through, and she didn't take her eyes off the two downed men the whole time. As soon as the dispatcher promised to send assistance, she raced for the first aid kit and blankets, checking back with the person on the line between tasks. Sitting cross-legged between the two downed men, she worked to stop Ray's bleeding. Once she'd applied a hasty dressing to his wound, she covered him with one of the blankets. She didn't dare risk moving him any more than the touches as she applied the dressing, even to put a pillow under his head. He didn't respond to the process except to flinch when she taped the dressing in place.

By the time she finished with Ray, Winston was showing more awareness. The way he pushed himself up with his hands suggested he was aching badly. When he shook his head to clear it, he groaned, subsided to the floor, and grabbed his head with both hands. "Oh, man...."

"Don't try to move, Winston," she instructed, then she grabbed up the still-active phone to let the dispatcher know Winston had revived.

While she relayed his symptoms into the phone, Winston risked a cautious glance around the lab and spotted Ray who lay just beyond her. "Is he...."

"He's unconscious. He must have been hit on the head. What happened, Winston? Where are Egon and Peter?" I don't want to hear this.

Every muscle in Winston's body tightened and he squinted past her at the lab. "They're not here? They were right with us. We all pushed our recall buttons. I saw them do it. I swear I wouldn't have run out on them." He gazed at her, the shadows in his eyes adding years to his face, then he turned his worried gaze to Ray.

"Of course you wouldn't. No one would think that. What happened, Winston? Why did you come back like that?"

"You call the paramedics?" Carefully, he edged close enough to finger the dressing on Ray's forehead. "Oh, man," he breathed.

"First thing. I've got them on the line." She held up the phone to make the point, realizing he wasn't with her a hundred percent or he would have noticed. "Come on, Winston. Tell me." She braced herself, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, afraid he wouldn't have answers--or that he would have the wrong answers.

"Tolay," he said flatly.

Janine shuddered. The first time the team had ever ventured into the Netherworld it had been to rescue Egon, who had been thrust there as a backlash of a device invented to save him when his molecules were destabilized. Alone in the Netherworld, Egon had promptly been captured by Tolay, the brother of the demon they'd just trapped, who was hot for revenge. The guys had rescued Egon and escaped from Tolay by a hair's breadth. They'd always wondered if the nasty demon would come after them seeking revenge, but he never had. Future ventures into the dark dimension had carefully avoided his realm whenever possible.

That didn't mean Tolay couldn't travel to other parts of the Netherworld.

"What did he do?" She wanted to grab him and shake the story out of him, but he looked so shocked and diminished that she forced herself to be patient. Fingers curled around Ray's wrist so the steady beat of his pulse could reassure her that he'd wake up any minute now, she gazed expectantly at Winston. The cold shivers that tightened her scalp and made her regret the sausage calzone she'd eaten for lunch reminded her over and over that Egon, yes, and Doctor V, too, might be prisoners of Tolay right now--or dead...

No! They weren't dead. They couldn't be dead. Egon couldn't be dead.

"He spotted us and sent his rock demons and terror dogs after us--and he tried to blast us by shooting fire at us. I think it hit the bracelets' energy field." A savage shiver racked his body, and he wrapped his arms around his chest. She let go of Ray's wrist to pass him the second blanket, and he huddled into it. "I thought we'd had it. I thought we'd...." His voice trailed off, aghast.

"What? You thought what?" She didn't want to push him but she had to know.

He gazed up at her, his eyes hollow, dark pits of despair. "I thought we'd disintegrate in midair, that we'd never make it home." When she felt the color leave her face, he shot out his hands and grasped her shoulders. "We made it home. Pete and Egon will, too. They probably just went for cover."

"Did you see them transition?" It was hard to speak with such numb lips. She had to concentrate to force out each word. If they were a second or two behind Ray and Winston, they might not have made it. The field that protected them in transfer might have activated too late.

Winston's brow wrinkled as he struggled to remember. "Yeah. There was a glow. I saw it. I know they were transitioning."

"You don't think Tolay could have...." She couldn't bring herself to finish the question. Egon and Peter weren't here. Whether they transitioned or not, they hadn't made it home.

Winston opened his mouth to answer, then he said despairingly, "I don't know." His whole body sagged into lines of weariness and pain.

In the stunned silence that followed, Ray stirred restlessly but didn't wake up. Winston's eyes fastened on him. "Ray?" he pleaded.

"He hit his head when he landed. He's alive." Stupid, Melnitz. Dead men don't bleed. She could see the dressing on his head was already stained with fresh blood. Scalp cuts bled freely, but still.... She gnawed her lip. Winston dropped a hand on Ray's shoulder.

The approaching siren reminded her of the paramedics and she jumped shifted the phone against her ear to report to the dispatcher. "I hear the ambulance. I'm going down to let the paramedics in." She dragged the phone to the end of its cord and passed the receiver to Winston. "Here." Then she raced downstairs to the sound of Winston explaining that Ray was still unconscious.

The paramedics were a real Mutt-and-Jeff pair, a tall, burly bald guy who must be pushing retirement age and a petite red-haired woman who made Janine feel like a beanpole by comparison. She didn't have any trouble hauling her equipment up the stairs, though. They introduced themselves as George Davis and Janet Benton. A visit to Ghostbuster Central might be a new and exotic experience for them--they stared around fascinated, as if they expected ghosts to pop in and out of the walls--but paramedics had been here on several earlier occasions. Ghostbusting was dangerous, and sometimes the ghosts came right into headquarters or Egon and Ray became too energetic in the lab and blew it up.

When they reached the third floor, Winston hung up the phone and turned relieved eyes to Janine. "He's awake."

"Ray?" She flung herself down beside him.

Ray squinted at her blearily. "Hi, Janine." Awake but not quite tracking yet.

She touched his cheek gently. "Hi, Ray. You took a real bump on the head. Let the paramedics check you out." She eased aside so Benton could take his vital signs. Davis turned to Winston and set up a blood pressure cuff.

Janine had seen paramedics at work before and trusted them to do their jobs so she stood just far enough away so as not to crowd them. She wanted to fling questions at Ray, who would understand better than anyone what might have happened, but she didn't think he was aware enough yet to answer them. Neither man was up to mounting a rescue yet, but Ray would know what would need to be done and how many people Janine would need to recruit for the rescue team. Until she saw a body, she refused to believe Egon was dead. He was so brilliant and inventive that he'd think of a daring resolution to the crisis. He worked so incredibly well under pressure that his last minute solutions had saved the team more times than she could count. Then there was Doctor V. That annoying smart mouth masked an equally sharp mind and revealed considerable street smarts. He'd been battling the paranormal long enough that giant green demons didn't intimidate him. He would think of something. The team of Spengler and Venkman ought to be enough to handle any odds.

Ought to be.... You guys better be alive over there. You better be. Or else I'm coming over there to kill you myself.

She froze. The recall bracelets weren't entirely dependent on time constraints or manual activation. Originally the buttons had been set for a specific period of time and then returned the team automatically. Later Ray had configured them to respond to manual activation in the Netherworld, but there had always been the possibility that a team member might be down and unable to activate the button, so Egon had dreamed up a recall from this end that would override the manual recall. Horrified that she had forgotten, Janine threw herself at the tripod-mounted gadget that recalled the team and stabbed her thumb down on the button.

"I thought of that after you went downstairs, Janine," Winston said behind her. "I already tried it."

"Well, I'm trying it again. Maybe there's a short in it." She jammed her thumb against the button. Nothing happened.

"There shouldn't be." That was Ray. He lay without moving as if afraid his head would fall off if he tried to sit up, and he still sounded halfway out of it, but he was trying to think. "Tolay zapped us with psi energy. The bracelets don't exactly link up with the phase amplifier. They simply home in on it and reverse the transfer process--returning us to the home setting. So if Egon and Peter are wearing their bracelets--and the bracelets still work--that should bring them home." He gave a faint moan as he saw where his words led. Maybe the bracelets were confiscated or broken. But would they work on...dead bodies? Janine didn't know, and she dreaded the response too much to ask.

Janet Benton had already helped Ray out of his proton pack and eased him into a more comfortable position before she finished a new neat dressing on Ray's forehead. Ray grimaced. "I have work to do. Let me up."

"Not yet. You can't help your missing friends if you pass out. I need to make sure you don't have a serious head injury. You were unconscious."

"I'm okay," Ray insisted doggedly. "I've gotta go back to the Netherworld to help Peter and Egon."

Benton's red head shook. She must be as stubborn as Ray, who would sink his teeth into a task like a bulldog and refuse to abandon it. "You can't help your friends if you pass out. Let's make sure you're all right before we consider any heroics."

"But they could be in danger right this minute." Ray grabbed her hand in a grip that made her wince. "Please. Time counts. One second could make the difference. We have to find them."

"You couldn't help them if you went to this Netherworld place and then keeled over, could you? They'd have to help you." She didn't say what Janine was sure she was thinking, that it might already be too late. Janine's mouth tightened. What did she know anyway? She couldn't realize what survivors Egon and Peter were. She couldn't begin to understand the fierce loyalty and unity of the team.

"I'm going with them. I'll keep an eye on him, on both of them," Janine insisted. "It'll take me two minutes to get ready." Automatically, her finger stabbed the recall button. Still nothing.

Benton shone a light in Ray's eyes, and he flinched away from it. Her mouth puckered up. "Doctor Stantz, I believe you have a concussion. Even a slight concussion is a serious matter. We should transport you for x-rays and an examination by a physician. There could be complications. It would be unsafe for you to consider going to that Netherworld place."

"Then it's unsafe for Peter and Egon to stay there." Ray thrust out his bottom lip and matched her determination with his own. "I can't leave them behind. I just can't." His voice trailed off sadly.

"I know you can't." Although Benton's voice was gentle, Janine could tell she wouldn't give an inch. "We have to transport you to the hospital, so a doctor can examine you. In spite of what you see on television, people don't just jump up and go out to chase the bad guys when they have concussions. If you move too quickly, you'll likely throw up. You could aggravate the condition. You simply won't be strong enough for energetic battles with your proton gun. You'd make the others in the rescue party need to rescue you."

"Well, I'm going," Winston proclaimed. "I'm not hurt. I wasn't unconscious. I don't have a concussion, do I?"

Davis frowned. "You don't display any symptoms of it, but your blood pressure is a little elevated. It's coming down--I think it was the shock of this transition that caused it. But I wouldn't advise any strenuous activity in the next few hours."

"You don't get it," Winston half yelled. "Our buddies are in trouble. We have to help them. We're the only ones who can. We can't send Janine over there on her own."

"I'll go," she insisted. "I'll take two proton packs if I have to and fire one with each hand." It was a ludicrous suggestion. She knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't mount a solitary rescue, even if she had been better at the Ghostbusters' job than they were. Yes, she knew how to use a proton pack, but she was a secretary who only strapped on a nuclear accelerator as backup when one of the guys was out with an injury or an entity was so dangerous that four throwers might not be enough. She knew she couldn't rescue the guys by herself. Even if she recruited Louis Tully, who had used a thrower on two or three occasions, or sent for that tabloid reporter Edgar Benedek, who had once helped Egon on a bust, called in the Banzai Institute, or tracked down the few police officers who had ever had occasion to use a proton pack and thrower, they wouldn't make a great team. Egon and Peter might need Ray and Winston, and they were out, at least for a few hours. Winston might be able to go fairly soon, but Ray--as much as she wanted instant rescue for Egon, and for Doctor V, Janine couldn't endanger Ray's life. Who knew what the transition energy would do to a man with a concussion.

She held up her hands when Ray and Winston opened their mouths to protest. "I won't do it alone. I'll track down anyone who's ever used a thrower. By the time they arrive, Winston should be up for coming along. You can't come, Ray."

"You're not the boss," he muttered, but he must have heard the juvenile whine in his voice because he stiffened his shoulders. "I have to find out what happened," he insisted. "I'm the one who knows the equipment. I can't go to the hospital. Their lives might depend on me figuring out the answer about the recall bracelets or the phase amplifier. I have to stay here. I'll sign a waiver or whatever, but I won't go."

Janine knelt beside him. "Ray, you have to. Go for x-rays at least. Just to be sure. Do you think Peter and Egon would thank you for killing yourself in an attempt to save them? If the x-rays are negative, you can come home, and we'll take care of you. It's not like I've never kept my eye on one of you with a concussion before." When his bottom lip protruded mutinously, she gripped his shoulders. "Go, Ray. It's okay. We won't give up on Egon or Peter, not for a second, will we, Winston?"

"We sure won't." Winston caught Ray's arm. "You go, Ray. We'll keep working on this. I'll call in anybody we can find to help. My word on it. Pete and Egon would kick your butt if you didn't go. You got it?"

Ray's shoulders bowed. "I got it."

The paramedics didn't transport Winston; when they checked his blood pressure just before they took Ray, it had returned to normal. They prescribed rest, but it was clear they didn't expect him to take it. They did secure a promise from him that he wouldn't attempt transition for two hours. While someone always went along to the hospital when a member of the team was hurt, this time she and Winston couldn't go. They had too much to do.

Winston didn't lie down; instead he opened the computer file that held all the notes about the molecular phase amplifier and the schematics for the recall bracelets. Then he compared the schematics with his own bracelet and tested it. Convinced he had the smarts and the background to make sense of his task, Janine left him to it and began phoning in all the reinforcements she could.

With his scientific knowledge and towering intellect, Egon could solve a problem like this in minutes. All Janine had were theories, the best of which was that the missing men were prisoners of Tolay, locked away in his keep. The huge demon hadn't been in his usual territory, though. Not that distance would be a problem for a demon who could transition to and from the Netherworld without any need of assistive devices or recall bracelets. He could snap his fingers and return to his own keep, hauling two reluctant Ghostbusters along with him. Or he could have been so angry with his ignominious defeat the last time that he might have zapped the guys out of sheer spite. Janine didn't want to think about that. She couldn't imagine life without Egon in it. The special warm place in her heart that she reserved for Egon alone would shatter from the emptiness if he were gone. Then there was Doctor Venkman, a man who annoyed her so much that she wanted to kill him half the time. The other half, she knew Peter was her brother in all but blood, and that it would break her heart all over again if he were gone, too.

You can't be dead, guys. I won't believe you're dead.

The only consolation she had as she placed her phone calls to the police to request their help was that, wherever Peter and Egon were, they were together.

Peter Venkman didn't know where he was, only that it was too hot, too dry, and too painful. The air he yanked into his protesting lungs was heavy and searing, like breathing in a hot desert wind. That wasn't right. The section of the Netherworld he could remember had been arid and desolate, but it had carried with it a chill wind that flapped the sleeves of his jumpsuit and twisted his hair out of its classy style into a wild tangle. So why was it that hot now?

He stirred restlessly, and pain slammed into him like a subway train. Hot stabbing agony jabbed his left leg narrowing the world down to a small, dark, hurting place where he could only shudder and moan and freeze into utter immobility in the hopes of driving the jarring torment away. He couldn't think, couldn't concentrate on anything but the need to ease his leg. As he struggled to resist, his scalp tightened and he could feel sweat breaking out. Had that whimpering sound actually come from his own mouth?

A big hand closed around his own. "Hang on, Peter. Lie very still." He knew that familiar bass rumble, but he could scarcely think past the shuddering waves of misery to recognize it.

Then the worst of the pain eased enough to allow coherent thought, and he fumbled to speak. His tongue felt too big and awkward for his mouth, but he curled desperate fingers around the offered hand. "E-egon?"

"Lie very still, Peter. Your leg is broken."

"Ya...think?"

His attempt at flippancy crashed and burned, but Egon produced a responsive sound halfway between a chuckle and a sob. That scared Peter enough to try to force open his eyes, but he only managed to crank them to half-mast. Egon bent over him, his hair tangled, his glasses slightly crooked, a smear of blood on his forehead. In odd, unfamiliar glow of dancing yellow light, his eyes were clear, although full of worry, frustration, and the concern for Peter that cut through any petty hurts he might have. Peter recognized his expression. Egon had established priorities and, right now, Peter was priority number one.

Egon must have already removed Peter's proton pack, for he was lying on his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the pack, lying carefully within range. Egon still wore his own. That meant this place wasn't safe. Big surprise--not.

"I shall have to set your leg, Peter." From the tight curl of Egon's mouth, he didn't expect to enjoy it. Peter knew he wouldn't. He didn't even want to think about it, but their presence in this dark place with looming rocks illuminated by the unexpected firelight meant Egon might have a point.

"Netherworld?" he faltered.

Egon frowned so awfully his glasses slipped down toward the tip of his nose. "Patently." Peter knew without doubt that he wasn't the frown's intended recipient.

"Tolay!" Memory returned to him in a rush: the Netherworld excursion, the sudden arrival of the demon who wanted to serve them up for Sunday brunch, the attempt to use the bracelets to flee home. There had been a brilliant flash of light full of harsh red bursts, then pain so intense the world had gone away. "He caught us?" The little Peter could see in the makeshift torchlight didn't resemble the dungeon beneath Tolay's keep; there were no obvious bars. But it was still underground.

"Yes. He interfered with the recall process. We are still in the Netherworld."

That was bad news. Trapped in the dark dimension with a broken leg was an experience Peter had never hoped to experience. Egon might have to leave him to save his own life, and Peter knew all the way down to the soles of his feet that Egon would never dream of doing that. He'd pull Egon down with him when Tolay came.

At least they'd have a warning. Egon could detect him and maybe hide them--although the thought of moving at all made Peter's flesh cringe in unhappy anticipation. "Any readings?" he asked.

"I evidently misplaced my P.K.E. meter in the transition," Egon admitted reluctantly. "But the climate in this location is much warmer than in the realm where we encountered the demon, so he evidently shifted us to another location."

"...bracelets?" It took all Peter's energy to focus; he would have loved to let go the struggle and sink down into a darkness free of agony until Egon found a way to a) set his leg, b) get them home away from the demon, and c) put little Petey Venkman in a nice, safe hospital complete with mega-painkillers. But if it were that easy, Egon would have done it already. "Broken?"

"Neither bracelet appears broken, Peter, nor our spares, either." The disgusted set of Egon's mouth suggested further complications. His body was rigid, and that was nothing to do with the crushing grip Peter had on his left hand. "I have been examining them. When I attempted to activate your bracelet, it was evident that the device is undamaged. While the white glow of transfer formed up around us, it instantly dissipated, leaving us still here. I switched our bracelets and tried to activate my own, with the same results."

Huh? "Switched...."

"You surely don't believe I would have risked activating mine to leave you behind."

Peter gulped. No, Egon would never do that, even if Peter had been uninjured. But the thought of leaving Egon stranded somewhere in the Netherworld because he meant to save Peter at his own expense was a humbling thought. "Egon...."

Old Spengs knew without question what Peter struggled to say. His other hand came down on Peter's forehead. Maybe he was testing for fever, but the gentle stroking felt good. Reminded him of his mom when Peter had been sick as a little boy. Peter lacked the energy to do more than lie passively and allow the touch to soothe him. "What else can I do?" Egon asked. "Should our situation be reversed, you would have done exactly what I did."

"Well, yeah, but...." He let that trickle away. First things first. Egon had already tested their equipment. He could keep doing that, but Peter knew he had another priority. "So, is it just my leg, then?" he asked. The word "just" was ludicrous, but he wanted to know the whole story even if he could do nothing about it.

"The fibula is broken, and I have some doubts about a couple of your ribs. Does it hurt to breathe, Peter?"

He drew in a deeper breath than the wary shallow ones that he'd dared to avoid jarring his leg. Not good. There was a faint twinge on the right side. He gasped.

Egon interpreted the reaction without difficulty and he took his hand away from Peter's forehead to touch the affected area with gentle fingertips. "Here?"

"Yeah."

"I am not a doctor, Peter. I don't know how serious it is, although I can't feel a major break, and there is no evidence a rib is pressing inward. But because of the possibility, I wanted you conscious and aware. I do need to set your leg. We cannot tell how long we will be stranded here. While the break seems a simple fracture--"

"Good thing it isn't a compound one, then," Peter said tightly, "or I'd be screaming my head off."

"No, you wouldn't," Egon said positively. "But you have my full permission to do so when I set it. What I do want you to do, and I know this will be difficult, is to concentrate very hard on your breathing during the process."

In other words, lie here and try not to develop a punctured lung. Cheery thought. He knew Egon had to set his leg. Egon was current on his first aid training; all the guys were because they never knew when a member of the team might sustain an injury in a remote location. If they were stranded here for days, major problems could ensue if the bone were left unset. Egon had surely never set a leg before. Knowing Egon, he probably had thoroughly researched the process; or else he'd read about it once and his photographic memory would replay the instructions in technicolor on the insides of his eyelids. Still, that couldn't match up to hands' on experience.

It'll feel better when he's done. He focused on the thought, prepared to recite it like a mantra. Then he hesitated. "You have something to splint it with?"

"Yes, Peter. I searched the area. Someone evidently had built a campfire here some time ago and I located a stack of firewood." He didn't offer speculation about the original owner of the campfire, but Peter knew he'd considered all the options carefully. Not that they were given a choice. Egon could hardly drag Peter away from here without risking damage to his leg. He would only do that if it came down to their immediate survival. Knowing old Spengs, he'd probably set aside a couple of the longer branches to make a travois if relocating should prove necessary. Egon could consider more possibilities than anyone Peter had ever met.

"Go for it," he said.

Egon had already slit his pant leg. From the gentle touch of his exploring fingers the break was not far above his ankle. Egon positioned himself, gnawed his bottom lip as a means of gaining resolution, then he lifted his head and looked Peter in the eye. "I am very sorry, Peter, but I shall have to hurt you now."

The thought tortured Egon. Peter could see it in his eyes. But he trusted Egon in every way possible to trust another human being. He said softly, "It's okay, Egon. Do it," and gritted his teeth against the agony that narrowed down to a fine, driving wedge at the point of the fracture.

Long before Egon had finished, Peter lost all interest in the process and spiraled away into blessed darkness.

"So here's the problem," Winston said to the three police officers assembled in a row before him. They were volunteers who had shown up in answer to a request for assistance from the NYPD. Two of them, Feretti and Kling, had handled throwers before on busts when a Ghostbuster was down and the team needed backup, and the third, McAdam, was young, gung ho, and an expert marksman. All of them were off duty, though still in uniform, prepared to risk their lives in the Netherworld where a nasty entity might be waiting to pounce on them. Great guys. There was one more proton pack; each team member had a spare, but Winston felt this size team would work. If that reporter Benedek had been in town, he could have had the last pack, but he was in Florida on a story. They might need the last pack later.

Sure of their attention, Winston continued. "I've tested the bracelets--these are all spares that we didn't use last time, so they wouldn't have been affected by whatever Tolay did. I've tested the phase amplifier." He waved a hand at the boxy device mounted on its tripod. "According to the specs, it's undamaged. Reaching the Netherworld won't be a problem. I showed you how to push the button to return home. Our main problem will be what we find over there. If Tolay shorted out Peter and Egon's bracelets, then he could just as well have grabbed them and taken off for parts unknown. I do know how to set the amplifier to put us in the general area of his keep, and that will be our second destination. Keep in mind that Tolay might be waiting for us on site. He knows we don't leave anybody behind because we went after Egon once before when he was stranded. So I'll be carrying this meter." He displayed a P.K.E. meter. "It will give readings if Tolay or any other nasty entities are nearby. If he's there, I'm gonna pull us out. Won't help Pete and Egon if we're captured or zapped."

"He might use them as bait," Janine muttered darkly. She wore her uniform jumpsuit, a proton pack on her back. Winston knew he couldn't leave her behind, although he was reluctant to expose her--or the inexperienced officers--to the threat. He couldn't say no, though, not only because the rescue mission might be Peter and Egon's only chance but because Janine would never forgive him if he didn't let her go. She was tough and feisty and he trusted her.

He nodded. "Probably is. But we don't know where he'd take them, whether he'd leave them there or head for his own keep where he can be ready for us. We might have to make several visits."

"We're ready," McAdam vowed. He was about twenty-two, and built enough like Peter to wear one of his jumpsuits. "We did pretty good on the target."

Winston glanced at the cardboard cutout pasted on the wall for target practice at low power to give the cops a feel for the throwers. The charred marks all around it reminded Winston of the pinholes that always surrounded a dartboard that had been up for any length of time. Since a thrower's kick was a lot different from a police officer's hand weapon, it had taken a little practice for the back-up team to get a handle on it, and Winston couldn't help worrying that they'd fall back on the old method when confronted with a nasty entity. He'd have to stay focused, yell warnings if they did it wrong. Janine knew her stuff by now, so she wasn't a problem.

"Ray should be home in a few minutes," Janine reminded him. "He wouldn't stay, and the doctor doesn't think his concussion is too bad, but they were pretty insistent that he not try to come." She'd already been over this with Winston, but maybe she wanted the officers to know. Or maybe she was just so upset that she was babbling, even though that wasn't her usual style.

"Wouldn't let him anyway," Winston muttered, even though he knew Ray would resent his exclusion from the mission. The need to save Egon and Peter would matter more to him than the state of his own health--any member of the team would feel that way.

"You might have to tie him down to leave him behind," Janine muttered darkly. "We need somebody here to bodyguard him. And don't mention Slimer. Ray can get around him in a heartbeat."

"I've got it handled," Winston said. He thought he'd come up with an argument or two that would keep Ray home. They wouldn't leave until he arrived, simply because it was only common sense to have him check out the equipment before they took off, and because they'd need him to activate the amplifier. If the hospital had insisted on keeping him, Winston would have gone without the inspection and used Slimer to push the button to send them over, but at this point he didn't think another few minutes would matter one way or another. If Tolay had done his worst, the rescue team couldn't save his buddies. Don't think about that, Zed. If Pete and Egon were prisoners, then, with luck, they were just stuck in a cell the way Egon had been last time. If Winston learned the delay had cost his friends their lives, that knowledge would be impossible to live with, but he couldn't risk five lives on the off chance that those few minutes would make any difference.

Footsteps on the stairs announced Ray's return. He wasn't exactly running; it must have taken all his energy just to drag himself up the spiral stairs. When he appeared in the doorway, he looked so drained and spent that Janine raced over and grabbed his arm. The bandage on his forehead wasn't much whiter than his face, and huge dark shadows under his eyes gave the appearance of added years. Even his hair hung limp against his forehead.

"Oh, man, Ray...." Winston groaned.

"I'm okay," Ray insisted. He put on that pugnacious face he wore when he didn't intend to let anybody cross him. "Where's my pack? We've got to head over there."

"Whoa, hold it." Winston helped Janine guide the sagging occultist to the chair they'd placed beside the amplifier. "You're not going."

He bounced up again, although it was a ponderous bounce, lacking his usual boundless energy. His gaze met Winston's and held it. "You need me over there. Peter and Egon need me. I can't stay tamely here when my friends are in danger."

"You aren't up to it, Ray. If you go, we're going to have to waste time protecting you, which could delay or screw up the rescue. The doc phoned us and said not to let you go, and I won't. We need to put all our attention on saving Egon and Pete, and you know it."

"But--"

"No buts, Ray. I mean it. I'll handcuff you to the chair if I have to, and I'm sure one of our recruits will oblige me with cuffs if necessary."

Feretti promptly displayed a pair.

Ray flung him a hotly betrayed glance, and Feretti tucked away the cuffs, but he grinned to show he was entirely willing to produce them again if need be. "Winston's right, buddy," he said. He raked a nervous hand through his dark curls. "You know better than any of us how dangerous it is over there. You can't go when you're not at full strength."

Ray grimaced. "But the guys need me--"

"They need a team at peak efficiency," Kling insisted. He was prematurely bald on top, and black-framed Buddy Holly glasses magnified his blue eyes, but he could do sincere with the best of them. "I know you hate sending us when we're not experts with your weapons, but you look like you could keel over if you had to exert yourself for five minutes. Believe me, a team is more than the guys on the front lines. You have to watch that thingamajig over there and make sure we can return home when we're ready. That's necessary, too."

Ray heaved such a massive sigh that his whole body reacted to it. "Okay," he said, but Winston could tell he would blame himself if the mission failed, even if he knew rationally that there was nothing he could have done. Would he hold it against Winston for keeping him at home? Would his particular expertise be the one thing they needed when they went over there? He'd designed the gizmo that had enabled them to go over, and he'd designed it on the fly to meet an urgent crisis. If anybody could think up quick tech solutions, it was Ray. Winston had his engineering background, but it was civil engineering, not the esoteric stuff Ray lived and breathed. Working with the team and the night courses he'd taken had enabled him to keep up, to know enough to make repairs and help maintain the equipment, but he was no genius inventor like Ray or theoretical expert like Egon. What if his knowledge fell short and the mission failed because he hadn't allowed Ray to come?

On the other hand, Egon and Peter might already be...gone. Could he bear to risk Ray, too?

They all watched Ray check out the device, the three cops bunching close together. This was so far outside their normal job duties that Winston could only hope their training would hold them together if they came face to face with Tolay. There was nothing he could do about that; he'd coached them in detail on what they could expect, and none of them had backed down. He'd just have to hope that three untrained men might compensate for the absence of Ray.

Why didn't he have much faith that it would work?

Finally Ray lifted eyes glittering with pain and weariness. "There's nothing wrong with it," he said. "Tolay's intervention didn't mess it up." He shivered. "They were closer to Tolay than we were. I bet it just affected their bracelets."

"We have plenty of spares," Winston reminded him.

"Yeah, hold onto those bracelets," Janine instructed the cops. "Are we ready now?"

Ray made a few minor adjustments. "Yeah. I just aligned the settings. You won't materialize at exactly the same spot we left. I gave you a fractional displacement. Probably five hundred meters. If Tolay's right there watching, there's no point in making yourself targets the second you appear."

"Good thinking, Ray." Winston gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You're a good man to have on our team."

"I'd rather be over there with you," Ray muttered. "But I'll stay. I'll put together some more bracelets. I've got five or six nearly done. And I'll run a thorough diagnostic on the program. You guys be careful over there."

"You rest while we're gone, Ray," Janine urged.

He shook his head fiercely. At least the gesture didn't appear to make him dizzy. "No way. I'll brainstorm the possibilities. I'll run them on the computer. We have to know what Tolay's energy might have done. Are they in another part of the Netherworld? Were they knocked out? If energy fields can interact with the bracelets, we're in trouble if we have to make a getaway. We did okay when Tolay's rock demons tried to zap us last time, so I think it depends on what point in the energy transfer is affected. Or maybe even the distance, because there'd be some energy dissipation at greater distance. We were further away and we just had a rough ride home. How far is safe? I need to know all this."

"You'll make sense of it, Ray. I know you will. Send us over there. We'll come back in an hour and report. Or sooner if we have to check out Tolay's keep. You've got those settings?"

"Yeah. I configured them into the device after last time. We went where Egon had gone, and then Tolay hauled him off to his dungeon. So if we need to go to Tolay's keep, I can put you closer to it." He reached for the controls. "Stand over there. Line up, yeah, like that," he added as the cops bunched in, shuffling their feet uneasily. "No, closer together."

"Draw your throwers," Winston added. "Let's make sure we go in armed for bear."

When everyone was ready, Ray activated the device. Winston heard McAdam gasp as the energy field enveloped him, then it brightened to a stunning white that made them close their eyes.

When the light dimmed, they were in the Netherworld.

The heat in the cave had been unpleasant enough that Egon had been glad to remove his jumpsuit. Considering how little they had in the way of medical supplies, it was essential that Peter be kept as warm as possible, so now he lay huddled beneath the blue jumpsuit, and Egon had removed his tee shirt and used it to pad the rock beneath Peter's head before he put his shirt on again. Shock could kill, and Peter was a prime candidate for going into shock. With the jumpsuit over him, he probably felt too hot, but it was better to prevent a chill--most hot dry climates cooled off at night, and Peter would need the warmth if Ray and Winston hadn't found them by then.

Peter was still unconscious. While he was out, Egon had finished setting his leg and splinted it carefully. Even in unconsciousness, Peter had flinched and moaned at the pain, leaving Egon to feel a sadist, even though he knew his action was necessary. They might be stranded here for hours, even days, and the longer the bone went without being set, the worse it would be. Egon was almost sure he'd done it properly; the thought of it needing to be reset once they were home made him shudder, but at least in such a situation, Peter would be in a supervised medical situation with proper anesthetics.

As for his ribs, Egon could observe no evidence of a punctured lung; no difficulty breathing, no trace of blood at his mouth. What he knew of first aid didn't suggest internal bleeding, either, but Egon knew he was not an expert and it might be too soon to tell if there were internal injuries. He might be qualified to give basic first aid, and even CPR, but he didn't delude himself into thinking his limited skills could replace those of a physician or even an EMT. Peter's face was too white, but his skin wasn't clammy to the touch. Egon could do no more for him physically.

That left finding a way out of their current predicament.

Egon was reluctant to explore his surroundings while Peter was still unconscious; he didn't want Peter to wake up alone and panic or shift in such a way that he could re-injure himself. Much better to wait until he revived so that Egon could explain his need to search. With this dry heat, they would need water before long, and the supply they carried with them in small canteens wouldn't last the night.

Egon used the wait to strip down his bracelet, knowing the back-up bracelets both men carried had not been in use at the time Tolay blasted them and that they should be undamaged. He had tried both of the back-ups in an attempt to return them home, both of them on Peter, one after the other. Peter would hate that if he knew, but he didn't know. Both bracelets tried to activate, tried to create the necessary field, and failed. That should be impossible.

Unless Tolay's attack damaged the back-up bracelets, too, even though they were not in use at the time of the psi blast.... Was that possible? Theoretically, yes. But when he stripped down the one he had been carrying at the time of the attack, he could find no damaged components.

If it is undamaged, why won't it work?

Perhaps Tolay had erected a damping field around them to prevent their escape. Without his meter, Egon couldn't test for such a field. Obviously the bracelets were intact. Just as obviously, they tried to work when he pressed the recall button. But an unknown factor prevented the process from completion. What else could it be but an energy field that blocked off their escape?

That would, of course, imply that Tolay possessed some understanding of their transfer process. Not impossible. His rock demons had witnessed the team's escape last time. Maybe the huge demon wouldn't understand the function of the bracelets, but he'd know the Ghostbusters could phase in and out of the Netherworld, and since that was not a normal human ability, he would assume they controlled the necessary tools to do it--or that they had the assistance of beings with the ability. No such beings had manifested. If the demon could sense the energy in use, he might have been able to counter it.

Had Ray and Winston escaped? They weren't in the cave, and Egon's hasty forays into adjoining caverns had revealed no other beings. Someone had been here before. He had found several torches waiting to be lit, as well as the wood that had provided material for Peter's splint and an obvious fire pit. When night fell and the temperature dropped, he would light a fire to provide Peter necessary warmth. If Ray and Winston were free, they might come to the rescue before then.

If they were free....

They might be dead. Egon knew he must face that possibility. He and Peter might be the only Ghostbusters left. That meant Egon could not simply sit here awaiting rescue. Better to solve the problem of what entrapped them here and escape with Peter as soon as possible.

If they were alive, that meant that Ray, who had designed the entire process, would apply all his intelligence and inventive abilities to finding a solution. Egon trusted Ray to do that. No one could do it better. But he couldn't rely on it entirely because he had no proof that Ray still lived. The thought of Ray's death, of Winston's, made him flinch, but he forced himself to accept the possibility because Peter's life was now his own responsibility.

As if in answer to that thought, Peter shifted fractionally and made a faint, protesting sound, but one with less pain than before Egon had set his leg. He stilled with a conscious effort, then his eyelids lifted and he squinted into the flickering light. "Egon?"

Egon set aside the disassembled bracelet and rested his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Try not to move, Peter."

"Still here, huh?" The question was lucid enough to suggest that Peter had gradually trickled back to consciousness and had lain there trying to organize his awareness before he spoke.

"Demonstrably," Egon replied as dryly as possible.

Peter's lips curled into a faint answering smile. He was still in pain; Egon could see it in the braced muscles and the weary lines of his face. He turned his head just far enough to look Egon in the eye. "When we get home, you're going back to first aid class, buddy. None of this Sadism U stuff from now on."

Egon opened his mouth to justify himself or to apologize; he wasn't certain which. Before he could flay himself, he saw the familiar glitter of amusement shining through the pain in Peter's eyes, and realized the words had never been meant to chastise him, simply to clear the air. The memory of Peter's agony burned him, but he couldn't expect Peter to endure his self-indulgence, so he said, "Actually, I am quite expert."

"Oh, yeah." Peter grinned. "I noticed." He collected himself. "I see we're still guests in this minus-five star holiday resort. No beach, no shuffleboard. Geez, Egon, you bring me to the nicest places."

"Indeed. Not even a computer or a library. In truth, I find it rather wanting, myself." He left his hand on Peter's shoulder, not because he expected Peter to make any rash movements that would jar his leg but simply because the touch comforted him so much. If it reassured Egon, hopefully it would likewise reassure Peter.

As if he understood Egon's reasoning, Peter lifted his hand, slowly so as not to disturb any other part of his body but his arm, and clasped Egon's wrist. He held the grip, while his eyes shared understanding, sympathy, and a determination not to give up. "You'll find the way home," he said with not one shred of doubt.

"That is my intention."

The moment stretched out, and Egon hoped Peter took as much comfort and reassurance from it as he did.

Then Peter gave a crooked grin. "So, what do you know about Home Sweet Cave, anyway, big guy?"

"As yet, not much, except that Tolay does not appear to be present, nor do Winston and Ray."

Shadows flashed in Peter's eyes. He'd already noticed, of course, that the other two were conspicuous by their absence, and Egon could tell he feared the worst.

"They may well have made it home," Egon said. "They were further from Tolay when he attempted to blast us. I fear the backlash of that blast diverted us, or else we were within range of his attack, and they were not." He tightened his grip on Peter's shoulder. "If his attack did not kill us, who were far closer to the demon, then it would not have killed Ray and Winston."

The tensed muscles eased fractionally. "You believe that?" Peter asked. Please believe that. Egon could hear the unspoken plea in his voice.

It dawned on Egon with blinding relief that he did. Not that they were safe, of course, but that Tolay's attack could not have killed them outright. "Yes, Peter, I do."

Peter studied him, then his eyes lightened. "So maybe they're out there searching for us."

"They are undoubtedly searching for us. If they were able to transport home, they would have planned for a return the second they reached the firehall." The flaw in his theory was a simple one, and one he hoped did not occur to Peter in his weakened state. Peter had been injured, presumably by his landing. That could have happened to Ray or Winston as well, just as a possibility of energy backlash. That was likely what had rendered Egon unconscious, although he did not believe he had been stunned for more than a moment or two. Of course if Ray and Winston had returned home, they would have access to medical treatment, and they would arrange for a back-up team. Help could be on its way.

"Yeah, but to come right back would put them face to face with Tolay. Hope Winston remembers his combat smarts."

"Or Ray resets the phase amplifier to bring them back in a slightly different location."

"Location?" Peter's eyes narrowed. "We weren't fighting ol' Tolay in a cave." His brow wrinkled. As rational as he sounded, it must take him more energy than usual to think, with so much of his being concentrated on resisting his pain. Moving only his head, he scanned his surroundings. "No bars. Can't be Tolay's little home-away-from-home dungeon."

"No, I do not believe this is Tolay's keep. I had occasion to know that place far better than I would have liked. This does not feel the same, and it does not smell the same." Egon shuddered at the memory of his experience in the demon's prison. The combination of smells included filthy bodies, spoiled food, and the sickeningly sweet odor of decay that went with death. Prisoners had died in their cells and their bodies had lain there. He had been able to see one decaying corpse in the cell across from him. He didn't think the guys had noticed when they arrived to rescue him.

At first, nightmares would rouse him, nightmares in which the guys hadn't freed him, and that it had been his fate to lie, his body forever unmarked, in a distant dimension. After one such bout, Peter had found him downstairs in front of the television staring unseeingly at the screen and had gently provoked him into "spilling his guts" about it. Peter had suppressed his own horror at what Egon had undergone, and had asked just the right questions to resolve the matter. After a particularly stressful bust, flashes of those dreams might resurface, but never as uncontrolled as before that midnight session. Still, the dungeon remained vivid in Egon's memory. If this had been even a distant wing of the demon's prison, he would have known it instantly.

Peter's mouth quirked in understanding. "Thank goodness for that."

"I theorize that wherever we are has created a natural barrier that the bracelet energy cannot penetrate to recall us to the firehall, or that Tolay has sealed us in. It may be possible to combine the two bracelets we each carry for a double boost and return us home."

Peter eyed him speculatively, as if he could sense Egon's hesitation. "You don't need my permission for that. Anything you can do to get us out of the Black Hole of the Netherworld is okay in my book."

While I am working on the first two bracelets, we will each have one to use," Egon explained. "What concerns me is when I work on the last two. At that point, we will only have one working bracelet. You will, of course, wear it."

Peter frowned. "No way. I'll leave it off until yours is done."

"Peter! Your leg is set, and your ribs should be all right as long as you do not move around, but I will not leave you without a bracelet simply because I do not have one at that point."

"It's not like I'm gonna push the button until you're ready to go home, too," Peter said. "Geez, Spengs, think I'm gonna leave you here? Never happen."

"It might be best to test your bracelet once I have finished the combination, Peter. If it doesn't work, then perhaps I could combine three or maybe all four to send you home. The bracelet readings could tell Ray how to set the phase amplifier to return to rescue me. He could easily assemble any combination of bracelets to enable me to escape this place. In the meantime, you could be taken to the hospital."

Peter met his gaze with steely determination. "No." Just that flat, determined tone that was not open to negotiation. "I won't leave you behind, Egon. Don't ask me to."

"Don't ask me to deny you medical treatment one second longer than necessary," Egon countered.

They stared at each other for what seemed a long time. Egon could read the calculation in his friend's eyes as clearly as if Peter had spoken each thought aloud. "We go together," Peter said finally. "Or we don't go. Don't ask me to do anything else, Egon, 'cause I won't."

Egon hesitated. It wasn't as if he believed a combination of bracelet energy would do the trick, although it was possible. "Don't ask me to endanger your life," he countered.

"We don't even know it will work," Peter reminded him. "Just do your stuff, Doctor Einstein. Then we'll see."

Egon knew the issue was unresolved. He would not delay treatment for Peter, just as Peter would not abandon Egon.

And then he knew the answer. "Peter, if you stay here, I will be forced to protect you. This will limit my movements." And put my life at risk. It was dirty fighting, but he was desperate.

Peter's mouth traced a defeated line. "Damn you, Egon," he said, but there was no malice in the words, only acceptance. "Do it your way. But if you let anything happen to you, you better be prepared for me to storm heaven so I can kill you myself."

Egon squeezed Peter's shoulder, then he let go. "Are you thirsty?" he asked. He'd measured what they carried in the small canteens. Not enough for the two of them to last very long, but if Peter, who was injured, had it all, he could hold out longer. At best, with a fractured leg, in a dry climate, Peter should not be without water for over thirty-six hours, if that. Egon might last twice as long, but the very dryness of the air worked against them. It was possible that, at this very minute, Ray was cobbling together high-powered equipment that would save them shortly. It was also possible that Ray was dead. Egon didn't want to face that possibility, but with Peter's life in his hands, he had to. So he tucked away the pain where he hoped it wouldn't show, and held out the canteen.

"I could drink," Peter admitted. "There enough for both of us?"

"Of course. I already had a drink." He bent his head over the canteen's cap so Peter wouldn't see the lie in his eyes.

"Don't think you're gonna go stoic and give me all the water, Egon. That's stupid." So he had recognized the lie. Perhaps he had heard it in Egon's voice. "You're the one who has to watch out for me. Won't do me much good if you're passed out from dehydration."

"I will drink, Peter. I am not a fool. But you will have a larger share. As you are injured, that is only common sense."

Peter didn't argue. Maybe he was saving his strength for arguments down the road. When Egon carefully raised his head enough to give him water without spilling any, Peter concentrated on not yelling at the pain that ran through him, and sipped gratefully. Egon gave him as much as he was willing to take, urged him to take a little more, and finally, satisfied that he had given Peter all he would accept, began to replace the cap.

"Now you." Egon wasn't sure if Peter deliberately let the pain show in his voice, or if the slight movement had made it impossible to compensate. He couldn't deny that voice, so he raised the canteen to his lips and allowed himself one sip. Then he pretended to drink a little more before he lowered the canteen. "Satisfied?"

"No." Peter grimaced at him. "Come on, Spengs, you can't con a con man."

"True, Peter, but as I have long been aware, in spite of being related to one, you are not a con man. It is not my intention to deceive you, but to save you." He set the canteen aside. "I was reluctant to search the area while you were unconscious but I would like to search it now. If I put your thrower in your hand, do you think you could use it if necessary?"

"You bet." He was lying, too. Both of them were, but lying out of concern for each other, and in defiance of fate. Their understanding of the truth beneath the lies made it acceptable. So Egon pretended to believe it. What else could he do? He shifted the proton pack closer to Peter and set the thrower in Peter's right hand. Peter's fingers curled loosely around the grip, but he didn't try to lift it. "Go for it. For all you know, there's a mega-mall right outside the cave."

"Mega-malls are rather rare in the Netherworld, Peter."

"Their loss." He gazed up at Egon. "I'll be okay. Anything happens, I'll give a bellow."

"Very well." Egon stood up. "I'll leave the torches with you." He switched on his flashlight and set off down the widest tunnel, conscious of Peter's eyes on his back as he walked away. It hurt to leave him behind, but he had to search their surroundings. Some humans lived in the Netherworld. Perhaps Egon could find a settlement nearby, a settlement with a healer. Possibly an element in the rock formation over their heads blocked the device. It happened to scanners on Star Trek all the time. If he could find the way out, he could build a travois, convey Peter outside, and activate the bracelets. He might even come upon his P.K.E. meter on the way.

And Slimer might be nominated for the Nobel Prize.

Egon stepped into the darkness of the tunnel. Geology wasn't his field, but there appeared to be a lot of granite in the walls. Granite shouldn't block the workings of the recall bracelets. Would iron? Perhaps the walls were heavily laced with radioactive materials. He hoped not. Should that be the case, the bracelets ought not to work at all, instead of attempting to activate then fading. He simply did not understand. But he meant to find out.

So he strode down the tunnel, using his flashlight to check out crannies in the rockface, one ear fixed on the chamber behind him where his best friend lay injured and alone.

Somewhere, in this wilderness of stone and shadow, there had to be answers. Egon meant to find them.

I hate this. I should be out there, looking, too.

Ray sat beside the molecular phase amplifier. When Winston and his team vanished, Ray ached to snap on a bracelet, convince Slimer to push the button to send him after them, and join in the search. He knew he wasn't up to it. If he went, the others would have to watch out for him, and that might delay their finding Peter and Egon. Instead, he decided to run tests on the amplifier. There had to be answers there. If Peter and Egon had been affected more strongly by Tolay's attack, the device should show it.

When Ray had first designed the molecular phase amplifier, it was simple and quick, to rescue Egon. After they had returned safely, Ray had decided the gadget had further potential and he had built a computer memory into it. It wasn't powerful, but it did maintain a record of its usage. Before the rescue team departed, there had been no time to check those readings, and Winston wouldn't have known how. What mattered to him was that the amplifier worked, not the added bells and whistles. It had worked and the rescue team was in place. Ray had to figure out what had happened. The readouts might produce answers.

If only his head didn't ache so much, his stomach didn't try to rebel when he moved suddenly. He needed to be clear-headed. The guys depended on him. So he stood up carefully, as if he were walking on glass, careful not to turn his head abruptly in one direction or another, and fetched the cable to connect the amplifier to the computer Winston had left booted up. Ray hooked up the amplifier and typed in the instructions to run a diagnostic. That should give him answers.

When the screen printed out its results, Ray's brow puckered. They didn't make any sense.

There was the signature for the team's original departure to the Netherworld. Then the reading when he and Winston returned, with a weird power spike that was probably caused by the influx of energy from Tolay's blast. To be expected. He ought to be able to filter out what Tolay did and see if there was a change in the normal readings that he could understand, that would make sense.

Here was the energy signature when the rescue party phased over. It was slightly stronger than the original reading since the party had held five instead of four. All as expected. A nice, healthy signature. Ray leaned closer and squinted at the screen. Were there weird fluctuations on the readout between his return and the search party's departure? Little energy peaks, four or five of them. What would cause that? He knew the amplifier worked; he'd checked it carefully and so had Winston. Nothing in the device should prevent a recall.

As if to prove his theory, light formed on the far side of the room, and when it faded, the team stood there. Five of them. No Egon. No Peter.

Ray's heart thumped. "You didn't find them?" He knew it was a stupid question as soon as he asked it.

Winston held out his hand to display a battered object. Ray gasped as he recognized Egon's P.K.E. meter. "We only found this. We backtracked to the place we ran into Tolay. No trace of him, only fading residuals, but they led us right to the spot. No demon waiting, no rock demons. No Egon and Pete. Just this."

Ray put out his hand for the ruined meter. Pieces fell off when Winston passed it over. "Gosh, Egon's not gonna like that," Ray said involuntarily. Janine flinched.

The three cops appeared a little dazed. No wonder. They'd just taken their first step into a larger world. "We didn't see any trace of them," the guy with the dark curls volunteered.

"I couldn't pick up biorhythms, either." Janine displayed the meter she had carried, and Ray suspected it was all she could do not to fling it across the lab and shatter it like Egon's. "By the time we arrived, the biorhythm residuals would have faded. They never last long, not like demon valences." She'd been so interested in whatever interested Egon that she had made an effort to learn all the fine details of meter function. Janine's devotion to Egon might help them find their missing team members.

"So, it looks like Tolay captured them?" he ventured. He hated that option, but it was better than discovering their broken bodies--which he'd been afraid all along would be what the rescue team would find. Tolay might imprison them and use them as bait, but he probably wouldn't kill them out of hand. There was still a chance to save them.

"Looks like," Winston agreed. "You want to reset the amplifier and send us over to his keep?"

Ray hesitated. It wouldn't be difficult; that information was programmed into the machine as a specific setting. But would altering the amplifier affect Peter and Egon, if they'd simply been conveyed out of range and wanted to return home? He frowned. No. The bracelets were keyed into this location, the firehall, as much as they were linked to the amplifier. It didn't have to be tuned to their exact site to bring them home. It simply had to be up and running.

"Yeah, I'll do it." He plodded over to the amplifier. The diagnostic cable wouldn't mess with its ability to function; if the amplifier overloaded, the worst thing it could do would be to fry the computer, and all but the current test readings were backed up. "You save that data while I set it up," he told Winston.

While Winston popped in a floppy disk and saved Ray's diagnostic information, Ray configured the amplifier. There. That should take them to a safe distance from Tolay's keep, where their arrival wouldn't instantly alert Tolay. Janine could take biorhythm readings right away, and they might even run into that neat old alchemist, Hieronymous. He lived in the general area, and he'd know if Tolay had human prisoners.

Janine made a bathroom run while he worked, then the youngest cop took his turn. The other two said they were okay, but Kling helped himself to a glass of water. Winston pulled the first aid kit from his pocket and checked it; he'd already done that before his first visit, but Ray didn't fault him for it. Better to be a hundred percent sure.

When everyone bunched together in front of the device, Ray sent them over. He hadn't asked to go along; if just walking across the room made him woozy, he sure wouldn't be much good over there. Besides, there were those weird energy spikes to investigate. Maybe he could find answers there, although he wasn't sure what kind of answers there were to find. What he really had to do was check out the added energy from Tolay's attack, correlate it without the data from the most recent return, and determine what the difference was. Once he knew that, he could reason backward and figure out what that difference might have done to Peter and Egon.

It wouldn't be easy.

This was nuts. Janine lay on her stomach, Winston on one side of her, Kling on the other, as the team peered over a ridge to the valley below where Tolay's keep lay, a jumble of rocky spires as if Tolay had grown it out of the living rock. She had never seen it before, although she hated the place on general principles because Egon had been locked away there. He had some nasty memories of it, although he had never discussed it with her. She had seen him jump at sudden noises for a few weeks after his imprisonment, seen him come downstairs with shadowed eyes that spoke of disturbed sleep, seen how Peter and the others watched him unobtrusively to make sure he was okay. Being Egon, he had made himself come to terms with the experience, but Janine had always suspected that Tolay had done more to him than simply stick him in a cell to use as bait to lure the others in. If Tolay had him, and Doctor V, too, he would want them as bait, but he wouldn't be above tormenting them while he waited.

The meter she carried was cranked up to top gain and focused on human biorhythms. Without narrowing the field to either Peter's or Egon's specifics, she could expand the range to cover a wider area. If there were any humans in there, she ought to be able to tell it. But as she pointed the meter at the fortress, the meter screen didn't flicker, nor did the antennae stir.

"I'm not detecting readings, Winston," she admitted reluctantly. "Do you think the dungeons are deep enough underground to block readings?"

"Possible, girlfriend. We're gonna need to move closer."

"Closer?" Kling muttered involuntarily. "Sweet. What are all those big guys down there by the main entrance? Don't tell me they're actually demons?" He gestured to a couple of huge purple beings that stood at the top of the ramp that led to the main door.

"They sure are," Winston agreed. He didn't appear any happier about it than the cop did. His mouth twisted and his eyes narrowed. "Rock demons. They're Tolay's servants, and they're about twice as tall as we are. They hate the throwers, but they're pretty powerful. If they attack us all at once, some of 'em will be sure to get through."

"We can take 'em." McAdam sounded impossibly young. "We can get in there."

The others stared at him, and Winston flinched. Did he hear Ray's gung-ho eagerness in the young cop's bravado? Janine sure did. Ray would be eager to charge the place, too, but he'd settle for a safer solution. It wouldn't help Egon or Peter to blow their cover in a desperate charge that was doomed to failure.

Winston rolled onto his side and grabbed the man beside him by the shoulder. "Hold it. I know a back way into the dungeon. No point in charging out there and alerting Tolay that we're here. He's a lot bigger than they are."

"Bigger?" asked McAdam in a small voice. "A lot bigger? Man, I thought we had it tough, going up against killers and drug dealers. I wouldn't want to do what you do for a living."

"Never mind whose job is tougher," Janine snapped. "Show us the back way, Winston. I can't pick up readings from out here."

He caught her eye, and grimaced.

I know, she thought. But they were willing to come. If the guys are in there, they'll need all of us.

Retreating down the slope felt like deserting Egon. She knew they had to do it, but a part of her wanted to charge the keep, just like McAdam did. It was a safer impulse than the urge to despair, the fear that the reason she detected no readings was that Egon and Peter were dead.

Peter wasn't dead, but he wasn't a happy camper, either. Lying in the dancing torchlight, one hand curled weakly around the grip of his thrower, what he hated most wasn't the grinding pain in his leg or the way the slightest movement reminded him of the injury. It was the fear that something would happen to Egon out there in the cave system and that Peter would be unable to help him. No matter the strength of the adrenaline that pumped through him at the fear that his friend was walking into danger without back-up, he knew he would never be able to stagger up and limp to Egon's rescue.

He'd tried to conceal the worst of his discomfort from Egon, not because he felt the urge to be macho and stoic--macho, maybe, but stoic was not one of Peter's prime characteristics--but because he didn't want to add to the onerous burden Egon already carried. Sometimes, it seemed that Egon was willing do an Atlas and shoulder the entire world, and consider it his failure if he couldn't quite bear the weight. When the chips were down, Egon could bear far more of it than most men, but he shouldn't have to tote the added burden of Peter's pain. Any complaining and griping from Peter would serve only one purpose, to lighten the mood, to ease Egon's strain.

That meant Peter had to swallow a whole lot of complaints and make sure the worst of his discomfort didn't show. As long as he lay quite still, he could carry on a relatively normal conversation, think clearly. He didn't want to imagine what would happen when their water ran out.

'Course Egon might find an underground pool out there in the other caverns, sparking clear water. Egon had left the canteen within reach of Peter's left hand; he'd done it without speaking, but Peter resolved to drink none of it until Egon returned. They didn't know how long that water would last. He wasn't wildly thirsty yet, but he knew he was thirsty enough to guzzle what was left. Oh well, it would hurt too much to sit up enough to drink, he told himself.

If Egon didn't come back....

Peter squelched the sudden, frantic urge to bellow Egon's name. Wouldn't do any good. It would only worry Egon, and it might alert any lurking entities to their presence. He hoped he hadn't yelled too much when Egon set his leg. Whoever lurked in these caves might already know he was here.

With an uneasy, fleeting remembrance of reading The Lord of the Rings and the orcs that lurked in the Mines of Moria, Peter glanced around the chamber uneasily. It wasn't that he expected to see a fleet of the Tolkien goblins closing in on him or a balrog blazing fire in the darkness, but that didn't mean these caves didn't possess their own nasty denizens.

"Denizens?" he muttered aloud. "Definitely a Spengler word. Egon's rubbing off on me."

His quiet voice didn't rouse an unfriendly lurkers, but that didn't mean the huge shadows in the corners of the cave couldn't conceal slinking beings. Or, more prosaically, snakes and creepy crawlies. Peter had never been very happy about bugs. He was no Indiana Jones when it came to snakes, but he knew they liked it warm. Snakes had been known to crawl into a man's sleeping bag and coil up on a guy's stomach just for the warmth produced by a human body.

You had go to and think of that, didn't you, Pete?

He fumbled for the flashlight he wore on his belt. That was the first time he realized Egon's jumpsuit covered him. Egon had been in his street clothes, but Peter hadn't made the connection until now. "Spengs...." he muttered with a combination of fondness and exasperation. It wasn't like he was cold; if anything he felt too hot, but that was probably fever talking.

Egon hadn't removed the tool belt the way he'd removed Peter's pack. There had been no need, and it was handy to keep the small gadgets they wore close at hand. Peter's fingers closed over the flashlight, and he let go of the thrower long enough to fumble under the extra jumpsuit to detach the flashlight and turn it on.

He could lift his head, carefully, from its rock pillow without jarring his leg or reminding himself that he might have broken ribs as long as he only let his neck and stomach muscles do the work. It didn't even make him dizzy. So far, so good. He directed the flashlight's powerful beam around the cave, seeking out the darker shadows. That ominous shape in the corner proved to be no more than a stack of wood that some previous traveler had gathered. The torches that cast their dancing light were further proof of previous habitation, but nothing about the cavern suggested it had ever been more than a temporary shelter.

"Not like anybody would come here on purpose," Peter muttered. "On a scale of one to ten, this place rates a minus fifty." The flashlight beam trailed across the room, covering every bit of the walls.

He found several openings besides the bigger one Egon had used. One was high enough for a man to pass through if he stooped, another could be crawled through, and the other three were probably too small to admit a man unless he wiggled through on his stomach like the snakes Peter had thought of earlier.

What was that on the wall over there? It looked like a primitive cave painting, remnants of a design in fading colors, barely visible in the shadowy light. Patterns, designs. Peter wasn't up on Netherworld archaeology, but Egon would probably have a clue, when he returned.

If he returned....

The sound of footsteps, boots striking stone, made Peter jerk the light around.

"It's I," Egon called as he neared the cave.

Relief pulsed through Peter. He shut off the flashlight to conserve his batteries, and shouted, "Egon, only you would say 'It's I'. Any normal person would just say, 'It's me'."

"Which is sad, as my use of the pronoun was correct." Egon crossed the cavern, knelt beside him, and rested a hand on Peter's forehead. Peter knew it was to test for fever, but the touch warmed him. He wasn't alone, and Egon was safe.

"So, do I have a fever?" he asked. Maybe that would explain why he was thirsty, assuming the heat and dryness of the cave didn't do that already.

"Yes, Peter, you do, but so far it isn't very high." The tightness of Egon's facial muscles did a crummy job of masking his concern.

"So far, huh? Gonna get worse, isn't it?"

"I sincerely hope not. I wish I had medication to bring it down. Perhaps aspirin...." He turned his mega-brain on the issue.

"Never mind aspirin now, big guy. What did you find out there? A passage to the subway system? A limo waiting to take us home? A catering company to bring us caviar?"

"Caviar is far too salty to drink with our limited water supply," Egon said in the tones he always used to damp Peter's pretensions. It would have worked if the process hadn't taken so much effort. "Unfortunately, none of the above. I did discover a rock chimney that might lead outside. I was positive I could see a sliver of light at the top."

"Well, go for it, Spengs. If you made it up there, maybe your bracelet would work."

Egon's face flashed with sudden temper. "Don't be absurd. It would be impossible to transport you to the top without equipment which we don't possess."

"Yeah, but you could go for help," Peter insisted reasonably. "Bring back Winston and Ray and a couple of paramedics with a stretcher. If your bracelet worked up on top, then we'd be home free."

"You mean I would. No, Peter, I won't abandon you unless it proves our only option."

Peter glared at him. "Give me a break. It probably is our only option. We don't have enough water, remember? You said I might go a day and a half without water, and after that it's nasty things like dehydration and kidney failure. I'd rather not buy it that way. It's not a good way to go. You might last a little longer, but not that much, not in a hot, dry place like this. Besides, what if it's that hot because we're inside an active volcano? The Mount Vesuvius of the Netherworld. Egon, you have to try. Climb up there, see if the bracelets work. If they do, you can come right to this spot, with help. I've got Old Betsy here." He patted his thrower. "It's not like half the known universe is parading through the place."

"Not yet," Egon said tightly. "But there have been people here before us, or I wouldn't have found the torches or the remains of a fire."

"Or those paintings." Peter switched on the flashlight and directed its beam at the wall.

Egon glanced over, then stiffened with interest. "How intriguing. They almost resemble Native American work. Possibly Anasazi. Peter! The Anasazi were a tribe in the American Southwest. Some time ago, around 1300, they simply vanished."

"You saying they came here?" Good, a way to distract Egon.

"Hmmm." Egon stared at the faded remnants of once-colorful paintings. "Archaeologists have found no hypothesis that completely explains where they went and why. There are theories, of course. Invasion, plague, drought. But to think that somehow a whole culture could be transferred to the Netherworld...." He made an abrupt gesture. "No matter. We have more urgent matters to deal with than the fate of the Anasazi. Later, when we are home, we might arrange to mount an expedition to seek answers, but right now, the only use the Anasazi would be for us would be if we could find any useful artifacts, such as an atlatl."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's an atlatl?" Peter asked. At least it gave Egon a second or two away from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"A device they used with which to launch spears."

"Whoa. They didn't just throw them in the usual way? Weird. Too lazy for a regular arm workout?"

Egon shrugged. "This place does not resemble a kiva. Although cultures shift, assuming my unsupported theory has any slight basis in fact. It is not as if I were an expert on the Anasazi culture."

"Here we go with the modesty. Take one look at the wall, recognize it, pop up with the exact date of when they disappeared. Or is this a way of fishing for a compliment?"

Egon produced a haughty glare at Peter, but couldn't sustain it. He smiled and abandoned all thoughts of Anasazi and ego. Peter hated to dent that smile, but they had to get down to business. "Egon, listen. You head up there and test your bracelet. That hasta come first. If it works, you'll know how to come back for me with the entire EMT department if necessary. If it doesn't, no biggie, and you can combine two bracelets and see."

"Leave you behind?" Automatic revulsion twisted Egon's face.

"Give me a chance to get out of here. Come on, you know it's the smartest thing. Nobody's been around here in ages. I'm fine. Leave me all the water if it makes you feel better."

It shouldn't have been so easy to distract Egon, but it was. "Do you want a drink?"

If it would make Egon try for home, Peter was all for it. "Yeah, I'll take a little one." He would have preferred to drink the canteen dry but all he was doing was lying here. Egon would soon be energetically climbing rock walls. He was the one who needed the water. If Peter could convince him to take at least a swallow of it, that ought to get him home. He could return with a world-class rescue party. It wasn't as if Peter had anywhere else to go.

He braced himself for the pain of movement, but Egon was careful, his hands gentle. "You'd have made some guy a great nurse," Peter told him.

"That is, of course, my burning ambition," Egon replied. "Drink, Peter."

The water was tinny from the canteen, and a lot warmer than Peter liked, but it still tasted like ambrosia. He rolled it around his mouth before he swallowed, feeling it ease his parched throat. The fever and the heat sure pulled a double whammy in the thirst department. A couple of big swallows flowed down soothingly.

When he had finished, he made Egon drink, but he was sure Egon did no more than take a single sip. The angle of Egon's chin stated loud and clear that he wouldn't have any more now. He put aside the canteen, and Peter grimaced. So typical of Egon. Come to think of it, Peter would have done the same if Egon were the one with major fractures. Better not mention that now.

Egon sat down beside him and took off his bracelet.

"Hey, whoa, Nellie. What the heck are you doing?"

"I want to try the boosting process first. If it works, there would be no need to leave you behind."

"I can relate." It wouldn't send Egon away to safety much faster, but it would let him go with a clearer conscience. If truth were told, the thought of Egon walking away and returning to Earth leaving Peter stranded in the Netherworld, even if it were only for an hour, sent cold chills through his overheated body. Egon's donated jumpsuit failed to stave away the shivers at the thought of being so alone, so far from home. Not even the astronaut who stayed up in the command capsule while the other two Apollo team members went down to the moon would have been so alone. At least that guy could talk to NASA.

Peter didn't do alone. Egon knew that; it was probably why he was so unwilling to go. He'd consider it deserting Peter. Peter wouldn't. Egon wouldn't desert him. He didn't have it in him to let a friend down. So if Egon wanted to play mad scientist first, Peter would let him. He let his eyes fall nearly closed, halfway watching Egon as he popped the casing on the two bracelets. Peter still wore his, but his spare lay on a nearby rock.

"I don't believe Tolay is nearby," Egon said. "It is my contention that his blast affected the bracelets, so that we simply shifted to another location instead of transitioning home. If we had remained in his presence we would be either dead or prisoners. Since we are neither, I can only assume that a) although the bracelets appear undamaged, there is a damage I cannot detect without proper instruments, or b) they can shift us to different portions of the Netherworld but lack the ability to perform a trans-dimensional shift.

"What about nasty stuff in the rocks blocking it?" Peter asked without opening his eyes any wider.

"Also a possibility. I do feel that the bracelets would react somewhat differently if that were the case. They might sizzle or fail to work at all. Instead they begin the normal process, yet nothing happens."

Peter couldn't think of any reason why the bracelets would work and not take them home. Tolay could have put an energy barrier over the area, or it could be a natural phenomenon. He'd let Egon worry about it. Just lying here carrying on a conversation was exhausting, and the grinding pain that still jangled his leg drained him faster than he liked. He'd had a broken leg once before and he couldn't remember it hurting like this. 'Course he'd been a little kid then. Maybe the older you got the worse fractures hurt. It wasn't that he was anywhere near ready for membership in AARP, but he was in his thirties, not a kid of seventeen who still believed he was going to live forever.

He might not even live till tomorrow.

It wasn't Egon's fault. Egon had done everything he possibly could for Peter. His leg didn't hurt nearly so much now that it was set. But it was hard to lie here and fight the occasional surges of pain, the alternating bouts of heat and chill, the momentary fuzziness that filled his brain and retreated. Each time it recurred, it stayed longer. He didn't want Egon to notice, but he was sure Egon had.

Okay, Peter. Just hang on a little while longer. Once Egon finishes boosting the bracelet, we'll be out of here.

He must have dozed. Suddenly Egon was fumbling with his wrist. "Huh, whazzit?" he muttered.

"I'm going to try to send you home now, Peter. If you disappear, I'll do the same with the other two bracelets and follow you within ten minutes."

"Hey, wait, we weren't gonna do it that way," Peter objected, but before he could try to remove the bracelet, Egon pushed the recall button and yanked his hand away.

"Damn you, Egon!" Peter gritted out as the light flared around him. Was it working? He squinted against the brilliance until it faded.

The shadows of the cave came around him, the flickering torchlight illuminating the bitterness of Egon's frustrated face.

"Damn it," Spengler groaned. "Why won't it work? This is absurd. It should work." He slammed his fist against a convenient rock, then he winced.

"No fair picking on that poor, helpless rock," Peter said hastily. "Come on, Egon, it's not your fault if Tolay put up a barrier over us or damaged the bracelets."

"But the bracelet is undamaged," Egon explained with exaggerated patience. "There is no reason why it should fail to work."

"Psi barrier. Too much rock between us and the surface. Weird stuff in the rocks."

"Except for the psi barrier the bracelet's, er, double whammy should have compensated for that."

"You'll figure it out, Egon. You're a certified genius."

"I am a scientist, Peter. I followed scientific procedure."

Peter stretched out a careful hand and patted Egon's arm. "You'll solve it yet. I know you will. 'Sides, you can still climb up to the surface and try it there. Then you'll know."

Egon's face tightened. "I am reluctant to attempt that option."

"Because you'll be leaving me behind?" Peter collected himself. He had to stay aware and rational now. "Listen up, Egon. It might be the only way you can bring back help for me. If Ray and Winston are out there hunting for us, they won't be able to take readings of us through all this rock. Even if the bracelet doesn't work, hanging around out there might be our only chance. You've gotta do it."

Egon pounded the rock again, although more carefully. "I know that, Peter. I simply don't like it."

"Hey, listen, Egon, if you've got this thing going because you know I hate the alone gig, don't worry about it. I'm not a baby here. You don't need to hang around and hold my hand."

"I rarely hold hands with men." Egon's attempt at lightness almost worked.

"What's this 'rarely'? You holding out on me?"

"Peter!" Egon reproached.

"Well, a guy can ask, can't he?"

Amusement warmed Egon's eyes. "I can't remember ever being able to stop you."

"I work at it."

"And you will continue to do so." He stood up and drew his thrower.

"Uh, not gonna neutronize me, are you?" He grinned to show the question wasn't a serious one.

"Of course not, Peter. I do, however, intend to use the thrower to heat up some rocks to give you warmth while I am gone. I don't know how long we have been here--actually I do, if my watch is correct, but I do not know what time the sun will set. In a dry climate like this, the temperatures will drop abruptly after sunset. In case it should take me longer than I anticipate, the residual heat in the stones will keep you warm."

"Egon, Egon. You've gotta start sharing these weird uses of our equipment with the rest of us. There might be all kinds of great patents we could apply for."

"If you would ever pay attention at staff meetings, Peter...."

Peter made a face at him. "If you wouldn't hold them at the crack of dawn...."

Egon adjusted his thrower setting and fired at one of the nearby rocks. "Hmmmm," he said, intrigued, as the rock started to glow from within.

"What's that 'hmmm' for?" Peter prompted. "Don't go off in one of your funks now, big guy."

"I was simply noticing that these flat rocks are in a roughly circular position. Perhaps this actually was an Anasazi kiva."

Peter angled his gaze around. "Pretty roughly circular," he objected, although the area where Egon had built his fire might well have once been a primitive firepit. "But if that's it, you just might be able to find some living Anastasia guys."

"That's Anasazi, Peter." But his eyes flickered with interest. He banished it instantly. "My hope for finding people is not archaeological but medical." He fired his thrower at the next rock.

"Egon, I don't know much about archaeology, but I have heard of these guys you're so hot to meet. Wasn't there some theory that they were cannibals? Maybe they're the last guys we'd want to run into."

Egon blinked, but respect touched his eyes. "You continue to surprise me, Doctor Venkman. There are times when I wonder if you haven't memorized entire encyclopedias."

"Who says I haven't?" But in his weird, drifting state, he found he didn't want Egon to think he was a secret genius. "I read about these spear-launching guys in one of my Dewey LaMorte books." He grinned. "And I did memorize most of them when I was a kid."

"Knowledge is to be respected, no matter the source," Egon said pedantically, even if he didn't think much of the westerns Peter had loved. But the respect for Peter didn't diminish.

That warmed Peter more than the heat from the glowing rocks did.

When Egon finished heating the stones, he holstered his thrower and knelt at Peter's side. "I must climb out of this cave. I will take a few minutes to seek out traces of civilization, and, at your insistence, I will try the bracelet." He didn't like that; his mouth went tight. "If it works, I will return very quickly to rescue you. If it fails, I will return here immediately."

"Don't think it will, do you, Egon?

"There is no damage to the bracelets, Peter, and now that I have boosted them, it must be only the possibility of all this rock, an interfering substance in the rock, or a psi factor I am unable to test that prevents their normal operation."

"And never a failure of the great god science?" Peter teased faintly. He wished Egon would go so he could let himself drift into sleep, but he didn't want to show it or Egon wouldn't try.

But the thought of Egon going, returning to the firehall without him even if only to recruit a rescue team, sent chill flickers through his stomach.

He didn't let that show. Well, he didn't think he did, but knowledge touched Egon's eyes. His long fingers snatched up Peter's hand and closed around it.

"Rarely hold hands with guys, huh?" Peter kidded in a vague, floating tone.

The sound Egon made was halfway between a laugh and a sob. He directed it carefully in the laugh direction. "You never forget anything, do you, Peter?"

"Not when it's good...blackmail material, I don't." Hope Spengs didn't catch that break in my voice. He's gotta go.

If Egon noticed how weak and weary Peter sounded, he didn't say so, but the flash of anguish in his eyes that he tried to conceal showed it. His fingers tightened. "Stay warm, Peter. I will return with the most expedient dispatch."

"Yeah. Throw in a big word or two." Peter tightened his grip on Egon's hand. He wasn't much of a hand-holding-with-guys type himself, but right now, he didn't want to let go.

But he released his grip, and so did Egon.

"Stay safe, Peter." Egon raised Peter's thrower and curled Peter's fingers around it.

"Gotcha." Peter nodded at him.

Egon hesitated one second, then he turned very abruptly and stalked away, his shoulders rigid.

"You can do it, Egon," Peter said quietly as his friend disappeared down the tunnel. "Just...don't be slow."

His grip on the thrower loosened and his eyes drifted shut.

If he were lucky, he'd wake up home, in the hospital.

He didn't want to think about what might happen if this were the end.

"Sneaking into dungeons," muttered Feretti disgustedly. "That's not exactly right up there on accepted police officer tasks."

Winston spared the dark-haired man a quick grin. "Don't think we Ghostbusters like doing it either, man. We pulled this number before when Egon was locked up here a few years ago. Wasn't fun then, and it's not fun now." He grimaced. It would be a lot more "fun" if Janine's meter would just kick in and produce the needed biorhythm readings. She'd detected one so far, but when she fine-tuned the meter, it had been an unfamiliar signature. Not that old guy Hieronymous they'd met when they were over here before, just a random human. Since they'd crept into the old man's secret tunnels, even that had faded. Winston was beginning to fear that Tolay hadn't brought Peter and Egon here after all.

"Not much further," he added. "We should be able to get good readings in a few minutes."

"If we should be able to do that, I should have something now." It was weird to see Janine's face so carefully blank. He hoped she wasn't thinking what he was, that dead men produced no biorhythms. He didn't want to believe that Pete and Egon could be dead. It should be impossible. There should be a fierce thudding realization in his heart and in the pit of his stomach if they were really gone, but maybe that was wishful thinking. You came upon that belief in books, but books weren't the same as cold, hard reality. In reality, people didn't survive desperate situations out of wishful thinking or forlorn hope. Winston should know that all too well; he'd seen it often enough in Vietnam. Buddies died, people you cared about, and they could die nastily, in tearing agony, coughing as they choked to death on their own blood. He could remember....

He forced his thoughts away from the dark memories of Nam. They served their purpose, to drive him on to make as sure as possible that these friends, the three men he had adopted as brothers, wouldn't blunder into danger he couldn't rescue them from. He always told himself that somebody had to show a lick of common sense on a bust, but deep in his heart it was because these three mattered too much for him to be able to endure seeing them go like Bobby Ray had, or like Steve had, or like Monty the Frog had, over there in that distant jungle.

The Netherworld was no jungle, at least not a jungle of vegetation and steamy heat. But it was no less a hostile, alien environment where unexpected and unfamiliar dangers could lunge out of the shadows. Guys, you better be okay. I'm not gonna accept any less.

If worse came to worst, then he'd make damn sure he had their bodies to take home so they didn't have to forever lie in this stark, unforgiving landscape. Let Tolay try to stand in his way and he'd join his brother Arzun in the Ghostbusters' containment unit.

"We're not quite there yet," he reassured Janine. Easier to reassure her than it was to relieve himself of anxiety.

She didn't believe him. Her eyes flashed and her mouth opened to flay him for daring to protect her, then she squelched the impulse. "Well, we're getting close," she said lamely.

The three cops exchanged glances that might as well have spelled out their doubts in neon. Police officers would understand how tight the Ghostbusters' team was. They were the same with their own partners. None of them suggested they give up. The giving-up type would never have volunteered for such a mission.

Janine raised her hand to stop them, and for an insane moment, Winston allowed himself hope, hope so fierce his stomach tightened. But there was no jubilation on Janine's face. "I want to switch over to P.K.E. readings and see how close Tolay is. He wasn't here when we started but he could have returned."

"Good thinking, girlfriend."

She reset the meter. It reacted, and pretty strongly, too, but there were all those rock demons. Quickly, Janine turned off the sound before it could alert one of Tolay's minions. Then she squinted at the screen, measuring the strength of the energy displayed. "No. Tolay's not around."

"You think he's somewhere else with Pete and Egon?" Stupid question. How could she know? But the same fear showed in her eyes that Winston knew must glitter in his own. Suppose Tolay had gone to Earth, to the firehouse.

Ray!

But they were too close to abandon their reconnoitering of the dungeon simply on the off chance that Tolay had decided to seek out the Ghostbusters on Earth. Five more minutes to take thorough readings, then they'd head back.

If Tolay had gone to Earth, he was already there. Nothing they could do. Ray would have handled him--or not.

Winston's heart decided it liked living in his throat, and his stomach announced great distress.

With a tightening of her mouth and a glitter in her eyes, Janine reset the meter and they marched on.

The walls of the tunnel narrowed around them, then opened out, then tightened. In Janine's hand, the meter might as well have been dead for all the readings it gave. Come on, come on, react, damn it.

But if it reacted, it meant the guys were prisoners, and who knew what Tolay might have done to them in the hours since his initial attack. Last time, Egon had been safely waiting in a cell, but Tolay would be sure to be far less patient this time. Other business might have delayed him bothering with Egon then. He wasn't here now. Did that mean that if the guys were prisoners, they would be safe?

McAdam had a such a tight grip on his thrower they'd probably have to pry it out of his hands when this was over. The kid's eyes were huge as he stared around. The gung-ho enthusiasm had burned down to jumpy tension that made him skittish. Kling, older and more pragmatic, strode along with his mouth tight, determined, balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to jump in any given direction at a moment's warning. The beam from the flashlights they carried glittered off the lenses of his glasses. Feretti seemed calmest of the three, not that "calm" would be the first word anyone would apply to the Italian cop. They were there to provide back-up with the throwers, but the first sight of demons at close range would freak them and they'd lose the advantage the Ghostbusters would have had.

Janine shook her head. "Are we close enough to have readings, Winston?" She kept her voice soft, not a whisper but very low, so it wouldn't carry. Smart lady.

He didn't want to answer that question, but there was no point in going into the dungeons if the guys weren't there. They could come out just ahead and get an overview of the place. It wouldn't let them see into every cell, but at that point, they'd be close enough to know if the guys were there or not. From the meter's non-reaction, Winston was pretty sure the answer would be "not".

Where are you guys? You better not be dead.

They reached the overlook Winston remembered, and the five of them lay on the lip of the overhang, squinting down over the drop. There lay the cells, most of them empty. One or two of them held creatures that couldn't have been mistaken for human by anyone with two eyes. Winston spotted a tall, shaggy guy with red fur, a couple of little polka dot circles that drifted above the stone floor and lacked any external features that he could see. Over in the corner, where Egon had waited despairingly last time, sat a green-skinned female who was closest to human of all of them, or would have been if she hadn't had four arms.

McAdam spotted her and his chin bounced off his chest. "Omigod," he breathed.

"Keep it down," Feretti warned him, his voice no more than a breath.

Janine ignored them. Her fingers danced over the meter controls the way Ray Charles' caressed the piano keys, but her efforts failed to evoke so much as a bleep. The antennae didn't lift, the lights didn't blink. There wasn't a human in the entire dungeon.

Shaken, Janine gnawed her bottom lip. She tried a few more settings, but she was clearly running on momentum alone. A huge, shuddering sigh racked her body, then she lifted despairing eyes to Winston. "They're not here."

"Least that means Tolay doesn't have 'em," Winston said hastily. A savage roar echoed through the caverns, and Janine gasped and attacked the dials. With ear-piercing shrillness, the meter blared a warning, but Winston hadn't needed it to recognize the sound of Tolay.

"Recall buttons, everybody," he yelled, raising his own wrist to remind the team what to do. As the demon crashed right through a wall on the far side of the dungeon, the three cops fell all over themselves to hit the buttons on their bracelets. Janine and Winston took time for one quick, despairing glance before they pushed their buttons. Tolay cast fire at them, but they had already activated the devices and his flame of energy came too late.

They landed in the firehall lab in an untidy heap, with not so much as a scorched place on their uniforms.

Ray, safe and sound, had jerked his hands away from the computer keyboard at the sight of them. He looked a little worse for wear--a lot worse for wear--and the bandage was still not much lighter than his complexion, but it hurt Winston to watch his friend's face fall when he realized they had returned home without their missing teammates.

What were they supposed to do now?

Rock climbing had never been a sport to appeal to Egon. Actually, when he thought of it, participating in any sports held no appeal. Sometimes, the guys would get up a makeshift basketball game in the vacant lot next to the firehall, and they always made Egon play. His height was supposed to be an advantage, but what good was height when he was lucky to hit the basket one time in ten? His team only won when he was paired with Winston, who had shot a lot of hoops when he was growing up. Exercise, for Egon, meant chasing around the five boroughs of New York with a particle accelerator on his back.

That didn't mean he hadn't done his share of rock climbing. There had been that time in Greece, and a few experiences on camping trips when he had been unable to convince the guys that a happier vacation for him would consist of unlimited lab time. He hoped the little he'd learned would stand him in good stead now.

It was easier to consider each stretch of rock face as he searched for hand and footholds than it was to imagine Peter, growing steadily weaker as he lay isol