The Sadness Of Being II 

 

Peter Venkman sat and cringed. Besides him the beaming Headman of the tiny Peruvian tourist town they had just saved from total destruction praised him once more in his imperfect English. Okay, so he and the Ghostbusters had saved the lives of two hundred plus yokels. Big deal, they saved New York on a regular basis, not to mention Saving The World! It was all part of the job, a part that he was always certain to get reflected in the size of their bill. This one was gonna be a beauty.

Luckily the Peruvian government (what there was of it) was forking out for this bust, a tiny village this size just wouldn't have been able to foot the bill. Of course, the villagers had also come up with a lump sum, which - considering the damage to equipment they had sustained - Peter felt compelled to accept. Only problem was, that put them in the villagers' debt a little, and they were being forced to stay here and be thanked properly.

And boy, did they want to thank them. The people of this little village were a strange, hard to understand mix of the old and the new. New clothes with traditional jewelry and colors, new town hall with modern kitchen and video machine, old dwellings with cook fires and a single well for water. People zoomed around on four wheeled bikes and plodded along with pack animals. The road going through the jungle had brought tourism to the area, and passing trade from the city (mostly drug trafficking, but it wasn't politic to mention that in front of the villagers). But farming was still the main way for people here to earn a living, and did Peter Venkman know it.

Just then the Headman said something ribald and slapped him heartily on the back, tipping his cowboy hat back to grin up at the Ghostbuster as he did so. That was one thing Peter liked, the villagers were all shorter than him, the Headman was even shorter than most. Peter liked being looked up to. He gave the man his best cheery smile and wondered if he was going to be asked to spend the night with the man's wife again. There was one thing Peter Venkman never did, and that was look at other men's ladies. Still, no need to be impolite about it. The little guy was willing to anti up the nuevo, so he deserved a bit of tolerance.

Peter was starting to regret agreeing to this whole ritual thank you thing. Hell, the minute the wife issue had popped up he had regretted it. Luckily that wasn't part of the actual thank you deal, just a side offer, and his refusal had been accepted gracefully. Not that he thought the team didn't deserve a proper thank you, they'd had to work for this one. But jeez, a three-day feast in their honor? They had other things to do, other busts to make, more money to be added to the kitty. Not to mention that they'd left Egon with an unsupervised lab for several days now. A sudden flash of memory, the sound of hooves, a single cut off cry…. Who knows what the mad scientist had got up to in that time.

But good manners dictated that the Ghostbusters stay and let these people honor them. That and the fact that the villagers had the only means of transport out of here, the fore mentioned, rather snazzy, four wheeled bikes. Even the pandemic buses weren't due through for another four days. Not that he was really complaining, mind. Peter Venkman turn down partying and free eats? No way! But stuff would be piling up back home, and he hated getting behind. The smell of sawdust and blood, holding Egon down as he tried to move, babbling on about how hard it was to keep the insurance rates low, the cost of replacement overalls, how shitty the premiums were getting - anything to keep his mind off the thought that his best friend could be dying, his life seeping slowly away from him right here, right now….

"Vous aimez -Do you like our Magic Beans?" the Headman asked, proffering up a basket of edibles. Inside nestled local bread made with the magical produce. A hybrid of some kind? Egon would have known, slathered with a local topping and cut into thick hunks. It smelt delicious.

"Like them? I'm taking some home with me! Where'd you say you got the idea from again?" At Peter's earnest enquiry the little man began a long speech about the white agriculturist and the village two rivers over. The tale of how his village had seen the miracle of the Magic Beans for themselves and decided to follow the new, most environmentally sound, (not to mention profitable,) way of farming. Peter had heard the spiel before, apparently some news group had been through and made a documentary about it and the entire village had memorized the doco's script, word for word. Even Ray was getting sick of hearing about it, and Ray could muster up more enthusiasm than three normal people put together.

So the Headman went into improving the soil and preventing land degradation, while Peter put his replies on automatic and surveyed the village hall. It was a huge one roomed building with several long tables and seating down either side. Ray and Winston were over by the doorway talking with some youths dressed as locals. They wore modern jeans and some kind of poncho tunic with the local versions of cowboy hats to top it off. From the looks of them they were the Headman's sons, being quizzed about local legends no doubt. Ray looked happily enthusiastic, but Winston was on edge. He didn't like it here, it brought back bad memories and the humidity made his hair frizz, which the black man hated.

The weather wasn't doing much for Peter's own cherished locks. You could say his hair was looking lifeless and drack, but that implied way too much vitality. He couldn't wait to get home, he was gonna make an immediate appointment with his barber, Mario. That man was a genius!

Looking further down the hall he could see that Janine's hair on the other hand was looking great. It seemed redder than it ever had and the rest of her had that certain glow as well. Kicking demon butt could do that to a person, he knew. The surge of confidence and adrenaline had their secretary standing ten feet high. She'd need a good dose of grounding from Egon and Winston to calm her down soon, or Peter would have to take to her with a meat axe. Jeez, she had balls of brass before, no need to swell 'em up any more!

Peter watched as she flirted coyly with the cameraman, Mike Monrol, who had decided to follow them out here into the wilds. The guy was a nut, but he helped with the occasional Spanish translation problem and kept their secretary happy and distracted from the snubs being made by the locals. Looked like Peter was going to have to make Janine a full member of the team now and include her in all their promotionals  the magazine photo shoots, the calendars, the up coming swimsuit issue. She really didn't deserve to be overlooked as the hired help, not when it was she that had made the capturing shot.

Sighing Peter took his attention to the other side of the room. A clutch of fresh faced young girls giggled at him, trying to catch his eye. Lovely ladies every one, he was sure. If only he could tell which were the mothers and which the daughters, and which the little sisters. They all looked like teenagers to him, (except the heavily wrinkled grandmothers, no mistaking them) and he could see himself getting in a lot of trouble if he smiled back at the wrong age group. Hell, he had got in trouble not smiling at the Headman's wife!

This had to be culture shock. At least a little. Some of the local practices had blown his mind. It was so different from how things were back home in New York. He felt like there was a wall between him and these people that he could never breach. There was the language barrier, and not understanding one in three words spoken (luckily Mike Monrol had come to their rescue there, translating for the villagers to the Ghostbusters when their Spanish Hi, how are ya! ran out.). And then there was the way they treated Janine and initially Winston as persons non-gratis. It made him want to grind his teeth. Peter still wasn't sure why Zed had been accepted after his heroic facing down of the demon while Janine, who had trapped the thing, was not.

These people thought funny and they looked at him like he wasn't quite real, or maybe he was but not in the normal way, or.… Or maybe he was just feeling sleep deprived. The pale face of his friend being loaded into the ambulance, Winston having to drag him outta there when the paramedics refused to let him ride along. Waking up the next night drench in perspiration, the sight of Egon's body being turned into hamburger meat under the thundering hooves playing over and over in his mind…. Yeah, that was probably it. Petey was down on naptime, once he caught up he'd be just fine.

He couldn't kick the isolation he felt tonight though. Actually, when he thought about it, it wasn't just that he couldn't get his head around these villagers. He'd been feeling out of sorts ever since they got to Peru. Huh. Typical Venkman mentality, if you're not feeling right, blame someone else for it. A little idiosyncrasy he'd picked up from his dad and had a hard time fighting off. He was just lucky he had such good friends to boot the obnoxious-ness out of him whenever it reared its ugly head. It would be nice to blame this on someone else, though. He really didn't like to think he could be this...lonely. That was the word. Here he sat, adoring people all around him and he felt so tired, so bone weary and alone. The other Ghostbusters felt miles away when they were just across the room. It was entirely possible to be lonely in a crowded room, Peter knew it, had known it before.

Everyone laughing and talking and he was sitting here with an invisible band tightening round his chest, fighting off tears for Christ's sake. Tears. He felt that overwhelmingly alone. Shit, Venkman, he thought savagely at himself, swallowing against the sudden rise of emotions. What are you, a man or a mouse?

Throwing his shoulders back determinedly he laughed loudly at something the Headman had just said. This startled the little guy, as he was unaware of having said anything funny, but the forced outbreak of merriment got Peter's emotions in check and he ruthlessly smiled on, making the other man laugh nervously in feigned understanding.

Much better, Peter had the blues on the run now!

The celebratory feast rolled on, and more was said on land management and Eco tourism and the bravery of these foreigners who had come all this way to deliver these simple people from their awful fate. Peter wondered once or twice if they were being made fun of, but the talkers seemed genuine enough. He was just being touchy.

The old Venkman showmanship got dragged out and polished as Peter gave several speeches back, mostly lauding how good the team was and how his leadership had gotten them through the tight situations and saved the day. Hey, the guys expected it of him, and the villagers were lapping it up. He preened smugly under their admiring gaze.

But his brighter mood didn't last and as time went on he found himself saying 'yeah' and 'that is so true' in the right spots, while mentally rearranging the layout of his office drawers. He couldn't get interested in the party around him. He didn't know if it was the humidity effecting his mood, or what it was, but he found himself wishing heartily that Egon were here. At least Peter could have laughed at the blond physicist's hair then. He would love to know what the weather would do to Spengler's wild curl. He'd pay money to see that. Or to have him here right now, talking microbiology to the Head guy and turning the conversation to the under recognized conservation of fungi in the surrounding jungle.

Yeah, Egon would freak 'em all out with his knowledge of humus, and he'd keep Peter entertained with explanatory snippets of the local culture, customs and language. Spengs could explain it all so he wouldn't feel so isolated. His dry wit would help Winston feel less uptight and he'd probably be able to bring Janine down to earth before she drove Peter nuts too. He and Ray would have already have been exploring the place together in search for ancient ruins or something, getting into all sorts of mischief. A bust in foreign parts just wasn't the same without Egon along. He had to make a note not to go on one without him again.

Still in his disheartened mood Peter was glad when the evening eventually wound down. The four Ghostbusters regrouped and headed over to their guest quarters, the magnificent dormitory that usually housed the back packers and documentary makers that passed through the village, making up the 'tourist trade' (but not drug smugglers. Never drug smugglers!). They had the place to themselves right now and quickly got changed into thick pajamas. Heavy Alpaca wool blankets were piled on top their beds and the tired Ghostbusters lay down for some much-needed rest. They would need it for the festivities tomorrow, everyone was going for a trek back into the jungle for what Peter called "A little pissing on the Demons ex-home turf ritual".

Well, it had been a rough couple of days, that was a fact, and everybody needed the tension relief and a laugh, stomping on the demons old haunts should help everyone realize that it really was gone and they could all relax now. It had been one of the village Elders that suggested it, but only seconds before Peter himself could do so (he'd been a little strident pointing that out. Janine rolling her eyes at him dramatically had clued him in that he was making an idiot of himself and he'd promptly shut up.) Maybe the jungle romp would help Peter relax, too. He found himself wondering what Egon was up to and if he really had blown anything up yet.

 "Shit." He muttered frowning up into the near darkness.

 "What's up?" Zed asked, turning his head in Peter's direction. He could just make out Peter sitting half up, supported on his elbows. "You forget to charge 'em for something?"

"Ha ha, very funny. No, I just remembered I forgot to give Egon his copy of the Ghostbusters company credit card." Peter said the name in full, he was kind of proud of the company account, in many ways it was his baby. "It doesn't matter though, that new temp we hired can get into petty cash for him, right Janine?"

"Um, yeah, I think so." Janine's voice didn't sound too sure. She bunched herself up in the mountain of blankets she was under into a near sitting position and creased her brow reflectively, "I did only get to give her a ten minute run through, ya know."

"She looked like a cluey lady, I'm sure she'll know what to do." Peter also didn't sound so sure, more like he was trying to convince himself that she was. His breath puffed out in white clouds as the cold of the night intensified. "She was prepared for anything, she had her own typewriter with her just in case, after all."

"Why'd she have her own typewriter?" asked Ray from Venkman's other side. His round face glowed in the faint moonlight, full of concern,

"I didn't have time to show her our set up, and she said she felt more comfortable using her own equipment." Janine told him a little defensively. She hadn't hired the woman!

"Sounds anal." Winston remarked. There was silent agreement. They fell into their own thought for awhile, each beginning to think about the big picture again, life outside this bust, this latest dance with death and dismemberment that was their livelihood.

"Ray?" Peter' voice broke the silence again. "You did get in touch with Egon's mom, right?"

"Sure I did." Ray replied immediately, then qualified his answer with... "Er, well, I kinda did."

"Kinda did? What does that mean?" Peter shot a hard look in the direction of his friend.

"She wasn't there. I had to leave a message on her answering machine." His voice faded to a near whisper as guilt crept into the youngest Ghostbusters voice. He hadn't had time to think about Egon the last couple of days, none of them had, but now that he did... "Jeez, you don't think she wouldn't have got it, do you? I mean, what if she didn't? Who's looking after Egon now?"

"I'm sure the temp will keep an eye out for him, Tex." Peter reassured him, far from reassured himself.

"She didn't strike me as the mothering type." Janine pointed out. "She kept saying how she wouldn't do this, she wouldn't do that...she annoyed the heck outta me by the end of it. I'd have ordered a replacement if we'd had time."

"But I'm sure she'll do her best, anyway." Peter repeated firmly. He was mentally biting his nails and thinking hard. What would Egon do if his mom hadn't shown up? Could he have contacted somebody else? Was he taking his medicine?

"Shit!" he sat up in bed and swung his sock clad feet to the ground.

"What is it?" Ray asked, Winston and Janine echoing the question. Peter ran his hand back through his hair and debated not telling them. Heck, a problem shared was a problem halved, right?

""There was hardly any food left in the hall. It was my turn to go shopping and I guess I forgot. Egon had his credit card revoked over that thing with that Internet scam and I didn't give him his company copy. His mom doesn't know he's hurt and I know he won't think to call any body. Egon's in trouble, I know it, and we've got to go back and help him, but we agreed to stay for this feast thing and I can't..."

"Hold up there!" Winston got upright in his bed too and made placating gestures with his hands through his nest of blankets. "Okay, we said we'd stay, but we didn't say all of us would stay." He calmly pointed out. "One of us could go back early and check on him."

"I'll go." Ray said immediately. "I was the one who didn't get in touch with..."

"Ray." Peter cut in , sounding a little annoyed. "If Mrs. Spengler wasn't there, she wasn't there, it's not your fault. No, I'll go back. I need to get started on banking for this little expedition anyway and I'll look in on our boy genius at the same time."

"Sure, the money's making you do it." Winston's voice in the frozen semi darkness held a smile. "Let him do it, Ray. You know he's missing Egon like crazy anyhow."

"I am not!" Peter protested automatically, but the others just grinned and tunneled back down into their bedding. "Miss that skinny streak of know-it-all, I don't think so." Peter groused, hopping back into the bed himself.

First thing tomorrow, I'm hiring one of those four wheeled bikes and getting out of here.

A single cry, the smell of blood and saw dust, a pale face being taken away from him, the feel of Winston's hands firm but insistent on his arms "You can't go there, Peter. We'll follow in the car."

 

He was gone before the others woke up.

 

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