Just a Flesh Wound
Chapter 2
Danny’s not doing so well.
It took Tucker, Sam, and Danny four hours to catch those cat-snake-ghost things — tassel-whatsits, he’ll have to ask Sam what they’re called later — and everything would have been fine if Valerie hadn’t butted in, screaming about vengeance and death and whatnot.
Now, three hours later, Danny still hasn’t managed to shake Valerie off his tail, and Tucker knows he must be tiring. None of them have gotten a break in seven hours, and it’ll only take one slip up before Danny’s got a hole in him they can’t patch up, or Valerie takes him to her secret lair to do who knows what, or turns him over to Vlad, or—
Don’t think about that.
“Remind me again why I can’t just shoot at her, Tucker?” Sam growls. She’s got Danny and Valerie in her scope, but her finger is very pointedly not on the trigger of the ecto-bazooka.
Tucker lists off his fingers. “One, because you might hit Danny. You’re good, but not that good. Two, because you might hit Valerie, and Danny wouldn’t like that. Three, because you’ll blow our cover, which could blow his secret identity, and who knows how she’ll react to that. Four, because—”
Sam sighs in frustration. “Alright, alright, I get it, Tuck.”
“Hey, you asked.” He raises an eyebrow.
“I know. It’s just—” she growls. “I hate that we can’t do anything! We can’t even direct him to safety because she keeps getting in the way! She’s going to hurt him if we can’t get her off his tail or distract her or something!”
Sam throws her hands in the air, then flinches as one of Valerie’s shots goes wide, hitting the parking garage across the street behind them. Dust kicks up from the impact, and it rumbles ominously. She’s lucky that building’s condemned, Tucker thinks, and the road workers are on break — otherwise she might hurt someone when it collapses—
Wait.
“Or something,” Tucker mutters, before grabbing his binoculars and searching the sky for Danny and Valerie. He catches sight of them as Valerie shoots again, this one barely missing Danny and hitting the condemned parking garage again. It kicks up dust and debris, clouding his vision before Danny darts away again.
“What did you say, Tuck?” Sam asks.
“Or something! I’ve got an or something!” Tucker exclaims, dropping the binoculars so they hang from his neck. He fiddles with the Fenton phone in his ear, switching it from listen to talk and listen.
“Danny, we need to collapse the building.”
“What?!” Two different voices ring out — Sam’s beside him, and Danny’s in his ear.
“Dudes, just trust me! We collapse the building, kick up a ton of dust you can hide in—”
“Then you can transform and stay invisible while we point Valerie away from you — Tucker, you’re a genius!” Sam declares.
“But guys there’s — there’s people in there and — ah! Shit! — we can’t just—”
“Dude, chill. It’s the parking garage on the corner. The building’s condemned. Just fly low so Valerie shoots at the base. We’ll help take it down!” Tucker turns to Sam. “You ready to use that bazooka?”
Sam’s grin is feral. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Danny doesn’t speak, but he dives down to street level, goading Valerie into following him behind the condemned building with a stuck out tongue. Tucker runs along the street, Sam close behind, taking a good look at the condemned parking garage for the first time. There are no glass windows save for the four corners that hold the stairs and elevators. Most of those windows are gone, now — destroyed by ghosts or by ghost hunters or by kids looking to throw rocks at something that would break without consequence. It doesn’t matter now — the building itself is half collapsed, huge chunks of concrete taken out of it as if from an explosion, leaving the broken steel rods within bare. What remains could collapse at any moment, and no one save the dead dares tread there.
He’s glad the building is half-collapsed already — it makes finding the main supports keeping the rest of it up that much easier. He’s so glad he took that engineering class.
“See that pillar over there?” Tucker asks, pointing into the collapsed side of the parking garage. “Take that one out first.”
“On it,” Sam says, readying the ecto-bazooka. With careful aim, she fires. The green-tinted ammo sails through the air, exploding against the pillar with a blast louder than a firework. The parking garage rumbles, and some of the lower floors cave inwards. As the greenish smoke clears, they see that half the concrete on the support is gone, the support itself bent inwards.
Sam’s grin widens, and Tucker feels himself grinning with her. After hours of fruitless brainstorming, they can finally help Danny escape Valerie’s rage!
Together, they destroy more supports, Tucker guesstimating which ones would help the building cave inwards, Sam expertly taking them out one by one. Tucker hears Danny’s taunts and Valerie’s screams of rage in his ears, and the sounds of impact and rumbles of the parking garage when Valerie’s shots hit the building. Dust begins to fill the air. And the parking garage slowly, surely, begins to topple inwards.
Tucker has never seen a building collapse before. Not in person. He expected the dust and the noise, but he never expected there to be so much of it. He turns away as the dust comes billowing towards them — rips the Fenton phone from his ear as it emits a burst of feedback from the collapsing building and curls over himself — feels Sam yank him behind a concrete barrier and they huddle together, unable to see anything beyond the dust or hear anything beyond their less than controlled demolition—
“—can’t hide forever, ghost!”
Tucker doesn’t know how long it’s been —two minutes? Five? Ten? — when he hears Valerie’s voice over the buzzing in his ears. That’s not good. Valerie should be gone by now. Danny can disappear and fly as a human, but not for long, especially after seven hours of non-stop fighting. He stands up from behind the concrete barrier, and sees Sam do the same out of the corner of his eye.
“He went that way!” Sam shouts and points.
“Inviso-Bill stole my PDA!” Tucker shouts.
Valerie pauses in the air, turning to look at them. “What?”
“Ph— Inviso-Bill stole Tucker’s PDA!” Sam shouts.
“He went that way!” Tucker shouts and points.
Valerie shakes her head, growling in frustration, and points at Sam. “You. Uh, citizen. Just tell me where he went.”
Sam nods, covering Tucker’s mouth. Tucker resists the urge to lick her hand. “He went that way.” She points down the street. “Towards the beach.”
Tucker pulls Sam’s hand away from his mouth.
“And he stole my PDA! My poor Jessica!” He throws his face into his hands, lamenting the loss of his PDA. He remembers when Technus stole and took over his poor PDA, and he sniffles a little. Every good lie has a kernel of truth, he’s learned. And it’s more important than ever that he sells this lie.
“Ugh, whatever, Fo— uh, citizen, who I definitely don’t know. Um. Thanks for the tip.” And then Valerie flies away, down the street at first, but steadily rising until she clears the rooftops. She then changes her bearing, disappearing behind the library.
“Man, I thought she’d never leave.”
Tucker and Sam jump. They look down to see Danny sitting between them, slumped against the concrete barrier. He looks wiped. His eyes are closed, head lolling against the barrier. One leg is bent, foot resting against the curb. The other is outstretched, slightly elevated onto the sidewalk. His hair, skin, and clothes are stained gray with dust — if it weren’t for the sweat beading down his face, Tucker would say he looks like a ghost. Not an Amity Park ghost — rather, a ghost from one of the movies. Quiet. Unmoving. Dead.
Then Danny opens his eyes. Piercing blue reflects the sky above, before turning to Tucker and Sam. He smiles lightly, and then raises his arms. “Help me up?”
Tucker and Sam grab his arms, heaving him up to a standing position. He sways for a moment — then the leg that was outstretched buckles, and he leans hard into Tucker with a grunt.
“Woah, dude, take it easy,” Tucker says, adjusting himself so he can take on Danny’s weight.
“I’m fine, Tuck. It’s just—” he hisses as he gingerly places his foot on the ground, leaning further into Tucker. “Just a flesh wound.”
Tucker sighs. “I know, man. But we still gotta check it out.” He takes a careful step with Danny onto the sidewalk. “Sam, any luck getting a ride?”
Sam nods, typing into her phone. “I’m texting Mahira — she might ask questions, but more importantly, she won’t tell mom and dad.”
“Cool.” Tucker’s about to say something else when a soft snore snuffs against his ear. He looks down to see Danny, leaning his full weight against Tucker, eyes closed and nose snoring in his ear. Tucker smirks softly, rolling his eyes, then adjusts the way he’s holding Danny, scooping his friend up bridal style. Danny would never let him carry him like this were he awake. Asleep as he is, he snuggles into Tucker’s sweater, pressing his cheek to Tucker’s chest. Tucker’s smirk softens into a smile.
When did Danny get so light?
He walks slowly, taking his time, letting Sam walk ahead of him as he stares down at his best friend. He’s still covered in dust, his hair matted with it. Bruises have begun to form on his arms and face, and are peeking out from beneath his shirt. Between the tassel-whatsits and Valerie, today has done a number on him; and it’s barely noon. Despite this, his face is more peaceful than Tucker’s seen in a long time. Free of tension around his eyes, free of the constant frown that normally burdens his face. Danny deserves this, Tucker thinks.
Click!
Tucker looks up to see Sam holding up her camera, a smirk on her face.
“Hey!” Tucker shouts, but then stops himself when Danny stirs.
“Shush, you,” Sam sings out, turning back around. “You don’t want to wake him up!”
“No fair!” Tucker whines, only just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam chuckles and smiles back at Tucker, then runs ahead to the corner where the SUV is waiting. That must be Mahira.
Tucker picks up the pace, but only just, careful not to wake Danny. He lets Sam answer Mahira’s questions; he figures Sam’ll fill him in on her excuses later.
He looks down again at Danny, and can’t help the small smile as Danny snores against him.
Sleep well, buddy.