Deader Still

18

When I met Co

Just being in the silent darkness of the park after hours was clearly freaking Co

I took a seat on the steps of the white pedestal supporting Cleopatra’s Needle. I stared up at one of the four bronze crabs standing guard at each corner. Co

“I don’t get it,” I said. “You think the jogger or maybe the vampires might return to the scene of the crime?”

Co

I became bored and stood on the top edge of the white base, reaching up to grasp my gloved hands onto one of the metallic crab claws. I hung my full weight from it, letting my feet dangle, feeling a bit like a prize from one of those arcade claw vending-machine games. The mental image caused me to laugh out loud.

Co

“Jesus, kid,” he said. “How can you laugh at a time like this?”

“It probably helps that I’m dangling from this here crab,” I said, but Co

“Just keep sharp,” he said, and resumed his pacing. “That’s gotta be nine hundred pounds’ worth of bronze crabs yer dangling from.”

“I’m not sure how important this is,” I said, dropping down, “but it would help if I knew what I was staying sharp for. Or rather, what we plan to do should anything show up here tonight.”

“Huh?” Co

Co

“Are those . . . hair dryers?”

“Close, kid,” he said, “but no cigar.”

Co

“Bubble blasters?” I asked, and Co

“What’s not to get?” he said. “They blast bubbles.”

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

He handed me one. “Go on, give it a try.”

As if things couldn’t get more surreal, I pulled the trigger. Bubbles filled the air—but they weren’t ordinary bubbles. The smell of patchouli rose from the gun. I popped one of the bubbles and it splashed onto my face. “Great,” I said. “I smell like one of the squatters in the East Village now.”

“Look, kid. These vampires, or whatever it is we’re hunting, might not return to the scene of the crime, but the jogger might. A free-floating ghost almost invariably repeats the patterns it formed in life, like jogging this path. It’s just a matter of time.”

I held up my bubble blaster, waving it at Co

Co

My memories of the foul-smelling scent were always intertwined with the night we defeated the Sectarians at the Museum of Modern Art. Hundreds of ghosts, including my then-ghost-crush Irene, had been trapped by barrels filled with the stuff. I shook it off, heading down to the path at the bottom of the steps that led up to the Needle. I crossed to the far side of the path and waited for Co

“We don’t have anything more high-tech?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t want to bet my life on something from the summer clearance bin at Toys ‘R’ Us.

“After you just did all that paperwork to requisition a new phone from Supply?” Co

I flexed my finger against the trigger of the gun. It felt plastic and flimsy, like it was just waiting to snap off at a crucial moment.

“And if this doesn’t work?” I asked.

“It’ll work,” Co

I looked at the white streak in Co

“It’ll work,” Co

“You really need to work on your deadside ma

“You really need to shut up and get ready,” Co

“Eh?” I said, cocking my head.

Co

“That would be your white hair talking,” I said, “and midthirties is old.”

I shifted my focus down the path. I could barely see anything through the mist covering the pathway . . . until I realized the mist was actually the see-through body of the dead jogger coming toward us. He looked exactly as we had seen him the other day in his “Sherlock Ohms” T-shirt. He appeared to be oblivious to our presence.

“Start your engines,” Co

Onward ran the jogger, still not noticing us, until he hit the first of the bubbles. He stopped abruptly, like he’d been shot. One of the bubbles hit his arm and popped, and he looked down as he hissed in pain. A sticky-looking patch formed on his translucent arm. Co

“Get around the back, kid,” he said. “We’ve got to encircle him before he makes a break for . . .”

Co

“N-n-no!” the spirit stammered. He turned and shot up the stairs toward the needle.

“Crap,” Co

“Scoob and Shag . . . ?”

“Improvise,” he said, and dashed off up the stone steps after it. I fell in behind him, my legs already aching. The spirit limped in a circle around the base of the needle, trying to shake free of a few of the bubbles that had popped on his leg. When he saw us coming, he circled around to the far side of the needle.

“Don’t hurt me,” the jogger shouted.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Co

While the two of them continued their exchange, I crept around to the jogger’s side of the needle. Co

“We just need to know a few things,” Co