Ghostbusters Apocalypto

    Keith kicked away an old liscence plate that stated in charred remains 'New York, Take a bite out of this Big Apple'. He smirked; the big apple had, had more than a bite taken out of it. He moved on the old plate forgotten.
     He was scavenging, looking for anything worthwhile that he could use for his inventions. He gave a quick glance into the sky, the reddened clouds made it hard to distinguish the time of day, but he knew it was still late afternoon; he was still quite safe, for now.
    Time didn't have much meaning unless you were using it as protection of your life; otherwise it just blurred together as seconds, minutes, hours, even days, ticked away slowly or quickly. Waiting was the hardest part, waiting in the darkness of abandoned buildings or houses; waiting for death to come, or possibly something else.
    As he was looking in the sky Keith suddenly realized he was in a neighbourhood he didn't recognize. It was a strange thing to come across what was left of New York that you hadn't been in, but when in fear of what lurked in the darkness, one often shyed away from certain places. There was something strangely familiar about this street, even though Keith was completely sure he had never been here before; it was as though he had been here in his dreams.
    He found himself in front of an old cracked down firehouse, older then even some of the newer old buildings in other areas. It had held up well though, and looked stable enough to enter. Keith, usually the cautious one, slipped through the open door and inside. It was silent, dark, dank; but somehow, inside this cavernous building, Keith felt safe. He had not felt safe his entire life.
    It was as though nothing from the outside world cared to enter this building, as though something in here repelled them. Perhaps a spectre of hope? Keith felt something close to that and he knew he would have to look around.
    In the centre of the old hall where the firetrucks would have come in there was a desk and a few filing cabinets. Keith walked over, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor, and he reached the desk. He ran his hand across the old oak, now rotting away with age. There was a piece of yellowed paper on the desk; dozens of names and addresses were written on it, many of them underlined several times. Near the paper was a gold name plate with the name, Janine Melnitz.
    Keith picked up the name plate and let the name stick in his mind for a few minutes; once again the feeling of familiarity had washed over him. Why did this all seem so familiar to him; why couldn't he remember any of it? He put down the plate and looked around the hall. Something sparked in the gloomy light, and caught his eye. He moved towards it quickly, eager to solve more of the mystery of this building.
    Outside the wind began to pick up and howled through the small holes that had wormed through the bricks over the years. Keith stopped and peered around, an unwary feeling coming over him. There was something sinister in the howl, but he had to remind himself that it was just the wind, nothing more. He pressed on and moved up towards the object; it turned out to be a gold plaque that was attached to a support beam near the side of the building.
    It was a dedication plaque, 'Dedicated to the brave souls who fought for our freedom' and it went on to name these souls, 'Kylie Griffin, Eduardo Rivera, Garrett Miller, and Roland Jackson'. Once again Keith had to think this over slowly; these names, these names were so familiar, so close to him. Why, why did they haunt him? A crash from above shocked him from his dreamy state. Kyle instinctively moved for cover and hid himself under the large desk back near the middle of the large room again.
    Silence pursued, the wind had even stopped howling. Keith reasoned with the sound; it was a very old building, it was possible it was slowly falling apart upstairs. He screwed up his courage; he had to investigate, he needed to find out more about this place. Slowly he crept from his hiding place under the desk and quickly peered around. Nothing moved, nothing had changed in the dusty old hall. Keith spotted the spiral staircase and moved towards it.
    Suddenly his foot moved forward, before Keith could react it slipped through a hole in the floor and more bricks followed as Keith began to fall through with it. He screamed out into the silence; to no one, alive at least. Then he hit ground and it was over as the blackness swept over him.

    "Yo, I need a refill man!" the latino yelled out. He was holding a strange looking gun expelling a powerful looking ray of energy.
    "No more refills, make what you got count, we can't let him win!" the strange goth girl replied.
    Two more figures appeared in the gloomy fog, a young man in a wheel chair and a distinguished looking african-american beside him. They were all holding guns, that were attached to odd beeping packs strapped to their backs. The man in the wheelchair held up a two way radio.
    "Egon, this thing is too strong! We need some back up here!" he screamed. Suddenly his energy wave stopped and he was instantly thrown back by a powerful blast of energy from an area inside the fog. Keith was watching on, although he realized somehow that he was only a spectator and that he could not been seen or heard.
    The girl looked back in distress.
    "Garrett, no!" She screamed out. Garrett, that was the name on the plaque, Keith remembered.
    Her quick lapse of judgement cost her as she was hit by an energy wave as well, making her beam of energy fly wildly around, which distracted the other two. Both of them were thrown back as well by a beam of energy.
    All four were now incapacitated, and almost all were unconcious, all except the latino. He groaned and looked over at his friends.
    "Kylie, Roland?" he groaned, "guys, get up."
    There was a laugh from somewhere in the gloom and he spun around towards it. Keith could make out the distinct sound of horse hooves hitting cement ground. The laughing stopped and a voice boomed out, but Keith could not make out what it was saying.
    "No, NO, you'll never win!" the latino screamed. Suddenly the energy beam returned and pulled the latino forward screaming in pain, until he disappeared into the gloom. All that remained was the sound of the two way radio crackling.
    "Garrett? Eduardo? Is anyone there? Answer now!"
    And then the gloom swelled up and over the unconcious three and the radio, slowly fading them from sight, blurring out the words, until there was nothing but black once more.

The End

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