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Ray was pretty sure he was on the ground; he could feel concrete beneath his boots and earth under his fingers. His jaw ached, his head was spinning . . . why couldn't he open his eyes?
"Ray, what the hell?" Winston was somewhere above him.
Ray shook his head, slowly. He couldn't think; it was as if his head were full of cobwebs. Normally, he'd be thrilled about a new sensation like this; he'd want to catalog every part of it, inspect it under a microscope, poke it with a stick to see what happened. But this just made him sick.
"What happened?" he said, working his jaw carefully. Winston had one hell of a hook. Why had he hit him? And why couldn't Ray open his eyes?
"I think you just lost your driving privileges for the foreseeable future." That was Venkman, standing somewhere near his left shoulder.
They attacked you, whispered a voice from the center of Ray's skull, low and slow and seductive. They deserve to die. Kill them.
"No," whispered Ray. The grass under his hands seemed strangely warm.
"You all right, Ray?" Winston had crouched at his right shoulder. He put one hand gently on Ray's arm; Ray flinched. "Hey, hey, I'm not going to hit you again."
Don't believe him, whispered the voice again. He's laid hands on you once already. Once they strike you once, they'll do it again. And again. The timbre of the voice changed, almost gleeful. They'll torture you, then behead you, then burn you at the stake. You know what you are, Raymond Stantz. Heretic. Occultist. Sorcerer. Like me. You will meet my fate, if you do not give in to me.
"Guys?" Ray's voice was high and trembling. "Did I . . . what happened?"
"You nearly got us into no less than ten wrecks. When Winston incapacitated you, you were heading us for this burr oak." That was Egon, somewhere behind him.
"There's a tree here?" Ray struggled forward. Why couldn't he open his eyes? It felt as if someone were physically holding them closed, but there was no one in front of him. The grass felt like it was clinging to his hands, tugging at him.
"Yeah, Ray, there's a tree here." Venkman's voice was concerned; he rarely sounded like that about anyone other than Dana, unless someone was bleeding. "You're going to bump into it if you keep going like that."
"Ray, open your eyes, man," Winston encouraged.
Yes, open your eyes and look at them. See the hate they have for you. You just tried to kill them; why wouldn't they hate you now? Come, join me. Ray shook his head. "I can't."
"Why not?" It was hard to tell whether Egon was concerned or not. What was that noise? It sounded familiar. Not the PKE meter.
The grass under his fingers turned to bare dirt. Ray's hair brushed the tree. He sat down, reached out, and wrapped his arms around it. It was a tiny piece of Nature in the middle of the city, surrounded by human bustle and anger but still reaching skyward.
What are you - The voice stuttered and failed. Something pushed back through Ray; the grass at his legs seemed to grow softer, and a breeze blew the cobwebs away.
Ray opened his eyes, blinking. Peter and Winston were barely a foot away, arms outstretched. "Ray. Come on. We need to get you home."
The sunlight scoured something out of the back of Ray's eyes. Hadn't he just been talking to someone? He couldn't remember. "Sorry, guys. I just - suddenly I felt so angry at everything, and I just wanted to end it all." He glanced at Peter. "Sudden onset depression?"
"Possibly, but -" Venkman glanced back at Spengler, who had the gigameter out.
Egon gave a tight little nod. "More likely, it's the result of exposure to negatively-charged psychomagnetheric slime. You've gotten more of it on you than the rest of us. You're live, Ray." Egon leaned down to show him the readout.
Ray looked at it. Yup, he was definitely giving off readings. Faint, but there they were. "Shoot. Well, yeah, let's get me home, and first of all I'll change out of this uniform - maybe it's contaminated."
"A definite possibility." Egon brushed the grass off of Ray's hands as Peter and Winston hauled him to his feet. "I think Winston should drive."
"Amen to that," Peter agreed. In a lower voice, he turned back to Ray and asked "You're not having suicidal ideation now, are you?"
"No, I feel fine right now." Ray blinked. "I think I might have some short-term amnesia from right before and after when Winston cold-cocked me, though."
"Hmm." Peter checked his pupils. "You don't look like you're concussed, but maybe we should swing by an emergency room to check you out."
"Let's get me out of this uniform first." Ray wrapped his arms around himself as Peter and Egon eased him into Ecto-1A's back seat. "I'm sure I'll be all right once I have a chance to rest up a bit."
He looked back at the tree in its tiny patch of grass against the concrete. Something in the back of his mind flickered into focus, and for an instant he saw them burning; then he blinked, and they were warm and green again.