#delayed immunity

~

The day had started just like the last; the sky was clear, the news was blaring, and his parents were singing off-key to some old song Dad made up back in college. Jazz rolled her eyes, adding another row of pros and cons to her list. 

Georgia, or more specifically, Atlanta, was turning out to be just like all the other places they had visited over the last week.

“So,” Sam grumbled, leaning over the chair to stare at Jazz’s notes, “you guys are going straight to the building and what? Staying for the tour? How long is that?”

“An hour. Then Mom wants to do our own tour. You know, get to know what they don’t want us to see until we actually agree to attend.” Jazz replied, flipping back a few pages to reference something.

Sam shook her head, leaned back, picked up one of Tucker’s discarded blue jackal paws, and chucked it at Danny. Danny, having been hit with the same paw for the fifty-seventh time, turned and chucked it at Tucker.

“Fix it now, or I’m throwing it out the window,” Danny demanded, turning back around just in time to get launched into his sister's side as Dad took another roundabout at mach Jesus.

“You should really be buckled, Danny,” Mom sighed, not even looking up from the paper map spread across the dash in front of her. She crossed another road off with a bright red marker. He’s pretty sure the thing was anti-ghost in some way. Probably made with blood-blossoms or Dad’s second ecto-shot recipe. It had a menacing sparkle to it that Danny didn’t like.

“Think we can get Dr. Jack Man to launch you to space if he takes a turn fast enough?” Tucker asked, squeaking his jackal paw next to Danny’s ear just to annoy him.

“Sure,” Sam snorted, “right after he builds a ghost ramp so he doesn’t send Danny into the side of a building first.”

“Buckle up, Danny,” Jazz ordered, calmly adding another con under her already extensive list. Seven roundabouts, it read, underlined three times with an exclamation mark. Very Dramatic. Very Teenage genius. But also? Fair. No one wants to see Jack Fenton tearing down the road with a roundabout just so he can drop off something Jazz forgot at home. Danny’s actually surprised the man hasn’t launched the G.A.V right over the center of one yet.

Somehow, it still wasn’t as bad as when there was an underpass.

Shivering at the memory he’d just recalled, Danny sat up and pointedly yanked his seatbelt around himself. Mom absentmindedly turned up the radio, humming about natural ghost repellents and whether Ducks could be classified as sentient, governable entities.

“Reports are coming in; there has been an increase in vicious attacks in populated areas. We have word from our local military representatives: Stay indoors, avoid suspicious individuals, and keep a reasonable distance between aggressive or hostile groups. Next up: David talking about flying hotdogs in the Tristate area.”

“It’s the damn ghosts, I tell ya,” Dad huffed, turning sharply, making the four cars around us honk and slam on their brakes.

“I need a warning, Dr. Nascar,” Tucker complained, kicking the back of Danny’s seat as he tried to keep his sewing kit from tipping over and dumping its contents all over the floor.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Dad cheerfully replied, not even pausing as he took another sharp turn, cutting off what looked like a Krabby Patty Car. The driver, a man who had a very disturbingly similar physique to Squidward, flipped them off. His passenger, a lady who also had a disturbingly similar physique to a SpongeBob character, clutched her pearls with wide eyes.

“Flipped off by handsome Squidward- cross that off the list,” Sam snorted, tossing a roasted peanut at Tucker. The boy flinched away so hard that he hit his head on the shelves welded to the walls. The hot glue gun dropped into his lap, making the boy forget to glare at Sam as he swatted at the machine in panic. Danny watched silently as Tucker skreeched and tried to shake off the web-like glue now covering him.

He didn’t succeed.

“That’s what you get for not securing it before turning it on,” Jazz sighed, holding her hand out for a snack. Sam dug through her bag of trail mix, making sure to snag a few organic chocolate chips, before passing some over.

“Thanks,” Jazz mumbled, tossing a few into her mouth.

“But I need it for my fur suit!” Tucker complained, glaring at Sam as she flicked another nut at him.

“Leave the poor boy alone, Sam; you know how sensitive he is about anything other than meat,” Danny joked, turning around and snatching a handful of trail mix. Nice, he managed to snag four chocolate chips!

“I am not sensitive,” Tucker denied, pouting as he fixed the hole in his blue Jackal paw, “I’m allergic to her rabbit food.”

“You're not allergic; you’re dramatic.” Sam corrected, “And you’ll tolerate it unless you want me to change my mind about taking you with me.”

“No! Not the fury convention!” Tucker cried, dropping his suit’s paw as he turned and latched his hands around Sam’s shoulders, shaking her as he continued, “I’ll die if you do that, Die, Sam!”

“Not if you’re already dead,” Danny pointed out, eyeing Sam as she patted around her seat looking for something to stab Tucker with. She got her hands on one of her convention passes and slapped it against his face. It did nothing to convince the boy to stop harassing her.

Shaking his head with a snort, Danny turned back and cringed as he watched Dad run through another red light. He did not look forward to getting those tickets in the mail.

“What time is it?” Jazz cut in, finally looking up from her notes.

“Not to worry, Jazzy-pants, we’re right on time!” Dad cheered, slamming on the brakes, and twisting the wheel. Gravity seemingly doubled its pull on all of them as the car spun, turning and turning, before finally skidding to a stop and jerking side to side, then settling into dead silence.

Danny, with the confidence of a dead man, unbuckled his seatbelt and tossed the door open, eyeing the group of gawking college students. Jazz took a moment to take a deep breath before also unbuckling. Sam and Tucker groaned, slowly raising their bodies from their slumped positions.

“Welp,” Danny blurted, “now you have a conversation starter.”

Jazz dropped her head into her hands with a groan. Tossing the last of his snack into his mouth, he eyed his sister. She didn’t look like she would appreciate it if he pointed out that she had ink on her face.

Keeping his mouth shut, Danny looked back outside at the crowd. After a second of silent staring, someone snapped a picture, the flash blinding him.

~

“And this,” their suspiciously cheerful tour guide chirped, “Is the student parking lot, where if you pass our entrance exam, you’ll have your very own reserved parking. The farther along in your schooling career, the better the spot, if you need an incentive to stick around.” The girl winked and patted a sparkling yellow truck, “Took me a while, but I finally snagged the best spot on the whole campus. If you do well in your first-year finals, I’ll leave a recommendation for you. Won’t be useful until a little further down the road, but it’ll give you an upper hand over everyone else when the time comes.”

Jazz gave the girl a tight smile, resolutely not looking behind them as Dad shouted for them to see what he’d found. Mom’s voice carried on the wind like a banshee, clear with excitement as one of her machines beeped excessively.

Danny cautiously shuffled a step back, turning his head just enough to spot Dad’s bright orange suit not at eye level like he’d expected, but up on a balcony with two college bros. He had Chad #1 pressed up to his side, holding his phone out for a selfie; Chad #2 was hanging off his back, shouting something Danny couldn’t make out.

“Look away, Danny; you’ll only encourage him,” Jazz hissed, her smile stretching even wider as their tour guide continued to cheerfully rattle on about the parking lot.

“So, what do you think?” Danny asked, turning away from the chaos behind them.

“About Emory? It’s got its selling points. Our Parents?” Dad called out to them again, making Danny glance back just in time to watch the man dive off the second-story balcony and land on top of a car. The alarm blared to life, and the college bros cheered loudly from their dorm room. Dad sat up with a grin, yelling that he was ok. A frazzled-haired brunette cried out in anger, marching up to Dad and angrily pointing at the damage to what was supposedly her car.

Mom hustled over with her machine, excitedly pulling Dad off of the car and pointing to the other side of the parking lot, the beeping getting louder.

“I don’t know them,” Jazz chirped, pulling him tightly against her side as she started marching after their tour guide, who, at this point, had gotten so sidetracked by a group of girls that she’d forgotten all about them.

“Right…” Danny trailed off, taking another glance as Mom’s teal suit darted past at what could only be classified as the speed of light and towards a creepy white van. Dad lumbered after her, the frazzled girl chasing after in frustration, yelling about insurance. She looked sweaty with fever, her eyes wild and bloodshot, an old bandage wrapped around her clenched fist.

An ambulance siren blared to life off in the distance. Or was it the police?

“So, how do you think the Furry convention is going?” Jazz asked, pointedly not looking as Mom climbed on top of the van and waved her device around. The beeping was shrill now, no matter in which direction she pointed it.

Something like dread lingered in the pit of his stomach, but seeing as his ghost sense hadn’t activated yet, Danny elected to ignore it.

“Good, I think. The last message Sam sent me was a picture of Tucker in a group of brightly colored fursuits. She captioned it with: Pack Blues. It looked like he was crying.”

Jazz raised one of her eyebrows in amusement, shaking her head after a second, “Tell Sam she needs to find the artists soon; she promised to pick something cool out for me.”

“It’s Artist Alley, and she owes me something too,” Danny added, digging into his pocket and pulling out his Fenton PhoneTM and sending another text to Sam. Neither of them had texted him in over 30 minutes, so he wasn’t expecting an answer any time soon. He’d have to get them to tell him everything later.

“There. No guarantee that she sees it right away, but she’s been informed,” Danny mumbled, locking his phone and finally glancing up and over to his parents. Mom was frowning down at the device, tapping away at its screen in confusion even though the beeping hadn’t stopped.

Dad was… 

Well, it was probably for the best that Danny just ignored whatever it was that he was doing. Turning away, Danny studied the parking lot around them.

The ex-tour guide was forcing herself between the group of girls from earlier; it looked like a fight had broken out between them. More college students rushed by as a bell rang, probably signaling a class change or something.

“She doesn’t look ok,” Jazz blurted, drawing Danny’s attention from the quickly growing crowd. The girl from earlier was leaning against one of the parked cars, partially collapsed with a hand to her head.

Worried, Danny took a step forward, intending to see if she needed help, but Jazz held him back, her eyes darting around the parking lot. 

“Don’t.”

“But she,” Danny tried, but Jazz cut him off.

“Something's not right. Look,” She pointed back at the group of fighting girls. Their ex-tour guide was on the ground clutching her arm where she’d apparently been hurt. The culprit was a blond girl being held back by her friends. She had blood smeared all over the bottom of her face, her eyes wild and unseeing. He could see the veins in her face from here; she was so pale.

“She bit her.” Jazz exhaled, pulling Danny closer.

A groan pulled their attention back to the insurance girl; she was now sitting, her eyes glossed with fever and her clothes soaked with sweat. She started coughing, blood spattering against the hand she held loosely in front of her.

A scream echoed from the far end of the lot, making everyone freeze for a split second. In what Danny could only describe as morbid group mentality, everyone turned to look for the source in sync.

Some curly-haired man was on the ground, a bald man straddling him. It looked like the bald man was trying to kiss him, but that idea was quickly thrown away once the bald man lifted his head. Bloody flesh dangled from his mouth, his teeth yellow and drenched in blood. The curly-haired man’s scream turned gargled.

“Oh god,” Jazz gasped, her hold on his upper arm tightening.

“Jazzy!” Dad called, pushing through the slowly panicking crowd.

“Dad!” Jazz shouted, pulling Danny with her. “Come on, Danny,” Jazz ordered, “We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Danny agrees, letting her pull him even more forcefully as the crowd descends into even more panic. The insurance girl slumps down, going eerily still in the mounting chaos.

“Danny!” Mom calls, pushing past Dad and crouching down in front of them, her hands darting over his head and then resting on his face. She eyed him over, checking for injuries before doing the same to Jazz. “Come on, kids, we need to get to the G.A.V,” She orders, clutching her machine to her chest as she stands up.

Dad eyed the people running and pushing all around them before squaring his shoulders, “Follow me.”

No one said anything for a while as they followed Dad through the chaos. More and more screams filled the air, and if Danny hadn’t already known how fast a situation could get deadly and how to handle it, he would have joined them. That or cried.

“I told you, it’s those pesky ghosts,” Dad grumbled, pausing just long enough to not bulldoze a short asian girl with blood all over her front. She didn’t even notice them, too deep in her shock as she continued to stumble away, “He’s dead, dead,” She mumbled.

Danny took a second to glance back through all the chaos, noting with muted dread that the insurance girl was no longer there. 

“Come on, Danny,” Jazz coaxes, her hold never faltering.

~

The screaming only got worse the longer it took them to get to the G.A.V. By the time it was in sight, Danny could barely hear anything the others were saying, their voices getting lost in all the noise.

“GET IN!” Mom demanded, shoving the two of them forward as she rounded to the back and opened the doors.

Climbing in, Danny watched as Mom dropped her machine and started digging through the storage bins. She pulled out the anti-creep stick and tossed it at Jazz, “Keep that close, sweetie; we’ll be back in a moment.”

“Wait, what?” Jazz blurted, clutching the green bat to her chest as Dad slammed the door closed once she was fully inside.

“It’s those demented ghosts, sweetpea; it’s our job to get the situation under control.” Mom explained like it was a normal day back in Amity. She pulled out Dad’s rocket launcher and four extra ecto-blasters. “You two stay here, where it’s safe. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“But they’re-” Danny tried to plead, Mom cutting him off as she kissed his head, then Jazz’s, “Ghosts, Danny. Nothing more.”

She pulled back and slammed the doors closed before he could stop her.

“They're not ghosts, though,” Danny confesses to the silent air, watching as Dad snatched the rocket launcher from Mom’s arms and offered her a kiss with a bright, goofy grin.

Jazz pulled him close, eyeing the people running past with weary eyes, “I know.”

She turned back to watch Mom as she took off, her blaster held up and armed, “They’ll figure it out once ecto-weapons don’t work. You’ll see. They’ll be back in a minute.”

Dad cackled madly, setting off a rocket with glee. 

People were thrown back, the green explosion only adding to the chaos. No ghosts emerged from the groaning humans, nor did ectoplasm splatter all over the place. The attack only spurred the crowd's screams of fear.

Frowning, Dad tossed the rocket launcher on his back and pulled his Ecto-Blaster, aiming at a blood-covered man who turned and started stumbling toward him. The first shot missed, going wide and slamming into the back of some poor girl, her sweater smoldering from the heat, but otherwise no reaction.

The second and third shots landed, burning the man’s clothes, but not hindering him in the slightest. Dad stepped back with a frown, glancing at his blaster in confusion. The blood-covered man launched himself forward, his hands reaching out as Dad dropped the blaster and tried to stop him.

His bloody nails dug into Dad’s arm, who let out a shout of pain, pushing the man away with a grunt. Taking the chance, Dad pulled out his own creep stick, taking a stance as the man stood up again and tried to attack.

Swinging, Dad caught the man’s jaw with a loud crack. The man didn’t scream, just stumbled back with a gurgled groan and tried to approach like he hadn’t just taken what would equate to about 4,500 pounds of force straight to the face.

“What the fuck,” Jazz hissed, her nails digging into Danny’s shoulder as she pulled him back, like that would protect them from seeing what they were.

Dad took another swing. And in what felt like slow motion, a loud crack filled the air as the bat made contact. The man’s skin rippled like disturbed water, shattered bone tearing through and showering the group of screaming people running past in blood.

The man stumbled back, his jaw hanging open at an unnatural angle, blood gushing down and soaking his front.

Jazz gagged next to him, turning away as she tried to keep her food down.

Danny could only watch in shock as Dad prepared to swing again, only for some lady to jump onto his back and bite down.

Dad screamed, dropping his bat to reach up and tug the lady off, throwing her as far away as he could. She landed in a heap of limbs, not even pausing before she was crawling and snagging at someone’s leg as they rushed past.

“Dad!” Jazz shouted, crawling over the seat and pushing the door open. Danny joined her, dropping over the chair to try and dig through the scattered bins. There was a med kit somewhere here; he just has to find it.

“Stay inside, Jazz,” Dad grunted, stumbling back with a hiss as he clamped a hand over his neck.

“You’re bleeding!” Jazz scolds, pushing the door open even more so she could lean out and get a look. “You need a hospital! Bandages! Antibiotics!”

“I’ll be fine, Jazzerinces!” Dad tried to laugh, his pale face tight with pain.

Before Jazz could lecture him about how gross and deadly a human bite could be, the jawless man launched himself forward again, his upper teeth sinking into Dad’s arm and his nails raking over his face and shoulder.

Panicking, Danny shot an ice blast, launching the man back and away. He dropped to the ground, the ice sticking out of his forehead like an arrow. Freezing, Danny stared in shock at the man. He hadn’t-

He hadn’t meant to do that.

“Grab the med kit, Danny!” Jazz shouted, not even blinking in shock at what Danny had just done.

He just killed a man.

He hadn’t even realised what he’d been doing until it was done.

It was a reflex.

He just killed a man out of reflex.

“The med kit, Danny,” Jazz hissed, turning to look away from where she had her hands pressed harshly against Dad’s neck. Dad was deathly pale, leaning heavily against the door as he panted in pain.

Numbly turning, Danny shoved the bins around until he finally found the bright green case. Picking it up, Danny moved over to the open door and dropped the kit, the lid popping open with ease.

“Grab the gauze pads, Danny,” Jazz instructs, softer now.

His hands shook, Danny noted, as he dug around and found the gauze. Peeling the packaging open, Danny handed them over to Jazz. She pulled one of her hands back; it was covered in bright red blood. It was also shaking.

She grabbed the pads, folding them and wadding them into bunches as she turned and shoved them into the wound. Dad groaned in pain, tears filling his eyes as he sluggishly tried to pull away.

“I know, Dad, I know,” Jazz sniffles, “Just hold on.”

“Get the bandages, Danny,” Jazz sniffs, her watery eyes glancing up at the chaos still moving all around them.

Danny’s ears were ringing; his hands were shaking so badly that he thought his skellington would vibrate right out of his skin. Turning back, Danny rummaged through the kit until a roll of bandages fell out next to him. Struggling to pick them up, Danny let out a sob.

He’d just killed a man. 

He just killed a man, and Dad needed help, and Danny’s stupid hands were shaking too much to pick these- 

Stupid. 

Stupid. 

Bandages. 

UP.

Hands grabbed his face, forcing him to look up through his blurry vision. Jazz crouched in front of him, tears in her eyes as she slammed her forehead against his. The shock of the pain forced him to inhale, his sobs rattling his chest.

“It’s going to be ok, Danny,” She declares, “Just take a deep breath.”

“He’s dead, Jazzy,” Danny sobbed, gasping for breath. It felt like the world was falling apart. He’s just killed a man. Why was the world falling apart more than it had for his own death?

“I know,” She whispers, squeezing his face, “I know. He’s dead, and nothing's going to undo that. It’s not your fault, you hear me? It’s not your fault. You just wanted to help Dad; no one's blaming you, Danny. You’re going to be ok. You might not feel like it for a while, but you’ll be ok. I’m not going to lie to you about that, ok? I need you to breathe, alright?”

“Take a deep breath,” Jazz instructed, not pulling back as Danny inhaled and coughed. He’s pretty sure he just got snot all over her shirt.

“Good, that’s good.” Jazz smiled, “Take another one for me. Can you do that?”

Nodding his head, Danny took another breath. It was nowhere near deep or steady, but it was a breath, and he hadn’t immediately choked on it. Jazz nodded, pulling back and picking up the bandages, “Just keep breathing, Danny; you’ll be ok.”

Turning around, Jazz went back to helping Dad, who, now that Danny wasn’t losing his mind to panic, didn’t look as close to death’s doorstep as he first thought. He still needed help, though.

They needed to get him to the hospital. He needs to get in the car.

Taking another breath, Danny shook out his hands and pushed past Jazz to stand outside. Dad clutched tightly onto the door, trying to stay upright. “Danny?” Jazz asked, eyeing the screaming people outside and Dad’s neck as she wrapped it in bandages.

“We need to get him some help,” Danny explained, wrapping Dad’s other arm over his shoulder. It would have looked comical in any other situation: a 6’9” tall man held up by his 5’4” tall son.

“Come on, Dad,” Danny huffs, glancing around as he leads him towards the edge of the car, “Pack up, Jazzy; you’ll be driving.”

Jazz nodded her head, reaching out and tugging the door closed as Danny poked his head around the car.

It was chaos, people dead and sprawled on the ground, blood-soaked maniacs stumbling around and attacking anyone unfortunate enough to be closest. People screamed and cried, running, sprinting, and limping past.

“Just a few steps,” Danny reassured, resolutely ignoring the bodies all around them.

“Danno,” Dad mumbled, using the car as another crutch as they slowly marched forward.

“It’s going to be ok,” Danny said. “We just need you to get in the car, and Jazzy can drive us to the hospital.” It was going to be ok; they had a plan. 

Police sirens bled to life, and angry shouting and screams filled the air. A car revved it’s engain before its driver slammed on the gas and sped off, leaving a trail of people bleeding or dead.

“PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Some random cop screamed. Danny glanced up, trying to find him, but it was useless; there were too many people crowding around.

“I SAID HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Grunting, Dad pulled away and leaned against the car, allowing Danny to turn and pull the passenger side door open. Dad stepped forward, grabbed the handrail, and stepped up onto the side step. 

“All right, Dad, one last time, just,” Danny grunted, holding Dad’s full body weight as the man accidentally lost hold of the handrail. Pushing up, Danny managed to push him onto the seat.

Stepping back, making sure he was fully inside, Danny slammed the door closed and took a moment to glance around.

“MOM!” Danny shouted, praying to the ancients that she was nearby.

“DANNY?” Mom shouted back from somewhere to his left. Turning around, Danny cupped his hands around his mouth, “DAD’S HURT! HE NEEDS A DOCTOR!”

“I SAID STAND DOWN!” a man shouted, followed by the sound of gunshots.

Even more people screamed.

Pulling the side door open, Danny crawled in and turned around, his eyes darting around looking for Mom’s bright teal suit.

“Is she coming?” Jazz asked, shoving the keys in and starting the engine.

“Give her a minute,” Danny insists, still not seeing her teal suit.

“KIDS!” Mom yells, finally coming into view from the front of the car. She was covered in blood, a scratch down the side of her cheek, one of her sleeves torn open. Other than that, though, she was standing strong and defiant.

“The weapons aren’t working!” She explains, sprinting to the open door and climbing in next to Danny.

Slamming the door closed, she turned and leaned around the seat, “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Jazz croaks, twisting the wheel and slamming on the gas. The car lurched forward, sending Danny slamming his shoulder into the back of Jazz’s chair. She sent him an apologetic look but didn’t slow down.

The abandoned machine in the back started beeping. Danny hadn’t even noticed it had stopped.

“Right,” Mom sniffed, handing Danny her weapons as she snatched her abandoned map. “Just find a main road, and I’ll guide you to the hospital from there.”

Dad’s breathing grew wet and raspy; his groans of pain became more frequent.

“STAND DOWN!” another cop screamed, darting out from behind a few cars, his gun aimed at a group of people on the other side of the G.A.V. He opened fire as Jazz sped past, bullets pinging and ricocheting off the metal.

“Mom,” Jazz hissed, glancing around the overrun roads.

“Just keep driving, Jazz,” Mom ordered, frantically flipping and folding the map.

Danny turned and looked out the window. Cops weaved in and out of the crowd, shots ringing out like death tolls. A body sprawled out on the ground behind a yelling police man turned its head.

It should have been impossible; they were dead, they had a bullet hole straight through their chest. 

And yet…

They pushed themselves over, crawling towards the man, latching their hands around his leg, and biting down.

The cop screamed.

Jazz turned, the G.A.V rumbling loudly as the chaos grew just slightly quieter.

The beeping machine continued rhythmically, matching Dad’s every exhale.

This wasn’t caused by a ghost, Danny knew. This was something entirely different. Something they’ve never dealt with before.

He just hoped they’d find a way around it soon.