Ghost of a Chance

"'The time has come,' said the walrus to the carpenter.", or words to that effect and a tip of the hat to Lewis Carroll. I've enjoyed this adventure, and I hope you have too. But it's time to bring this one to a close. Thank you all for your kind remarks and enjoy the final chapter.

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Epilogue

He typed in the last of the commands and waited for the computer to verify it was ready. The large screen in front of him flashed its question, his finger hovering over the 'enter' key.

Last chance to back out, he thought.

He had been mulling it over for months, torn between picking up where he left off and continuing his... their work or calling it quits for good and getting on with what years he had left in his life. He really wanted to keep going; protecting people, helping them, and rubbing out the criminal element that used to plague the city on an almost daily basis.

But even though his mind and his heart were willing, his body wasn't. He tried to ignore the things his body was doing, but he knew that the day would come when he just couldn't do it anymore. He was getting older, slower, and not able to do the things he use to when he was a younger man. He had stopped when he was in his mid-fifties, and now at the age of sixty-two...

No, he thought... time to hang it up. You've done your share, you fought the good fight... let it go, Tom.

He hit 'enter' on the keyboard and, one by one, the files and records he and Brenda had collected over the years were erased from the memory storage and hard drive. The big screen flashed 'deletion complete; all files erased', and Tom stepped away from the computer console for the next phase. The screen then flashed numbers, counting down from ten and when it hit 'zero', sparks raced across the console and through the modems and hard drive banks surrounding it, shorting out the system. The light show ended after only a few seconds and that was that, the entire computer system rendered useless, the components inside fried and destroyed. With one last pitiful whimper, the large screen winked out and went blank.

Tom turned to take in the rest of the underground bunker, and fondly gazed at its contents: their equipment and weapons, the maps and charts lining the walls, the car that sat covered with a tarp for years and finally... their costumes, one of which was lying on the floor.

He drifted back to the first time he discussed the idea with the woman he loved for a base of operations, and smiled when she laughed at him...

* * *

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Brenda just laughed when Tom showed her the blueprints. She shook her head at him, giving him an incredulous look.

"You're serious; you really want to build this under the house?"

"Yes," Tom answered with enthusiasm, "Well, not 'under' it, per se; along side of it."

"And you're just going to dig right through the basement wall, huh?" she gestured at the wall of cinder blocks

"Don't have to; look." Brenda followed Tom over to the corner of the basement and watched as he pushed his fingers into an indentation in one of the blocks just above his head... and pulled. He surprised her by swinging a section of the wall out as if opening a door, which is was.

"What the Hell?" If Brenda hadn't actually seen it, she would have never known that part of the wall was false.

"I found it by accident one day when I was down here," Tom explained, "I was checking the walls for cracks, making sure the foundation was sound enough before I bought the place. I found the little dent in this block," he pointed to it, "and found the latch release just inside. Just press it in, and voila. The outside of the door is concrete, but it only looks like cinder blocks and it only a quarter of an inch thick; nobody would even look twice at it. C'mon in and take a look."

Brenda followed him into a narrow corridor lit by a couple of drop lights he strung together. There were no stair steps but she could feel herself heading downward.

"What is this place?" she asked, noting the walls of the corridor were cinder blocks as well with support beams spaced apart every ten feet or so.

"You'll see," Tom said with an excited smile. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw the place and, when they finally reached the bottom, he wasn't disappointed.

Brenda's face lit up in wonder when Tom hit the lights and revealed their new 'secret' place.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked, gazing at all the stuff packed away in the hidden room.

"Yep, it's a bomb shelter."

The lights of the shelter revealed a somewhat spacious area that contained everything a small family would need in order to survive any kind of major disaster for months, if necessary. Everything from canned and dried foodstuffs and jugs of water to candles, blankets, and extra clothing lined the shelves around the room. A small table and chairs sat in the middle, and in the corner was a closet sized enclosure; a small bathroom with both a water and chemical toilet.

The only thing that marred its looks was the obvious appearance of non-use. Dust covered everything, with the exception of the table and one chair, and looked like nobody had been down here in years.

"Let me guess: you never told Helen about this place, did you."

Tom chuckled, "Nope; not a word. Sometimes a guy needs to 'get away from it all', and a basement or garage just doesn't cut it." He walked around a bit, exploring the shelves of stored supplies, half of which was outdated, with Brenda doing the same.

"My mother and father told me about these things," she remarked, "I thought they were kidding when they said they both helped their parents build shelters like this in their basements. But I learned about them in school and found out otherwise. They're supposed to protect you from atomic bomb blasts and nuclear war, right?"

"Among other things, yeah," Tom walked around the place, idly brushing off the dust from a box of candles, "My father told me he helped his dad carry can goods into the cellar, along with blankets, candles, water jugs, and a Geiger counter. Granddad told him it was because some damn idiot pointed a dozen nuclear missiles at Florida."

Brenda nodded, "The Cuban Missile Crisis; I remembered that from history class, too."

Tom nodded back and continued, "And, being a veteran, Granddad didn't want to be unprepared." Tom looked around and shook his head, "And it was all for nothing. Everything people said about sneak attacks, nuclear fallout, the 'Commies invading the country and dropping bombs on your house and school'... a waste of time."

"They didn't think so," Brenda countered, waving a hand around the shelter.

Tom sighed, "No... I suppose not. But then again, I think they were duped into buying and making them. They were brainwashed into thinking they could survive a nuclear war in one of these things, and maybe they could have. But all the fear and anxiety, the raging paranoia, and all the people who took advantage of it and made money off of people's fears," he shook his head again, "...mind boggling."

Brenda shrugged, "Hey, that's just the way it was back then. The past is just that: the past; it can't be changed, and what's done is done. Think of it this way:" she walked up to him and hugged him, "their loss is our gain."

Tom smiled at her and hugged back, "You're right. This place is about thirty feet underground; perfect for our own little hidden base."

"How do you know how deep we are?"

Tom pointed to a ladder on the side of the far wall. It led up a fiberglass tube and ended at what looked like a metal hatch. Tom climbed the ladder with Brenda following and opened the thick bolts holding the hatch closed. Daylight streamed in when he swung the hatch up, both of the blinking their eyes and adjusting their vision to the sudden brightness, and the pair climbed out into the back yard.

"I'll be damned," Brenda shook her head in amazement at the sight of the top of the tree stump leaning off to the side; the very stump they sat on to watch the sun come up or spend a quiet afternoon in the yard. They had even made love on it, Tom sitting while Brenda straddled his lap.

"I know; it surprised the Hell out of me too when I found it," said Tom, "I measured the depth from here," he turned away from the stump, "and I've checked out the yard. We can expand it out to the edge of the field; maybe even make a new opening for... I don't know; a couple of quad runners, maybe even a car. A secret entrance that nobody would know about, except..."

Tom stopped his rambling to see Brenda giving him that incredulous look again, but at least she added a smile this time.

"You're insane," she snickered.

"I know," he said, smiling back, "So, what do you think?"

He was waiting for her to join in on his enthusiasm; he didn't have to wait too long.

"You know this is going to take time to build, right?"

Tom nodded at her, "At least a year or so," he couldn't stop smiling at the ideas floating in his head, "but it's okay; we have all the time we need."

Brenda finally embraced him and asked, "When do we start?"

* * *

He smiled with wet eyes at the fond memories the shelter brought back. The planning, the digging, the mess they had to clean up afterwards... that was a fun day, he remembered.

There was a drain set in the floor of the shelter, so when it came time to get rid of the mud and dirt they had tracked in from digging and setting up the new walls, they simply hosed it all down the grate. But that didn't stop them from having fun.

Both of them armed with garden hoses, Tom said, "Hey, you're all dirty", and immediately turned the hose on her, making her squeal. She of course retaliated and drenched him as well. Laughing hysterically, they both stripped down and washed off the mud that somehow got passed the clothes, Tom making Brenda shriek again when the cold water hit her pussy.

Once done, he looked at the beautiful, dripping wet woman he fell in love with and started towards her with lust in his eyes. Brenda knew right away what was on his mind when she saw his cock growing and sticking out.

"Oh, no you don't," she said, giggling, "don't you dare!"

Tom just grinned and started chasing after her naked body, grabbing at her butt and making her laugh. He finally trapped her against a wall and wickedly advanced, Brenda playfully holding him off.

"No you don't; you behave! Don't you dare come any closer! You touch me, I'll scream!"

Tom pinned her against the wall, holding her hands above her head, and pressed his body against her, his stiff prick rubbing against her pubic hair.

Wide eyed and grinning, Brenda simply said in a meek and very tiny voice, "...help."

Tom nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear as Brenda, her hands freed, draped her arms around his shoulders, whispering, "Help... help... somebody help me...", then locked her lips with his, wrapping a leg around his hip while he grabbed and fondled her yummy curves.

That was the first time they made love in the shelter, but it wasn't the last. They shared many intimate moments in their new base, like the time Brenda was giving him a blowjob while he worked at the computer installing new programs, her under the console while he was in his chair.

The time when he caught her painting the walls of the shelter, naked; she said she didn't want paint all over her clothes, so she stripped. He wasted no time getting between her legs and licking her pussy while she rolled the paint onto the walls, some of it smudged on her arm and thighs. She told him to stop or she was going to mess up the paint job. He ignored her, lapping away at her wet cunt and budding clit and making her legs stiffen up and quiver as she came in a fit of giggles and drenched his face with her squirting juices... and wound up spilling the paint out of the can and messing up the wall, anyway.

Then there was the car. Tom wanted a fast, sporty one; Brenda wanted something inconspicuous and practical and didn't look like something the heroes in the comic books rode around in. They finally split the difference and purchased a sporty looking sedan with a strong suspension and an engine with a lot of horses under the hood. It was somewhat flashy with its tinted windows and black and charcoal paint job along its sleek lines. But nothing gaudy on it like some lame cartoon hero logo on the hood or anything that would draw undue attention to them from anyone. They had a lot of naked fun inside of that, as well.

The tear left his eye and ran down his cheek, thinking back on those wonderful times in their hidden base, and not just the wild sex. Stocking it with essentials, building and testing new weapons, updating the computer's database to keep track of all the criminals they managed to thwart over the years... they loved what they did back then, and it did make a difference to the city they loved and protected.

He turned to the open mesh lockers off to the side... where their uniforms hung, along with their weapons' belts. Another tear fell as a spike of pain lashed into his heart, thinking about when he put away her costume... for the last time...

* * *

"Damn," Ghost shouted over the roar of the fire, "this used to be a Hell of a lot easier when we started doing this!"

"You always say that when we do shit like this," Ghoul shouted back, hauling another lowlife out of the flames and limping, "That was seventeen years ago; of course it was easier!" She released a hand from the goon to touch the side of her head near her ear and said, "'L', do you read?"

"Still with you, Ghoul!" was the reply from the woman manning the comm and tracking systems in the base.

"The police, fire trucks!"

"On their way," she answered quickly, "ETA: two minutes!"

'S', standing beside 'L' seated at the computer, just said, "From the sound of it, it better be 'one minute'!"

The Ghost and the Ghoul, still patrolling and keeping an eye on the city throughout the years, were busy cleaning up the remains of another drug lab, one of the few left in the city. And by 'remains', that meant taking out the drug making and dealing scumballs that ran the makeshift drug factory and destroying the materials within.

The daring pair, invisible to the crowd of lowlifes hiding there, snuck in and eliminated them one at a time, including the dickhead who was in charge. He managed to wing Ghoul in the leg with a bullet that bounced off her armor but hampered her movements. Adrenalin raced through her, numbing the pain as she yelled, "He's mine!" and took off like a shot towards the asshole that tried to gun her down. Ghoul lambasted him and took him out of the game, but they didn't count on the contingency plan he had set up in the building, just in case.

Before he was taken down by Ghoul's shock glove and baton, he set off a series of charges planted all around the site; incendiary explosives, designed to set the place ablaze and burn any evidence to ashes if they were ever caught.

Flames now ripped through the huge structure, touching off chemicals and making their containers explode and running up the support beams to the roof.

Ghoul ran back into the inferno to meet up with her partner as best she could on her bad leg.

"Okay, I think that was the last guy," she yelled, thumbing at the goon she had just dragged out, "Firefighters on the way!"

"And I've got him," replied Ghost, tilting his head at the gang's boss draped over his shoulder in a firemen's carry position, "That's it; we're outta here!"

Ghost trampled through the flaming debris raining down from the ceiling, Ghoul right behind him and heading for the exit, trying to keep up with him but lagging behind hindered by her leg wound. He had just passed the door's threshold when he heard a loud, booming crack. Turning towards it, he shouted at his partner seeing catastrophe heading right for her.

"Ghoul; the ceiling beam!"

She looked up and saw a heavy cross beam, weaken from the fire damage, breaking away from the roof and falling with flames and pieces of the rooftop trailing behind it... heading for the spot she was standing in.

Ghost dropped his burden outside and rushed towards her, arms outstretched in an attempt to pull her out of the way. Ghoul flung herself at him, leaping over the fiery rubble to be grabbed by her partner and quickly hauled out of the line of fire.

But not quick enough.

The huge ceiling beam missed Ghoul by mere inches, creating a huge, echoing boom that blasted outward in all directions, but the debris that fell with it didn't miss its targets.

Ghost let out a cry of pain as a heavy support strut smashed into his shoulder, making him loose his grip on Ghoul's hands and slamming him into the floor. He tried to right himself and reach out to her, but instead released a howl of denial as another strut zipped downward through the air and crashed on top of Ghoul, slamming into her back and pinning her under the debris.

Ignoring the pain and his surroundings, Ghost scrambled over to her and wasted no time grabbing the strut and hefting it off of her, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry out as the hot metal burned into his palms despite the flame resistant gloves he was wearing.

He wasn't sure if he should move her, but he certainly couldn't leave her here. So, having no choice, he scooped her up as gently as he could and plodded out of the fire ravaged building.

Sirens were blaring off in the distance and closing in on the site as Ghost laid Ghoul down on the ground away from all the action. Still unseen, he removed her mask and checked her breathing. The filters inside their masks worked; something that Ghost insisted on installing into their disguises, but some of the smoke from the fire managed to seep in and made Brenda's breathing a bit shallow... but she was still breathing.

Fire trucks and police cars raced in and screeched to a halt in front of the flaming building; firefighters immediately aiming their hoses at the blaze while cops quickly dragged the former occupants away from the dangerous flames and cuffing them. And all of them not taking any notice of the two heroes just a few yards away, one cradling the other in his arms and carrying her off to get help.

Help was in the form of a small hospital clinic on the outskirts of the city, one of the very few places they could go that wouldn't question their appearance. For the person who ran the clinic was a lady they had helped years before and could trust with their secret.

Dr. Monica Pressman, the same young girl who was drugged with a street narcotic called a 'Sex-O' by two horny slimeballs and who was saved by Ghost and Ghoul (and later helped by Tom and Brenda in their bed), jumped out of her office chair when the pair charged in, fully visible and still disguised. She quickly gathered her staff and set Ghoul on a gurney, wheeling her into the trauma room and immediately going to work on her.

There was no one else in the small hospital, so Tom felt safe enough removing his and Brenda's masks and watched as Dr. Pressman's team stripped her uniform off of her ravaged body. There were three of them working on her while Monica talked with Tom, they also knowing who they really were and one of the very few sets of people that did; Monica completely trusted them with Tom and Brenda's secret, especially Michelle. She was also helped by the heroes a long time ago, an unwilling participant in a gang rape and tortured in one of the college's dorm houses.

The trauma team gently rolled Brenda over to inspect her back as Tom answered Monica's questions, telling her what had happened and the injuries she sustained. The doctor sat him down and checked him over as well as the medical staff rushed her out of the room towards the part of the building that housed the X-ray/MRI equipment and the surgical bay. After looking him over, Monica told him to stay put and dashed off after them.