Sorry the summary will keep changing until I find just the right fit.


Now or Never

Chapter 2


The funeral was a blur.

Helga remembered drifting through a sea of friends. She remembered being hugged. She remembered the soothing tone of friendly voices as they whispered words of sorrow that she neither needed nor wanted to hear.

She stopped at the front of the room where Arnold's coffin sat adorned with flowers. The arrangement was beautiful, designed by Helga herself. It was perfect. Helga reached out and placed her dainty hand over the cool car-like material. She suppressed the urge to claw through the metal, reach in and wake her beloved from death's cold sleep.

"Oh Arnold." The room was quiet. "My love." she fell to her knees in a moment of weakness. "If only I had confessed my love to you. If only you knew and we were together, could I have prevented this tragedy from transpiring?"

"It's so sad." Rhonda Lloyd wiped her eyes, she knew of Helga's feelings for Arnold, heck everyone did. It wasn't hard to figure out after a few years. However, everyone kept it a secret; if Helga wasn't ready then she wasn't ready. "To love someone and never tell them how you feel?"

"Yeah, you never know when someone's gonna bite the bullet. Life is too short to wait." Sid added.

"I recon, it's gonna be a hard year for all of us. Arnold was the best friend a guy could ever have." Stinky said, holding the hand of his wife Gloria. She rubbed his back and gave his hand a squeeze. "It's time." Stinky said and stood up along with Harold, Sid, Gerald, Brainy, and Eugene. They walked up to Arnold's resting place and lifted the coffin up.

Helga stood up and watched as the boys, her friends carried her true love out of the church toward the waiting hearse. As the church emptied around her, Helga took a deep breath; all of the people from the neighborhood came to pay their respects. Arnold had helped hundreds of people through his short life. He was an Angel. He was… he was… why was?

Helga shook her head and followed the crowd out to the funeral procession. Helga's pink convertible was first in line behind the hearse.

When they arrived at the cemetery Helga sat in her car, never daring to move. Once Arnold was in the ground it was over. Helga brought both of her hands to her face and cried.

"Helga?" Phoebe spoke

"Helga?"

Suddenly, Helga was in her apartment. Had she dreamed the whole thing? She sat up. Her face felt tight with dry tears. "Phoebe... I just had the most horrible nightmare. I have to tell Arnold how I feel before it's too late."

Phoebe shook her head. "I'm not surprised you don't remember much, you were floating around like a ghost for the past week."

"Past, week?" Helga Fell back onto the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Everything came flooding back to her. And the pain, the pain was so unbearable that it made her curl up into a tight ball.

"Helga, maybe it will do you good to get out, do some work, write" phoebe paused, "its not healthy to stay in bed like this."

"Since when has anything I've done been healthy?" she pulled he covers down away from her face and looked away. "I have no reason to live. My muse is gone...What does a writer do without her muse?"

"Helga, I'm sorry... But please insinuate that you want to kill yourself."

"I'm not going to kill myself... I don't have the guts." Phoebe frowned, that wasn't a good enough reason and Helga knew it, "and part of me," she added, "thinks he's still here somewhere."

"Helga."

"I know, not healthy."

"No. Maybe it's a way for you to heal." Phoebe whispered softly and placed her hand over her broken friend's arm.

"So the funeral… that's where I remember being last."

"As I said, That was a week ago." Phoebe looked at her with sad eyes.

Helga ran a hand through her tangled hair. "I must look like hell."

"Yes, but it's understandable."

"Yeah…" Helga looked at her hands and brought her fingers up to touch her cheeks. She had cried so much that she wasn't sure she had anymore tears left for the rest of her life.

"Hey, why don't I call the girls and we have a night out on the town?" Helga looked at her; it would be nice to see everyone again, since moving on to college they had little time to spend together. "I'll set it up."

"Make it spontaneous or I'll just try to figure out a way to get out of it later."

"Making." Phoebe took a mental note. And for the first time in days Helga smiled.


"And I got them half off at the Gucci outlet store." Rhonda Lloyd told Nadine over hot mocha lattes one afternoon. Phoebe had called them to wait for Helga.

"That's great Rhonda." Nadine, generally happy about her friend's savings conquest, smiled.

"Hello girls." Phoebe walked in slowly and looked around for any, 'Arnold distractions' "Helga is coming in a few minutes. Rhonda, please can you get rid of that lemon wedge."

"Oh Sure." She plucked the wedge free. "It's kinda strange that this would remind her of him. But then I guess I can see it."

"Alright, now she isn't used to being around people." Phoebe continued.

"She's only been locked in her apartment for a week."

"Still. Try not to…"

"It's alright, Phoebs. I'll be alright. I took plenty of happy pills this morning." The girls laughed nervously. "So what's new?"

"Rhonda was just telling me about the Gucci bag she just bought on sale." Nadine said.

"You, buy things on sale?" Helga was intrigued at the idea of miss Ronda Lloyd, slumming it in the clearance section.

"For your information, it was a limited addition, one-of-a-kind bag. I missed it when they first came out because I was in Italy. I saw it at the outlet and I just had to have it." Rhonda stuck her nose up.

"Sorry, princess." Helga mumbled.

"Helga, perhaps this would be a good time to go over book covers for your new book. You've been putting it off. I Spoke to your publisher they need the cover today." Phoebe sunk down under the table and returned with two sheets of paper.

"The one on the left." Helga sighed. "Hope it's a good one. It is my last book, after all." The girls looked at her in shock. "Don't give me that look; I just don't have anything left to write."

"Bull!" Rhonda stood up and slammed her hands on the table. "Look, Helga I know you are sad because you lost Arnold but he wouldn't want you to stop writing. He loved your books."

"H-he did?" Helga paused.

"Yes. I love them too. We were in a book club together. He loved your books. He would talk about all this inner beauty you had, that reading your books let him get to know the real you. You can't stop writing. You just can't" the cafe was quiet for a moment. When the bustle returned, Rhonda sat back down.

"I just don't know if I can." Helga said finally. "I've lost my will, my muse."

"I'm not saying right away, I know you'll need some time. Hell, when Harold had a heart attack it took me months to finally shop again."

"He didn't die." Helga said.

"Still, I know it will take time."

"Phoebe?"

"Yes?"

"Let me see those covers again." Rhonda smiled and the girls went on to talk about their lives like they always did.


"The prisoner is awake." A man with a cold voice whispered. "He wishes to know what is going on and where he is and so forth."

"I will be in to see him in a moment." Another voice whispered.

"I can hear you!" the prisoner called from his place in a tent. He seemed to be strapped into a chair, very sturdy and old. Splinters were digging into his wrists as he rubbed them against the armrests in an attempt to slip from the straps that bound him. "What do you want with me?" they ignored him.

He remembered driving home, a flash, screaming, white hot pain, a flash of blue and red lights. He remembered hearing his heartbeat drumming in his ears loudly. Then all of a sudden he woke up in a tent. It was dark and the air was sticky and smelled of smoke. There were no windows in his tent only the sound of birds to tell him whether or not it was morning.

"Shut up in there to we'll gag you again." Cold voice said. "You'll learn soon enough what your mission is." He hissed.

"You can't keep me here. Whatever it's for I would rather die than do what you ask!" The prisoner shouted.

Cold voice stuck his head into the tent and flashed a toothy grin. "You are dead." He was wearing a hockey mask that showed his teeth and eyes.

"What?" the prisoner's voice cracked in fear? Was he going to die here without knowing why?

"No one is looking for you. No one will come for you. You have no choice but to help us." The second man said as he shoved cold voice to the side. He stepped into the tent and flashed his prisoner a smile. "Nice to see you again."

"Scheck!"

"Ah, I see you remember me." He smiled and walked in.

"What are you planning this time?" The prisoner struggled harder.

"I have it on good authority that you are in possession of a certain map." His prisoner glared into Scheck's cold black eyes. "So my source was correct. All I want you to do is give me the map."

"I'll never give it to you. Besides I burned that map a long time ago."

"Even so, someone like you, I assume would make a copy of it," his prisoner scoffed "maybe not on paper but in your mind." Scheck leaned in and stabbed his finger at his prisoner's temple for emphasis.

"I'll never tell you."

"Oh I think you will. Because until you do we are going to tear down every inch of this forest until we find it." His prisoner's eyes widened. "That's right, now you know where we are don't you?"

"San Lorenzo."

"That's right. Welcome to San Lorenzo… or should I say welcome home, Arnold" He laughed and lifted the flap of the tent with a loud snap leaving his prisoner alone.

How did Scheck find out all about Arnold's true home, or hear of the map… what business did Scheck have in San Lorenzo anyway? Arnold struggled against his binds once more and let out a frustrated groan. There was no way he would ever tell Scheck where the Green-eyed people were.


As the months went by Helga slowly regained her ability to write. Her newest book was flying off the shelves and once again she was in the top ten of the Hillwood City Times bestseller list. It was a good high and she needed the distraction of book signings and interviews. Being busy, that was the key.

"60 Minutes wants to talk to me?" Helga asked over coffee with Phoebe. "Yes. They wanted to do a story on the Tomato Incident and how you saved our neighborhood. Gerald is going to be there too."

"I don't know much about the Tomato Incident but I can talk about the contract Scheck tried to sign with my dad and how I knew where to find the document." Helga paused; pain began to shoot through her body.

"Helga?" Phoebe's voice was dripping with concern.

"Sure. I'll do it." She put on a fake smile. "Who am I to turn them down?" Phoebe smiled brightly and pulled out her cell phone.

Helga tuned out the rest of her lunch date with Phoebe as she was drawn back to that night; the night she shared her first real kiss with Arnold. Helga brought her fingers to her lips. "Okay, it's all set." Phoebe said, pulling Helga from her memories.

"When is it?"

"Tonight, if you are up for it."

"Sure, I have nothing else to do."


That evening, Helga arrived at the studio, when she walked in she could hear the booming voice of a man. She guessed that he was the interviewee before her. She flinched at his voice, he was yelling. Maybe 60 Minutes had busted him for something. She listened.

So you are saying that hospitals are doing this?" The interviewer asked.

"I can say that it is a possibility. I am not saying that my hospitals have anything to do with it." Loud voice answered

Helga's mind trailed off when she reached the end of the hall and was greeted by a woman behind and oval desk. "Hi, I'm Helga Pataki, I'm here for my interview" the woman looked through her computer and gave Helga a look of boredom.

"Oh right, that happy story piece." The woman rolled her eyes; apparently she was only interested in real news. Helga shrugged. "They are almost finished with the hospital guy, just wait over there."

'Hospital guy? Must be the guy talking now,' she thought. 'I can hear him from down the hall.'

"No one has ever been reported missing from my Hospitals, I assure you." The hospital guy said his voice carrying the weight of danger.

"That isn't the issue here, sir. Your hospitals have a high death rate. What people are saying is that maybe at least half of your patients aren't really dead." Helga leaned in further.

"Why would I put my hospitals' reputation on the line like that?"

"That is true. But the story is that you fake a patient's death then you are working with a funeral hall to supply you with empty coffins. Then you are selling your patients off to the highest bidder."

"That is completely false. I mean just listening to the story seems farfetched. Who would do that? I am telling you those stories are just that, Stories."

"Well there is no evidence after all."

"That's right, people get upset about losing someone they love, I understand that, but our hospitals do a lot of good too…"

"Helga Pataki?" the woman at the desk called to her, she seemed rather irritated. "They are ready for you," she led Helga to the room and looked up as the Hospital guy slid past her. It was the doctor. The one who told her Arnold was not going to make it. Helga swallowed hard. What did it all mean?


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