Chapter 4: Farewell or Shoot out at Hillwood cemetery
A week had passed since Arnold's graduation. He had waited long enough, it was now or never. He stuffed another t-shirt into his back pack along with a white envelope that contained his life savings, a grand total of a little over five thousand dollars. It was all he had but he'd have to work with it. After the envelope, he carefully inserted a terribly weather beaten journal with the initials M.P.S stamped on the brown leather cover. The journal had belonged to his father and it was the only clue he had as to where his parents could be. He zipped the bag up and slung it over his back. He then folded a piece of paper in half and slid it into an envelope with "Grandma" written on it. He set the envelope on his pillow and left of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He carefully crept down the stairs, taking his time to avoid the creakier steps. When he finally made it down stairs and into the parlor, he realized he'd been holding his breath since he had stepped out his bedroom door. He let it out with a quiet whoosh and crossed the room towards the front door.
"Finally leaving?" a voice in the darkness asked.
His grandma's voice. Arnold's heart sank into his foot.
The light next to the couch clicked on and Arnold saw his grandma sitting on her husband's old chair. Gerald, Phoebe, and to Arnold's amazement, Helga all sat on the couch across from her.
"Wh- what are you guy's- Why are you…"
"I called them Arnold." Grandma said smiling at him.
"C'mon Arnold." Gerald said. "We've known each other literally all of our life. Did you think we didn't know what you were planning?"
Arnold knew where this was going and didn't like it.
"You guys aren't coming with me." he said.
"Arnold, we've been friends ever since we could walk." Phoebe said. "Don't act like you haven't thought of asking us to come with you."
Arnold bit his tongue. It was true, he had wanted to ask Gerald and whoever else wanted to too come with him on his journey but he just couldn't. Not when they had their own lives before them.
"This doesn't concern you guy's. This is my problem not yours. I couldn't ask you guys to risk your lives on a wild goose chase."
"Arnold, if you really don't think there is any hope, the why go?" Gerald asked.
"Because I have to."
"That's exactly why we're coming with you." Gerald said.
"But-
"Oh shut up football head!" Helga snapped. She jumped out of her seat and grabbed Arnold by the collar of his shirt. "Listen, this can go down one of two ways. Either you're going to let us come with you or we're gonna chain you to your bed for the rest of your life!"
Wow she's strong… Arnold thought.
He looked over at his grandma who simply smiled at him, as though she knew something that Arnold was missing and it was the most obvious thing on the planet. Arnold sighed.
"Fine." he muttered. "I'm sorry."
Helga dropped him back down to his feet and walked back to the couch.
"Grandma, are you sure your okay with me leaving?" Arnold asked.
"Arnold, ever since you came to live with us I knew you were special, destined for great things. I won't try to stop you, you have too much of your father in you for that." she smiled. "And your grandfather. Just be careful."
Arnold smiled back. "I will. Thanks."
"Are we going or not?!" Helga asked impatiently.
Arnold sighed and adjusted his backpack.
"Yeah but you guys still have to-
He turned to look at them and they all pulled out their own individual traveling bag. Gerald's was a brown burlap not unlike the one Arnold had around his shoulder. Phoebe's was a bright blue with oriental flowers printed on it and Helga's was a pink denim messenger's bag with several buttons from hot topic on the strap and flap.
"Oh… okay then. Let's go."
They all filed out the front door and onto the street. It was early in the morning but the sun still hadn't risen over the city. Gerald's tan car was waiting for them outside. They got in with Gerald driving and Arnold riding shotgun. Gerald put his key in the ignition and turned it, bringing the car to life. He smiled as the engine he and Sid restored two years ago purred like a lion.
"Hey Gerald? Can we stop somewhere?" Arnold asked.
"Where?"
Arnold took one final look at the boarding house that had been his home for so many years.
"The cemetery."
The assassin across the street watched from the shadows as the car drove away from the boarding house. He touched a small head set in his ear.
"He's on the move."
The sun had just started to rise over the city of Hillwood as Gerald's car pulled into the Hillwood cemetery. A faint fog had set over the graveyard, making the grim place even more unappealing. They parked the car across the street from the front gate and they all got out. They followed Arnold through the wet grassy path, saying nothing as they walked amongst the headstones.
It's so depressing. Phoebe thought. All these old tombstones with no one to come and visit them. So old they have no family left in the area, they just lay here, forgotten by time…
"So depressing…" Phoebe said quietly.
"You say something Pheebs?" Helga asked.
"Huh? Oh no!" Phoebe said embarrassed. "I was just thinking…"
Helga shrugged.
They continued walking. Gerald shivered in the chilly morning air and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He hated cemeteries; they just seemed so dark and gloomy, not happy at all. He'd rather be in a nice warm, brightly colored room with some good music playing. But he understood what Arnold wanted to do; they might be gone for awhile. It was understandable that Arnold wanted to visit his grandfather's grave one final time. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Phoebe and Helga whisper something back and forth to each other. Phoebe had defiantly become hot over the years. She had gone from small and mousy to, well small and mousy but Gerald liked that. He'd take a quiet intelligent girl over a hot blonde with the intellect of a brick any day.
Helga sniffed. If she got sick she was going to beat that football headed kids face in. She cursed herself for wearing converse sneakers, which were soaked by now from walking in the dew drenched grass. She had the feeling going on this hunt for Arnold's parent's was a stupid idea but she couldn't stand the idea of being away from him for so long. She had already come clean with Phoebe about why she really wanted to go with him and Phoebe promised she wouldn't tell under the condition that she would eventually tell Arnold how she really felt.
"Or what?" Helga had asked angrily. "What are you going to do tell him?"
"No." Phoebe said simply. "It's not my place to. I just think it's sad. All the wasted years you spent not being together if it turns out he liked you too."
Why does Phoebe have to be so deep all the time? Helga thought bitterly.
"Wait." Arnold said suddenly. "Here it is."
They stopped in the very center of the cemetery in front of a relatively new grave stone. It was about three feet tall with "Steely" Phillip Shortman chiseled into it with the dates 1917-2008 underneath it.
"I guess you were right grandpa." Arnold said quietly as he kneeled down next to the grave. "91. You were right about so many other things…. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm here to say good-bye. I might be gone for awhile. I'm going to find them, mom and dad. I have to. Don't worry, I won't be alone. Gerald, Phoebe and Helga are coming with me. I promise I'll be back and don't worry about Grandma; she has the other borders to help her. Bye grandpa…"
Gerald put his arm around Phoebe's shoulder, who was beginning to tear up. Helga actually sniffed but managed to play it off as allergies with a cough immediately afterwards. Arnold rose to his feet and turned to his friends.
"Let's go." He said quietly.
They nodded and started to leave when Arnold saw a figure approaching them from the mist. He was a young man, maybe a year or two older than Arnold. He was wearing simple dark denim jeans with a black t-shirt and a black jacket over it. Without warning, he reached into his jacket and drew a silenced handgun and pointed it at Arnold.
"Get down!" he yelled.
Helga jumped and shoved Arnold to the ground as Gerald pulled Phoebe behind a tall headstone shaped like an angel. The man fired his gun into the chest of a man who had been behind them. He was tall with a shaven head, wearing a black suit and sunglasses. The bullets hit him dead in the heart but did nothing, the Kevlar vest saw to that. He grinned and pulled his own gun out from his holster, a very big and very powerful looking revolver.
Before he could even get a shot off, the man drew a second pistol from his jacket and put two bullets into the gunman's face, shattering the assassin's glasses and sending him stumbling back onto a tombstone. The man holstered his handguns and turned to face Arnold and his frightened friends.
"Let's go." he said casually.
"What?" Arnold asked.
"Over here!" a voice called through the fog.
"Who the hell are they and who the hell are you?" Helga asked.
"More guys with guns, now COME ON!" the man said.
He grabbed Arnold by the hand and quickly led them through the cemetery and back to the main gate, where three more guys in suits waited for them by Gerald's car across the street, each of them wearing identical black suits and black glasses.
"Crap!" The man said.
He shoved Arnold out of the way and drew his handguns just as the men opened fire on them, using Gerald's car as cover.
"Might want to cover your ears guys." the guy warned as he pulled a small grenade from his pocket.
"NO WAIT!" Gerald cried.
Too late. The guy pulled the pin and tossed the grenade through the iron bars of the cemetery gate. It bounced and rolled under the car and exploded, sending Gerald's car flying into the air and over the cemetery gate. It landed in front of them, in a smoldering pile of wreckage; crushing several tombstones.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Gerald cried on the verge of crying.
"Let's go." the man said pulling Arnold back to his feet.
They took off running down the street and came to a red jeep.
"This'll work." the man said.
He smashed the driver's side window out and unlocked the door. The others just stood there.
"Do you guys have someone who looks after you? Get in the damn car!" The guy ordered.
They hesitantly obliged, too frightened to disobey. He pulled an amazingly slim dagger from one of his sleeves and jammed it into the ignition. The engine roared to life and they took off down the street at a breakneck speed.
"Who are you?" Arnold asked.
"My names Richard Cross. Those guys are assassins. Their chasing you because you're the only one who has evidence of Miles Shortman's location."
"My father?" Arnold asked eagerly.
"Our father." Richard corrected.
"What did you say?" Arnold asked.
Before Richard could say another word, two black cruisers with mirror tinted windows pulled up on either side of them. The windows rolled down and more men in suits opened fire on them.
"Take this." Richard said, handing Gerald, who had gotten in the front seat, a handgun.
"What do I do with it?" Gerald asked.
A bullet shattered through the passenger window, missing Gerald by a fraction but hitting Richard in the shoulder. Phoebe screamed from the back seat as Richard gritted his teeth in pain.
"Aim and shoot." he said slowly and condescendingly.
Gerald started to argue but was cut off as Richard swerved another corner. He reached into his pocket, withdrew another grenade and threw it out the window. He floored it as the cruisers came around the corner only to be caught in the grenades explosion radius.
"Should be the last of them." He said hopefully.
A moment later, three motor cycles pulled up, one behind them and one on either side.
"Of course." Richard said, sounding more annoyed than worried.
The driver of the motor cycle on Richard's side of the car swerved and stopped in front of the jeep. Richard went for another weapon but paused as the biker held up a hand.
"Follow me!" he said.
"Can we trust them?" Helga asked.
"If they wanted to kill us they'd have done it already." Richard said. "Besides, they're wearing HSS patches, so unless they've gone rogue they might actually help us."
"And if not?"
"Then we get shot at again."
"I don't like getting shot at!" Phoebe wailed from the back seat.
"I don't mind getting shot at." Richard said thoughtfully. "It's getting shot that sucks."
He nodded to the cyclist and followed them through the city until they came to a rundown, seedy looking bikers bar. They parked the car and followed the bikers inside, finding it abandoned.
"It's been a long time Richard." the leader said. "Watch the door." he said to the other two.
They nodded and left the six of them alone in the bar. After they left, the leader removed his helmet and let his long brown hair fall around his pale face. He was in fact a she.
"Bridget!" Richard exclaimed.
Bridget, the super spy of Hillwood and leader of the Hillwood Spy Society, the woman who had helped Arnold and Gerald save their neighborhood so many years ago smiled at them.
"Hello boys."