When the movie was done it was getting late. The shadows were long, the sun was low in the sky, and it was finally time to go home.
After the usual bus ride, Arnold and Gerald arrived at the head of Vine Street. Looking down, they could see that the cleanup effort (which had clearly adjourned, since the street was vacant) had made moderate progress. The big rubble chunks and the bulldozers had been cleared from the street, but the flipped bus was still there, surrounded by a ring of cones strung together with Caution tape. The building across from the boarding house was still a jumbled pile of rubble with the cracked monitor jutting out askance, but the sidewalk in front of it had been cleared enough to be passable. Across from it the sandbagged redoubt had also disappeared.
Just in front of the destroyed building sat a parked car with a man in the driver's seat, apparently doing nothing. Arnold made a mental note to go through the back door.
"Well," said Gerald, "I guess this is it."
"Yeah, I'll see you later, man," said Arnold. They did their signature thumb gesture, and parted ways.
When Gerald got home he, too, found an occupied parked car outside. As he neared his door, the man tried to talk to him.
"Gerald, right? Bill Sanders, from the Hillwood City Times. Care to answer a few questions?"
"Sorry man, I can't talk right now," said Gerald, brushing him off.
"Well, OK," the man said, "but sooner or later someone's got to tell us what happened, and it might as well be you. Think about it, kid."
"Maybe later," said Gerald, and he went inside.
As Arnold opened the back door, the usual mob of pets rushed out. He went directly to the kitchen, where he found Grandpa making dinner preparations.
"Hey shortman, how've you been? I Haven't seen you all day. Out basking in your glory, eh?" he asked, smiling tenderly.
"Not really, Grandpa. I just wanted to get away from all the excitement. Did Grandma come home yet?"
"No, shortman, I'm pretty sure she's still on the run. At least the cops hadn't found her a few hours ago, when they searched the place."
"The cops searched our house?" asked Arnold, shocked.
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," said Grandpa reassuringly. "They only looked around the rooms and stuff. They were pretty thorough, but it's not like they ripped up the sofa cushions or anything. They might do that later though I guess…oh, and by the way, shortman, I wouldn't say anything sensitive over the phone if I were you. It's probably bugged."
"But why, Grandpa?"
"Well, they probably figure Grandma'll call here, and they can find her that way...and maybe even get something on us for hiding her. But," he added darkly, "it's also possible they think we blew up that building across the street."
"But...you didn't, right?"
"Oh Arnold, of course not! That was your fat friend, you know, the one with the pink skin…what's his name?"
"Grandpa!"
"No, that's not it. I think it starts with an H… anyway, that kid was really tired, see. He wanted to sit down, see. So he sat right on the plunger we set up and blew the whole thing to smithereens! But I guess he must have got a second wind, the way he bolted down the street after that!" Grandpa interrupted himself to chuckle at his joke.
"Anyway, after that we all ran away."
To call Arnold horrified would be an understatement.
"But Grandpa," he said, "that's crazy! Why would you do something like that?"
"Well, look, Arnold. The fact is, we all thought your plan about getting that document was doomed to failure. We decided to do something ourselves. We figured if we blew a big hole in the center of the street, the bulldozers couldn't get through. But we put the explosives in the wrong place. And anyhow, you showed up with the tape, and then everything was fine."
"Grandpa, this is serious! What if they had been in the middle of the street? You could have killed someone! How could you do this? ? ?"
Now it was Grandpa's turn to get upset.
"Now look here, shortman. Setting those charges was desperate, sure, but I was watching the entire situation constantly. I knew the right time to blow those charges, and I knew that I wouldn't pull the trigger unless no one was in the way. The point was to make a hole, not to hurt anyone. Now let me tell you something," said Grandpa, his face hardening. "I was sitting inside that redoubt we built with the sandbags, watching everything with binoculars. Just before you showed up, I saw workmen putting dynamite under the overpass. Then I saw your pal Nick Vermicelli, in the street next to the bulldozers. He talked a bit on a walkie-talkie, then he pulled out a remote-control detonator and blew up the overpass! Not a minute later I saw that bus, your bus, jump over the gap in the highway. Then I was sure: Scheck ordered Nick to blow that highway up. They were ready to kill whoever was on that bus. And what's more, from down there there's no way Nick could've seen the traffic on the highway. As far as he knew, he could've been blowing up a van full of kids! And those bulldozer drivers just sat there and watched it happen!"
Grandpa was fuming with indignation. Arnold was shocked. He knew two wrongs didn't make a right, but still…
"You know, Arnold, when the day started I really did have some second thoughts about whether it was right to risk those poor construction workers, even if we would save the neighborhood for a while, and even if they were only going to get bruised a little. But when I saw what those guys did with that highway, I figured they deserved everything that was coming to them."
Arnold had some thinking to do. He knew Grandpa was telling the truth. The worst he wanted to do was blow up the street, and let the bulldozers trap themselves in the crater. With a guilty feeling Arnold remembered how he'd cheered when he saw his Grandma wrecking the bulldozers. Couldn't the drivers have been hurt then too? Was that stuff really any worse than what Grandpa had been planning to do to them? Although he had been appallingly, unpardonably reckless in leaving that detonator where Harold could sit on it, he was still his Grandpa, and Arnold loved him. After a long pause, Arnold sighed, then spoke.
"Did anyone else see what happened?"
"Well, you were there, shortman. Everyone saw it! The explosion, I mean. Actually, just as the kid was sitting down I screamed at the top of my lungs and got people's attention. So basically, I guess everyone saw that too."
Arnold's heart sank.
"But," Grandpa continued, "I'm pretty sure none of the cops saw it happen. I guess they cleared out right around the time it went off. In fact, I'm sure the cops didn't see it."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Well," said Grandpa, "after the explosion we all started running like the wind. When I got to the street corner I realized no one was chasing me. So I made a couple of right turns, and came back in front of the house through an alley. No one was around. I scooped up the plunger real fast and ran down the length of the wire, coiling it back up. I dived into the manhole, put the cover back on, and kept going underground. I don't think anyone saw me."
Arnold was puzzled. He remembered how empty everything was. Did all this really happen while he and Gerald were discussing the deflated basketball?
"Of course, there was nothing I could do about the sandbags. I didn't want to be caught outside cleaning stuff up when the police came back, no sir. Once I had all the wire I went straight down to the…well, there's really no reason to tell you what I did with it. But regardless," he finished, "our neighbors are good, loyal people and I'm sure they wouldn't rat me out."
Arnold was, to say the least, unconvinced. That plunger and the wire must have been lying out in the open for at least a minute after the blast. Surely not everyone who saw it in that time would keep quiet. But there was no point in debating it; only time would tell. He sat there in glum silence.
"But enough about me, shortman. How did you ever get that tape? And why in the HELL did that bus you were in decide to jump that huge hole in the overpass? Whoever did that was at least as bad as me setting those charges."
Arnold gulped.
"Actually, Grandpa, jumping the overpass was my idea."
"WHAT? But you're nine years old! You could have been killed! Arnold, I know it worked, but...why couldn't you just pull over? Arnold... I ... I promised your parents to keep you safe and sound, and you, you went and did that?"
Arnold could see that Grandpa was fighting back tears.
"I'm really sorry, Grandpa, but we had no choice. Please, just let me explain."
Grandpa's face had gotten to the point he felt compelled to press it with a napkin. He said nothing.
"So, Gerald got out of the building first. He couldn't find a cab, only that bus. Then Helga and I came out with the tape and got on board. At this point it was about 15 minutes before 7. The only people on the bus were me, Helga, Gerald, and the driver Murray. Murray wouldn't go above 25. We tried every argument we could think of, but he wouldn't speed up. It was awful." Grandpa's face had dried up. He was listening intently.
"Murray found out that his girlfriend lived in our neighborhood. At that point he totally changed and started driving like a madman. Of course," he added, "we were all fine with that."
"So then we came up to a drawbridge. Right in front of us, the bridge started going up. Like it was on a signal or something. Murray decided to jump the drawbridge. He did it. It was amazing. But when the bus came down on the other side, Murray got hit in the head and knocked out."
Phil sat rapt.
"Basically, we had Gerald take the steering wheel while Helga and I tried to get the pedals free. Cause when Murray went out, his foot got jammed in between the gas and the brake pedal, so we were pretty much flooring it the entire time and we couldn't stop. Not only that, Murray's foot was artificial—he lost his leg in the war—and it was super heavy. That leg must have been made of solid steel. Gerald steered the bus onto the highway, but nothing Helga and I could do could get that leg of his free. When we came up to the hole, there was a flatbed truck disabled, with its bed like a ramp. So, we jumped it. There was nothing else we could do. Granpda," he said pathetically, "if we hadn't made that jump, if that flatbed hadn't been there, we probably would've died."
Grandpa had started crying again. Arnold was affected too; until now he hadn't really thought about how close they had been. Grandpa hugged Arnold in silence. At length he spoke.
"Well, I guess you did the right thing, shortman. Are you hungry?"
He was. Grandpa cooked some stuff, and they ate together.
"So shortman," asked Grandpa over dinner, "there's one other thing I don't understand. You said Helga got on the bus with you. Where did she come from? I thought it was just you and Gerald."
Arnold hesitated. Telling Gerald about Helga was one thing, but this was different.
"Yeah, Grandpa, Helga was helping us, but…I'd rather not talk about that right now."
Grandpa's face lit up. "Oh come on, shortman. What happened? Your secret admirer stopped being so secret, eh?"
He playfully jabbed Arnold's arm. The boy blushed deeply.
"Ha, I knew it! Didn't I tell ya, shortman? I knew she liked you!" Grandpa was howling with glee. Arnold glared at him. Was he the only one surprised by Helga's confession?
"You want to know something else about her? Back when the bulldozers started to move, her dad came right up to me in the foxhole. He took one look at the detonator and offered to join us. You know, I've had my differences with that blowhard before, but now that I think about it, he'd make a pretty good son in law. When's the wedding?"
"Grandpa!"
"Oh, sorry shortman. But can you blame an old man for wanting great-grandkids? Boy," he said wistfully, "there's nothing I'd like more than to see some great-grandkids before I die. That's in ten years Arnold, so you and Helga'd better get cracking!"
"Grandpa! !" Arnold's fists were clenched.
"Oh, I was just kidding, shortman, kidding." He took some time to compose himself.
"Well, Arnold, before you go, there's something serious I need you to do for me. The truth is, I have no idea where your Grandma is. Right now she's on the run from the law, and if she comes back here—although I doubt she would 'cause it's the first thing they'd expect—we'll have to hide her somewhere." Arnold was all ears.
"I've decided the best place to hide your Grandma is in that space behind where your couch comes out of the wall. I've put together a sleeping bag, a blanket, and a pair of her pajamas in my room. I want you to take that stuff upstairs and put it in your closet, so it'll be right next to the hiding place. If she does come back, I want everything to go like clockwork."
Arnold felt bad about his Grandma and was willing to do anything he could for her.
"Sure, Grandpa, just give me the stuff. But what do you think will happen to Grandma? Can we hide her forever?"
"No, Arnold, I don't think we can. But I guess after a year or two they'll stop looking, and then she can come back down."
"Grandpa," asked Arnold sadly, "what if she doesn't come back. When will we see her again?"
The old man sighed.
"I don't know," he said. "Of course, if they get her back in jail, we can visit her every week, unless she escapes first. But if they never catch her and she never comes back, well…still, I guess after a few years she might figure it was safe to come back here anyway."
Arnold felt terribly sad. Where was his Grandma now? But if he couldn't see her anyway, and if the cops were looking for her, he realized that maybe it was better not to know where she was. He hoped she was safe.
"Actually, Grandpa, I'm feeling kind of tired. Do you want to give me the stuff now? I'll take it up."
Arnold had good reason to be tired: he and Gerald had stayed up the whole previous night. Grandpa took the sleeping bag, blanket and PJ's up to the base of Arnold's stairs. He handed them to the boy, who made two trips. After that, they said good night.
Arnold crawled in to bed. He had a lot to think about…he thought of the second explosion. Despite what Grandpa said, he couldn't think of any way he could escape getting caught. If Grandpa and Grandma were in jail, what would happen to him? Foster care? Would Gerald's parents adopt him? Maybe he would have to live with his cousin Arnie and his friends…Arnold shuddered. A regretful feeling gripped him. Gerald was right, he thought. If he had just grabbed Helga and kissed her like he said, everything would have been different. They would be happy together. The teasing would start, but it wouldn't last, and it wouldn't matter anyway. And Harold might have been so distracted…that he sat down somewhere else.
And it was with these regretful thoughts that Arnold went to sleep.