Chapter 14
In Which Death Interrupts
The boarding house was unusually silent. Mr. Potts had refrained from knocking down anything in his room. Grandma was sitting quietly on the couch next to Grandpa, and hadn't even burst into song once. Even Oscar had contributed by leaving the building – at Susie's insistence.
To Arnold it seemed strange and unnatural. He appreciated the effort, but everyone walking around on tiptoe with somber faces wasn't very encouraging. He longed for Grandpa to crack a joke, or for Mr. Hyun to complain about the bathroom, anything but this…nothing. This waiting.
It wasn't as though he was very close to Arnie. He'd grown up with him to a certain extent, exchanging visits every few months or so, but they just didn't have anything in common. Except perhaps Lila. No Arnold, don't think about her. Not now.
The phone rang, and everyone jumped. Grandpa got up and answered it.
"Hello? What? No I don't want to change my telephone service, dagnabbit!"
Arnold let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"I said no!" Grandpa hung up the phone forcefully. "Darn telephone salesmen…" he grumbled. He had only taken a step towards the couch when the phone rang again, however. He picked it up angrily.
"Hello! Oh…" his voice changed tone and Arnold strained to hear from the living room, "Yes this is Phil…I see. Yes, thank you. No I understand," his voice dropped even lower, "How is his wife doing?"
Arnold couldn't listen any longer. He got up and went to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he stood there staring into it, not sure what he was doing, just that he needed to be doing something. After a minute Grandpa appeared in the doorway.
"You heard, Shortman?"
"Yeah." Arnold keep his eyes on the food in front on him. "So he's…?"
Grandpa nodded slowly. "He died about an hour ago. They're keeping Lila there overnight, then some friends will take her in for now, so she won't have to stay in that big farmhouse by herself with the baby. The funeral's set for—"
"I can't go. Mrs. Vitello's counting on me to decorate for Christmas this week."
Grandpa looked slightly taken aback by this statement, but he nodded all the same. "Well if you change your mind…"
"It's not my choice to make." Arnold closed the fridge door and walked out of the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Grandpa called after him.
"I need to finish that painting." Arnold ignored the looks from the other boarders and went up to his room, locking the door behind him. He stood in front of his painting for a while but couldn't bring himself to pick up a brush. Finally he just sat down where he was in the middle of the room and stared at the wall.
So that was it. That was the end of Arnie's story. He lived twenty-some years, didn't finish high school, married the girl of his cousin's dreams, fathered a child and died in a farming accident before his son took his first step. Was it worth it? Did his life mean anything? Arnold wasn't sure. He'd dealt with death before. He'd finally dealt with the death of his parents in college, finally accepted that they just weren't coming back. That had been even harder, because there wasn't anyone there telling him how they had died and when the funeral was.
But at least then he had been able to believe that they had died for a good reason. Arnie was just a meaningless accident.
Arnold sat there until the sky beyond his skylights began to darken. Then he curled up on the floor and slept through the night.
***********
A white rat chittered in its cage on Phoebe's desk, then slurped up the sample she gave him happily.
"You don't even have indigestion, do you Nezume?"
The rat blinked at her vaguely and went back to his important rat business. Phoebe sighed and slumped back in her chair. There had to be a way to make this stuff work. She had started running random tests at various points of the day, whenever she had a break from her regular lab work. It was her lunch break now, but her scientific knowledge had failed her. She couldn't think of another test to run.
Well I suppose I could start combining it with other chemicals, she thought wearily, but then I'll have to be very selective...there's not much left of the sample. She put a few drops in an open dish in front of her, hoping for an inspiration. Nothing came, however so she swiveled her chair in the opposite direction and aimed a dart at the dartboard hanging on her door.
The "dartboard" was actually a piece of cork with a picture pinned to it. Phoebe changed the picture from time to time when the mood struck her. Currently it was a dark green hot air balloon which seemed very appropriate to her. The dart flew towards its mark, hitting the picture just below the wicker basket on the balloon.
The door opened. Cindy, Phoebe's recently-hired secretary came in, holding an open carton of orange juice in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. She looked at the dart and commented, "Are you one of those bosses who believes in killing the messenger or is it really me you're mad at?"
Phoebe half-smiled. "Sorry Cindy, it's been a rough day."
"I'm sorry too, but I think it's about to get rougher. Dr. Colic is out today, as you know, and a few representatives from the board just called. They're coming over for a surprise visit. You'll have to glad-hand for him."
Phoebe groaned and Cindy watched her in sympathy. "There goes my lunch hour."
"Tell you what, why don't you go get a doughnut from the cart, take a quick break before they come? I'll arrange these," she waved the stack of papers in the air, "For you in order of importance so you know what you can blow off."
"What are they?"
"Request orders, union invitations, bills, the works. Go on, they have those ones with the little sprinkles you like so much."
Phoebe smiled weakly and got up. "Ok, I'll be back in a minute."
Cindy set the papers on the desk and began sorting them while Nezume watched curiously. Phoebe left the office, heading down the hall towards the snack cart.
I can't believe Edward isn't here to help me with this. Oh well, Phoebe accepted a sprinkled doughnut from the vendor, at least this will take my mind off of hot air.
She sat down on a bench by a window and was just about to take a bite when she saw Cindy running towards her. Alarmed, Phoebe got up to meet her.
"Cindy? What's wrong?"
It took Cindy a moment to catch her breath, but Phoebe was already moving back to the lab with her in tow. "What? What happened?"
"I was sorting your papers," she gasped, "And I wondered what time it was -- I should have just looked for a clock – but my watch—"
They had reached the lab. Phoebe opened the door and sucked in a quick breath of air in surprise.
There was a hazy light green cloud hanging over her desk. Specifically over the portion where she had placed the dish of hot air. And next to the cloud in his cage was Nezume. Very still. Very stiff. Very dead.
Phoebe wasted no time. She closed the door immediately and barked, "Seal off this room! Now, now!" to the two hapless employees looking on from behind her. They rushed to obey, and Phoebe looked hard at Cindy. "What did you do?"
"I…I spilled some orange juice. Just a little! It couldn't have been more than a few drops! I'm so sorry Ms. Hyerdahl, I don't know what I was thinking…"
But Phoebe was staring at Cindy, oblivious to her babblings or the people swarming around her sealing off her lab. "How are you feeling, Cindy?"
"Me? I'm a little queasy I guess. Oh no, what will the board think about this?"
"Screw the board." Phoebe put an arm around her very shocked secretary and laughed. "Come on, I need to run a few tests on you and then I'm sending you home for the day. Don't worry," she added seeing her panicked look, "I'm sure you're fine. Actually Cindy, you just finally got somewhere with a project I've been working on for days."
"I'm not going to be fired?" Cindy ventured.
Phoebe laughed harder. "Hardly. But," she added in a more serious tone, "Don't ever bring orange juice in my lab again, ok?"
Cindy nodded fervently. "Anything else I can do?"
"Just let me run some tests. Oh, and could you get my cell phone out of my office? I need to make a call. Meet me in the south lab in five minutes." And Phoebe practically skipped down the hall, her secretary watching incredulously.
***************
"Isn't that your beeper?"
"What?"
"YOUR BEEPER!" Gerald shouted at Helga, who looked at the offending object. She nodded, then hesitantly tapped their contact on the shoulder. She moved close to her ear and said loudly, "Is there a phone around here?"
The woman opened her mouth as though she was laughing, though no one could hear her. They were driving at what seemed to Gerald like breakneck speed down a bumpy dirt road in a tiny rundown jeep with no roof. Their contact had told them the lack of a roof made for a better price. Gerald felt that the lack of shocks might have had something to do with it also. However, they had little choice as the taxis only ran in the city, and the safe house they were headed to was apparently located far away from any sign of civilization.
Helga sat back against her seat and crossed her arms. She hated being laughed at. We need a phone though. Gerald sat up and tapped their driver.
She made signs that she couldn't hear him, then finally decided to stop so that they could talk. She turned off the rattling engine and turned towards him.
"Yes?"
"We really need to use a phone. Helga just got paged."
"Well you won't find one around here. Maybe in the city, but it wouldn't be wise to go back, the wrong person might see you. You'll have to wait until we get there. I don't own a phone, but Mr. Smith sent you a package, there might be one in there."
"Look lady, this is important! It was Phoebe." Helga added to Gerald.
The woman's voice took on a steely tone. "I'm sorry, but that's the best I can do. Anything else?"
"Well now that you mention it, what are we supposed to call you?" asked Gerald.
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself because I thought Mr. Smith would have told you. You can call me Syl."
"Pleased to meet you." Gerald ignored Helga's glare as he shook Syl's hand. After a quick fight with the engine, the jeep roared to life again and they were off, rocketing down the "road" towards the safe house. Helga went back to reading. Gerald had finally given her the document Smith had compiled for him, and it looked like she was making sense of it, which Gerald considered to be nothing short of a miracle.
It was a very long trip. Gerald attempted to sleep, but every time he drifted off they would hit another pot hole, nearly throwing him out of the car. After what seemed like days they pulled into a little patch of dirt at the edge of the jungle and stopped.
"We go the rest of the way on foot." Syl announced, jumping easily out of the driver's seat.
"What? In that?" Gerald was looking at the dense leaves packed together as if they represented all that is ruinous to suits. Which they probably did.
"Oh suck it up Tall Hair Boy. You bought jungle clothes, now you get to test drive them. At least we won't be out in the sun any longer." Helga was in danger of turning a particularly painful shade of her favorite color. She hurried after Syl, who had already started down a narrow foot path through the trees.
After almost an hour's hike, the three travelers arrived at a small clearing, with a primitive-looking cabin in the middle. Syl gestured towards it. "My home."
It wasn't much to look at, and Gerald found himself wondering if Syl worked for a living. And how she knew Mr. Smith, who obviously had more than enough to live on.
Inside the cabin was unremarkable, one room with a dirt floor, a bed in one corner and a stove in another. "I'll give you the grand tour," Syl said laughingly to Gerald, ignoring Helga as she looked around. She spread her arms. "This is it. There's a outhouse out back and we bathe in the river over that way," she pointed behind him. "I'll pile up some blankets over there and drag out the cot so there'll be three beds. You can have my bed dear." she smiled at Gerald.
"One guess as to who gets the pile of blankets," mumbled Helga from where she was inspecting the stove. Syl pretended not to hear her.
"Oh, and here's your package." She dragged it out from underneath the bed. "I'll let you go through it while I go down to get some water to boil. We'll have soup tonight." She took a bucket from a nail where it was hanging and left.
Helga exhaled loudly. "What is her deal?"
Gerald frowned. "I think she's nice. If you'd just give her a chance—"
"A chance? Gerald, isn't she a bit old for you? She could practically be your mother!"
He stiffened. "She's nothing like my mother."
"Don't get all high and mighty with me. Maybe she doesn't like me because she thinks we're an item or something." She looked at the box rather than Gerald as she said this. "She was certainly all over you. 'You can have my bed Gerald!'" she imitated in an annoyingly nasal voice. "I'm surprised she didn't offer to share."
Gerald snorted, then laughed. "I don't know Helga. Maybe she likes girls. You know they say when a woman reacts with anger towards someone it's only because she's attracted—" He was cut off when a pillow off Syl's bed slammed into his face. "Mumpf! There, you see what I mean?"
"Stop deluding yourself and help me with this thing, will you?" Gerald pulled out a pocket knife and helped Helga open the package. They went through it quickly. There were all sorts of various equipment in it, most of which Gerald didn't recognize, though Helga seemed familiar with them. But no phone.
"Well Geraldo, what do you suggest we do now?"
A/N: I was going to list how many chapters are left in this story, but I'm still not sure how long it will take me to wrap things up. I'll do a basic outline again this week for the ending and tell ya'll in the next chapter…probably the end of next week sometime.
Snow Lane: Yes, poor Arnold…and I always say, assume nothing…
DropsofJupiter: Lol, I think you're the first person I've ever heard say they like Arnie! I myself feel somewhat sympathetic towards him…I can't help feeling that there must be a personality there…somewhere…
Rachael West: Obsession is good. :) I'm obsessed too if that helps any, lol. Yes I love the way Gerald and Helga can play off each other. They're both just a little bit…bad. heh. There may very well be more death to come. (I think that's the biggest plot hint I've give so far about this series, lol) Btw, are you named after the RW who said the quote about feminists and…I think it was doormats? Do you know what I'm talking about?
Pogo: Sorry if Arnie caught you off-guard. I did actually hint at it slightly – very slightly, as I do with all my plot twists. It's entirely possible to guess everything important that happens in this series if you look hard enough.
Jacquleine Schaeffer: Well, I'm proud of your review, lol. :) Thanks, and hopefully the next chapter won't take long.
TaDah: Not too much of a cliffie in this one either, just for your sake. ;)
miss amyami: ::smiles and nods:: Well thanks for taking the time to review…lol.
Poison Ivory: Now you know how I felt reading Missing Pieces, lol. That was the fic that got me hooked on fanfiction. Although I had the advantage of reading it after it was totally finished, thank goodness. And I bothered my roommate with cries of "Aww!" and "Oh my!" along with laughter. She was ready to shoot me, oy. I'm afraid that the A/H meeting, along with the G/P meeting and several other more important meetings won't happen until the next book. Sorry, there's just not room in the few chapters I have left to do it justice. Hope you get some sleep. :)