Chapter 16
In Which Helga Baits, Arnold Sinks and Gerald's Hooked
"…so that's basically the layout. According to Mr. Smith anyway, and we all know how reliable he is."
Helga had finished translating the document and explaining it to Gerald and Syl. Apparently, it had been a basic run down on a camp located nearby. Mr. Smith was convinced that it was occupied by some of the same people who were smuggling hot air – but he had no proof. Which was where Gerald and Helga came in.
"So, everyone got it? Gerald? Elle Woods?" Helga had taken to calling Syl various names beginning with "El", trying to gauge her reaction to each. So far, no dice and she was running out of ideas. Syl just gritted her teeth at anything Helga threw at her.
"I still don't like it. What you're basically telling Gerald to do is walk right in there when this could easily be a trap." Syl was being fairly cooperative, but she made a point of standing on the opposite side of Gerald from Helga. Gerald suspected that this was more from a general dislike than a fear of Helga repeating her ju-jitsu moves, however.
"You think it's too dangerous?" he asked her.
"No. I think it's suicidal."
"Look Eleanor, no one asked your opinion, ok?" Gerald stopped himself from pointing out to Helga that he had in fact, done just that. Helga, he had a feeling, was itching to pound on someone, and he would rather that someone not be him.
"Anyway," Helga folded up the document, "It's not like we really have a choice. We'll just have to make it quick. We'll get in, get the evidence and get out. The agency can handle the rest."
"Agencies." Gerald reminded her. He was rewarded with a glare.
Syl was glaring at Helga. "You seem awfully calm about risking Gerald's life."
"He can handle himself."
"Yeah Syl, I can—"
"Shut up Geraldo." Helga threw in his direction, "And you seem to be forgetting that I'm going in there too." she added.
"Not forgetting. Just wondering why you need the help if this is such an easy assignment."
"Helga doesn't—"
"Shut up Geraldo. He's my partner Elwin. We're a team, we've made it this far, and we're going in there together."
"Don't I get a say in—"
"No." said Helga and Syl together without looking at him. Great.
Syl narrowed her eyes, but gave in. "Like you said, we don't really have a choice."
"Unless you'd rather trade places with him." put in Helga unexpectedly.
Gerald blinked and looked at Syl. Helga was calling her bluff. Syl looked away from them both. "I can't do that."
Helga smirked. "Then you're putting him in danger just as much as I am."
"Actually, I'm putting myself—"
"Shut up Gerald." said Syl, still looking out the window. Gerald frowned. I really wish there was another guy here. Where's Arnold when I need him?
"Alright you two," Helga took charge again, "Let's get some sleep. Looks like it's going to be an interesting night."
**************
About the same time Gerald was wishing Arnold was in Brazil, Arnold was wishing Gerald was in Hillside. Or that he would at least answer his cell phone.
Actually, he was beginning to think that everyone he knew was in on some secret plot together. No one he called was home. Phoebe wasn't even answering her work number. Figures that when I finally decide to talk to people, no one's there. Arnold blinked and then banished that thought as being entirely too negative.
He hadn't really left his room since Arnie had died. He had asked for some time off from Mrs. Vitello, supposedly so that he could spend some time painting. But so far he hadn't done anything but eat a few times and stare at the wall or out the skylight. The funeral was today, Grandpa and Grandma had both gone. But Arnold didn't feel like going. He didn't feel like doing anything.
He was quite aware that what he was doing was wrong, that he would regret it later and it wasn't helping anything. He knew that he was probably depressed, but he just didn't care. It had been just a few hours ago that he had come to this conclusion, and it had jolted him enough that he knew he needed to talk to someone about it. Because Arnold had never stopped caring before.
But no one was home. He hung up the phone more forcefully than he had meant to and stood up from where he had been sitting on his bed. Ok, so he couldn't talk to someone. He needed to do something. He couldn't just sit there any longer or he'd fall so far in he wouldn't be able to get out again. The canvas in the room was still blank. No. Anything but that.
He decided to take a shower, something he had neglected for entirely too long. He felt a little better when he got out so he proceeded to throw the pile of dirty clothes on his floor into the wash. That helped also, it felt good to be doing something with clear results. With that thought in mind he figured a through cleaning of his room was in order. He couldn't remember the last time he had lifted the tarp off his carpet.
Two hours later Arnold paused in the middle of moving his shelves from one side of the room to the other. Maybe they had looked better in their original spot? But the computer desk was there now. But if he moved the fish tank/water cooler a few inches to the right…then where would the easel go?
He heard the door open downstairs and his grandparents calling his name.
"I'm up here!"
A minute later Grandpa tried to open Arnold's door. "What the—"
"Hang on Grandpa, I'll get it."
Arnold climbed over his desk and moved the work table so the door could open. His grandpa came in and looked around, scratching his head. He looks so strange wearing a suit.
"Arnold? Are you feeling ok?" He surveyed the sparkling but uprooted room with concern.
"I'm fine Grandpa. Actually I'm feeling better than I have for a long time."
"Any particular reason for…" he gestured around him.
"I just…thought it was time for a change. That's all. How was the funeral?"
"Oh it was ok as funerals go. Arnie's wife is taking it pretty hard. She made it through the ceremony without fainting though. Looked awful pale but she made it."
"Well that's something."
"Oh it was something alright," Grandpa scowled, "I bet old man Stoffer twenty bucks she wouldn't make it to the eulogy. I swear that cheater gave her smelling salts."
"Grandpa! You didn't—"
"Calm down Shortman, of course it wasn't a real bet. I would never bet on someone else's hardship. Especially if I lose. By the way, if Stoffer calls, tell him I'm dead."
"Grandpa—"
"But other than that it was a real nice funeral Arnold," Grandpa hurried on, "You should have been there."
"I know. I wish I had gone. I was just…I mean I…"
"You don't have to explain. I just think it might have helped you. You know, closure and all that other stuff them head doctors like to go on about." He turned to go, then paused at the door. "She asked about you, you know."
"Who?" Arnold asked as if he didn't know who Grandpa was talking about.
Grandpa rolled his eyes. "Hedy Lamar. Lila, of course."
Arnold looked at the floor at the sound of her name. "I don't think I could have talked to her just now. Did you tell her—"
"I think she understood. She just wanted me to say hello to you, and she hopes you're doing well."
"I'll probably see her a lot soon anyway. She'll be moving back and—"
"She staying there, Shortman."
Arnold's head jerked up. "What?"
"That was part of the reason she was so keen to see you. She's not coming back. She's going to try to run the farm by herself. Says she's tired of moving, and she doesn't want her son to have to adjust to city life like she did. That's one determined woman. I should have known better than to bet against her, she's tougher than she looks."
"Yeah." Arnold's head was spinning slightly. "I guess I just assumed…so she's really not coming home?"
"Her home's there now, Shortman. Like I said," Grandpa looked at him gently, "The funeral would have been a good time for you to say goodbye."
Arnold didn't say anything, and Grandpa left the room with Arnold barely noticing. She's not coming back. He suddenly realized that somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought that maybe, now that she had lost everything he couldn't give her, they could start over. He was good with kids, and Lila's son would probably even look like him…he stopped that thought before it went too far. What kind of a friend am I? How can I say I love someone if all I want is for her to be miserable? Then he stopped thinking that too, because it wasn't true. He didn't want Lila to be miserable. He just wanted her to be happy with him.
The sky was getting dark outside. Arnold automatically reached for his remote and turned on the lights. They lit up the easel at just the right angles, making the canvas shine and ask him for life. He couldn't think of Christmas now, but he needed to paint. An image came to his mind, and he walked to easel and picked up a brush for the first time in days. In his mind's eye he saw Lila the Widow. Not in black, but in gray, determined, strong. He could see her eyes telling Grandpa she was staying. He had never painted Lila before, it had always been too painful. But he half smiled as he loaded his brush and prepped the canvas. This time, it would be healing. This would be his goodbye.
**************
Helga was having second thoughts. She hadn't told Gerald or Syl just how impossible Mr. Smith's document made this little expedition sound for their sake's, but now she was wishing she had elected to stay with the boat for hers. The three of them were paddling as silently as possible upstream towards the camp, which was a lot of work and didn't help anyone's mood. Maybe we shouldn't have agreed to this job so easily. I can't help but think that something is very wrong. But she kept her thoughts to herself and steered from the back of the boat.
Syl and Gerald were paddling in the front. The plan was to leave Syl with the boat ready to head downstream as soon as Gerald and Helga got out of the camp. Helga had protested that Syl might leave them stranded, but Gerald pointed out that they really had no other choice. They just had to trust her.
Syl herself seemed in a slightly better mood about this whole thing than she had been that afternoon. Gerald thought, looking at her, that she either had thought of a new angle which calmed her fears or she was the type of person who always felt better after a nap. He hoped it was the former. Given a choice between this and office work…ok, so I'd still pick this, that doesn't mean I can't complain. Wonder if I'll get reimbursed for clothes expenses? He and Helga were in their black outfits they had purchased before flying here, and they each had a pair of night vision goggles. Helga had taken along a Geiger counter to find the hot air. Gerald just hoped it was sensitive enough to find it even if it wasn't activated.
"Gerald?"
He blinked and brought himself back to the present. Syl was whispering to him. He glanced back at Helga, but she seemed lost in thought. "What?"
"I have a favor to ask. For when you get in the camp."
Uh oh. "What kind of favor?"
"Just if you have time," Syl added quickly, "And if you find the hot air first then just get out of there, don't worry about it."
"What is it?"
"Here." Syl discreetly handed him a small white envelope. "If you get a chance, I'd like you to give this to someone in the camp."
Gerald took it but frowned at her. "You know someone in there?"
Syl laughed softly. "I know most of the people in there. Why do you think Smith asked me to help? But this is for a particular person. I can't tell you their name, or even what they look like because I don't want you to be able to tell anyone if…" her voice trailed off.
"Then how am I supposed to find them?"
Syl smiled slightly. "Don't worry. If you're in there long enough, they'll find you."
Before Gerald could ask Syl about this, Helga said from behind him in a low voice, "We're there."
They went ashore and Helga and Gerald did a last minute check of their gear. Satisfied, they nodded to Syl (well Gerald did anyway) who whispered, "Good luck!" and headed towards the camp.
The jungle at night was anything but quiet, and with the help of the night vision goggles the two moved quickly and silently into the camp. Helga pulled out the Geiger counter and they started checking tents, keeping a lookout for any people around.
It seemed that the guards were on the other side of the camp on their rounds, and everyone else was asleep. Whatever the case, they met no one, and soon Helga gestured to Gerald.
"This is it," she whispered. Gerald nodded and put an ear to the cloth wall of the tent, then motioned and they slipped inside.
Helga stood nervously near the exit of the tent and watched as Gerald started going through some of the crates in the room. I have a bad feeling about this. Where is everybody?
"Cimon, what's taking so long?"
"It's not like they're just going to leave it out in the open, you know. What's your hurry?" Gerald appeared unconcerned.
"No hurry. This place just gives me the creeps is all."
"What're you afraid of?" There was no answer. "Rats?" he questioned with a laugh in his voice, remembering the Revel's hold.
"Very funny." Helga was not amused.
"You know, this would go a lot faster if you would deign to help me."
"Not my jurisdiction." But with a sigh she left her post and went to open the lid of the nearest crate. And froze.
"Oh. My. Um, am I looking at what I think I'm looking at?"
Gerald immediately stopped what he was doing and came over to look in the crate. In it were around 40 large-sized cylinders of hot air. And, if Phoebe's description of glowing light green was anything to go by, they were all activated.
"Oh man."
"I knew we shouldn't have taken this job!"
Gerald stopped himself from retorting that it was her idea to come in here. He picked up one of the containers to examine it, then looked at Helga. She spoke first.
"We are in a whole lot of trouble here," she said with a slightly hysterical edge to her voice.
Suddenly, the lights went on. Helga and Gerald blinked for a moment, then looked around. So that's where all the guards were.
They surveyed the various weapons being pointed in their direction. Helga found herself wishing that she wasn't right quite so often. Gerald shook his head.
"Man, this is why I hate business trips." he joked weakly.
A/N: Finally! Oy! Sorry RL has been a pain lately. I'll try to get the next chapter to ya'll soon. So far we're on schedule with three more chapters and an epilogue.
So many questions about who Syl is in the reviews! Too bad I won't answer plot questions, huh? ;) Heck, I never even said she was cannon. ~PJ
Sennical: I can't wait for Arnold to get involved myself. He needs to stop moping around and get himself together, lol.
DropsofJupiter: As they say in Scooby Doo: Be afraid. Be sort of afraid. That's not really a plot hint, I just felt like saying it. And you have my permission to hate anyone you like.
miss amyami: I agree, poor mouse…rat…but it was either him or Cindy and he couldn't explain what had happened…
TaDah: Thanks. :)
Poison Ivory: Yes I finally posted! Finally! Hopefully the next wait won't be as long. Gerald's enduring Helga/Syl surprisingly well, I agree. I hadn't expected that. I sort of figured he'd start wishing for more males in this story long before now, lol. Oh well, he is a bit distracted.
Serap-89: Oh good, me too! :) Thanks.
silverkonekotsukari: PJ's my name, suspense's my game…I did warn you in the summary…and I love writing Helga and Gerald together, they play off each other and it's fun. :)
Snow Lane: ::hands Snow Lane a Review One Hundred Award:: Congrats! And thank you (all)!
pogo: Well…define "wrap up." That is to say, this particular story will yes…but there will still be quite a few unanswered questions…otherwise how will I keep ya'll reading for the rest of the series? ;)
Luvya: Hm more plot questions…well I will say this: Arnold will find out about this…eventually. And not in this story.