CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A Physical Exploration of the Attenuation of Sound Waves and Their Effect on Gray Matter and . . . Oh, Who Would Read This? I’m Bored Even Writing the Title.
By Dr. Persnickel Horowitz
Page 1,075
Think of water waves, one after another after another. Wait, I’m getting seasick just writing about them. Hold on. . . . Deep breath.
Okay. I feel better.
Sound waves are like that, which is why I always wear a life preserver when studying them. We can’t hear the gaps between the waves, because they come at us too frequently. That’s why we call it “frequency” and not “slow wave gap things”!
The closer the waves are to each other, the higher the sound.
Did you know that dogs hear higher frequencies than humans? They can detect sounds we can’t. So when dogs tell jokes, they usually bark them at really high frequencies, so only their dog friends can hear them.
Opera stars have been known to shatter glass with their singing. In theory, those same vibrations could shatter metal! Sound waves at the right frequency and volume can make glass vibrate faster and faster until it breaks. So never invite an opera singer over for dinner. Or put the nice china in the basement first.
Did you know that after the age of twenty years old, people lose some ability to hear ultrahigh pitches, meaning children are more susceptible to certain sounds than adults? That’s good to know if you want to brainwash them!
Vlad picked at his cuticles while Claudius scowled at him. Claudius had never pegged his cousin for a coward before. Vlad said he stayed behind to look after him. Baloney! Vlad hadn’t looked at Claudius once since Wilmer scaled the tower. Vlad’s knees were shaking, too. His face was green.
At least Claudius had a good reason for his own shaking knees: he was scared of heights, and being scared of heights was serious stuff. Height was the only thing Claudius feared! Well, not including spiders, assorted monsters, the dark, and being electrocuted by a fallen power line.
Claudius had other reasons to stay where he was too, and they had nothing to do with his fear of heights. He couldn’t help Wilmer again! Assisting him when he cured that colorful contagion had been a big mistake. If Claudius turned into a soup-brained army drone, so be it. At least Wilmer would suffer the same fate.
Unless Wilmer succeeded. What if Dooley did stop Mr. Sneed and Elvira and become a hero one more time? Could Claudius let him take all the glory again?
Never!
But Wilmer couldn’t succeed. Mr. Sneed was too strong.
Then Roxie’s announcement soared through the trees: “Attention, dear, dear students,” she began. What? Dooley had done it? Unbelievable! Claudius felt part of his brain mellowing. He had been very cranky and hadn’t even realized it.
And look—Mr. Sneed and Elvira were climbing down from the top of the tower.
Metal beams were falling too, and a stray screw landed only a few feet from Claudius’s head—although small, it would have likely fractured his skull. But that was nothing compared to the giant metal spike that fell from the sky next. With no warning, it crashed to the ground like an enormous dart, missing Claudius by inches. The ground quaked from its weight.
Claudius looked up, but it made him dizzy. The tower was so high. Too high.
Wait. Screaming? Did he hear screaming?
Up above. The tower was breaking apart! Wilmer was trapped. Claudius could see him now, clinging to a loose platform, too far to jump to safety. Had Wilmer saved the day only to fall to his doom? Claudius grinned with glee.
He patted his chest, feeling the fabric of the EVIL GENIUS T-shirt hidden under his sweater.
But no. He couldn’t let Wilmer die. Maybe it was that radio announcement, which had lightened the weight from Claudius’s surly shoulders. Or maybe it was a tinge of regret for cowering here on the ground.
Mr. Sneed and Elvira had reached the bottom of the structure. “I love rainbows,” muttered Mr. Sneed.
“I love unicorns,” mumbled Elvira.
Claudius eyed the wires sticking out of Mr. Sneed’s back pocket. He couldn’t sit here any longer. He could still be a hero. Maybe he could even profit from it. Claudius! Now that would be a TV show worth watching.
Claudius gritted his teeth, grabbed the wire from Mr. Sneed’s pocket, and bounded toward the radio tower.
“But we can’t leave you!” cried Roxie.
“You must!” Wilmer shouted back, clinging to the platform that now hung from a single frayed wire, which was becoming more frayed by the second. “I’m afraid it’s frayed,” Wilmer moaned. “Remember me fondly.”
“I will!” screamed Roxie.
“I’ll remember you more!” sobbed Harriet.
Wilmer swallowed a large wad of sorrowful spit, but it was quickly replaced by a gurgle. Someone was scurrying up to the landing from the stairs below. Claudius! What was he doing here? Wasn’t he afraid of heights? Or had he found the strength merely to gloat and watch Wilmer plunge to his doom?
“What do you want?” yelled Wilmer.
“To save you!” screamed Claudius. He was circling a piece of wire like a rodeo star waves a lariat. Claudius released one end of the wire, and it sailed toward Wilmer. The makeshift lasso stretched out over the empty air and wrapped around the railing just above him.
“Climb across!” screamed Claudius.
Wilmer stared, wide-eyed. Was he dreaming? Maybe it was a trick.
“Hurry!” screamed Claudius.
Wilmer wasn’t a particularly experienced wire climber. A scientist needed calm, confident hands, and getting calluses or cuts might hinder the ability to delicately handle test tubes. So, despite strong fingertips, he had always avoided grabbing ropes and monkey bars. He regretted that now. A scientist must be ready for anything, including activities that demanded strong hand climbing. He took a deep breath, grabbed the wire, and inched his way forward.
“Faster!” shouted Roxie.
“I don’t have a lot of hand-climbing experience,” explained Wilmer. “I’m going as quickly as I can.”
One hand after the other. That was the secret. Wilmer ignored the pain from the wire cutting into his palms and fingers. But he was making progress! And if he didn’t look down—where he could see that if he slipped, he would land on a slab of rusted, twisted metal that would surely slice him in two—he could almost imagine getting out of this alive.
Wilmer’s hands were sweating now. A simple case of a hyperactive sympathetic nervous system, which causes glands in the hands to produce sweat in times of stress or nervousness. It was why Wilmer’s hands often felt clammy when he was near Roxie.
Most people’s lives flash before their eyes when they are facing death. For Wilmer, information about sweat glands passed before his. He sighed.
Creak. Snap. Wilmer heard it from behind him. He was now dangling directly from the middle of the wire. When you’re hovering over nothing but air and a single slip means falling to your death, you don’t want to hear creaking or snapping.
Wilmer peeked back. The platform above him split in half. The wire gave way. His stomach lurched. This was it. He flung his hand out in one desperate grab of air, although he knew it was in vain. Good-bye, life.
Hello, hand? Someone snagged Wilmer’s flailing palm.
Vlad! His outstretched hand was wrapped around Wilmer’s like a momma bear hugging her cub. Vlad pulled Wilmer toward him, up and up. Wilmer’s sweaty hands were beginning to slip from Vlad’s. Curse that sympathetic nervous system! But Vlad readjusted his grasp and continued to lift Wilmer. Vlad was surprisingly strong. “I’ve got you.”
Wilmer didn’t breathe until he was on the platform next to his friends. He hugged the floor. Somehow he had survived. “Thank you! You guys saved my life!” he gushed to Vlad and Claudius.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I couldn’t let you guys get all the glory,” Vlad griped. “What are you looking at?” he yapped at Claudius, who seemed more surprised than anyone.<
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“Oh, Wilmy! I thought I’d lost you!” gurgled Harriet, buckets of tears pouring down her cheeks. “Hold me!”
“Maybe later?” suggested Wilmer. “Or not. Let’s get down from here.”
“My hero!” gushed Harriet.
Wilmer dashed down the remaining stairs, which shook and buckled but held together. The others followed behind him.
They hit the ground running. Seconds after they touched earth, the rest of the tower teetered, buckled, and completely collapsed, like a human pyramid after a particularly forceful sneeze from the bottom row.
“We’ve done it!” yelled Roxie. “Safe at last.”
But Wilmer wasn’t so sure; he had a horrible thought. If the screeching loudspeakers had cracked the steel tower beams, then the deafening sounds could have done the same to the hotel’s foundation. That would explain all the shifting walls and creaking crevices.
And if the radio tower had just collapsed, then the hotel might be next!
“We need to get back!” shouted Wilmer. “I think all the kids at the Sac à Puces are in terrible danger!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
YOUR SAFETY COMES FIRST!
THE SAC À PUCES PALLADIUM, LODGE, AND RESORTLIKE HOTEL IS BUILT TO WITHSTAND FLOODING, EARTHQUAKES, TORNADOS, WILD ELEPHANTS, AND LOCUSTS. IF, HOWEVER, SOMETHING OTHER THAN FLOODING, EARTHQUAKES, TORNADOS, WILD ELEPHANTS, AND LOCUSTS COMES ALONG, WE CAN’T MAKE ANY GUARANTEES.
Wilmer raced through the forest toward the hotel. As he ran, he wasn’t thinking about how they had narrowly escaped sure death from a destroyed radio tower. Or how his archenemies had unexpectedly saved him. Or how he had identified the cause of the collapsing radio tower through observation.
No, he was thinking that the reason he was running so fast was because his adrenal glands, which release hormones under stress, were raising his heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing rate, allowing him to run faster than usual.
Yes, Wilmer would make a very good doctor someday.
Behind Wilmer ran Roxie, side-by-side with Harriet. Just thinking of Roxie made Wilmer’s adrenal glands shift into an even higher gear.
They soon arrived at the hotel grounds. Part of the roof had collapsed, over where the audio control room had been, but no one seemed to notice. Kids wandered about hugging each other, some walking into the hotel without worry.
“Dr. Dill!” screamed Wilmer when he saw the famous doctor standing on the lawn.
“Why, hello, Wilmer. Claudius. And Vlad!”
“We’ve defeated Mr. Sneed and Elvira,” explained Wilmer. “And Claudius and Vlad saved my life. They’re heroes.”
Dr. Dill smiled. “Of course they are.” He playfully messed up Claudius’s hair. “Good job, son.”
Claudius grinned wildly.
“But it’s not over. You have to help us!” urged Wilmer. “Tell the kids to get out of the hotel. It’s going to collapse!”
Dr. Dill gasped. “A collapsing hotel? Oh my!” He turned and looked at the building, which swayed and shuddered. “Yes, that does look dangerous.” Then his phone rang and he answered it with a panicked tone. “Dill here! I can’t talk because . . . What? He has Chowder Head? Are his hands clammy?” He rushed off.
Wilmer shook his head in frustration. But he couldn’t stand around head-shaking. Not now. Not with so many lives at stake.
Mrs. Valveeta Padgett sat on the ground, writing on a notepad. It was hard to concentrate with so many kids walking around, hugging and shouting happily to each other. They should use their inside voices, even when they were outside. Life would be so much more pleasant that way.
“Mrs. Padgett!” someone yelled. Who was that? Wilmer Dooley? She cringed. What did that boy want now? He was like a rash you couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much ointment you slathered on top of it. “You have to help us warn the kids. The hotel is falling. Everyone will be crushed!”
Mrs. Padgett eyed them sternly. She was working on her new script. Shows must have scripts. Did Wilmer think it was easy to write TV shows comparing mah-jongg to whale blubber? If he did, he was wrong. Very wrong.
“Please!” pleaded Roxie. “You have to help us.”
Mrs. Padgett arched an eyebrow. “I’m a famous TV star. I don’t have to do anything.” It was then that she noticed Claudius and Vlad for the first time. She blinked and arched her eyebrows even higher. Claudius was working with Wilmer again? When would he learn? “I’m very disappointed in you, Claudius.”
Claudius lifted his chin up. “If you’re disappointed that I’m saving kids from certain death, then that’s your problem. You can clean your own wastebaskets next year.”
Mrs. Padgett gasped. TV celebrities didn’t empty wastebaskets, thank you. The mere idea was horrifying. “Certainly you jest!”
Claudius shook his head. “I never jest.”
Which was quite true. Claudius had no sense of humor, really. That was one of the reasons she liked him. “Very well,” Mrs. Padgett said after a deep, sorrowful sigh. “I can’t get a thing done with all this commotion, anyway.”
Besides, maybe she could write a show about mah-jongg and building collapses. Yes, that idea did have some promise.
Wilmer didn’t stop to thank his former biology teacher. He needed to get into that hotel and warn the kids. He shoved his way through the front door. It came off its hinges when he pushed it and banged to the ground.
Ernie. He stood across the lobby, holding his nose and wobbling around. He must have just woken up from being clobbered by Harriet earlier. “Ernie! Are you okay?”
“My nose hurts.”
“Harriet smacked you pretty hard. You were trying to kill me.”
“I was trying to kill you?” Ernie gasped. “Harriet hit me?” He gasped again. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain everything later,” said Wilmer. “But right now you need to get out of the hotel. The entire place is going to cave in.” He turned and yelled, “Everyone get out! Hurry!” But the kids continued hugging and talking and ignoring Wilmer. No one rushed to escape, despite the crumbling walls around them. “Get out! Now!” Wilmer yelled again, but no one paid him any attention.
Then an electronic squawk rang through the air. Wilmer’s eardrums tingled. Had Elvira and Mr. Sneed recovered? Were they about to transmit some horrible order to the kids? Where were his earplugs, anyway?
“Listen up, students,” said a crackling voice that boomed through the room. “The hotel is about to collapse. Flee! Hurry!”
Kids heard that. They rushed toward the exits, hurtling themselves out of the building. As they did, part of the roof caved in. A large chunk of concrete smashed onto the floor. A dresser from the room above dropped with it, right through a coffee table.
Wilmer and his friends turned and ran, joining the throngs of kids escaping the building.
“Get out! Faster!” urged Mrs. Padgett. She stood on the lawn and shouted into a bullhorn. Her warnings rang out through the grounds.
Behind Wilmer, Lizzy and Tizzy—the very last people in the building, it turned out—flung themselves out the open door just as the entire hotel fell in upon itself and flattened like a concrete pancake.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Padgett. “Good thing I found this old bullhorn lying around—imagine what might have happened.”
Wilmer exhaled deeply. But there was still one piece of unfinished business.
Roxie stood next to him. He cleared his throat and took a step toward her. This would be the bravest thing he had ever done. Braver than scaling a tower. Braver than standing up to Mr. Sneed. Braver than running into a collapsing hotel. “Roxie?” he blurted out.
“Yes?” she asked, looking up, her eyes twinkling from the sun shining above.
Harriet stepped directly into his line of sight. She stood fifteen micrometers away, possibly less. She took Wilmer’s hand in hers and held it gently. “We need to talk, Wilmy.”
“Um, maybe later?” muttered Wilmer.
; Harriet tightened her grip on his hand. “I’m afraid this can’t wait.” Why was she puckering her lips? Was it because she was deep in thought, or maybe—?
Please let it be because she was deep in thought. Wilmer looked down at her nervously. “Look, about us—”
“Hush,” Harriet interrupted, putting a finger over Wilmer’s mouth with one hand while gently rubbing his palm with the other. “I need to tell you something. I still think you’re an amazing scientist. But I realize now that physics and sound waves are my true calling. Food biology just doesn’t excite me like it does you. I’m sorry. I think we should go our separate ways. We’re not meant for each other.”
“Really?” said Wilmer. “Uh, okay.” He grinned. “Besides, I want to be a doctor.”
Harriet threw her arms around Wilmer, squeezing so hard that the air was knocked out of his lungs. “Thank you for taking it so well. I know it must be hard on you. You’ll always have a special place in my heart.” She released her embrace and Wilmer took a big gulp of air.
Harriet walked away. Roxie looked up from the pad of paper she held, where she had furiously been taking notes. “This will make the best Mumpley Musings radio report ever,” she gushed. She looked at Wilmer. “Maybe you can guest host?”
“Really? Me?” Wilmer’s adrenal glands pumped with glee. Roxie never had guest hosts on her show. Wilmer could barely imagine such bliss. “I mean, if you really want me.”
“Are you kidding? The Amazing Wilmer Dooley?” she said with a wink.
“Can you not call me that?” asked Wilmer. “I want to be just regular old Wilmer Dooley if it’s okay with you.”
Roxie smiled broadly. “I like that even better. Maybe you can come over to my house this week and we can write the show together?”
Wilmer practically fainted as he nodded his head up and down, up and down, so quickly and furiously that he stopped when he feared his head might roll off his neck.
The Amazing Wilmer Dooley Page 14
