“Look what I’ve got.” In her hand she held a can of bright orange spray paint. “I thought we’d paint a sign on that wall they’re building.”
He thought for a moment, then whispered to her.
The Pest skipped over to the growing wall. She looked at it thoughtfully. Then, reaching up as high as she could, she started spraying her sign.
When it was finished, the crowd shouted its appreciation. The sign said: DONATED TO THE CITY BY SUPERWEASEL AND THE KIDS OF RIVERTON.
Alvin glanced around. His eyes happened to meet those of Miss Miles. She was looking thoughtfully at him. He turned and sauntered up the steps of City Hall, trying to look innocent. Under his arm he still carried the paper sack.
It was time for Superweasel’s final adventure.
Chapter 17
Superweasel’s Final Adventure
There was virtually no activity inside City Hall. Alvin could hear only the crackle of the radio in the Police Department as he crept past the door, and the scrape of the duty sergeant’s chair at his desk.
He came to the bottom of a broad stairway and started up. At the second floor he paused, but everything seemed clear. He headed on up to the top floor. He had worn his sneakers, and made no sound as he walked carefully down the third floor hallway. He stopped in front of a phone booth. Slipping inside, he pushed the door shut behind him. Instantly the overhead light came on, so he reached up and unscrewed the bulb. Even in the phone booth he could hear the shouts of the crowd outdoors but there didn’t seem to be anyone on the third floor.
Alvin slipped quietly into the costume, and pulled the mask down over his face. For a fleeting moment he wished there was a mirror in the phone booth so he could take one final look at Superweasel; after tonight, he thought, Superweasel will vanish into the great afterworld where Superman, Batman and all those other superheroes of yesterday now reside. The thought made him a little sad.
He eased out of the phone booth and headed for the door at the end of the corridor. It was marked Emergency Use Only, and Alvin knew that it led out onto a fire escape that angled down the front of the City Hall. He’d inspected the City Hall from top to bottom when his class had studied city government.
His heart was pounding now. Although he’d had more than his share of adventures for a boy of his age, he knew that this could be the turning point of his life. Would he be greeted as a criminal — or as a superhero?
Alvin planned to step out onto the fire escape high above the heads of the crowd. He had confidence that, as soon as the kids saw him, they’d start cheering. Hadn’t Superweasel organized all of them to perform this mighty feat? And when the kids started cheering, maybe their parents would forget the vandalism, and start cheering, too. Then Alvin — Superweasel — would modestly hold up his hands for silence, just as he’d seen the president do on television. The cheering and applause would go on for a while, of course, but gradually it would die down. At just the proper moment Superweasel would begin his speech.
He’d practiced that speech in his mind a hundred times, and had even whispered it once before the mirror in his room. He’d tell the truth and nothing else. How he — and his sister and Shoie — had invented Superweasel in order to help fight pollution; the horrible stinking mess they’d found where the Weasel River ran past the chemical plant, and how they’d succeeded in changing all that; how he’d bravely and heroically climbed to the top of the foundry chimney. (Oops!, he said to himself. Better leave out “bravely” and “heroically” if you’re going to tell nothing but the truth. Instead, tell them how scared you were. Then they’ll sympathize with you.)
And he did need their sympathy — the sympathy of everyone in town. For he planned to tell them exactly what else had happened. How another Superweasel had popped up in town, and how this one had become a vandal instead of a superhero.
Indeed this could be the turning point of his life.
He stood as straight and tall as he could. He lifted his head. Superweasel placed his hand on the doorknob. He was ready to face the world.
As he turned the doorknob he heard the swelling roar of the crowd, suddenly excited. There were cheers and whistles from the kids, and shouts of anger from the adults gathered below on the city square.
Confused, Alvin wondered, dimly, how they could have seen him through the door. Had they known in advance that he would appear? Well, at least they were there, waiting for him.
He pushed open the door, and stepped out onto the grillwork that formed the third-floor landing of the fire escape.
Instantly the cheers stopped. Alvin wondered why. For a few seconds he was blinded by the bright lights that flooded City Hall. There was no sound from the vast crowd below.
Alvin took a step forward to the railing of the fire escape and held up his two arms to command silence. It was a useless gesture, for already there was total silence. The soundless night finally was shattered by a shrill voice saying clearly, “Look, mommy! There’s two of them!”
By now his eyes were adapting to the light, and Alvin could make out the upturned faces below. For a moment the meaning of the child’s words escaped him. He lowered his arms and gripped the railing. It was time to make his speech.
At that moment he heard a furtive movement behind him, toward the corner of the fire-escape landing. Alvin whirled.
There, crouched against the wall, was — Superweasel!
The two costumed figures confronted each other for what seemed an eternity. A dozen thoughts tumbled through Alvin’s mind. Here at last was the impostor. But who was it? How could anyone else tell who was the real Superweasel? Who would be hauled into court as the vandal?
“Stop! Stay where you are, both of you! You’re under arrest!” The commanding voice of Officer Twilley came up from below. Alvin felt the steel stairway vibrate slightly, and knew that the police officer was on his way up to capture them.
Alvin glanced around at the imposter. At that very moment the figure raced up the stairway toward the roof.
Alvin leaped up the stairway after the imposter.
As he dashed up the steps Alvin could see the crowd through the grillwork at his feet. The sight of all those upturned faces made him dizzy, and he stumbled on one of the steps, painfully skinning his shin. He fell to his knees, grabbing for the railing.
The fire escape was shaking more violently now, and he knew that Officer Twilley was gaining steadily. Alvin struggled to his feet and looked up the stairway just in time to see the impostor vanish over the edge of the roof. The sight gave Alvin a new burst of energy — he couldn’t let that guy out of his sight. He raced up the stairway and threw himself over the low wall that circled the roof.
It was much darker on top of the building, but Alvin could see the dim figure running along the edge. Alvin sprinted after him. Suddenly the figure vanished. For a moment Alvin thought he had tumbled over the low wall, but then he heard a loud “Oooof!” The impostor obviously had tripped over one of the vents that projected up through the roofing.
Alvin pounced on the figure and hauled him to his feet. Even in the dim light, it was the best view he’d had of the impostor, who was a bit taller than himself, and somewhat heavier. Otherwise, it seemed to Alvin that he was looking at his twin. Same cape, same shirt, same grinning animal mask.
Alvin Fernald took charge. “Do you want to escape?” he asked urgently.
The impostor instantly nodded his head.
“Then follow me!”
Alvin knew there was a little concrete-block building perched on top of the roof; it held the ventilating equipment. He could think of nowhere else to hide, even though it would only delay discovery. Officer Twilley’s head would appear over the railing at any moment.
Alvin fled across the dim roof and snatched open the door of the little building. The impostor was right on his heels. Together they slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Alvin looked around.
There was only one window in the structure, but it let in a feeble glow from
the starlit sky. Directly in front of Alvin was a huge fan, and just beyond it was a yawning black hole at least three feet in diameter. He stepped around the fan and peered into the blackness. He could see nothing. Cautiously he slid out his foot. The flooring continued beneath it, but it seemed to bend slightly as he put his weight on that leg. He reached both arms into the yawning black hole, and could feel smooth, curving surfaces on each side. Apparently he was standing in the opening of a huge sheetmetal ventilating duct that ran down into the building.
The Magnificent Brain took over momentarily. Why not lie down in the darkness of the duct just behind the fan? There was a slim chance that the police, in searching the little structure, might overlook them.
Alvin lay down on his stomach and pulled the other figure down beside him. Footsteps approached the door.
Without realizing what he was doing, Alvin scrunched farther back into the duct. Immediately the cold metal floor gave way beneath him, and he started to slide. Frantically he grasped the cape of the figure beside him. Then both figures were swooping and sliding down into the blackness.
Alvin’s fingernails clawed at the smooth metal and found absolutely nothing to hang onto. As the duct slanted down it seemed to get steeper and steeper. The two figures picked up speed in the pitch blackness, and soon were hurtling, one after the other, toward — who knew what?
BLANNNNNGGGG!
Alvin’s feet smashed into something, smashed into it so hard that it gave way with a resounding noise. At the same moment the ducting gave way beneath his stomach and he felt himself flying through space.
THUDDDD!
His feet hit the floor, and instinctively he bent his knees to cushion his fall.
OOOOOOFFFFF!
The second figure tumbled to the floor beside him.
Both boys were dazed. Alvin waggled his head, then looked around. Across the room a door was open, and there was an overhead bulb burning in the corridor outside; light spilled through the doorway and into the room.
Alvin immediately knew where he was. He was lying on the thick carpeting of the City Council meeting room. Turning, he glanced up at the wall above his head. Sure enough, there was a gaping hole. They had slid down the big ventilating shaft, knocked out the cover of the duct, and tumbled into the City Council’s chambers.
Alvin listened intently. There were muffled shouts from above, then a clear voice coming down the ventilating shaft, “They aren’t on the roof or in the ventilating shed. They’ve vanished. I don’t know how they did it. They’ve vanished into thin air!”
Alvin looked at the impostor. “Are you hurt?” he whispered.
“No,” the figure gasped. “Just knocked my wind out.” There was something about the voice that was strangely familiar.
“Come on. I know a way out of here through the service entrance. If we’re lucky we won’t get caught.”
Chapter 18
Unmasked!
Two Superweasels crept down the alley between Maple and Third Streets. When they came to York Avenue, with its bright streetlights, they hung back in the shadow of Mr. Lempke’s garage.
“I’ll lead the way,” Alvin whispered. “When we’re sure no one is around, we’ll sneak across the street. The park is only one block away. We’ll head for it. Then we’ll climb down the bank of the river, and work our way upstream. I think we can make it out of town, now that we got this far away from City Hall without being captured.”
“I hope so. We had a narrow escape back there.” A pause. Then, “Thanks for helping me.”
Again Alvin had the feeling that he knew who was behind the mask — but he just couldn’t place the voice.
A rather strange thought passed through his mind. After the dangers they’d been through together in the past half-hour, he’d begun to like the other Superweasel. He had to force himself to remember that whoever was behind that mask had broken windows and slashed tires, then tried to put the blame on him. Nobody was perfect, though...
Alvin suddenly remembered the time long ago when, on a dare, he’d stolen a handful of nails from Lunt’s Hardware Store; and the time he’d intentionally stepped on the Pest’s new dancing shoes (and scuffed them beyond repair) because she was the center of attention. Shame rose up in his throat. He supposed that everyone did things they were ashamed of, now and then.
As though he were a mind reader, the boy behind the mask reached out and touched him on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he said again. “Thanks for everything. I mean, thanks for helping me get away from the police, and thanks for not clobbering me, especially after I caused you so much trouble by making everybody blame you for —” His voice trailed off. Shame had closed his throat, too.
“Come on, let’s go.” Alvin tried to make his voice harsh. “We’re still not safe in these outfits, and we don’t have time to get out of them here.”
He scurried across the bright street and ran headlong through a backyard to reach the fence that ran around the park. It was a low fence, and he was across it within seconds, then fleeing toward the river. In the darkness he slipped down the bank, and almost fell into the water. Another figure slid down to join him.
“Who’s there?” The voice belonged to Mr. Figgens, who took care of the park.
“Come on!” Alvin whispered urgently. He floundered upstream, half in and half out of the water.
Hours seemed to pass as he pushed himself to his physical limit, the other Superweasel matching him stride for stride. Occasionally they thought they heard pursuers, and stopped to listen. Once, when they were far out of town, they heard startled voices from a car parked right on the bank of the river. Still they splashed on upstream.
As he worked his way around a bend, it occurred to Alvin that by now he must be covered with mud — and that the mud no longer smelled the way it did when he, Shoie and the Pest had worked their way up the river. It seemed a very long time ago that Superweasel had set out to cure the world’s pollution. Well, he thought, at least we did some good. We cleaned up Weasel River.
He sniffed, and smelled nothing but the sharply sweet smell of the newly budded trees that rose on either side of the stream. It may be quite a while before we catch any fish in Three Oaks Pond, he thought, but Superweasel really did clean up the river — and stopped the smoke from the foundry and organized all the kids to clean up Riverton like it’s never been cleaned up before.
He was mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done when he floundered around another bend and spotted bright lights ahead. They were approaching the chemical plant. In fact, just a few yards farther Alvin stumbled across what remained of the dam he and Shoie had built. He scrambled up and sat astride the drain pipe from the factory. For some time now he had heard no signs of pursuit.
“I think we’re safe now,” he said to the figure that stumbled through the water toward him. “Let’s stop and rest. We’ll get rid of these outfits, and head back to town from another direction. I don’t think anybody knows who we are.”
A moment of silence. Then, “I know who you are, Alvin.”
Alvin was taken by surprise. So Superweasel was not really a mystery figure after all! Again there was that nagging familiarity of the voice...
“If you know who I am,” he said, “there’s no reason to keep my face covered.” He ripped off the mask and threw it onto the bank. He stared at the other figure. The floodlights from the chemical plant clearly illuminated the mask. Who was behind it?
“Who are you?” Alvin asked.
“I’m too ashamed to show you.”
“If you really are ashamed of what you’ve done, then down deep you must be a pretty good guy,” said Alvin. It was a very profound thought, and he felt like an adult as soon as he said it. He also felt better about stealing the nails, and deliberately ruining his sister’s shoes.
“I can never make everything right again.”
“You can try. But the first thing to do is take off the mask.”
Hesitantly, one arm reached up to t
he chin of the mask. Then in one swift movement the mask was swept off and sailed through the air, to land on the bank beside Alvin’s mask.
There, in front of Alvin, stood Windy Biggs.
Alvin was surprised, then sensed exactly what had happened, even before the words came tumbling from Windy’s lips.
“It all started when you deliberately pushed me into the river on the way home from school that day. At least I thought you did it on purpose. Did you?”
“Cross my heart I didn’t. I was fooling around, which I shouldn’t have been doing, but I slipped and couldn’t avoid hitting you. Cross my heart.”
“Anyway, I thought you did it on purpose. And I swore I’d get even with you. Then, after you’d sneaked into the chemical plant, my father showed me the bucket you left behind. I recognized it right away. It has a yellow ‘F’ painted on it. I suppose that stands for ‘Fernald.’ Once last fall I saw your little sister wearing it for a football helmet. Suddenly I knew you were Superweasel. Later, I asked my father if the plant really was polluting the river, and he said no. He said it several times, very loud. I believed him. I really did. Wouldn’t you believe anything your father told you?”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose I would,” said Alvin, thinking of his own father. He didn’t say it, but he thought how awful it would be to find out that Dad really was lying, deliberately lying, to him.
“That made me even more determined to get even with you, and when your picture appeared in the paper, dressed as Superweasel, I saw my chance. I made a costume that looked just as much like yours as I possibly could. I even bought a mask like yours at the Nifty Novelty Shop. Then, to get even, I did all those awful things — broke windows, ruined tires, sprayed paint all over — so Superweasel would get the blame.”
There was a pause. Then Windy continued in a low voice: “When I found out my father was lying — about polluting the river — you’d think I’d have been sorry. But I wasn’t. That just made me madder, because you had shown him up for what he is — a liar. Next week I was going to break some more windows. Then I was going to write a letter to the police and tell them that Alvin Fernald was Superweasel. I figured they’d find your costume somewhere around your house, and then you’d really be in trouble.”
Alvin Fernald, Superweasel Page 9
