CHAPTER 7

Up, Up and Away

Wolfie and Fly ran out the exit. They reached the sidewalk and kept running. When Wolfie looked behind her, she didn’t see anyone. “It looks like the coast is clear,” she gasped.

“We better keep going,” Fly said. They slowed down a little. Wolfie was afraid she might drop a drum. They went around a corner and stopped. A man was standing in front of a van with a microphone in one hand and a TV camera on his shoulder.

“There you are!” the man said. “I’m Kurt Kavetsky from FAB News. Would you mind if I interviewed you? After all, our viewers are huge fans of Wolfie and Fly.”

“I don’t see why not,” Fly said. He licked his palm and then ran his hand through his hair.

Wolfie whispered, “Don’t you think we should keep going?”

“Oh, Wolfie, you really don’t understand anything about being in a famous band. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Excellent,” said the man, holding out his microphone. Wolfie looked at him. Kurt Kavetsky looked strangely familiar. Why, he looked a little bit like her uncle Bob! Wolfie remembered the pirate they had encountered in their submarine adventure. He had looked like Uncle Bob too. But this reporter was bald and had a little mustache. Also, he talked in a high voice.

“So tell our viewers what it’s like to be so famous,” said the man.

“We’re really just like ordinary people,” said Fly. “Of course, we’re super talented and have a million friends. And we’re very, very rich. But otherwise we’re just the same as everybody else.”

“Fantastic!” said the man. “And where do you get the ideas for those amazing songs?”

“Well, Kurt,” Fly went on. “It’s hard to know where true inspiration comes from. It’s a gift, really. I guess that’s what makes us so special.”

“And you, Wolfie,” said the man. “Our viewers would love to know how you became such a great drummer.”

“I don’t know,” Wolfie said.

“You’re too modest,” he said. “I have one last question. What kind of toast do you like?”

“Toast?”

“Oh, look! I see your fans have caught up with you.”

Wolfie and Fly both turned to look. They saw the mob of fans coming up the road.

“Wolfie and Fly! Wolfie and Fly! We love you! We want souvenirs! We want your shirt! We want your shoes! We want your pants!”

“Run!” Fly cried. They went around the van and hurried down the street. The cymbal kept banging against Wolfie’s knee as she ran. Ahead she could see a small green park.

“Let’s go there!” she shouted. They ran toward it. But as she got closer, Wolfie saw something that made her jaw drop.

A helicopter.

It was sitting in the middle of the park. The big rotor blade went slowly around as the engine purred. As they got closer, she could see words painted on the side: Wolfie and Fly.

“I didn’t know we had a helicopter,” Fly said. “Cool! Let’s get inside.”

Wolfie looked behind her. The mob of fans was still coming. So she ran to the helicopter, opened the door, and threw the drums and cymbal into the back. She climbed in. The seat looked an awful lot like her kitchen chair at home.

Fly got in on the other side. “We better strap ourselves in. Do you know how to fly this thing?” He sounded a little nervous.

“Well, I read a book about it.”

“That’ll have to be good enough. You better get a move on. Look!”

Wolfie looked through the side window. The fans were almost on them! The engine was already running. She put her hand on the lever to her left. She put her other hand on the stick between her knees. She placed her feet on the pedals.

“Hold on,” she said, gritting her teeth.

She pulled the lever. The main rotor blade sped up, making a great whirring sound. The helicopter shook as they rose. They got about ten feet off the ground. They tilted to one side and then the other as she worked the controls. When she looked out, she could see the fans jumping up, trying to grab the underside of the helicopter.

“Can you get this thing to go any higher?” Fly asked.

Wolfie moved the levers. The helicopter rose up and forward, picking up speed. The whirring blades became so noisy they had to shout to be heard.

“Boy, that was close,” Fly yelled.

Wolfie looked down and saw the houses and buildings and roads and playgrounds. “This is a very interesting view,” she shouted. “You can see the layout of the town. It’s like looking at a big map.”

Fly said something, but the noise drowned him out.

“I can’t hear you!” Wolfie yelled.

“I said, I wonder what that flashing red light on the dashboard is.”

Wolfie looked at the dashboard. There was a light flashing. The light was just above a dial. The needle on the dial pointed to the word empty.

“Fascinating,” Wolfie shouted. “It looks like we’re out of gas. Did you know that helicopters can’t glide the way airplanes can? They don’t have wings. They just go straight down.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Fly yelled.

At that moment the engine sputtered and died. They could feel the vibrations from the rotor blade slowing down.

“This is not good,” shouted Fly.

“You don’t have to shout anymore,” Wolfie said. “I can hear you fine.”

The helicopter went down.