Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

For Frank, the morning classes passed in a haze of disembodied lectures and incomprehensible words. Several times, the teachers had to call out to him, to draw his wandering mind back to the classroom. Vaguely, he was aware of the looks cast in his direction, some puzzled, some full of sympathetic understanding. The sympathy only fueled his growing sense of guilt. Joe was somewhere out there, hurt and alone, and he was sitting in class and carrying on as if his brother's life was the last thing on his mind. As the morning wore on with painful slowness, Frank knew that he could no longer maintain this façade of calm inactivity. He needed to be out there, actively searching for his brother, if only for his own sanity of mind.

Stubbornly and with an almost fanatical determination, he refused to allow his mind to consider the darker possibilities of his missing brother. Joe had to be alive! To think otherwise was something totally beyond his current capacity.

A sudden snapping sound startled him and he stared at the broken pencil in his hand. He could feel the teacher's eyes on him, as well as the others in the class.

"Sorry," he muttered in a low voice.

Fortunately, the bell signaling the end of the class rang just at that moment and Frank quickly gathered up his books and made his way out of the classroom before he was asked for a further explanation. Once outside the classroom, Frank stood for a brief moment with his eyes closed as he struggled to channel his chaotic thoughts.

"Hey Frank!" a voice called out from somewhere to his left.

Frank opened his eyes reluctantly and saw Biff hurrying toward him.

"Where are you off to?" Biff asked as he fell in along side of him.

"I can't stay here anymore," Frank said tightly. "I'm going out there to look for him."

Biff threw him a sympathetic look. "Come down to the cafeteria first. The guys want to talk to you."

Frank shook his head. "No, I don't want to waste any more time. There's nothing to talk about anyway."

"Come on, Frank," Biff said, taking him by the arm. "It won't take more than a few minutes. We all want to help."

Frank looked at his friend's sincere face and relented. "All right, just a few minutes. I've wasted the entire morning already."

Tony, Phil and Chet were already waiting for them at their usual table in the cafeteria, as was Callie. As soon as she saw him, Callie quickly got up and gave Frank a fierce hug.

"You okay?" Callie asked gently. "You didn’t return any of my calls."

"Sorry," Frank muttered. "I've got a lot on my mind."

She cupped his face briefly. "I know. I hope you don't mind, but I told the guys what happened. What can we do to help?"

"Yeah, Frank, just tell us what to do and we'll be on it," Tony said.

Frank looked at his friends and nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, guys. I don't even know how I can help, myself."

"Well, we've been talking among ourselves," Biff said. "I think the best thing to do is for us to search the neighbourhood and air out any place that might be remotely suspicious."

"The police are doing that already," Frank said. "And my Dad and Sam are also out there."

"I'm sure they can use the extra help. The more people, the faster we can search through the place," Tony said.

Phil nodded in agreement. "It can't hurt, Frank. At least we'd be doing something, instead of sitting here just worrying."

"Yeah," Chet chimed in. "Let's grab a quick bite and then get going."

"What about school? I was going to take off this afternoon, but it's not fair to ask you guys to skip out as well," Frank said. "The school will contact your parents."

Tony shrugged. "I am sure my parents will be more than understanding. What about you guys?"

Biff nodded. "No problem from my end. My folks would be upset if I didn't do anything."

Phil and Chet nodded in concurrence. "Same here."

"I am coming too," Callie said.

"Callie --" Frank said as he took her hand, "I'd rather that you not come. It's not the safest of neighbourhoods."

"I can take care of myself, thank you," Callie said indignantly. "Besides, I'll have you guys for company. It's not as if I'm doing this on my own."

"Cal --" Frank continued to protest.

"Shut-up, Frank," Callie said shortly. "I'm coming and you're not going to stop me. You're not the only one worried, you know. Joe may be a royal pain in the butt, but he's probably the closest thing I have to a little brother. Right now he's in trouble and I am not going to let you or anybody else stop me from looking for him."

"Yay, Callie!" Biff said, giving her a thumbs-up.

Callie acknowledged his show of appreciation with a curt nod. "Okay, Chet, you come with me and we'll pick up some sandwiches and drinks. The rest of you can wait for us out in the cars. We'll save time if we eat on the way."

Frank regarded his friends and felt a tightening in his throat. "Thanks guys. I really appreciate this."

"Hey, Joe may be your brother," Chet said. "But he's our friend."

"Ditto that," Tony said.

Phil gave Frank a brief clasp on the shoulder. "We're all in this together."

"Damn right we are," Biff said firmly.

Frank nodded, unable to trust his voice at the moment to properly express his gratitude to his friends. He took in a deep breath and felt some of the helpless frustration slipping away. Hang on, little brother. We are coming.

It was dark. In fact, it was so dark that he was unsure at first that he was actually awake. But within seconds, any doubts as to his wakefulness were dispelled as pain assaulted him from all directions. At first, the pain was so overwhelming that he could not tell where exactly he was hurting. A groan escaped from him, the weakness of which startled even himself. He shifted slightly, trying to pull away from the unrelenting pain, but found the movement only added to the existing agony. Helplessly, another cry escaped from him.

The next few minutes passed in a fog of disoriented memories and disjointed thoughts, as the all-encompassing blanket of pain slowly separated and adhered itself to the different parts of his battered body. Most of the pain seemed to be coming from his arm and his leg, though the front of his chest burned and stabbed with each ragged inhalation and exhalation of breath.

What happened? Where was he?

He groaned out loud again as another wave of pain swept mercilessly through him. Flitting memories began to fall into place. His first coherent thought was that they had left him alone, and part of his numbed mind was thankful for that fact. At least they would not be inflicting further pain on him, although he was hurting so much already that he didn't think it possible to feel any more pain.

His feeling of gratefulness was short-lived, however, when he realized his tormenters might have just abandoned him to a slow, more drawn-out end. He shivered at this last thought and his body reacted by erupting immediately into a painful bout of coughing. For an agonized second or two, he thought the new onslaught of pain would push him into unconsciousness once more, but he was not afforded even that small mercy.

Whimpering and half-sobbing from the most recent assault on his body, Joe Hardy made the strenuous effort to gather whatever senses he had remaining to him.

His hands were still tied behind him. Though the bonds were not tight, he knew it would be impossible for him to loosen himself from their hold. He had not the strength, and besides, it hurt too much to move his arms. It hurt to move anything at all. In the near total darkness, he could not tell if his arm and leg had stopped bleeding, though he could feel the uncomfortable wetness of what only could be blood on both appendages.

He shivered again and realized that wherever he was being held, the place was unheated. Although they had left him his jacket, it was not enough against the deep, penetrating cold of his lightless prison. The likely loss of blood probably did more than its part in robbing his body of the vital warmth. He wondered, a little disjointedly, whether the blood loss or the cold would claim him first.

How the hell did he end up like this?

Easy, he thought to himself, you acted without thinking, as usual. He found that he could not even feel sorry for himself. Stupidity, after all, did not deserve sympathy. Frank would have a heyday coming down on him this time, not to mention what his father would have to say to him. Then the horrible thought struck him. I might not be alive to hear what they have to dish out.

Suddenly it was becoming impossible to breathe and he fought down the rising panic at the thought of not seeing his family again. No! They will find me! They will not leave me here to die, in the dark and alone. Frank will find me! Frank is always there to pick up after me! Frank --.

He suddenly realized that, in all his life, he had depended on his older brother to always be there, to pick up the pieces should things go wrong, as they invariably did. His steadfast, reliable older brother, the pillar of strength, the one who unfailingly pulled him back from the precipice of disaster, time and time again. Was that why he always jumped into things with so much abandonment, with so little thought to the consequences? Because he knew Frank would be there to bail him out regardless of what happened?

Hardy, you might have jumped one too many cliffs this time. Frank does not know where you are right now. In fact, nobody knows where you are. In your stubborn, stupid one-man mission to save someone else's life, you've managed to burn all the bridges to your own life this time. Why didn't you listen to your father? Why did you not have the sense to leave things well enough alone? Why didn't you at least take a precious minute or two to tell Frank where you were going and what you were going to do?

No, big brother, I guess I did not think about what I was doing, again. You are so right, Frank. You always are. I'm sorry, Frank. I should have listened to you. And you know what hurts the most, big brother? That I might not ever have the chance to tell you how right you are, and how wrong and stupid I am. I'm so sorry.

Suddenly, something bit down sharply on his tied hands and Joe Hardy screamed in fear and pain. He screamed again as he tried to shake his hands free from whatever had them in its grip. There was a loud squeak and something scurried away, brushing his shaking hands with its sickeningly slick, furry hide.

The breath sobbing in his throat, Joe waited in frozen fear for the next inevitable bite. His eyes darted about in panic, seeking vainly in the dark for what he knew were out there. Rats! He was being bitten by rats!

Suddenly it was all too much and he heard his own uncontrollable sobs escaping from a fear-tightened throat.

Please find me, Frank, please!

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.