Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe jerked in fear as he felt something scurrying across his outstretched leg and barely managed to bite back another scream of terror. In frenzied panic, he strained and pulled against the ropes that fettered his hands, oblivious to the pain of wrists scraped raw by the constant abrasion. When suddenly he felt his hands slipping free from their bondage, he was at first too stunned to fully comprehend the unexpected freedom. When realization finally sunk in, he brought his hands slowly before him, wincing at the pain of the movement.

All right, Hardy, get a hold of yourself! Nobody is coming to your rescue any time soon, not even Frank, so you better try picking up the pieces yourself if you don't want to die alone in this God forsaken place.

He forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath and forced back the rising panic. Somewhere in the midst of debilitating pain and fear, he knew that he needed to do something about his wounds before he bled to death. He could feel an increasing lightheadedness that threatened to claim his remaining senses and the persistent, plaguing thirst told him that he had already lost too much blood.

His breath hitching painfully in his throat, he began to ease his jacket from his shaking body. In spite of the growing cold, he knew he had little choice but to use his shirt as a makeshift bandage. Gritting his teeth against the jarring pain, he ripped his already torn shirt down the middle, and slipped his left arm out of the sleeve. Then painstakingly, he peeled the shirt from his wounded right arm, crying out as the material was pulled away from the crusted knife wound. He could feel the slow warmth of the blood coursing along his arm as the wound was reopened.

Oh great! Just what you need, Hardy! Like you can afford to lose more blood!

With shaky fingers, he ripped the shirt into strips, being careful not to mislay them in the darkness. Clamping his teeth onto his lower lip, he began to bind the still bleeding wound on his leg. He tied it as tightly as he could bear, knowing that he would have to rely on the pressure rather than the thickness of the impromptu bandaging. After he was satisfied that he had done all that he could for his leg, he began the clumsy process of bandaging his arm and, in the end, using his teeth to help in the task.

By the time he was finished binding his wounds, he barely had the energy to shiver back into his jacket and the desire to give in to the inviting blackness was overwhelming. His eyes had almost drooped closed when he was suddenly jolted awake by another sharp stab of pain in his left hand. With a cry of half-disgust and half-pain, he flung the creature away with the little energy that remained to him.

Stay awake, Hardy, unless you want to become rat dinner!

With a supreme effort, he swept his eyes around the enclosing darkness. His weary eyes suddenly picked up a tiny square of light to the left of him. It was hardly discernable in the murkiness of the room, but as he strained his eyes, he was certain it was a window of some sort, set high above his line of vision. For a befuddled moment or two, he stared at that faint square of light, before realizing the significance of its elevated position.

He was being held in a basement!

Staring at the tiny source of light, Joe Hardy felt a small ray of hope for the first time since coming to his senses in this dark dungeon. He stared intently at that distant window.

If he could somehow get to that window, he might be able to break it open and escape.

The idea took hold in his mind and he felt a faint surge of renewed strength coursing through his battered body. Gritting his teeth against the expected pain, he began to inch his way forward, sparing the use of his damaged right arm as much as he could. His wounded leg throbbed with heart-pounding agony as he pulled himself forward with excruciating slowness. He could only hope that the bleeding would not start anew with his current exertion.

It was difficult to judge the distance in the dark, but after what seemed to be an eternity, the window was still at an infuriating distance. Exhausted and weakened by his efforts and the incessant pain, he lay still for a moment, resting his head on his uninjured arm.

Get moving, Hardy! You can't give up now! What's pain? Push it aside! Ignore it! Come on, you can do it!

His breath sobbing in his throat, he forced himself into motion again. Inch by inch, he closed the seemingly insurmountable distance to the small square of hope.

When the window at last came within reach, he let out a small cry of triumph, only to have it die as quickly on his lips when he realized that there was no way that he could possibly reach the window. If he was unhurt and whole, he might be able to reach the small opening if he jumped, but even that would have been a stretch. But crippled as he was now, when even maintaining consciousness was a major effort, the window might as well be as far away as the moon.

In bitter defeat, he laid his face against the filthy floor and nearly wept at the crushing hopelessness.

No, damn it! He was still breathing! How could he possibly give up if he was drawing breath? If this were the basement, then there would be stairs that would lead to the main level. He would crawl around until he found those stairs. He was going to get out of here, even if it killed him. Better die trying to live than to just lie here waiting for death to claim me.

Frank looked wordlessly at Callie and Biff, seeing their looks of resigned defeat that no doubt mirrored the one in his own eyes. After more than two hours of scrounging in ruined and abandoned apartment units, they were all tired, dirty and cold. Worst of all, they were all beginning to realize the hopeless task that their search was turning out to be, though none was ready yet to voice his or her acceptance of failure. To admit failure now was akin to giving up on Joe, and that was simply not something to remotely consider at this time.

Frank glanced at his watch. "It's time to meet up with the others. We've gone through all the units here anyway. Let's regroup and see what we should do next."

Callie gave his hand a slight squeeze. "We'll keep looking for as long as it's needed."

Frank gave her a small smile. "Thanks."

Biff clapped him lightly on the back. "Let's go meet the others, but Callie's right. I am not ready to call it quits yet."

Frank nodded gratefully. "But I think we need a new strategy. Going through these places aimlessly is not getting us anywhere so far."

"Maybe we should try talking to people and see if anybody's seen anything suspicious," Biff suggested.

"Dad and Sam are already doing that and I am sure the police are too," Frank said.

"Why don't we talk it over with the other guys," Callie said. "Maybe they might have some ideas."

Frank watched with some concern as Callie rubbed her hands together. "We should stop and grab something hot to drink. I think all of us could use a break, and some warmth."

Callie frowned. "I'd rather that we not waste the time."

"Let's see what the others have to say first," Biff said.

Ten minutes later, they met up with Phil, Chet and Tony at the pre-arranged location. From the glum look on their faces, Frank already knew without having to ask that their search was no more successful than his was.

"Some of those places are totally abandoned and looked as if no one's set foot in them for ages. I'm surprised that some of them are still standing," Chet said. "Why doesn't the city just raze them to the ground and build new ones?"

"Money, Chet. It's always about money," Tony said.

"Well, at least knock them down instead of leaving them to breed armies of rats," Chet said. "Sorry, Frank, but we didn't find anything. How about you guys?"

Frank shook his head. "No luck either from our end. I thought maybe we should grab a coffee somewhere and try to come up with a better plan."

"Coffee and donuts sound good." Chet immediately brightened at the idea.

Phil glanced at his watch. "I've got an idea. School should be over in the next half-hour or so. Why don't we hang out in the local school area and talk to some of the kids to see if we can find out anything? If those two losers were using kids to push the stuff, then there may be more than one Jason involved."

"But I thought Frank's dad has already covered the school front?" Tony asked. "Isn't that right, Frank?"

"Yeah, and the police too," Frank nodded.

"But the kids might be more willing to talk to us, rather than to authority figures," Phil pointed out. "Especially in this type of neighbourhood."

"Phil has a point," Frank agreed quickly. "Why didn't I think of this before?"

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go," Biff said. "Don't look so disappointed, Chet. I'm sure there's some coffee and donut place by the school where the kids hang out."

"Now you're talking," Chet grinned. "And I'm sure free donuts will help loosen some of those tongues."

"Now that's another good idea," Tony said.

Just as they piled into the van, Frank's cell phone went off.

"Hello? Dad? I'm, umm, yes, I'm down at the neighbourhood with the rest of the guys. What? Where? But how --, never mind. Tell me exactly where again. Yes, okay. We're on our way," Frank nearly shouted into the phone.

"What? What's happening?" Callie asked her boyfriend frantically.

"They think they know where Joe is," Frank said as he quickly set the van into motion. "And we're heading there right now. It's no more than five, six blocks from here."

"But how? How did your dad find out?" Biff asked from the back.

"Jason turned himself in just now and told them the place where he used to meet up with Ribera and Scala. That's all I know. Dad and Sam and the police are converging on the place right now," Frank said as he drove the van with reckless speed. Please Joe, please be there. Please be all right, little brother.

"Man!" Chet exclaimed. "I am keeping my fingers crossed that we'll find Joe there."

"Same here," Tony said, as he fingered the cross that hung from a chain on his neck. "I'm going to ask for a bit of divine help as well, just in case."

Frank barely heard the conversation being carried on by his friends. The only thought that raced through his mind was that they might have at last found Joe. Along with the hope was also a growing fear. He shook his head fiercely as he stepped down on the gas pedal. Joe was going to be there. He just knew it!

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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.