hardy boys fan fiction
SUMMER STORM

by

ANYA
hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction
Chapter 11
hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

Joe came to a stop and leaned wearily against a tree. It was still raining, and even the dense foliage couldn’t keep the water out. He had thought the trees might shelter him from the rain, but not only was it raining too heavily for that, every now and then a stiff breeze would add to his misery by shaking a tree-load of water on him. As far as he could make out, there wasn’t a dry spot anywhere in sight.

The sky had begun lightening, and the sun would rise soon, but the trees managed to block out most of the light. Joe had discarded the shawl somewhere along the way, it offered no respite from the rain. His clothes were full of small rips and tears where they’d gotten caught in the branches. He had even had to take off his shoes and socks, and tie them around his neck, after his feet had sunk straight into the mud, and got completely covered in it. He’d never known mud to be so sticky ever, and not for the first time, he wondered where exactly he was. Something about the place seemed to strike a chord but he just couldn’t figure out what.

He’d been trying to follow a small trail he’d come across but it was difficult to stick to it in this weather. He just hoped he wasn’t going round in circles. He’d finally started nicking a few trees here and there, hoping it wouldn’t give away his presence if Walker set out in search of him.

He looked around now, and started panicking as he realised that he couldn’t even make out which direction he’d been coming from

Joe shut his eyes in despair and tried to think. He knew there was some way of making out the direction using his watch but he’d found it broken when he’d managed to unite himself earlier.

I wish Frank were here, he’d know what to do. Joe shivered as a gust of wind blew through the woods, creating an eerie moaning sound.

Everything around looked the same, brown and green, dark brown and dark green, grey rain, black shadows, trees and more trees. The rain kept up a continuous litany as it came in contact with leaves, bark and earth.

The pre-dawn light gave everything a strange colour, and everything around him seemed to be a play of light and shadows. Deep, dark shadows not revealing a thing. Like something out of a horror movie, people got lost in woods like this and were never found again.

Woods where the trees were huge, and old and gnarled like these. These trees weren’t like the ones near his house that he had climbed as a child.

And one huge tree seemed to be walking towards him holding out its branches…

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"Who is it?" Frank asked as he ran up to where Chet was standing behind a clump of bushes, Phil and Con following on his heels.

"Someone’s standing on the porch," Chet commented, "It’s a man."

The figure seemed to be looking at the rain and then at his watch. Then he turned around to look in the direction of the shed. The watchers sunk lower behind the bushes, absolutely still. After what seemed like an eternity to Frank, he went back inside the house.

"Who was it?" Phil whispered.

"That’s our guy!" Frank told him. He’d recognized him quite easily.

Con nodded, "I’ll tell the others we’ve found our man," he said pulling out a two-way radio.

Yes, but where’s Joe? Frank hugged himself unhappily, as a cold breeze blew in from the ocean, watching Con call Fenton and tell him they’d located the house.

"What if Joe’s inside the house," Chet asked suddenly.

Frank started. What if Joe had escaped and this guy had caught him and decided to keep him inside the house? He hadn’t thought of that.

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Joe shook himself awake. I’m wasting too much time. If it’s nearing morning, those guys will wake up and find me gone, and start searching, I’d better find a road soon.

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t turned so he would have come from the direction his back was facing. As simple as that.

He took another look around, and then straightened up resolutely and continued on his way. He’d just keep going, and trust his instincts to take him the right way.

Joe plodded along till he reached a fork in the trail and then stopped irresolutely. He frowned trying to figure out which way to take, biting his lip as his newfound confidence began slipping away.

Think, he told himself angrily, just think.

Both paths seemed disused, and went in completely opposite directions. Either way, the tree cover was dense.

A gust of wind brought the brackish air of the sea with it, and Joe almost jumped as he smelt the salt in the air. If they were near Bayport, it meant the direction the wind came from was east. He figured if he headed west he’d hit a road of some sort. There would definitely be a road on the coast, probably some way uphill; he just had to find it. It can’t be far now, he told himself, as he set off westwards.

This fork seemed to be narrower than the other, and the woods seemed darker and denser than along the fork. But Joe knew that was just his imagination playing tricks on him. He was just a little tired, he told himself.

--------------------------------

"Now what?" Frank asked Con impatiently as they reached the edge of the clearing where the Sandler house stood, waiting for some of the men from the boat to join them.

Phil pointed out a small trail to them, going away from the house, which entered the woods. "It goes deep inside the woods, we can wait there, it’ll keep us out of sight of the house."

He went a little way further, trying to get his bearings right, while Frank Chet and Con stood at its edge, keeping an eye on the house.

"Now, we wait," Con said quietly.

"We aren’t even sure, if he’s in the house," Frank said worriedly. He ran a hand over his face in a futile attempt to wipe away the rainwater, and then finally said, "Con, we need to split up, Joe could have escaped, he might be wandering around in the woods, and it’s still raining."

"I think he has," Phil’s voice floated over. He was holding a small piece of cloth in his hands, "Frank, what was Joe wearing?"

Frank grabbed the piece of cloth from Phil’s hand, looked at it, and then turned around to Con, "We need to split up."

Con nodded his head in agreement.

"Where does this head?" Frank asked Phil as they set down the tiny little path, leaving Chet and Con to watch the Walkers’ house. He’d picked up the extra raingear they’d brought along.

"It just circles back to the Sandler house," Phil told him, "No, wait, I think there’s a fork in it though, heading towards the beach where we landed."

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Joe wasn’t even sure if there was a trail under his feet any more or he was just imagining it. He just kept stumbling along. He was shivering uncontrollably now. His bare feet kept slipping on the rotting wet leaves lying on the soaked ground, and he’d fallen more than once, scraping his arms and legs. His shoes had slipped off his neck somewhere along the way without him even realizing it. His right shoulder was stinging from where a sharp twig had scraped him earlier. There were numerous small scratches on both arms.

The trees around him seemed to be closing in on him, and he kept wishing he’d taken the other fork, it had looked wider.

"No, it wasn’t wider, you just think it was," he kept telling himself, "Besides that led to the sea, you need a road."

He kept walking on; he’d reach a road soon, and thumb a lift back home. Or maybe he’d come across a house or something. After all, the trail must lead somewhere. Then, he could call home. Frank and his dad would be so surprised to hear from him. They must be worried. I hope they’re not too worried.

And when he’d reach home the first thing he’d do would be to curl up in his soft warm bed and sleep, or maybe he’d have something to eat first.

But for now, he was soaking wet, hungry and tired.

So tired, that he never noticed the fallen branch lying on his way, and tripped over it. It sent him sailing headfirst into the huge oak in front of him.

Joe’s head crashed into the oak’s trunk with a jarring impact, knocking him out. He sunk down onto the ground in a twisted little heap as the rain continued to fall.

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