Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the Hardy Detective Agency Presents "Quality Time" by CQB

Joe Hardy opened his eyes to absolute blackness. It was almost totally silent, except for a dripping sound and the wind blowing outside. Gradually, Joe’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he was starting to see distinct shapes. He slowly turned his head to try and get his bearings. But when he tried to move, his entire body was suddenly and mercilessly seized in pain. He screamed and thought he was going to pass out, but forced himself to endure until the pain diminished.

‘Oh no. The plane. We crashed.’ Joe thought, remembering the terrifying descent through the clouds and seeing jagged mountain tops and scraggly pine trees far too close to the injured plane. He remembered the horrible sound of the wings being torn off and then the hammering of trees hitting the helpless fuselage, and finally the thundering of the plane as it hit the earth and rolled several times. Once the plane was still, Joe had blacked out. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or injury.

"Dad?" Joe tentatively called out, afraid any sudden movement would bring the pain back. He lay still, listening to the near silence, with tears silently falling down his cheeks. He drifted off to sleep, wondering if he was going to die on this mountain.

When Joe opened his eyes again, he could see stars out the broken window. It was also much colder and Joe felt himself shiver. He slowly moved his head and felt pain, but not as severe as before. He began to slowly move various body parts, trying to assess the damages. He was sure his left arm was broken and possibly the collar bone, too. His ribs were definitely bruised, if not broken. There was dried blood on his face from a cut along his hairline on the right side of his forehead. His left hip was sore and there was a sharp pain in his right thigh. He tried to tilt his body to see what was wrong with his thigh. It brought a wave of pain and nausea, but he managed to see a piece of metal trim from the side of the plane had pierced all the way through his leg.

He then turned to look at the seat where his father had been. Fenton Hardy was slumped in the seat. Joe saw that his father’s face was covered with blood, but the elder Hardy’s chest was moving, bringing fresh tears to Joe’s eyes. ‘Dad’s hurt, but at least he’s alive.’

"Dad? Can you hear me?" Joe called, feeling fear building in his chest. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, but that caused too much pain in his ribs and chest. He knew he was going to have to move or they would all die from their injuries or hypothermia or both. Joe released his safety belt. He would have to free his leg from the metal trim before he could get out of his seat. He bent forward, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hip and ribs. He tried to keep his left arm tucked against his body, but with every movement, he could hear as well as feel bone grating against bone.

Joe looked at his leg and guessed that he would have to try and stand, pulling the leg off of the metal at the same time. He braced his good arm on the side of the seat, near the injured leg. ‘Okay Hardy, just do it!’ he told himself. With his good arm and all the strength he could muster, Joe pushed himself into a standing position, lifting his leg in the process.

The intense pain as gravity took over and pulled Joe’s body forward, brought a fresh, piercing scream. Darkness was trying to swallow Joe as he now lay on the debris-covered floor of the plane. Someone was calling his name. Joe fought the darkness and focused on the voice.

"Joe! (cough) Joe is that you?" the voice was coming from the front of the plane. "Joe? Come on kid! Answer me!" the voice said, louder this time.

"Chuck?" Joe said, barely whispering. He felt completely drained.

"Yeah...are you (cough, cough) hurt bad?" Chuck asked, coughing loudly from the dark cockpit.

"Broken bones," Joe murmured, feeling the darkness descending again.

"Joe! (cough) Don’t fade out on me kid!" Chuck shouted. "I’m trapped and I think I’m pretty busted up. You’ve (cough, cough) got to get the first aid kit from the tail section."

"Can’t. H-hurts too much," came the feeble reply.

"Joe, you have to," Chuck responded, softer this time, knowing the kid was probably hurt worse than just a few broken bones. "We will (cough) all die here if you don’t help us out." Joe knew Chuck was right. He pushed himself up on his right elbow and looked at his thigh. It was bleeding steady, but not squirting blood. Joe knew from his first-aid course that if an artery had been hit, the blood would squirt out with each heartbeat.

Joe began to painfully crawl over the debris toward what was left of the tail section. He found the locker where the first aid kit was stored. The lid felt like it weighed a ton as Joe forced it open. He pulled the kit free. Joe leaned back, exhausted from the effort. ‘Maybe it would be better just to die,’ the boy thought, ‘then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.’ He closed his eyes, but then heard a soft moan coming from the seat directly in front of him.

With renewed determination, Joe crawled forward, pushing the first aid kit in front of him toward his injured father.

"Kid, (cough, cough) what’s happening?" Chuck called out.

"I’m going to check Dad," the boy replied.

Once he reached Fenton Hardy, Joe pulled himself up at the side of the seat until he could reach his father. Mr. Hardy’s pulse was weak but steady. His breathing was raspy, and wheezy. Joe gently tilted his dad’s head back slightly and the man moaned again, but his breathing seemed better. Joe realized that he needed more light. He needed to look for the camping gear, knowing his dad would have packed flashlights.

Sighing, Joe once again made the pain-filled crawl to the rear of the plane. He dug through the gear and pulled out a large, high-wattage flashlight and a smaller, pocket-sized flashlight. He returned to his father’s side and began checking for injuries. Mr. Hardy seemed to have a broken leg, but it was the large, swollen bruise above his left temple that had Joe very concerned.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.