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

Jack Wayne landed his plane in Torrey, Wyoming without any problems. Both Jack and his co-pilot, Frank Hardy were beat. They had followed the same flight path that Chuck Fisher had taken, but saw no trace of the ill-fated plane. The two young men checked in at the Ranger station, where the search and rescue effort was being conducted. Though they were tired, they wanted to see what progress had been made before checking into the motel for a few hours sleep.

A search for the missing plane had begun six hours after the last radio contact. It had been over 24 hours now since the last contact Chuck had made with the Torrey Tower. Frank ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘No sign of them, but I can’t give up hope.’ He and Jack went to the motel to get some rest before joining the search.

* * *

Joe Hardy grabbed a handful of snow before crawling back inside the plane. His heart was beating rapidly and questions were racing through his brain: Was someone living in the cabin? Did they know the plane was here? Could he get to the cabin? Could he get his dad to the cabin? What would he find if he got there?

Joe moved to his father’s side. He needed to get some of the snow into his dad’s mouth, but couldn’t from his position on the floor. ‘Okay Hardy!’ he admonished himself, ‘Don’t be a wuss and just stand up!’ Using his good arm for leverage, Joe pulled himself into a kneeling position. The left hip was sore, but it would probably support his weight. He pulled up again until he was on his feet. The hip was throbbing, but bearable. The right thigh burned like a hot arrow was piercing it, but he was standing!

Joe took a tentative step and found that he could bear weight on his left leg, but not so much on the right. He pushed some of the dripping snow into his father’s mouth. Mr. Hardy stirred slightly, making a soft moaning sound.

"Dad? Can you hear me?" Joe asked hopefully. The elder Hardy didn’t respond. Joe sighed and put the rest of the snow in his father’s mouth and watched to make sure his dad swallowed it. He then slowly walked back to the door, grasping the back of his dad’s seat as he went. He pushed the door open, then knelt and scooped up more snow for himself. Joe groaned as the icy, cold liquid eased down his dry throat. He couldn’t believe how much better he felt, just getting the liquid in his body. He gazed at the cabin. ‘Surely if someone was there, they would have heard the plane crash, wouldn’t they?’ Joe asked himself.

Since he was feeling a little better, he decided to search the rest of the plane for anything that might be useful. He found blankets, a lighter, canteens, binoculars, another first-aid kit and, much to his delight, an entire box of protein bars!

Joe’s blue eyes came to rest on an oblong, metal box behind the camping gear. Stenciled neatly on the side were the words, ‘LIFE RAFT’. He pulled out the yellow mass of a self-inflating rubber. He tossed the rest of the supplies inside the raft and pulled it toward the center of the plane, near the door. ‘This raft could be our transport to the cabin,’ Joe thought, ‘But first...’

Joe quickly ripped off the wrapper of one of the protein bars and hungrily devoured half of it. He then stopped and folded the paper around the rest of the bar and put it in his pocket for late. He opened the first aid kit and saw a bottle of Ibuprofin, which he also tucked into his pocket. Digging more, he found a shoulder sling in the bottom of the kit. He smiled for the first time since the plane went down. Joe struggled to get the sling in place, but it was difficult to do with one hand and moving the injured arm and shoulder was more painful than he ever thought it could be. Finally, he sighed. The sling was on, though not as tight as it should have been. ‘Got to be a help, though,’ Joe reasoned.

Putting on the sling and gathering, then dragging the supplies from the rear of the plane had exhausted Joe again. He checked his father’s vitals and was encouraged that they were still strong. He re-bandaged his thigh, noting that the bleeding had pretty much stopped. Then, Joe Hardy fell asleep beside his father’s seat.

* * *

"The weather is much clearer today, Mr. Hardy," commented Sheriff Colt Tanner to Frank Hardy. "Visibility has been hindering us since the search started."

Frank nodded to the tall, sandy haired man, then walked over to join Jack Wayne. Jack was busy studying a map attached to the wall of the command post. The markings indicated where the search planes had already looked.

"There’s so much territory!" Frank said, trying not to get discouraged, "And it’s been over 34 hours, Jack!"

"I know Frank," the pilot said, putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder, "but your dad and brother are two tough dudes. Chuck Fisher’s no slouch either. If anyone can survive a plane crash, it’s those three."

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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.