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

Joe hadn’t wanted to spend another night in the cold plane, but he was too tired to try and figure out how to get his dad moved to the cabin. As soon as the first light of morning peeked into the battered plane, Joe roused his weary, aching body and commanded himself to get busy.

First, he checked his dad’s condition, and finding no change, proceeded to prepare his father for the journey across the ravine to the cabin. Joe checked the makeshift splint he had built for his dad’s leg from pieces of the plane. It wasn’t the best looking job, but being that Joe had managed to make it with one hand, it was doing the job quite well. He then re-bandaged Mr. Hardy’s head wound. Joe also crushed a couple of the Ibuprofen and mixed them with some snow, feeding the mixture into his father’s mouth.

Next, Joe opened the door and pushed the yellow raft through it, holding onto the inflation valve. Once it was outside, the boy pulled the release valve and the raft promptly inflated. Joe then lined the inside of the raft with several blankets. He ran his forearm across his brow and was surprised that his forehead felt so warm.

Joe hobbled back to his father and released Mr. Hardy’s safety belt. Joe managed to climb behind his dad despite the pain in his hip and thigh. He eased his dad to the floor, and then, scooting on his bottom, Joe began pulling his dad as carefully as he could toward the door. Fenton Hardy’s only response was an occasional moan.

"We’re going to make it to that cabin, Dad," Joe spoke as he eased his dad across the floor. "It’ll be warmer in there, and maybe there will be some food. If we’re real lucky, we might find a radio of some kind to send an S.O.S. signal, but I’m not counting on that one." Joe continued to talk to his dad while he lowered him out the door and into the raft.

Once his dad was in the raft, Joe stopped and leaned back against the seat his dad had recently vacated. He was bathed in a layer of sweat and knew that the leg injury was probably infected, causing a fever. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’ Joe thought, ‘I hurt all over and that cabin might as well be miles away. It’s going to be slow going to get across that ravine.’

Fenton Hardy’s head hurt more than he thought was possible. He knew the injury must be severe, yet he didn’t die from it or he wouldn’t be hurting so much. He was being moved and he wanted to protest, but couldn’t make his body respond. Who was talking to him? The voice was very familiar, but sounded so far away. Fenton allowed the darkness to pull him down once again.

* * *

Jack Wayne and Frank Hardy had made a criss-cross pass several times before heading back to the Ranger station command post to refuel. They were both tired and discouraged, though neither would let the other know.

"Let’s grab a bite to eat before we go back up," Jack suggested. Frank nodded. He didn’t feel like eating, especially since his dad and brother probably were starving, if they were even ... ‘No!’ Frank thought, ‘They have to be alive!’

Soon, they felt refreshed and climbed back on board the plane, Frank flying this time. They got new coordinates from Sheriff Tanner and headed out into the clear, Wyoming sky.

"Jack? Do you really think we’ll find them?" Frank asked as he banked the plane left. Jack looked carefully at Frank. Frank and his brother Joe had a unique relationship. They had an uncanny ability to communicate, almost telepathically. He had seen this ability in action on more than one occasion.

"What’s your gut say, Frank?" Jack asked, avoiding Frank’s question. Frank glanced back at Jack.

"Joe’s alive. I know it." the boy stated, "But I’ve had a sharp pain in my shoulder and left arm for awhile. Also, my right thigh is sore. I think I’m feeling Joe’s pain." Jack looked at the boy. If that information had come from anyone else, he would have thought the person was a nut case. But this was logical, practical Frank Hardy talking.

"Then we’ll find them, Partner," Jack smiled reassuringly, "Joe’s countin’ on us!"

* * *

Joe Hardy secured the rope to the life raft, and then looped the end around his good shoulder. He had tucked all their supplies around his dad, hoping the boxes, bags and other packaging would act as a cushion, keeping his father as comfortable as possible.

On the snow, the rubber raft glided easily, but on the rocky, dry areas, it didn’t want to move. Joe strained and pulled, sweat pouring from his body. He had fallen so many times that the knees on his jeans had holes, and his good hand was pretty scraped up from the rocks. His good shoulder was rubbed raw from the rope. He had gone less than 15 yards in the last hour. ‘I’ll never make it at this rate.’ he sighed. Tears stung his eyes and he wanted to just lie down and give up. A moan from the raft drew Joe’s attention.

"Dad? Dad, if you could just open your eyes for me, please!" Joe begged, easing himself down beside his father. Fenton Hardy heard that voice again. It sounded closer this time. ‘Concentrate. Hardy!’ he told himself. Joe. It was Joe’s voice. He sounded...scared? Worried, maybe? What was he saying?

"Joe," the sound barely escaped Fenton’s parched lips. Joe felt like bursting! He quickly offered his dad some melted snow. Mr. Hardy sighed and opened his eyes. He saw his younger son’s handsome face streaked with blood and tears falling from his deep blue eyes. "Joe," he managed to say a second time, before the darkness won again.

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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.