It seemed to Joe that he and Detective Ellison had been slogging through tunnels and trying to find access to impenetrable spaces for hours, although a quick look at his watch told him that it had been less than 45 minutes from the time they’d slithered through the old, half-hidden and long-forgotten entrance. 

Joe thanked his lucky stars that he’d managed to remember where it was, after all these years, and that it hadn’t been caved in when he did find it! The fact that Ellison had, somehow – Joe still wasn’t quite sure how – heard a response to their frantic calls was encouraging, but what if something had happened since then? Ellison seemed tireless, moving with grim purpose, his head tilted at an angle almost like he was still listening for Frank and the others – but that’s impossible! I wonder how he can tell where he’s going, though, when I’m behind him and I’ve got the flashlight? Maybe it’s a Ranger thing....I wonder if we’re getting any closer to Frank and the others? Ellison seems to know where he’s going, but...how can I be sure?  Joe sighed softly. I’m better off with him than I’d be trying to find Frank on my own, though...can’t argue with that!

Jim’s thoughts were even more bleak than Joe’s, for he could hear the sullen, subterranean gurgle of water as it ran into the building – as well as the creaks and cracks and groans as the overstressed building settled further into the earth – and even if the public works department had gotten the water shut off, there was still far too much for comfort, especially down in these bottom levels. Try though he might to dispel them, images kept flashing before his eyes, images of Blair lying trapped beneath piles of rubble and debris while water crept inexorably up around him – crept ever higher, until it covered his face...and his Guide, his partner, his best friend, drowned once more – and this time, Jim Ellison arrived too late to save him! 

This isn’t happening...this can’t be happening...it can’t be...not again! I won’t LET IT!  Grimly, Ellison forged on, Joe Hardy close behind.

*****

“Captain Banks? Captain? Simon?”

Simon Banks raised his head and stared bleakly at an anxious-eyed Rhonda. His blonde personal assistant hovered in the doorway of his private office.

“What is it?” he rasped. 

“I tried calling the Bayport police – all I could find out is that part of the building went down – not all of it, just one section. They didn’t have casualty lists yet; there hasn’t been time. They did say that the building had already almost emptied before the collapse, though – Simon, Daryl could be just fine, you’re probably worrying for nothing!”

“I tried calling their cell phones – Ellison and Sandburg’s. Neither one answered. Does that tell you anything?”

“It tells me that they left their phones in their hotel room,” Rhonda said stoutly. “Or they turned them off so they wouldn’t get interrupted during the seminar sessions.”

Banks stared at her somberly. “I hope you’re right,” he sighed. “I wish Daryl had taken his phone. He left it at home rather than bother switching calling plans just for a few days.”

“And if you couldn’t reach him either, would that help?” Rhonda asked softly.

Simon glared. “No, but if I could reach him it would help a whole damn lot!” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, Rhonda.”

“I’ll keep pestering the Bayport people for updates,” she said, and departed.

*****

“Daryl? How’s the water level?” Frank looked at his wristwatch, glad that his left arm was free, at least, and thankful that so far their lights were still shining brightly. It had been over half an hour since Daryl started piling debris up, trying to keep the advancing water away from Blair Sandburg’s unconscious body.

“Still rising,” the other boy replied grimly. “I can’t seem to keep it back, Frank; it’s up almost to his ears...I’ve propped his head up a little, but—”

“Daryl, stop! Shhh! Just for a minute!” Frank lifted his head again, straining to hear. For just an instant he could have sworn he’d heard Joe’s voice, raised in a frantic scream, calling his name. “Listen! I thought I heard...”

Below, kneeling in the sodden debris, the dark-skinned boy listened intently as well, and after a moment they both heard it, muffled and distorted but very, very real – Jim Ellison’s voice, calling their names: 

“Frank!? Daryl? DARYL! SANDBURG?! CHIEF?  BLAIR!” 

Both boys responded at the same time, their cries blending: ‘Detective Ellison? Joe? Joe?’ ‘Jim? We’re here! We’re here! Blair’s hurt...he’s unconscious! Frank’s trapped!’ 

But their only reply was silence, and hope flickered...and died. How could Jim and Joe – or anyone else – find them in this little prison? And even if they could...how could they be rescued, before the rising water submerged them – starting with Blair Sandburg?

*****

The two rescuers eyed the last obstacle in their way. On the other side of that wall, they were quite sure, were Frank and Daryl and Blair. Jim had fastened onto his partner’s familiar heartbeat quite some time ago. It was steady and slow, and he suspected that Blair was either asleep or unconscious...which worried him; it was unlikely Sandburg was asleep, and if he wasn’t asleep, he had been unconscious far too long. The Sentinel had identified two other heartbeats as well, although which was Frank Hardy’s and which Daryl Banks’, he had no clue. They were excited and stressed and worried...but neither of them sounded to be in serious distress, thank God!

“Let’s try here.”

“Can we kick through it?” Joe asked, eyeing the wall dubiously in the light of his little flashlight.

“Since we don’t have anything to cut or break through it with, that’s our only option,” Ellison replied. “We’re as close as we’re going to get, far as I can tell.”

Joe nodded his agreement. “We can’t get any speed or momentum in here; there’s not enough room,” he noted.

“Got any good karate moves?” the detective asked, with a little grin. 

“Frank’s better, but I know a few.” Joe laid the little flashlight on the floor so that it illuminated the wall, and squared his shoulders. Then he turned sideways to the wall and prepped himself for the assault.

Beside him, Jim Ellison matched his moves. He was no karate expert either, but years of training in all sorts of fighting methods had made him familiar with the techniques. “Wait a minute, let’s warn them.” He cleared his throat and then thundered: “DARYL! FRANK! It’s Jim – and Joe. We’re going to kick through the wall! Okay?”

It didn’t take a Sentinel’s enhanced hearing to catch the answering yells, and Jim smiled tightly at Joe. “Okay, on three. One...two...three!”

The two leaped forward, their legs shooting out in powerful kicks which struck the wallboard with considerable force. Jim’s foot dented the wall but didn’t go all the way through; Joe’s heel punched a hole. 

They drew back, panting, preparing for the next assault. 

“Bet you hit a stud,” Joe said, “that’s why you didn’t go through. Move over a little bit.” He pointed. “Let’s both try to hit as close to where my foot went in as we can.”

Ellison nodded, and again they leaped, kicking with all their might. This time both of them broke through the wallboard. Jim jerked his foot free, grabbed at the edges of the hole, and began tearing at the wall; Joe caught his balance and then added his efforts. In only a minute or two, they’d ripped enough off to bare the studding to view.

“Still have to get through the other side,” Joe panted. 

To their surprise, there was suddenly a banging and thumping on the other side of the wall. “Jim!? Joe!?” a muffled voice cried.

“Daryl? Hang on, we’re almost there!”

“Daryl, move away from the wall, we’re going to break through!” Ellison ordered loudly. He started to raise his foot for another kick between two studs, and then stopped and turned to Joe. “Your legs are younger than mine, kid. You do it; I’ll brace you.”

His teeth bared in an almost feral grin, Joe nodded, and grasped the studs, balancing on one foot. He felt Ellison’s steadying hands on him, and took a deep breath. Hang on, Frank, we’ll be there in just a minute! With a ferocious scream, Joe leapt and kicked out – and felt the plasterboard give beneath the onslaught.

“OW!” Joe couldn’t help the involuntary yelp of pain as his shin came in contact with one of the wall studs. 

“Easy! Pull your foot back!” Detective Ellison was still holding him up. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine!” Joe quickly pulled his foot from the hole he’d made in the wall, and managed to regain his footing. “Let’s get in there!”

Ellison was already shoving through, and his efforts were now aided by someone – Daryl – clawing at the rapidly-enlarging hole from the other side. They cleared enough space between two studs to wriggle through – and Jim and Joe stopped, gazing at an incredible sight:

The small enclosure was cozily lighted by two tiny keychain-lights and Frank’s blue-white halogen flash. Where once had been a nine-foot ceiling, there was now less than six feet between top and bottom. Near the top of a half-crumbled staircase, Frank Hardy lay, nearly concealed beneath the rubble. Daryl Banks crouched in front of them, still tugging at pieces of plasterboard to enlarge the gap in the wall...and Blair Sandburg lay at the foot of the stairs. A sort of dam, consisting of chunks of concrete and pieces of wood, had been constructed about him in an effort to hold back the encroaching water, but even so, he was half-submerged. 

Frank’s voice shook slightly: “’Bout time you got here!”

“We stopped and caught a movie first,” Joe said, his voice as shaky as his brother’s.  ”Should I go back and get a rescue team?” he asked Ellison softly. 

Jim shook his head. “Not yet; let’s see what we’ve got first. Maybe we can get them out ourselves,” he said, equally quietly. Louder, he added “Daryl, you okay? Frank, what about you?”

“I’m fine,” Daryl answered immediately. “But Blair’s hurt, Jim – he’s come to a couple of times, but he’s been out more than in. He took a couple of nasty whacks on the head, and his leg’s hurt, too.”

I know he’s hurt...I’ve known it the whole time.... Ellison nodded briefly.

“My leg hurts, but I’m mostly just stuck,” Frank said. “If you can just get me outta here....” 

Joe and Daryl immediately began working to extricate Frank from his temporary prison; Ellison hastened to join his partner. He squatted down, sliding his hand beneath Blair’s neck to raise his head slightly, lifting it from the water. “Sandburg? Chief, you with me here?”

After a few moments of Jim’s gentle prodding, Blair opened his eyes. His _expression was one of extreme weariness and desolation...until he grasped who was bending over him. “Jim?” he whispered in disbelief. “Wh-where’d you come from?” He blinked slowly, letting his eyes drift shut. “I figured we were goners, man.”

“You think I’d give you up that easily?”

“Everybody has limits...even you.” Blair shivered. “Didn’t think you...could find us...in time.”

“Well, you were wrong, Sandburg – although I won’t say you didn’t make it difficult. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Ellison said whimsically. “You’re barely out of the airport and buildings start falling down around your ears!” 

“Man, I’ve been...outta the airport...whole day,” his partner murmured. “Not my fault.”

“Sandburg, you’d just walked inside and the Sports Complex collapsed! You know, you ought to come with a warning label!”

“Just...lucky that way.” Sandburg shifted slightly and flinched. “Jim, I don’t wanna discuss this right now, okay?”

“Suits me.” The Sentinel maneuvered until he could get his partner’s head situated comfortably against his knees, and brushed back the tangled wet hair from Blair’s pale face. “Just take it easy; everything’s gonna be all right. How’re you feeling?”

Blair eyed him with profound disfavor. “My head hurts,” he said bitterly. “My leg hurts. My back aches. I’m lying in water, Jim! Cold water! I just had a building fall on me. How the hell do you think I feel?” 

“You’re making it pretty clear,” Ellison conceded. “Just hang on a little longer, Chief; we’ll have you outta there in no time!”

A few feet away, Frank Hardy was making similar complaints – without reference to lying in cold water – as Joe and Daryl worked to free him, but they were too relieved to pay much attention to his griping.

“What the heck am I going to tell Mom?” Joe asked, scraping rubble away from his brother’s body.

“Start out by telling her we’re both fine,” Frank advised. “Take the initiative, Joe!”

“Man, that’s a good idea!” Daryl corroborated. “I think I’ll have to do that with Dad. ‘Hi, Dad, I’m fine. I’m just fine.’ That’s a good way to start the conversation.” He looked over at the two detectives. “He’ll have heard about this, won’t he?”

Jim looked slightly uncomfortable. “I hadn’t even thought about that,” he muttered. “But something like this would have been all over the news as soon as it happened.”

“And neither of us had our cells with us,” Blair added. “Simon’s probably been trying to call us for hours.” He shivered again, and groaned. “Jim, can’t you get me out of here? I...don’t feel so good, ya know?”

“Okay, just hang on, partner.” Ellison laid the back of his hand against Blair’s pale cheek for an instant, frowned, and began removing debris from around him. “Joe, Daryl, could you give me a hand for a minute? Frank’s not going anyplace, and Blair’s pretty chilled, here, from being in the water....”

“We’re got it anyway,” Joe announced, as he and Daryl hefted the largest piece of wall off his older brother, essentially freeing him. “There you go, Frank!” They hurried to join Jim and aid his efforts. 

A few minutes of concentrated work resulted in Sandburg being carefully extricated from his watery resting place, carried up the broken steps, and laid gently beside Frank. Jim knelt down again, removed his jacket, and wrapped it around his shivering partner, then pulled him close, trying to impart a little warmth.

“That better?”

“M-much. Th-thanks, man.” 

“Jim, is he okay?” Daryl’s whisper was so soft that Ellison was startled...just how much did Daryl know, that he kept to himself? He glanced up and caught the boy’s smirk. Obviously more than he lets on!

“Hypothermic,” he murmured, and all three boys looked concerned. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” Jim said aloud, encouragingly. “Won’t you, Chief?” 

“F-fine, yup...” Blair shivered again. “J-j-just wet.”

“And a few other minor details, like this?” Jim queried, touching the bandage on Blair’s head with gentle fingers. 

“That t-too.”

“Daryl? You do this?” Ellison asked. When Daryl nodded bashfully, Jim gave him a grateful smile. “Good job – couldn’t have done any better myself,” he complimented him. “See, Chief? I told you a first aid kit would come in handy this afternoon!”

“V-very funny.”

“Frank told me what to do,” Daryl confessed. “I probably wouldn’t have—”

“You’d have done just fine,” Frank interrupted, and the other boy smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, man. Jim, Blair’s leg is hurt, too – and maybe other things, but I couldn’t really do anything else for him...” Daryl still sounded very worried and apologetic.

“Daryl, you did good – I mean it. You did the best you could with what you had; no one could have asked any more of you,” the big detective said. While cuddling his roommate to warm him, he’d also been discreetly checking him for further injuries, using dialed-up touch. He’d noted a lot of bruising, especially when he felt a rib or two – Blair had probably been hit with falling debris – but hadn’t worked his way down as far as the legs. “Which leg, Chief?”

“Um...right ankle.”

“And just when were you going to let me in on that little detail, Sandburg?”

“When I needed to...stand up,” Blair murmured.

Jim grunted, more in amusement than annoyance, the boys chuckled, and Blair smiled drowsily at his ability to inject a little humor into the situation. The smile turned into a sharp wince when Jim ran his fingers over the injury.

“OW!”

“Sorry...don’t feel anything broken, but I’ll bet you’ve given yourself a nasty sprain, possibly torn something. It’s pretty swollen right now. How’d you do it, anyway?”

“Slipped in the water and rolled it, when the wall started going. Tryin’ to get up the steps.”

“Ah.” The Sentinel dug through the little first aid kit he’d pulled from his pocket, and found a small elastic wrap bandage. “Let’s put this on; it won’t hurt, and it might help.” He glanced over at Joe, who’d been doing something similar with Frank. “What’s the diagnosis for your patient, Doctor Hardy?”

Joe looked embarrassed but flattered. “I think that his leg’s maybe broken, but I’d appreciate it if you’d check it,” he said. “You told that police officer you’d been a medic...?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Ellison murmured, concentrating on his job of wrapping Blair’s leg. “Army Rangers.”

“Covert Ops,” Blair whispered proudly; now it was Jim’s turn to flush with embarrassment.

“A medic’s a medic,” he said dismissively, but he doubted that the boys or Blair really believed him. “And that wasn’t my primary job anyway.” No, your primary job was a whole lot nastier than that...but you aren’t going to explain all that to these kids. And Blair probably suspects, but he doesn’t need to know details either! 

He finished making Blair as comfortable as possible, and moved to check the elder Hardy boy. After a few minutes he sat back on his heels and smiled reassuringly at Frank. “Your brother’s a pretty good guesser; I’d say he’s right: that left leg’s likely fractured. But it’s not displaced, and I’m betting it’s not broken all the way through. Since we have another of these—” he held up the second Ace bandage— “I’ll wrap it, just to add some support, but you aren’t going to try walking on it, not putting weight on it, got that?”

Frank nodded meekly. “Yessir.”

“Are we going to be able to get Frank and Blair out of here by ourselves?” Joe asked, while waiting for Jim to finish.

Ellison considered the question carefully, mentally assessing everyone’s conditions. Of them all, Sandburg was in the worst shape – somehow, that didn’t strike him as being the least bit unusual! Frank couldn’t walk unaided, but seemed otherwise okay. Daryl – well, Daryl had some bruises and scrapes and such, but was essentially unharmed. He, himself and Joe were fine, physically, although once the adrenaline rush cut out, he had doubts about either of them holding up for long. 

“I don’t see why not,” he answered Joe at last. “If we can find something for Frank to use as a crutch.”

“Rebar?” Daryl suggested, and began looking around for a suitable length.

“Find me a piece too, Daryl,” Blair spoke up. “My ankle’s just sprained; I can walk outta here if Frank can.”

Daryl looked at Jim. In the dim light of the little flashlights, he could just make out the detective’s raised eyebrows and skeptical grin, but Ellison shrugged and moved to sit next to his partner again. “We can try it,” was his only comment. Inwardly, he added: And it better be soon. Those little flashlights aren’t going to last forever!

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.