Without warning, the young man sprung forward, and pushing aside anyone who got in his way, raced to his brother’s side. “Joe!” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “Joe, can you hear me? You’re still alive...you have to be! Joe!”

Frank watched his brother with bated breath, searching for some sign of life. A slight moan. A shift of a hand. Those stunning blue eyes flickering open. But there was nothing. Depression, anger, fear, and grief welling up inside him, Frank felt for a pulse. There was none. Knowing it was pointless, but willing to try nonetheless, he felt for a breath on his brother’s lips. When nothing happened, Frank flung himself onto his lifeless brother’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably into the hospital blankets.

The doctors and nurses watched the scene with breaking hearts. The boy was so young, only seventeen. Much, much too young to die. And his brother—the two were so close. This was so crushing for him.

One of the nurses turned to the doctor that had delivered the news. “What did you think you were doing?” he spat.

“What do you mean?” the doctor, whose name was Angel, said.

“You know perfectly well what I mean. You should not have told the young man that his brother is dead. You needed to tell the father first and let him break the news to his son. It would be much less painful that way. Plus, it’s hospital policy.”

Dr. Angel’s eyes narrowed as she said, “I know the policy, Ricky. I just don’t think it’s fair to Frank that I lie to him when he asks me what happens. He did watch his brother die.”

“Well, either way,” said another nurse, Shirley, “we need to get Frank out of here and call Fenton. Then we need to get the body out of here. I suppose Fenton will make the arrangements for the funeral himself. It’s so sad, isn’t it? Their whole family will be absolutely broken hearted.”

“Yes, I know,” Angel said. “Horrible, just horrible, isn’t it?”

***

Fenton had just fallen asleep in Frank’s hotel room when the phone rang. Getting up groggily, he picked up the phone and said, “Yes?”

“Mr. Hardy?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Fenton said. “Who is this?”

“This is Doctor Angel from the hospital.”

“Oh, hello. Is everything alright? Has Joe regained consciousness yet?”

“Actually, Mr. Hardy, I’ve some bad news.”

Fenton gripped the receiver tightly. “What’s wrong?”

“It pains me greatly to inform you of this, Mr. Hardy, but...Joe had a relapse. He’s dead.”

“DEAD?” Mr. Hardy yelled, head spinning. “That’s not true.”

“That’s the same thing your son said, Mr. Hardy.”

“Oh no! Frank! Is he alright?”

“He broke down when he found out his brother was dead. We had to pry him away from the body. Right now he’s in one of the nurse offices with Shirley. She’s trying to calm him down. I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Hardy. You should probably come right away.”

“Yes of course. Thanks for telling me,” Fenton said, voice wavering. As soon as the doctor had hung up, he fell to his knees gasping. “Please no!” he cried. “Please don’t let this be happening! Not Joe!”

Finally he regained his composure somewhat, and still overwhelmed with grief and numb with disbelief, headed for the door. Suddenly, he remembered Laura and his sister, Gertrude. They would have to know! So would the girls. He resolved to go to the hospital first, get Frank, and have Joe’s body taken back to Bayport where the funeral would take place. Then he would get the girls and tell them the news. Afterwards, he would call Laura and break the horrible truth to her.

Fenton hurried to his car, tears spilling down his cheeks. Joe...dead...

He couldn’t believe it. His seventeen year old son, gone. That hotheaded, impetuous kid he had raised, dead. Tears clouded his vision as he struggled to remain focused on the road.

Soon he was at the hospital. Walking inside, he was greeted by several nurses. “Mr. Hardy,” the one named Ricky said, “I’m so sorry. Your son is waiting for you in Shirley’s office. Right this way, sir.”

Fenton’s heart broke even more as he saw his eldest (and now, his only) son sitting in a plastic chair, head buried in his hands, sobs racking his muscular form. Fenton strode over and gently touched him on the shoulder.

Frank looked up, revealing bloodshot eyes and tears running down his cheeks. “Dad,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Joe’s...”

“I know, son,” Fenton said in a strained voice. “I know.”

He pulled Frank to his feet and hugged him tighter than Frank had ever thought possible. “Don’t worry, son. Joe’s in a better place now.” His voice choked as he said, “We’ll get through this somehow...someday.”

“No we won’t,” Frank countered. “How can you even say that?”

“I don’t know, Frank. I honestly don’t know.”

***

Three days later, they were all back in Bayport. The procession to the funeral was a sad one. The first people to arrive, naturally, were the Hardys. Laura’s eyes were bloodshot and dark circles were under them. Aunt Gertrude seemed to have shrunk, seeing that she stooped much more when she walked down the aisle to the coffin. Fenton and Frank followed, both worn and grief stricken. Several family friends assembled in, including a grave-faced Con Riley, red eyed Sam Radley, and a sad Chief Collig.

Then came the Hardys’ friends. Chet Morton came in, eyes puffy and bloodshot. He came up to Frank and clapped him on the back. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” he murmured. “Trust me, I know just how you feel.”

Just a few months ago, Chet’s sister, Iola, had died in a car bombing.

Then came Callie and Vanessa. The girls were sobbing uncontrollably, especially Vanessa. They fell into Frank’s arms. “Frank, I can’t believe this happened,” Callie muttered.

“I’ll never live through this,” Vanessa wailed.

It was too much for Frank. Without another word, he broke free and raced out of the church, only to be met at the door by Biff Hooper, Jerry Gilroy, Phil Cohen, and Tony Prito. All had been great friends of Joe’s.

Frank sat on the pew next to his parents and Callie, trying to hear what the preacher was saying. He only caught a few phrases. The one that stood out most profusely was, “At only seventeen years of age, Joe Hardy was taken away in the flower of his youth.”

Frank recalled that the minister had said almost the exact same thing at Iola’s funeral.

After the service, all headed to the graveyard for the burial. Frank was sobbing uncontrollably as he saw the coffin lid nailed shut over top his baby brother.

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as the coffin was lifted, then lowered into the ground.

***

Frank awoke the morning after the funeral, feeling more depressed than he had ever been in his life. At first, he couldn’t remember why he was feeling so grief-stricken. But then it all came back to him...the gunshot...the hospital...the funeral...Joe...gone...

Blinking back tears, Frank forced himself out of bed and got dressed. He was about to go downstairs when he heard a strange noise coming from Joe’s room. He quietly walked through the bedroom that connected the boys’ rooms. As he came to the door and peered in, he realized the noise was his mother sobbing.

She was sitting on Joe’s bed, holding his pillow, the one he had rested his head on so many times in his life, rocking back and forth. Frank wanted to go in, comfort her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. He himself was so full of grief that he knew any attempts to console anyone else would be pointless.

He spun around and raced down the stairs, where his father was sitting at the kitchen table. “Good morning, son,” he said. His eyes were red from crying and his voice was strained. All color and life seemed to have drained out of his usually animated face.

Without replying, Frank grabbed his jacket and said, “I’m going for a walk.”

Fenton consented with a slight nod of his head. He didn’t even bother to inquire as to where Frank was going. He already knew.

Frank started down the street, head down and his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. Memories flashed through his mind; all the great times he and Joe had shared. All the dangers they had faced. Frank had always known, deep down, that danger might kill one of them someday...but not this soon...not now...and not Joe.

Frank had always been the overly protective brother. A slight smile began to form as he recalled all the times Joe would whine about how annoying he was.

The smile faded away as quickly as it had formed. I suppose I wasn’t as protective as I should have been, Frank thought.

He knew that there really was nothing he could have done, but still, he felt like it was his fault that Joe was gone.

Frank was pulled from his thoughts as he reached the entrance to the graveyard. He silently made his way to his brother’s grave. Tears pouring down his face, he knelt beside the place where Joe was buried. “I’m so sorry, little brother,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Hey.” Frank spun around, only to see Biff Hooper and Chet Morton standing behind him.

“Hi,” Frank responded, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

“Man, we’re so sorry this happened,” Biff said, his voice breaking. “Joe was—Joe was an amazing person. And he was lucky to have a brother like you. Man, you gave him the best years of his life. You were always there for him when it counted—even when it didn’t count.”

Frank stared at him, unsure of what to say.

“We kind of heard what you just said,” Chet admitted, his chubby face turning a light shade of pink. “But c’mon, Frank, don’t blame yourself.”

“I just—I just can’t believe that he’s really gone,” Frank muttered, staring at the headstone, which read:

Joe Hardy

Died age 17

Ace Detective

Amazing Friend

Loving Son

Incredible Brother

Rest in Peace

“I know, Frank, it’s so wrong,” Chet agreed. “I remember when Iola died.” He paused, stealing a look at Frank. “But—maybe now they’re finally together.”

This was too much for Frank. Not caring if his friends saw, he fell to his knees and sobbed. All of a sudden, he sat up straight, listening.

“Frank, what is it?” Biff asked a bit hesitantly. It was amazing to see Frank break down like that. Frank was always so cool, calm, and level-headed. But he knew how close Frank and Joe had been. It was understandable.

Frank whipped around, tears still shining on his face. “Shhhhh!” he hissed. “D’ya hear that?”

Chet and Biff looked at each other and shrugged.

“I heard a knocking sound!” Frank said.

Suddenly, they heard it. A knocking sound, faint at first, but growing louder by the second.

“Where’s it coming from?” Biff asked in amazement.

Frank put his head to the ground and then lifted it back up. “I know this sounds impossible,” he said slowly, hardly daring himself to believe it, “but it sounds like it’s coming from Joe’s grave.”

“Maybe it’s a ghost!” Chet squealed, glancing nervously around him.

“Stop being ridiculous!” Biff spat. “Even if ghosts were real, then do you really think Joe’s ghost would want to hurt us? We were his friends, remember?”

Frank was ignoring the entire conversation, his heart pounding madly. The knocking noises were growing fainter. But they were still there. And now he was positive they were coming from Joe’s grave.

“Guys!” Frank yelled, sprinting up so fast that they jumped.

“Don’t do that,” Chet complained. “You nearly gave me a heart attack—oops,” he said, looking at Frank apologetically.

“Guys, I know this sounds impossible, but that noise is coming from Joe’s grave!”

“Are you trying to suggest that he’s alive?” Biff said uncertainly. “That’s impossible.”

“I know. But there’s something down there that’s knocking. And we’re gonna find out what it is. Chet, you go get Chief Collig. Tell him to bring some men down to the graveyard. Biff, you grab the grave diggers and call the paramedics—just in case. I’m getting Mom and Dad. There’s something down there. Something alive. And I won’t rest until I find out what it is.”

***

“Okay, people, this is it!” said Chief Collig. Fenton, Laura, Frank, and Gertrude were all gathered around Joe’s coffin, which the grave diggers had just hauled out of the ground. “We don’t know what is in here with the body that is making these knocking noises—which, by the way, have ceased to exist—but let’s not get our hopes up. We were all there. We attended the funeral. We saw the body. Joe is not alive.”

Laura started to cry, clinging to Fenton’s arm for support.

The grave diggers slowly, systematically, began to remove the nails from the lid. Then they pulled open the lid.

Hearts pounding, the audience peered into the coffin. Nothing, save for the body.

“Maybe I was imagining things,” Frank said, staring at the unmoving form of his brother. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Just as the diggers were about to nail the lid back on, Frank yelled for them to stop.

“What is it?” Collig said.

“Look!” Frank breathed. Everyone sucked in their breath.

Joe’s hand shifted, just a few centimeters. A low moan escaped his lips. Then those sapphire eyes fluttered open. Looking up, he saw his family around him. “Frank?” he whispered.

Frank stood astounded. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Joe was alive!

“Joe?!” Frank breathed. “You’re alive?” He and his family were astounded, but not too amazed to leap forward and start to help him up. Joe gasped in pain, and they reluctantly set him back down inside the coffin.

Joe stared at them all, his face a mask of confusion. “What happened?” he whispered. He started to tremble all over. “Why am I in a coffin? Why did—“ his voice wavered, “—why did I wake up underground?”

Before anyone could say anything, the paramedics pushed through. “Step aside, please,” they ordered. Carefully lifting Joe, they placed him on a stretcher and strapped him in. He was immediately given an oxygen mask. When Frank asked why, he was told that Joe had been underground for nearly twenty-four hours. He had little oxygen left when they found him.

They began to load Joe into the stretcher, and Frank ran up to them. “Can I ride with Joe?” he asked, eyes pleading.

The paramedics considered this for a moment, then one of them slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, son,” he said, “but we’re going to need room to work on Joe.”

Frank joined his parents and together, they began to drive to the hospital.

***

In the emergency waiting room, the family began to discuss the strange and wonderful happenings. “How was this possible?” Laura said, glancing from Frank to her husband. Biff and Chet were also there, along with Callie and Vanessa, who had been astounded by the news that Joe was still alive.

“He didn’t die,” Fenton said thoughtfully. “But he looked dead. He seemed to fool everyone.”

“But he couldn’t have fooled the doctors,” Frank said.

“Exactly,” Fenton agreed. “I have a feeling that someone in that hospital wanted Joe dead. They didn’t just want him to die from the gunshot though, they wanted him to suffer.”

“I see what you’re saying,” Callie said, “but how would they do such a thing?”

“Yeah, I mean somebody was bound to notice that he wasn’t dead. One of the other doctors or something,” Chet put in.

At that moment, a doctor came up to the group. “Joe is conscious,” he informed them. “He’s in ICU right now, so, once again, only family members can see him today. Sorry guys.”

“That’s fine,” Biff said. He smiled warmly at the Hardys’. “Tell Joe we’ll be up to see him as soon as possible.”

“And tell him I love him,” said Vanessa.

After they had left, the doctor continued. “He has been taken off the oxygen mask, but he is still in a lot of pain. The infection has returned, full force, and he is running a temperature of 102.3 right now. When we get it down (and we’re giving him medicine for it through an IV right now, since he is unable to keep anything down at the moment), and hopefully it will be tomorrow, if he is stable, we’ll bring him into surgery. Once we remove the bullet, it’ll be a long recovery, and quite possibly, a pretty traumatic one as well. It’s not often that someone gets buried alive like that. He’ll probably have to stay here for a week, a week and a half, something like that. That is, unless he has a relapse, which I think is extremely unlikely. Any questions?”

“Can we see him now?” Frank asked, eager to see his little brother again.

“Right this way, room 194 on the first floor, ICU wing. Only one person can stay the night with him, and visiting hours are over in fifteen minutes.”

“Frank, you can stay with him tonight,” Fenton said. “There’s something I want to check out tonight about what happened to Joe.”

“What is it?” Frank asked eagerly, as they approached Joe’s door.

“I’ll tell you later,” Fenton promised, as he opened the door.

Joe was leaning back in bed, eyes closed. He didn’t look near as bruised as he had at the first hospital, but Frank figured that he had healed up a bit before he had “died”. His face was a deathly pale, and there was an IV beside him. To Frank’s immense relief, there was no sign of a heart monitor anywhere.

“Joe?” he said, striding forward, his parents by his side. They each took a seat by Joe’s bed. The youth’s eyes slowly opened. “Frank? Mom? Dad?” he said. “What happened?”

Frank leaned forward and gave his brother a loving embrace. Laura kissed him lovingly on the head, and Fenton did a combination of both. “We’re so glad you’re okay,” Frank said, his eyes beginning to fill up. “I—we—thought you really were dead—everyone did.”

“I’m okay,” Joe said. “I was just wondering how long it was going to take you to figure it out.” Despite Joe’s attempt at humor, Frank could see that something was still haunting him.

“It must have been terrifying, waking up to that,” Frank said.

“It was,” Joe said, voice trembling, making his family look at him with sorrow. “At first I didn’t know what had happened. But then I looked around and realized that I was in a coffin—buried. I didn’t know what to do. But then, I heard footsteps.” Joe’s voice was hardly more than a whisper. “I realized that someone was walking above me. So I did the only thing I could think of. I knocked on the lid of the coffin. After a while, I became really tired, and I blacked out. I guess I must have been running low on oxygen. But when you guys pulled me out, the fresh air must have awakened me. Then I think I lost consciousness again on the ride to the hospital. I woke up here. But how did you find me?”

“Just dumb luck, I guess,” Frank said, shuddering at the thought of what would have happened to Joe if he hadn’t come to the graveyard when he had. “I was feeling absolutely horrible when I woke up this morning. I decided to go and visit your...” he faltered, glancing at Joe.

“My grave,” Joe finished. “Go on,” he prompted.

“Right...well...Biff and Chet had the same idea, and we all met up there. I heard you knocking...and well...you know the rest.”

A nurse came in and announced that visiting hours were over. “Joe, before I go,” Fenton said seriously, “I need you to answer one thing for me. What is the last thing you remember before you woke up in the coffin?”

Joe screwed up his face as he tried to think. “Uhhh...oh, wait! It was really weird. I remember that I was just starting to wake up in that other hospital. This doctor...I think her nametag said ‘Angel’, was coming toward me. She had this shot in her hand, and she was coming toward me. She saw that I was awake and said something like, ‘Well, hello Joseph...I hope you’re not afraid of the dark, because it’s going to be real dark when you wake up.’ Then she injected me and I blacked out.”

Fenton looked angry and was about to respond when a doctor came in. “Mr. and Mrs. Hardy? Good, I was hoping I could catch you before you left. Ah, hello, Joseph,” he said, eyes twinkling, “how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Joe said.

“Why don’t you go ahead and check his vital signs while I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Hardy...oh, you must be his brother, Frank,” the doctor said. His nametag read, “Dr. Fred.” “Joe’s mentioned you countless times. Is it alright if Frank hears this too? I believe he’d find it very interesting and it gives an explanation for the eerie happenings lately.”

“Of course,” said Fenton and Laura in unison.

The foursome stepped out in the hall, and Dr. Fred said, “On the ride to the hospital, a blood sample was taken. We’ve had it tested and have the results. It seems that he had a drug in his system that makes breathing extremely shallow, so shallow that he doesn’t seem to be breathing at all. It also makes the pulse so weak, you are unable to feel it.”

“That explains a lot,” Frank muttered.

“However,” Fred went on, “there was no way a doctor could have overlooked it.”

“Just as I thought,” Fenton said. “Will that be all, Doctor?”

“Yes, as soon as the nurse comes back with the results of his vitals.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go on and leave for the other hospital. I have a hunch that I want to investigate. Laura, you don’t mind staying in the waiting room for a little while, do you?”

“You know what, since Joseph is doing so well right now, Mrs. Hardy, you can stay as well as Frank. Just don’t let any of my colleagues know. They might think I’m going soft on the patients.” With a wink, and a promise to let them know if anything else turns up, Dr. Fred bustled off.

Fenton left too, promising to let his wife and sons know what was going on the minute something big happened.

Joe’s temperature had shot down from 102.3 to 100.2. The nurse said the surgery could take place the next day.

Later that night, as Joe was slumbering on the hospital bed, Laura sleeping on the rollaway bed, and Frank sitting next to Joe, eyes open, watching his little brother sleeping, while rubbing his hand with his thumb, the phone rang.

Frank sat up and grabbed it. “Hello?”

Fenton Hardy’s voice answered. He sounded elated. “Doctor Angel Montgomery has been arrested for the attempted murder of Joseph Hardy.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked quietly, trying not to awake his mother or brother. “How?”

“I can’t give you all the details right now, but I’ll tell you all the full story tomorrow after Joe’s surgery, so he can hear to. But I will say this: she was working for Black and she was his girlfriend.”

“I figured she had something to do with it,” Frank said, “but not that she was so personally involved.”

They chatted for a while longer before they hung up.

Frank squeezed Joe’s hand. “You’re safe, baby brother,” he whispered, then added, “for now at least.” He chuckled, then leaned back to get the first somewhat peaceful sleep he’d had in a long time.

***

Later the next day, Frank, Laura, Fenton, Aunt Gertrude, the girls, and Chet, Phil, Tony, and Biff had gathered in Joe’s hospital room, after his surgery. Joe was awake, and, although he was still in pain, was able to talk with his friends and family.

“I don’t understand,” Chet said, once they were all settled down, Laura and Fenton in the plastic chairs beside Joe’s bed, their friends scattered about the room, sitting on the sink and sprawled on the floor, and Frank sitting on the end of Joe’s bed. “How did Dr. Angel make Joe look like he was dead? ‘Cuz that funeral was real enough.”

“It took a lot of planning,” Fenton said. “When she found out that Black, her boyfriend, had failed in killing Joe, she instantly began to plot a way to finish the job. Being one of the most respected doctors in the institute, she had a lot of power. She took away the doctor that was originally supposed to attend to Joe and put him with another patient. Then, before visitors were allowed, right when Joe was just beginning to lose consciousness, she injected him with a drug that makes a person literally have the appearance of death, with breath so shallow they seem to have none at all, and the same with the pulse.”

“Wow, that kinda sounds like the stuff Juliet took in Romeo and Juliet to make her appear dead so that she and Romeo could be together,” Vanessa commented.

“It actually had a herb in it similar to what Shakespeare was referring to in his play,” Fenton informed them, then continued. “She also messed with the heart monitor, setting it to go off when the drug started to kick in. Frank just so happened to be in the room when Joe ‘died’. Angel would not let any medical personnel too close to the ‘body’ so that they would not realize he was still alive.”

“But what was she hoping to accomplish by all of this?” Laura asked, her voice trembling.

“Revenge,” Joe said simply, speaking for the first time. “She wanted to help her boyfriend get revenge on Dad...but she wanted me to suffer, too,” he added.

“As if you hadn’t suffered enough already,” Frank muttered, eyes blazing.

“Joe was buried alive and then you know the rest,” Fenton concluded.

“Do I ever,” Joe said, smiling slightly.

After everyone had left, Frank moved to the chair beside his brother’s bed. Joe, who had been getting drowsy from the pain medicine he had been given, let his eyes droop a bit as Frank took his hand.

“Some week, huh, little brother?”

“You’re telling me,” Joe said, a crooked smile playing at his mouth. Insane ThunderWorld employees, a criminal out for ‘ultimate revenge’, an evil doctor, a faked death, a ‘resurrection’...wow, it sound like a soap opera, huh?”

“You’re telling me,” Frank said, then grinned. “But, really, it’s just another day in the lives of Frank and Joe Hardy!”

The End

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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.