Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank’s existence seemed to be made up of sleeping...and waking to find himself in weird, unfamiliar places, all of them uncomfortable in some way. This time was the worst, he decided.

First off, his hands were secured behind his back, apparently in handcuffs. You couldn’t break cuffs like you might twine or a rope. Whoever was holding him knew his stuff.

Secondly, his legs were tied together. He supposed that with a great deal of wriggling and contortions he might be able to get his feet pulled up and his hands in front of him, and maybe he could untie the bindings on his legs, and run out of...out of....but...well, maybe he’d try it later. He was so tired, and it sounded like a nearly-impossible task. He wiggled experimentally, and subsided with an inward sigh.

Third, he was gagged, so he couldn’t even yell for help. Not that he expected to find any help. Help had been dependable only by its complete absence, lately. And it wasn’t even the sort of gag that might be rubbed off...no, they’d used duct tape on his face. He couldn’t get it off unless his hands were in front of him, and even if they were, it would hurt like hell to tear it off. I wonder why kidnappers always like to use duct tape so much? I’d like to stick some on a few of their faces and rip it off and see how they like it! It would be worse if his beard was grown out, but he had a vague recollection of some strange girl shaving his face – which gave him the creeps anyway! If my beard was growing out, at least it would keep my face warmer! The duct tape actually helped in that regard, but given the choice, he’d take chill over tape.

Lastly, wherever he was, it was...cold. Quite cold. Not Arctic sub-zero cold, but...cold. And dark. Pitch-black, in fact. If he’d had a hand free to wave in front of his face, Frank knew he wouldn’t have been able to see it. Plus, whatever he was lying on was hard. Uncomfortably hard. There was some sort of matting, but he suspected that it was placed directly on ground...or rock. It did little to protect him from the cold that seeped upwards into his body, and he was wracked by occasional spasms of shivering. He could tell he wasn’t wearing much of anything – a loin cloth, maybe or that stupid grass skirt they’d put on him earlier. If he hadn’t been in such a predicament, it might have been almost funny...in a horrible kind of way.

C’mon, Hardy, pull yourself together. Joe and Dad will be looking for you...you’ve got to try and help them, by helping yourself. So what if you’re going to be killed by a cult and thrown into a volcano as a sacrifice to Pelè! He sighed. What a way to go...dumped into a volcano as a sacrifice to a goddess. Well, nothing like originality, after all....

He rocked back and forth, experimentally, once again considering the possibility of getting his hands in front of him.

The sound of soft footfalls in the silent darkness, followed by a dim light approaching, made him cease his efforts. How the hell am I supposed to escape if they keep checking up on me all the time? He closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing. Maybe whoever it was would think he was asleep, and go away.

A hand touched his cheek – a warm hand. He instinctively responded to the warmth against his chilly face, unable to stop himself from moving the slightest bit. Deciding that he’d given the game away, he reluctantly opened his eyes to dim light and a shadowy figure hovering above him.

“Soon you will be cleansed,” a feminine voice told him softly.

Frank wished desperately that he could communicate with these people! He wanted to tell them that he wasn’t a sacrifice, wasn’t some goddess’s lost mate, he was merely a college student on vacation, and his family would proceed to tear the island apart, looking for him! I want to leave here! I’m not supposed to be here!

But all that came through the gag was muffled grunts. Frustrated, he tossed his head back and forth, eluding the warm hand that stroked his cheek.

“If you are thirsty, I will allow you a drink,” the woman told him, “but you must promise me that you will be quiet. I have heard that the Kahuna is nearby, fasting and praying in preparation, increasing his mana...his spiritual power. He would be angered if you disturbed him.”

Frank had to admit that he was thirsty; he nodded slightly, and the woman worked at the corners of the duct tape to loosen it. He couldn’t help wincing as the sticky tape pulled at his skin. Finally becoming exasperated with the tedium of peeling it off, the woman yanked hard, tearing the tape off in one pull.

That caused Frank to yelp outright in pain! With a huff of annoyance, the woman backhanded him across the mouth.

“I said, you must be quiet!” she hissed angrily, and slapped the tape back into place.

Well, it hurt! he wanted to yell at her, but again, was powerless to do so. Hey! What about my drink!? Come back here! For his captor was rising to her feet, leaving...and taking the light with her.

Despairing, Frank sank back on the woven matting and closed his eyes.

*****

The taxi driver didn’t look any too sure about Megan’s demand to ‘follow that Hum-Vee!’ He stared at her suspiciously over his shoulder, wondering if this was some sort of game they were playing – ‘Make Fun of the Stupid Hawaiian Taxi-guy,’ for instance. Mainlanders! Haoles! Well, they were cute girls, and they were paying him, so he supposed he could go along with the scheme for awhile. He pressed down on the accelerator in an effort to keep up with the Hummer ahead. But the large vehicle kept increasing its pace, tearing up the road, and the taxi driver was hard put to keep it within sight.

“Go faster! Catch him!” the red-haired girl pleaded, leaning over the seat back to urge him on. “We’ve got to talk to the driver! It’s important!”

He shook his head, knowing that his car didn’t have the muscle to compete in a race with a Hummer, but willing to try.

“Megan, relax!” Vanessa tugged on her friend’s arm, pulling her back in the seat. “He’s doing his best.” She was trying hard to keep the other girl calm, hoping against hope that they could catch Quint and make him reveal where Frank had been taken. The Hardys always come through...they will this time too. They’ve got to! Joe will find him – I refuse to believe they won’t find him! “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”

Megan shrugged her off, not responding to the soothing words. She kept her eyes glued to the speeding vehicle ahead, and saw it abruptly turn onto a dirt road, throwing up a huge plume of dust. “There! He turned there! Don’t miss the turnoff—” The words choked off as the taxi driver screeched to a halt, shaking his head. “What are you DOING? Don’t stop, you’ve got to keep going, go after him! Don’t just sit there like a lump!” she shrieked desperately, and shook the man’s shoulder in frustration.

“Why did you stop?” Vanessa was nearly as baffled as Megan.

“Lady, that’s a dirt road! There’s no way I can keep up with a Hummer on a dirt road!” the driver explained, turning a harassed face to the two girls. “This car isn’t built to take on that kind of terrain! I have to keep it in working order, you know! Now...where would you like me to take you?” he finished, hoping these crazy wahines would decide to go back to their hotel.

Megan sank back into her seat, her face a mask of desolation. “We were so close...” she whispered miserably.

“Hilo-Kilauea Island Resort Spa.” Vanessa told him gloomily, and settled back beside Megan. “It’s okay, Megs, we’ll still find Frank.” She squeezed the other girl’s hand encouragingly.

“You think?” Tears were brimming in Megan’s blue-green eyes. She watched the last of the dust plume dissipate in the tropical breeze. “Where do you suppose he was going? What was he doing? I thought Joe said he was going to disappear?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he changed his mind, and decided to go back to...” She stopped, realizing that perhaps they shouldn’t be talking about this with the taxi driver right there. She put a finger to her lips, and Megan nodded, understanding the pantomime.

They spent the ride back to the hotel in dismal silence.

Upon reaching their destination, all the girls really wanted to do was go to their room and crash, but courtesy – and curiosity – decreed that they should at least make the effort to check in with Laura Hardy, who had been left completely alone and on her own, at the resort. Accordingly, they tapped on the Hardy parents’ suite door.

After a brief pause, the door opened, revealing a very somber-looking Laura. “Hello, girls – come in.” She pulled the door open wider.

“We just thought we’d check – see if you had heard anything?” Vanessa hesitated in the corridor. “We didn’t mean to intrude....”

“You’re not intruding,” Laura said bleakly. “I welcome the company. And no, I haven’t heard anything. Did you have any luck with your search?”

“Not really,” Megan confessed. She wasn’t about to go into the whole story of the futile chase after Quint’s Hum-Vee; in retrospect it seemed to be a silly and useless endeavor.

Laura sighed. “Well, it was a good thought, at least,” she comforted them. “What are you going to do now?”

“Nap?” Vanessa suggested hopefully, and Laura smiled.

“A nap is always nice,” she concurred, “and you two would probably be better for it. I’ll call you if I hear anything, how’s that?”

Megan hugged her tightly. “You take a nap too,” she said. “It will make the time go faster until...until Mr. Hardy calls and tells you they’ve found Frank!”

Laura watched them depart, smiling bravely, but with a heavy heart. Would Frank be found...in time?

*****

The man drove the old Hummer along the dirt road, smiling to himself. He had seen the taxi following him, and wondered why – and had taken steps to halt any such foolish pursuits. No matter who or why, it was necessary to put a stop to it. Besides, this road was seldom used. He could...dispose of the trash...on it, and it was unlikely that said trash would be found for a long time.

He glanced into the rear-view mirror of his borrowed vehicle and smirked. The prize in the back seat was a traitor...a traitor who had apparently lost the visions of the future he himself had set for the islands – at the behest of Lady Goddess Pelè. Traitors who turned their backs on Lady Pelè deserved the harshest of punishments – but this one was not worthy of sacrifice; he was...tainted. Tainted by his traitorous actions, no matter what he had been before. High acolyte – HAH! No, a slow, tormented death was better for him.

The Kahuna – for it was he – drove carefully along the back-country road. There wasn’t much traffic back here – only the occasional native using the road for a cut-through. He needed a nice, quiet, out-of-the-way spot where he could...unload the cargo.

Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy, trying to waylay the Promised to Pelè! And he’d almost succeeded, he could have spoiled things, upset the whole schedule. Lucky thing he’d just happened to run into him!

Well, the crisis had been averted, and now the time was drawing near for the sacrifice. This very evening, Pelè will meet her new betrothed. She will take him into her warm, welcoming embrace, and then set the purging fire spreading over the island...wiping out all the malihinis who infest the land. And I will become the leader over all her followers, I, the Kahuna, the High Priest who will carry her voice to the chosen people of her chosen land....

He smiled happily, anticipating the changes he would make, to restore the old ways to Hawaii. The land would return to its former pristine beauty, no longer adulterated and corrupted by the so-called ‘tourist industry.’ Pah! Despoilers, all of them!

And I found the perfect one to be Pelè’s new mate – no one could fit the conditions better, to be her betrothed. The boy was perfect in every way; despite that vixen of a red-head who followed him about, he still had managed to retain his purity. Yes, Pelè will welcome him with joy in her heart! He rather regretted it, in some ways – to be obliged to toss such perfection into Pelè’s fires to set his soul free. But then it would be free – free to fly to Pelè, and it would all be worth it, of course, to be the beloved of the fiery goddess for all time. He’d been ready to take second-best; he’d had some other options. But then, perfection had arrived on the island just in time.

And he’d found the perfect place for the ultimate sacrifice. It had taken him weeks of searching, of surreptitiously checking this spot and that. He’d finally found just what he wanted – a natural outcropping of hardened lava rock, which extended over a small, but very deep lava flow from the main caldera. The lava lake nearest the top of Kilauea – yes, it was perfection itself.

He would have to be masked, of course, to protect himself from the deadly fumes rising from the crevices – but that was all right; the modern mask would be concealed by a more fitting carved Hawaiian one, so Pelè would not be offended by her High Priest’s bow to practicality. He would perform the ritual himself, and then watch the Beloved disappear into Pelè’s arms....

He looked around again, and nodded in satisfaction, pulling the big car to a stop. Here. This will do fine. He shifted into Park and got out, leaving the motor running, then opened the back door and dragged the unresisting body from the back seat. He dragged it into the scrubby, tangled undergrowth and then easily flung it to the ground, heedless of how it fell. He was about to resume his seat behind the wheel when a thought occurred to him. He got out again, and took something from his pocket, weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. Yes...if anyone ever finds him, this will point the finger of blame at him...the traitor! He reached down and slipped the object into a pocket, then walked back to the car and started off again, whistling as he stepped on the gas pedal.

It's time to go to Kilauea – it's time to get ready for the ceremony...time to ready the Beloved for his ceremony....

And the unconscious form of Quint Kamakele, former ukali to the Kahuna Nui of Pelè, lay battered and beaten and bloody, unnoticed and abandoned in the rank grass.

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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.