Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He had managed to fall asleep again, despite the discomfort and the chill and the thirst and the utter fear. He supposed it was his mind retreating from the overwhelming terror, hiding in sleep, but he didn’t really feel like psychoanalyzing it at the moment.

He was vaguely aware that he’d been lifted – on a litter of some sort, apparently, as he couldn’t feel any hands actually on him. He tried to see where he was being taken, for there was a dim light a little way ahead of him. Torchlight? A small flashlight? He wasn’t sure. And he couldn’t see enough to tell anything about his surroundings, other than he seemed to be in some sort of very dark, very chill cavernous...hallway? A hallway made of rock? That seemed so ludicrous he dismissed the whole idea. Maybe he was dreaming it, was back in that drug-induced lethargy.

He could hear chanting from somewhere ahead, low-pitched and solemn. One voice...answered by many, then one again. It wasn’t in a language he understood. Probably Hawaiian....

They entered a large cavern, and Frank blinked in the increased light of additional torches. It was rock! The ceiling and walls of the cave seemed very far away. He stared about as the litter was set down, and felt himself being assisted to his feet. His ankles were untied, permitting him to walk. The surface of the ground was rough against his bare soles.

All the people surrounding him, moving him, helping him – all were shrouded in concealing cloaks and the dark shadows, and no one spoke directly to him – they communicated with silent gestures, or light pushes or shoves. The resonant chanting went on, rising and falling, echoing in the chamber.

Frank found himself being led to what looked like a pole set in rock, but he decided it was a stalagmite, a natural formation in the cave. There was a ring embedded in it, and Frank’s hands were uncuffed momentarily, only to be lifted above his head and attached to the pole.

I don’t like this....I don’t like this at all! Dad...Joe...this would be a really good time for you to show up, you know? Let’s not put it off any longer, okay?

The chanting grew a little louder, and then his guardians were murmuring among themselves, very softly.

“Kahuna! Kahuna Nui!”

A deep, rumbling voice took up the song, overshadowing all the others. So...the head honcho had arrived. Frank craned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of this person, but although he could tell it was a large man, the newcomer appeared to be masked, and the shifting shadows effectively concealed him from view. Frank’s skin crawled with apprehension...no, not apprehension, downright fear!

To his shock, one of the other hooded attendants came forward and abruptly dumped a bucket of chilly water over his head, dousing him thoroughly! He gasped at the shock of the cold water as it ran down over his lightly-clad body, and tasted salt as it trickled into his mouth. Sea water? It must be....He shivered violently, and several more acolytes moved close, wiping him down with rough natural sponges. He wriggled in protest, wanting to demand that they stop, but was stymied by the duct-tape gag still in place across his mouth. It had let in enough water to taste, but didn’t allow him to speak!

After the salt-water bath, an oily substance was rubbed onto his skin, something which smelled vaguely of fruit – papaya, perhaps? – and then he could feel something like drawing! He looked down as best he could, and could see them marking on his body with what appeared to be a chalky sort of rock, drawing patterns of some sort. This is so bizarre – and so awful! It’s like some sort of horrible nightmare that I can’t wake up from!

They moved upwards with their marking, and now were working on his face, working carefully around his gag, around his eyes, which he instinctively closed. A girl’s voice whispered in his ear, something in Hawaiian, something he didn’t understand – and when she kissed his cheek with a regretful little sigh, Frank felt terror wash over him. This was really going to happen! It wasn’t a dream, he was really going to be....

He began to struggle violently, trying in vain to tear himself free from the pole, to run away, to escape, some way, any way...! All for naught. Someone – another of the hooded acolytes – placed something on the top of his head. A hat? A crown? It felt like it was made of leaves...and he recalled the leafy headdresses he’d seen the Hawaiian dancers wearing at the luau.

“You are chosen...” the rumbling voice of the Kahuna intoned. “The blessed of Pelè. The Goddess will welcome you, her beloved, into her arms. She will purge Hawaii of those who taint it, of those who seek to destroy her by denying the old ways....”

Frank wanted to scream. I’M not denying the old ways! Why are you punishing ME? But no words made it past the gag.

“You will be given to Pelè, to stay with her forever,” the high priest concluded.

The towering, shadowy figure stepped back and motioned to his assistants. Frank felt his hands released from the ring, but immediately his arms were grasped tightly so that he had no chance of attempting to escape. They began to walk again, and the Kahuna led the way, beginning once more to chant softly in Hawaiian. The big man led them down another tunnel, the torches flickering eerily about them, and they emerged into...light? Daylight? It was, it was actual outside, fresh-air, natural-light daylight! Afternoon, from the looks of it.

Frank stared about himself, trying to focus on the light, not on the people holding him, or what he was afraid was ahead. I’m not so sure I’m getting out of this one. How could anyone possibly find me? How could anyone have the slightest idea where I am? Oh God, I don’t want to die this way.... He was shivering violently, so cold he wasn’t sure he would ever be warm again, and then a horrifying thought occurred: Oh, you’ll be warm, all right, Hardy...you don’t have to worry about that! When you hit that hot lava, you’ll be warm enough!

He was halted at the cavern entrance, and the ti-leaf skirt he’d been wearing was stripped off; before he could even try to protest, another fresh one was slipped into place. A lei made of fresh flowers – something sweet, but Frank had no idea what they were – was placed about his neck, and then he was pushed outside. Under his feet the ground felt hard and rocky, and warmer than it had been inside the cavern. Gravel, or...he looked down. Hardened lava.

Oh God...

He was turned and led – pushed, pulled – up, and up, and up along the rough, rocky slope, always ascending higher and higher. He was beginning to feel light-headed and somewhat nauseous; there was a distinct sulfurous reek, and a rotten-egg stench in the air. He bent his head and tucked his nose as close to the sweet flower necklace as possible, trying to alleviate the fetid miasma surrounding them. He noticed that his two escorts were wearing masks – modern-day protective masks, not fancy Hawaiian ones, and the others in the party were lagging behind, as if reluctant to keep up with them, because of the fumes, or...some other reason. When they reached the top, Frank could see why. It looked as if the path led out onto a table-like plateau that overlooked...something. From where he was, he couldn’t see what it was that it overlooked – and he wasn’t sure he wanted to! They halted there...waiting.

The High Priest began to chant again, in earnest now. Hawaiian words and phrases flowed from his lips in a constant liquid stream, and his voice rose, louder and louder. He was tossing flower petals over the edge as he paced about; throwing handfuls of Pelè’s own lava-gravel, and a black, sand-like substance which Frank surmised was the volcanic sand-powder from the famous black-sand beaches. He took something else – some sort of powders – from a pouch slung over his shoulder, and tossed them as well, and more scents wafted up. Spices, Frank realized. He couldn’t identify them all, but thought he smelled saffron – and paprika. Beautiful, aromatic, exotic scents that served to mask the volcano’s putrid reek.

Now he was being pushed and pulled forward again, inexorably, no matter how he struggled and twisted to get free. His hands were yanked behind his back, and tied tightly once again – this time with ropes made of thick vines twisted together, which were wrapped tightly about his wrists and forearms so that he couldn’t move them at all.

The Kahuna’s chanting rose in volume again as Frank was led forward, and now the terrified young man could see over the edge....

Below him, churning languidly as it moved down the steep slope, was a small but lethal-looking stream of molten lava, glowing fiery red. It flowed sluggishly into a wide crimson-orange pool.

Desperately, he began to struggle – for his life.

*****

Joe was once again sternly resisting the temptation to kick the back of the seat in front of him, much as he might want to! He knew better than to further irritate an already-seriously-annoyed Lt. Dylan McCullough. The man had been grimly silent for awhile now, but Joe knew that he was merely keeping his thoughts to himself: namely, that they were wasting their time. McCullough was of the opinion that Frank couldn’t be here in Volcanoes National Park; he was sure that the elder Hardy boy had been taken off-island by boat, and was sticking to that with stubborn tenacity.

Joe didn’t agree. He couldn’t back up his feelings with hard facts, but the sensation in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the swooping helicopter and everything to do with the fact that somehow he was positive that Frank was here. Somewhere. And he knew that Fenton was feeling the same way. Dylan might sulk, but with Aaron Masukoko and Kimo Pauahi backing up the Hardys, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

The helicopter swept over the south end of the island and swung about to make another pass across the park. From their low elevation, they could spot groups of people trudging about, but they were all quite evidently tourist groups. Of the people they sought, there were no signs.

Chief Pauahi turned around in his seat. “There are teams searching the lava tubes,” he told the others, over their headsets. “but that’s a lot of territory to cover.”

Joe sat back dejectedly. They’ll never find him in time, he thought in despair. There’s just too many places he could be! It’s so big.... He stared out the Plexiglas window of the helicopter, straining his eyes for any signs of unusual people doing unusual things – of people who weren’t standing and snapping photographs of each other and the scenery!

Suddenly something caught his attention, and he sat up straight, lifting the binoculars to his eyes. People, yes – but people dressed strangely, and certainly not carrying cameras. “THERE! Oh God, look! They’re there!” he cried, pointing frantically with one hand as he held the binoculars to his face with the other, not daring to take his attention from the sight.

All the sets of binoculars were trained in the direction Joe indicated, and he heard Dylan gasp and then mutter something distinctly profane.

“We’ve got to get down there right away!” Joe yelled. “They’ll kill him if we don’t – they’re going to throw him—”

“Keep flying,” Chief Pauahi barked, as the pilot instinctively had started turning the chopper nose in response to Joe’s outcry. “continue in the direction you’re going, just in case anyone happened to look up and spot us. Go over that ridge, then we’ll be out of sight.”

“But—” Joe protested.

“Joe, we have to be careful,” Fenton reminded him. “I know we don’t have much time, but if they think we’re closing in, they may just go ahead and toss Frank in, regardless of ceremony!”

“There’s a fairly even lava field up ahead,” the pilot reported. “I can set down there.”

Pauahi nodded. “Be ready to run for it,” he instructed the others, catching their eyes one after the other, then was talking over his headset on another channel again, requesting an ambulance, calling for ground backup, and snapping out directions and landmarks. The other men braced themselves as the helicopter settled to earth with a jarring thump, and scrambled out, ducking under the whirring blades. “Stay with the chopper!” Pauahi shouted to the pilot, who gave him a thumbs-up as he shut down the rotors.

Joe, despite being in the back seat, managed to get out the door first; he’d unlatched his safety belt the instant the whirlybird touched down, and shoved past Captain Masukoko with scant politeness. He broke into a run, stumbling across the broken lava, despite the demands to stop he heard behind him.

“JOE!” A strong hand caught his arm and dragged him to a standstill; Dylan McCullough stood there, panting hard and glaring down at him. “Damnit, wait a minute! You can’t just rush off without knowing what everyone else is doing!”

Joe stared at him in frustration, knowing the police lieutenant was completely in the right. “Okay, okay, I will,” he said, looking back frantically at the others. “But hurry, please, Dylan, please...”

“God, Joe, I am so sorry...” Dylan squeezed his shoulder briefly as Pauahi, Masukoko and Fenton caught up with them.

The big police chief gestured to their right. “There’s a path,” he snapped out, “We can go up to get above them, and then cut behind.” Without further words he led the way, with Dylan and Joe nearly treading on his heels.

Trotting as silently as possible on the hardened lava, they ascended, leaped over a narrow gap between two cliff-like outcroppings, and stealthily descended again, until they were surprisingly close to where Frank Hardy was being held prisoner. They could hear a deep voice chanting, rising and falling, the sound echoing back from the cliffs and crevices, and it served to mask the sounds of their approach.

The volume of the chanting raised again, and Joe, with rising horror, saw his brother, clad in a leafy loincloth and woven headdress, shoved to the very edge of the overhang. He started to scream “NO!” but his cry was drowned out in a thunderous bellow from Kimo Pauahi: “POLICE! STOP – NOW!” and the police chief charged past him at a dead run.

The large, ornately-garbed High Priest jerked about, his chant dying on his lips in utter amazement, but the moment of surprise was brief. He raised his arms in a defensive posture and grappled with Pauahi, both men rolling over and over on the hardened lava – fortunately, away from the edge!

The acolytes scattered in all directions, shrieking in dismay at this sudden turn of events.

“Frank! FRANK!!” Joe screamed, as he saw his brother teeter helplessly on the edge of the precipice, unable to catch his balance with his arms bound at his sides. Joe took a step, ready to spring forward in what he knew would be a vain effort; there was no way he could reach Frank in time....

Dylan McCullough, in an impressive display of acrobatics, leaped past him, snatched at the trailing vine-ropes which bound Frank’s arms, and flung himself backwards, pulling with all his might! Frank crashed to the ground, skidding over the rough lava surface. His unprotected skin was abraded – but he was safe. Joe bounded forward, adding his strength to the police lieutenant’s, tugging Frank further away from peril.

Chief Pauahi and the Kahuna were locked in what seemed to be deadly combat. Pauahi might have jockeyed a desk for a few years, but he hadn’t forgotten the fighting skills he’d learned, and he knew how to use his strength and size against an opponent. However, the High Priest was nearly his equal in size, and seemed to possess similar skills. He pulled back a meaty fist and let fly at Pauahi’s face – just as the police chief managed to yank the concealing mask away, revealing the priest’s identity!

‘EKELA!” Pauahi’s roar was deafening. “YOU? You damned....” What he spat at his adversary was likely understood by Masukoko, McCullough, and Ekela, but the Hardys had no idea what it was – but it sounded vile, in any language!

Meka Ekela sneered, and returned abusive insult for insult as he lunged forward again, intent on doing major damage to Pauahi. Captain Masukoko hovered near, gun in hand, but he dared not try a shot, for fear of hitting Pauahi by accident.

Pauahi dodged back from the blows Ekela was raining on him, and attacked with his own, hitting the detective solidly in the face. Ekela stumbled backwards, but managed to lash out with a foot even so, and tripped Pauahi, who fell to the ground. Ekela tried to stamp on the police chief’s vulnerable midsection, but Pauahi rolled, and somehow managed to elude the vicious blow. For a brief second they were apart.

That was long enough for Masukoko. He leveled his gun at the big detective. “Freeze, Ekela!” he grated harshly. “You know how it works!”

Meka Ekela stood straight, and spat contemptuously on the ground in Masukoko’s direction. “There’s no way you can hold me,” he boasted. “No way at all. Pelè won’t allow it!” He smirked, defying them all. “I am her Kahuna, and she will protect me!”

Chief Pauahi quirked an eyebrow as he scrambled to his feet. “Maybe you don’t know the Goddess quite as well as you think,” he rumbled, reaching for his own gun. “Now get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head! You’re under arrest for kidnapping and attempted murder!”

Ekela barked a harsh laugh. “Bah! You fools!” Instead of obeying Pauahi’s order, he took a large step – backwards.

Whether the act was purposeful defiance or mischance, there was no knowing. The detective’s foot descended...into open space. With a sharp cry, and then a lingering scream, Meka Ekela, Kahuna Nui of the Goddess Pelè, fell backward from the overhanging rock. He tumbled helplessly for a few seconds, still screaming – and then his body hit the crimson lava pool with a sharp smack! One last gurgling cry of “Pelè!” was heard as the High Priest convulsed and slid beneath the bubbling surface.

“My...God.” Kimo Pauahi stared down, visibly shaken. And then, somberly: “Ka'iu lani, Pelè. You have vanquished the evil.”

“Kahuna Nui!” One of the acolytes who had lingered in the vicinity, suddenly rushed forward, grabbing at Fenton Hardy’s arm as the man moved to hurry to his son’s side. “You killed the Kahuna Nui! You ruined the sacrifice!” With careless abandon, he threw a wild punch directly at Fenton’s face.

Fenton dodged the blow, and returned it, bringing his attacker down with a single right hook to the jaw. He rolled the man, put a knee in the small of his back, and looked around. “Somebody loan me some handcuffs!” He noted that Captain Masukoko had moved his gun to cover him and his prisoner, grinning maliciously.

“Here!” Dylan McCullough, still crouched beside the two Hardy boys, tugged a pair of cuffs from his pocket and tossed them to Fenton, who caught them easily and proceeded to cuff his man, then got to his feet.

“Always fun to take out the trash, eh?” Masukoko quipped, and holstered his gun.

“Oh yeah.” Fenton sighed and nodded, feeling his energy dissipate as the adrenaline rush abated. “It’s nice when the good guys win.” Unhindered this time, he moved to join his sons.

Frank had passed out briefly, but his eyes were open now, and he lay sprawled on the rock, supported by Dylan and Joe, with McCullough’s jacket wrapped about him. Joe had eased the duct tape off his brother’s face as gently as he could, and Dylan had sliced the vines binding him, and given the older boy a drink of water, but as yet, Frank hadn’t said anything. He just kept staring at them, looking from one to the other, his dark eyes wide with lingering terror and disbelief that his nightmare ordeal was truly over.

Joe ached for him. He wanted to comfort him, wanted to hug him tightly and never let go, wanted to burst into tears of joy and relief – but he knew that if he did so in this company of police officers, Frank would probably never forgive him. What could he do instead? What could he say? Something that would bring a smile to Frank’s ashen, chalk-lined face and lift the fear...? Ah...yes. He looked down into his brother’s eyes and smiled.

“Nice skirt, bro.”

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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.