"Well, so what are we gonna do, guys?" From his place on the cave floor, cradling the unconscious Cherise, Matt spoke up. "Cherise needs help – we need to get her out of here. And I doubt that the bad dudes up top are gonna offer us any. Anyone have a phone? We could call Rescues-R-Us and get out of here, right?"

"Sorry, Matt, fresh out of phones." Frank patted his pockets and shook his head. "I think they must have taken them when they dumped us here. My light’s gone, my phone’s gone, my knife’s gone, my lockpick set’s gone."

"Same here," Joe agreed glumly.

"Smoke signals?" Matt persisted, grinning. "Hey, c’mon, you dudes know Morse code, don’t you, or Indian smoke signals? Dude! We can turn this whole thing into a major movie!" He groaned suddenly. "Man, they took my camera, too! Another camera bites the dust. My insurance agent is NOT gonna believe this, he just isn’t gonna at all."

Well, at least Matt the Irrepressible is back, Joe thought. He’d been half afraid that the events and circumstances Matt had been through in the past week would have scared the young photographer so much he’d never be the same again. Evidently Matt was more resilient than that. He was muttering something about what he was going to say to Phil, once he was back in New York, and how, no matter how Phil begged and pleaded, he wasn’t gonna help these darned Hardys any more! Joe grinned. He appreciated Matt’s attempt to raise their spirits – or was it because Matt was actually so terrified that he could no longer react with sobriety?

"Nobody would believe the ghost," Frank commented quietly, and both Matt and Joe eyed him warily. He seemed to be a little behind in the conversation, repeating himself, and was sitting huddled in on himself, his eyes half-closed. Joe knew Frank had to be feeling the cold – heck, he was cold, and he was in better shape than Frank, at the moment!

Speaking of the ghost…. Joe glanced at the back of the cave. Emily was still kneeling there, ignoring them again. All her concentration – how much concentration did ghosts possess, anyway? – was focused on the pathetic heap of bones and scraps of rotten leather which was all that remained of her beloved Erik.

"I’m going to have to go," Joe announced. He sighed heavily, staring out through the entrance of the cave, at the chill, heaving waters of Barmet Bay. Swimming for it would be risky in more ways than one. With the tide coming in, he could be dashed against the cliff face by a wave, and killed quickly, without ever having to worry about hypothermia! "I’ll see how far I can make it by climbing sideways and down, along the cliff – I’ll swim if I have to, but it’ll be a last resort!" He didn’t state his fears – no sense in worrying Matt or Frank, right?

"Joe, it’s suicide!" Frank somehow managed to struggle to his feet. He clung to the edge of the small ledge where Erik’s skeleton rested, but at least he was standing on his own. "If you go out there – the waves….the water’s freezing…."

"Frank!" Joe hadn’t meant to yell, but it came out much more sharply than he’d intended, and he saw Frank flinch as his shout bounced off the cave walls. "I don’t have a choice! It’s a full moon – the tide’s the highest it’ll be all month, it’s still coming in, and the Bay was already up from all the rain we’ve had in the past week. If I don’t go, we could be dead in a few hours – that’s dead, as in D-E-A-D, dead. If not us, then most certainly Cherise! This is our—" he made an encircling gesture with his hands, indicating them all, "only chance. What choice do we have? Do you really think someone will find us before the water comes in this cave and we drown?" Joe stopped, his chest heaving and his eyes glittering.

Frank sighed, and Joe knew he’d won. Frank might not like it, but he was going to accept it. He approached his brother, and laid a hand gingerly on his shoulder. "I have to, Frank," he said quietly.

"Yeah – I know." The elder Hardy’s jaw firmed. "You get killed doing this and I’ll never forgive you." He held his somber expression for a few more moments before he smiled, his teeth making a brief flash of white in the faint moonlight. "Be careful – go slow. Try not to play tag with your truck, okay?"

"Yeah, Joe, you be careful, man. This cliff’s not something to mess with; I found that out the hard way. And we don’t, like, want to lose you, dude." Matt said tightly.

"I think I’d better go before all the sentiment in here makes me sick," Joe quipped, forcing a grin. "Take care, bro – Matt, make him sit down. He’s barely standing."

"Ah, but I am standing, and that’s the important thing—"

"Gone, gone, this is me, gone." Joe interrupted. He stripped his jacket off and handed it to Matt. "Put this on Cherise. It’ll just be in my way." He walked slowly over to the cave entrance, and peered out, scoping out what he faced. The pale moonlight cast shadows on the turmoil of the water below, and Joe watched grimly as waves dashed against the cliff face. The Bay looked murky and horribly deep, and Joe swallowed nervously, running his tongue over his lips. Finally, he leaned outside and patted a questing hand along the side of the cliff, searching for possible handholds and footholds.

"Okay – I’m off. See you after awhile." With a vague ‘goodbye’ gesture, Joe swung out of the cave, and was gone.

*****

Man, it is seriously cold out here! Joe sighed to himself as he watched the moon disappear behind an errant cloud. Whoops! Not good! Immediately, all his scant available light was gone. He froze, clinging like a limpet to the rocky cliff, not daring to move. He waited, barely breathing, and after a minute or two, the moon emerged once more, softly illuminating the cliff face.

Struggling not to lose his grip, and not get confused by the shifting shadows, Joe worked his way along the cliff front, searching slowly and cautiously for handholds and footholds. He didn’t dare make a misstep, even though it took more time.

I am FREEZING! Giving my coat to Cherise was noble – and it really would have been in my way in this little cliff-crawl – but I am turning into an absolute ice cube, here! It was so cold, Joe could feel his fingers growing numb, starting with the tips. Hardy, thank your lucky stars it’s not really winter yet! You’d be regretting this little adventure even more than you are now! He continued to crawl along the cliff, berating himself, talking out loud to keep himself focused. Come on, keep moving, keep moving. Don’t think about anything else, just keep going.

When he realized he really couldn’t feel his fingers any more, Joe stopped. He loosened one hand, and blew on it, rubbed it against his jeans, willing the chafing to return some feeling to the appendage. What a day – night – to be gloveless! He winced and whimpered, realizing all he’d accomplished was to start pins and needles attacking his right hand. He closed his eyes momentarily. All right, Joe, get on with it! Settle down. That tide’s rising, remember? You don’t have a whole lot of time, here!

Upset and angry at himself, Joe forced his eyes open and again started the slow crablike movement across the cliff face. Search for a new handhold…grab. Search for a foothold…step. Search…reach…search…slide. Was he going too slowly? Shivering with both cold and fear, Joe glanced down at the water below, trying to gauge how much it had risen, how close the moonlit waves were now. The faint illumination gave his imagination the shivers.

"AAAAH!"

The scream splintered the night’s silence, as Joe slipped – and barely caught himself, with one foot precariously placed and a tenuous grip with one hand. He flattened himself against the rock, clinging with all his might. Don’t panic…don’t panic. Just stay still. Don’t move for a minute…just bloody well stay put!

Carefully, as if the action might catapult him off the cliff, Joe opened his eyes, and moved his head slightly, just enough to peer around him. Spotting another grip for his left hand, he cautiously pulled himself up just a little, heaving a sigh of relief when he found himself with four solid points of contact once again. He took a deep breath. All right…take it easy. You can do this, Hardy. Let’s go.

Another cautious, frightening step.

Another.

A third.

Joe pushed everything but his goal from his mind, concentrating fiercely on the business at hand, zeroing in on each careful movement. Step…slide. Step…slide. Grab.

Until suddenly, there was nowhere to go, except down. The cliff had sloped into a corner filled with huge rocks and pockets of water which blocked the escape route of the sandy beach. Joe groaned. I was afraid it was going to come to this!

Setting his teeth, he eased himself into the frigid waters of the bay – Cold! Cold, cold, cold, cold! – grateful that he actually was able to touch bottom most of the time. He moved carefully, knowing that a misstep in these slick rocks could mean disaster. His teeth chattered as he plunged forward, moving as quickly as he could towards the beach itself. I wanna get OUT of here, I wanna get out of this liquid-nitrogen stupid water, I have to get to a phone – I have to get help, get help, right now…right NOW!

Joe stumbled and fell forward into the water again, this time going under for a few lung-paralyzing seconds. He came up gasping for air, colder than ever. Regaining his footing, he stumbled over more rocks, half walking, half crawling through the water, which was becoming increasingly shallow. At last, he crawled out, not even feeling the rocks which dug into his numbed hands and knees, and collapsed onto the rough, wet sand of the beach.

Joe lay shivering for a few minutes, breathing prayers of thanks. But he knew he couldn’t stop now. He managed to pull himself to his knees, and then stagger to his feet. He stumbled forward, forcing himself to keep moving. He walked – step by shambling, lurching step – walked towards the soft, warm light he could see in the distance.

Numbed hands pounded on the door of the house. "Please! Help! I need help! Please!"

A porch light flashed on above him, and the door opened to reveal an elderly woman who gazed in dismay at the sodden, shivering Joe. "Oh my heavens – oh dear. Oh dear, you poor boy, come in – come in!"

"Gotta…get help," Joe mumbled, suddenly aware that after all this, his mouth was refusing to work properly. "Gotta get help. Frank and Matt – in cave…below…light…house." He pitched forward onto his hands and knees once again. Gotta stay awake – gotta get help for Frank and Matt. Gotta save….