hardy boys fan fiction

TIME SHARE

hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction

by

Hyena Cub

Chapter 2

hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

Five minutes after the bomb-blast thundercrack, a man and a woman, each with a pilot’s uniform on came to address the restless group in the terminal. “Ladies and gentlemen!” the woman called, her voice clear and strong.  It easily caught everyone’s attention.  “I am Captain Thompson, I am the pilot of Flight 723 tonight!  This is my co-pilot, Lieutenant Miller.  First of all, please let me apologize once more for the inconvenience.  Even for Nebraska, the weather tonight has been extremely strange.”

“Ya got that right,” muttered a man, shaking his head ruefully.

“Second of all, I am sorry to say that we are not able to leave just yet.”  She held up her hands in a placating gesture at the groans and angry mutterings that rippled through the group.  Joe looked around and noticed that the groups gathered at other gates seemed to be getting a similar message.  “I know, I know,” said the pilot sympathetically.  “We want to get out of here almost as much as you do.  And the weather, well, the storm seems to have passed completely, meaning that normally we’d be leaving within the half-hour.  But we seem to have a bit of a malfunction in a few of our planes today.  Of course you understand that your safety is our number one concern, and we want to make absolutely sure that the planes have not been somehow damaged by the storm.  We will keep you updates as much as possible.”

More groans, and Joe smacked his forehead.  “Aw, great,” he muttered, but quietly; he didn’t want the poor captain to hear yet another dissatisfied customer.

“Until then,” Captain Thompson said,  “We will be bringing out cots and personal toiletries kits for you, compliments of American Airlines.  It will take us a few hours to complete our flight checks, so we hope to make you all as comfortable as possible!”

Frank and Joe exchanged an uneasy look.  Normal preflight checks did not take that long, and they both knew it, and from the looks on the faces of some of the travelers, a few of them knew, too.  Something was wrong here, and it was something more than a simple malfunction in one or two planes. 

Joe watched as airport workers began dragging out simple camp cots and setting them up in the terminals.  Another group began to pass out little kits in thin plastic, wallet-like containers to all of the people in the terminal.  Joe took his with a distracted “thanks” and took a look.  The toiletries: toothbrush, toothpaste, some wet wipes, a small bottle of lotion, and a disposable washcloth.

“They expect we’ll be here a while,” said Frank uneasily.  “You think we oughta talk with the airport workers?”

“Let’s not just yet,” said Joe quietly.  “We don’t know anyone here in Omaha, and we don’t exactly want to draw attention to ourselves. Especially if it is some kind of sabotage.”

Frank nodded, and the two of them staked out a pair of cots in the corner, setting their overnight bags beneath them and sitting down together on Joe’s cot.  Watching the other people settling in (most of them seemed to want to sleep, but some were wakeful and restless), they discussed the possibilities.

Neither brother figured the strangeness had anything to do with their latest case.  There had been no foul play involved, and the “missing” person was alive and well.  Frank wondered if it was someone unrelated to the case might be after him and Joe, and they discussed the possibility, but decided that it was highly unlikely.  All of their most recent cases had been wrapped up fairly neatly, and if it was someone coming after them, being able to use the storm as the cover for their dirty work was incredibly lucky timing on their part.  The storm had come, literally, out of the blue.

The only things they came up with that seemed to be plausible were still a little bit unusual.  Either the planes really had been messed up by the storm, or someone had messed them up.  A terrorist would not be so subtle, and would likely wait until the planes were in flight to pull something.  Someone who just wanted to cause problems likely would not have the know-how to make a jet plane malfunction, nor would they be able to get access to the planes without being caught by the massive security measures around the airport.

“Terrorists,” Joe spat quietly.  “If I find out....”

Frank said nothing, only put an arm around his brother’s shoulder.  Ever since Iola...ever since she’d been killed in a bomb that was in the Hardys’ car, the very word “terrorist” ignited furious rage in Joe’s spirit.  It still hurt him terribly, and Frank, too, though not quite as deeply.    “You don’t think it’s the Assassins, do you?” he asked Joe.

“I...dunno, Frank,” said Joe, suddenly feeling weary.  “It could be I guess.  But still, there’s that weird storm.  And there was a tornado. It might have mucked things up.  I guess we just wait and see. Now that the storm’s passed, they should be able to figure out it soon enough I guess.”

“Yeah.  Well I am gonna get some shut-eye.  If anything does happen I wanna be a little more alert than I am now.”

“Good idea,” said Joe, as Frank stood up and slumped down on his own cot.  “Bet they’re gonna make a bundle selling Mountain Dew and coffee tonight.”

Frank snorted.  “Maybe they did the sabotage themselves, so they could boost their soda sales.”

A laugh was surprised out of Joe, and he lay back on his cot, his arm over his eyes.  “Whoo,” he said.  “Definitely time to sleep.  Your jokes are starting to get funny.”

Frank rolled his eyes, tossed his toiletries kit at Joe, and lay down.  “Night.  Sweet dreams.”

Joe stuck out his tongue and was about to reply when the lights suddenly went out, leaving the entire terminal in pitch darkness.

There was a collective sort of gasp from the travelers, then an outbreak of babble.  Joe blinked, lying on his cot and finally heaved a great sigh.  “About those sweet dreams....”

“Yeah, forget it,” said Frank.  A child was crying somewhere, and a man was snarling something in Spanish, it sounded like, and Joe was fairly sure he heard at least two cuss words.  “You don’t think it’s the storm, do you?  Maybe it’s moved on and taken out one of the power grids.”

“Maybe,” said Joe doubtfully. But he didn’t think so.  “Ya know, I think we might just want to do some looking around of our own after all.”

Frank didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to; Joe heard him sit up and rummage in his travel bag for his flashlight, while Joe did the same.  He came out with a small but powerful battery-less flashlight, the kind that you powered just by shaking it back and forth, but didn’t switch it on.  He didn’t feel like drawing attention to himself and Frank when they were about to go snooping.  After a moment’s thought, he felt for his portable AM/FM radio and snagged that, too, clipping it to his belt.

“You’d think there would be generators,” whispered Frank as he and Frank slunk against the wall and moved along it away from their gate. 

Joe frowned, another cold chill going down his spine.  “Yeah,” he said quietly.  “You would think. I wonder why...why they don’t at least have emergency lights?”  He caught sight of two flashlight beams headed their way, and heard the captain’s voice again, telling the passengers not to panic, not to worry, that the backup generators should be going on soon.  But Joe had the sudden feeling that they weren’t going to turn on, and he began to shiver.  What was going on here?

“This isn’t normal,” came Frank’s taut voice as they slipped hastily away from the half-circle of gates, where various airline personnel and pilots were addressing their passengers.  “The blackout I can see.  Happens in New York, too.  But the planes, the blackout, and the generators?  That’s just too many things going screwy.  Someone’s got to be messing with the mechanics.”

“So what do we do about it?” asked Joe, keeping close to his brother so they didn’t lose one another.  A strange sensation, a deep fight-or-flight sensation, was worming into his mind, and he tried to ignore it.  But it made him uneasy.  He normally only got that urgent gut feeling when he or Frank were in danger.

“For now, I just want to take a look around, see if we can spot something off.  And try not to spook security; I’m sure they’re paranoid as hell.  Then I wanna talk to the employees and guards, offer our assistance and see if they have found anything.”

Joe nodded, realized Frank couldn’t see him nod, and whispered, “Okay, sounds like a plan.”  He almost argued, the panic inside him beginning to grow, but he wanted too badly to find out what was going on to suggest they go back now.

The terminal was incredibly creepy in the dark. Even with the flashlights to stave off the worst of it, it was like a solid thing, a living shroud, slithering down to smother them.  Joe scowled, turning his flashlight on a shadowy corner, shaking it back and forth a few times to ensure that it didn’t go out.  ‘Get a grip, Joe,’ he said to himself.  ‘You afraid of the dark, or what?  Don’t be such a freak.’  But he was afraid of the dark...this dark, anyway.  It wasn’t just darkness, it was something more, and his intuition that things were not right wouldn’t leave.

“Careful,” Frank whispered, pointing his flashlight at the escalators.  Neither of them were working, of course, and Joe didn’t fancy taking a tumble down one of them.  He nodded, stepping carefully onto the top step, glancing back once to make sure Frank was there.  “You edgy, bro?” asked Frank.

“A little,” said Joe, concentrating mostly on walking down the stairs without falling.  “This creeps me out, I gotta admit.”

“It’s weird,” Frank agreed, and he sounded a little spooked himself. “Normally this kind of snooping around doesn’t bug me too much, but there’s something else.  It’s like...I dunno, I keep thinking of dogs, and other animals, and how they feel when an earthquake or other bad weather is coming. I wonder if this is how they feel.”

Joe grimaced at the analogy, realizing it was awfully close.  Something about the happenings at the airport were stirring Joe’s gut and getting his primal instincts all in an uproar. 

A sudden noise made both boys whirl around, raising their flashlights, only to breathe a sigh of relief to see uniforms and badges.  Security, then, two of them. 

“Hold up there, fellas,” one of them said.  They were both men, one not much older than the Hardys themselves, the other about Fenton’s age.  Neither of them had drawn their guns, but they looked as if they were ready to in a second if necessary. 

Joe realized he was shining his flashlight in their faces and hastily lowered it.  “Sorry,” he said.  “You startled us.”  That was the understatement of the year, too.  Joe’s heard was thudding so hard he wondered why the guards weren’t mentioning it.  He felt like that Poe story about the Tell-Tale heart.

“Apologies,” the older guard said.  “But we can’t have people roaming around – safety precautions, you know.  We’re having some trouble with the generators, and we wanna make sure no one gets hurt.”

Joe was about to tell them that he and Frank were amateur detectives, and could help, when Frank spoke up.  “Sorry.  I was wantin’ some fresh air, especially after a storm, I enjoy being outside.  Figured we wouldn’t bother anyone, and just come down here ourselves.”

“Well,” said the guard, “The front doors aren’t even working.  They run off of electricity, just like everything else.  Now not to worry you, the emergency doors are manual, but we don’t want people usin’ ‘em, not until we figure out what’s going on.”

Joe smacked his forehead; of course the revolving door in the lobby was electric!  Joe suddenly felt like an idiot.

“You know we might have thought of that if we’d been thinking in the first place,” Frank muttered.  “All right we can wait, no problem.  Thanks for the heads-up.”

The older guard nodded tersely, and Joe caught his expression; worried.  He was very worried, and no matter how he tried to hide it, it was obvious.  “You’re welcome, son.  Can you find your way back okay?”

“Sure,” said Frank.  “This place isn’t too big.”

“Well, I’ll send Jason here along with ya, make sure you get there okay.”

‘Yeah, right,’ Joe thought.  ‘More like to make sure we don’t “forget” to return to the gates.’ Oh well, he supposed it was better than being arrested as suspicious characters, or something.  He just wondered why Frank hadn’t told them that they could help.

** ** **

“So give,” Joe demanded once they back at the gate, sitting on the cots they had staked out.  The lights were still off, and battery-powered hurricane lamps sat everywhere.  The Hardys had put their own lamps into their bags, and Cory had left the area once he’d seen the Hardys to their gate.

“Give?” said Frank softly.  “You mean why I didn’t insist they allow us help out?”  Joe nodded.  “Dunno.”  Joe blinked, as Frank slowly shook his head.  “It’s not...anything concrete,” he said.  “I just get this feeling...I want to know more before I offer.”

Joe bit his lip briefly, and looked around.  They were not the only ones sitting up, sleepless and uneasy. “Yeah, me too.”  He looked back at Frank, suddenly realizing something.  “The people below, the ones who stand at the counter and get your tickets and luggage in order, and everything...where were they, anyway?  You’d think they’d stay there for people coming in, but it was totally deserted.”

Frank looked startled, his eyes widening slightly, the mild unease on his face deepening.  “You’re right, and for that matter, no one’s come in this place now for...well, since the storm began.  I could see them staying away during the flood, I wouldn’t wanna drive in that either, and there might have been flooded roads, but...why not now?  Did you see anyone outside?”

Joe thought back to their brief trip downstairs, even though they hadn’t gotten much of a chance to look out of the tinted windows to the drop-off area.  The lights outside hadn’t been working, either, but now that Joe thought about it, he couldn’t remember seeing anyone at all outside, peering in windows, or maybe trying to get into the revolving doors, wondering if they were going to miss their flight.  “No,” he said slowly. “No one.  That’s not normal!  This might not be O’Hare airport, but it’s still a pretty busy one, isn’t it?”  His eyes flicked to the ceiling-high windows that looked out onto the runways and the planes at the gates, but it was pitch dark outside, and he couldn’t see a thing.

“Yeah, it is.  And those guards were scared, because I don’t think they know anything about what’s going on, either.”

“This isn’t some saboteur,” said Joe, suddenly absolutely certain of it. 

“No.  So that’s why I didn’t want to argue.  I didn’t want to be down there any longer than I needed to be.”  At least Joe wasn’t the only one who felt that way!  “So for now let’s watch and listen.  Get some sleep.  I get the idea we’re going to need the rest.”

Joe didn’t want to sleep, but couldn’t deny that his body did want to.  He rubbed his eyes and lay down on the canvas cot, wondering vaguely why they couldn’t make these things a little more comfortable.  He didn’t think he would fall asleep in any hurry, but it wasn’t five minutes before he was dead to the world.

** ** **

When he was shaken awake five minutes later...or so it seemed to Joe...it was still dark outside, and Frank looked grim and worried.  “Whahapn...?” Joe managed to mumble, forcing himself to sit up, trying to remember the dream he had been having before being wakened.  It wasn’t a pretty dream, he knew that, but the details had slipped away as soon as he began waking up.

“Things are getting a little interesting,” Frank murmured, his voice calm, but Joe detected a tense edge to it.  Feeling a little more awake, Joe shook his head and swiped a lock of blond hair out of his eyes.  It needed a cut rather badly.  “No one’s cell phones are getting a signal, and it’s still dark outside.”

Joe blinked, his sleep-muddled mind rapidly clearing.  “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty AM,” said Frank. “The sun should’ve risen by now.  But it hasn’t.  And look.”  Frank picked up something that had been lying on the cot next to his leg and held it up; it was Joe’s little radio.  Frank turned the dial on, and nothing happened.

“Are the batteries dead?” Joe asked, frowning, at first not understanding the significance right away.

“No,” Frank said, turning up the dial. Joe blinked, feeling a shiver go through him, at a low, ominous hum came from the radio.  He was about to ask if it was tuned in right when Frank slowly began turning the dial, and Joe watched the red line slide slowly past the entire FM band.  “Dead air, from all stations.”

Joe began to shake.  “Interference of some kind?” he asked, his voice steady only with some effort.

“Possibly, the AM band’s got static, so I think it’s either interference, or possibly the stations’ signals are being messed with at their source, leaving nothing for the radio to pick up.”  He turned the volume down and switched the radio to AM to demonstrate this, and Joe jumped slightly at the burst of static that issued from it before Frank turned the radio off.

“When did this all happen?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Frank.  “I asked some of the other people, and the earliest that anyone noticed their cell phone not working was right after we went to sleep...about four and a half hours ago.  The guy that had the emergency radio can’t get that to work, either, and the emergency station is all automated.”

Joe looked out of the nearby window, frowning deeply on seeing it was indeed still pitch dark outside, and he could only barely make out the shape of their plane, a dark blob against the blackness.  “I see.” He could not think of anything else to say, because he’d never experienced anything quite like this.  There could be a perfectly logical explanation to the whole thing, but if there was, Joe couldn’t think of it to save his life.  He didn’t believe in ghosts or other “spooky” phenomena, but this situation had him spooked all the same.

The sound of hands clapping sharply got everyone’s attention; Captain Thompson had come back, looking tired and worried.  Joe noticed that she as addressing everyone in the open area of the terminal, even the people gathered at the other gates.  “Attention, everyone, please!” she called.  “There will be a meal served within the half hour!”  A few half-hearted cheers came from the other side of the terminal, and when Joe’s stomach growled hungrily, he had to agree.  “There is no news of the generators – the airport personnel have not been able to find the problem.  But I must ask everyone to remain here in the terminal, until further notice!  Our first concern is your safety, and until it’s clear what’s happened, it’s best if we all stay in the terminal.  There are restrooms and cots, and food enough for several days’ worth of sheltering if need be.”

“That’s bad,” said Frank, frowning.  “Do you see her face?  She knows something’s really screwy, too.” 

“I got a wife at home!” one man called angrily.  “You’re saying that I can’t get out of here and se if she’s all right?”  A low rumbled of agreement rose up from several people in the terminal, and the captain sighed.

“We will not stop anyone leaving,” Captain Thomas said finally.  “But no one leaving will be allowed back in until further notice. I feel I should tell you that that no one has come to the airport since the storm began, and no one has been seen outside.  The sun should be shining by now, but it’s as dark as midnight outside, and not just because of the clouds.  We should be getting some light.”

The man who’d spoke was standing at the booth in the next gate, and looked like he’d been caught wrong-footed.  He probably had expected to be told he wasn’t allowed to leave.

“So what are you saying?” a woman asked skeptically.  “Are you saying that there’s...what, something ‘spooky’ going on?”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort,” said Captain Thompson sharply.  “All I am saying is that we want to be as cautious as possible until we know what’s happened.  All outside contact has been cut off, and the generators refuse to work.  And until we know what’s wrong, we’re playing it safe.  Now.  If you will all be seated, we will begin bringing out the meal.”  The woman nodded briefly at the crowd before walking away, towards the escalators, making it clear that the conversation was over with.  The crowd broke out into a babble of chatter once she was gone.

“Well, that was interesting,” said Frank dryly.  “I’m surprised she was that honest with everyone.”

“Well she didn’t really say much that we all didn’t already know.  The darkness outside is obvious, no one’s radios or cell phones are working, and the generator obviously died because the lights are still not on.”

“Well,” said Frank.  “After this meal then, I say we begin our own investigation.  I wanna talk with the captain, she seems like a pretty cool sort, and see if we can’t find some answers.”

Joe nodded and sat back on his cot as the fod was passed out to the travelers.

The meal could be called food, Joe supposed, if one were to get technical. It was edible...barely. Still, it was something to eat, and it filled Joe’s growling gut.

When everyone was finished eating, a few flight attendants, along with Captain Thompson, began collecting the plates.  Frank stood suddenly and went over to the captain, saying something to her in a low voice.  Joe blinked, but stayed where he was, irritation tickling the back of his mind as he watched his brother, and debated whether to follow. He hated when Frank just off and did something without telling Joe what the blazes he was doing.  And people said Joe was impulsive!  Maybe he was, but he certainly wasn’t the only one in the family.

Frank looked around, looking slightly surprised, then looked back and gestured Joe over, and Joe wondered if Frank had expected him to come along to begin with. It would have been nice if he’d said so!  Pushing his annoyance aside, Joe joined Frank and Captain Thompson.  The pilot nodded politely as Joe approached.

“Captain Thompson’s heard of Dad,” said Frank, “and of us.  She says that she’d welcome our help.  Technically, airport security’s in charge of checking this whole, weird situation out, but—”

He broke off as  burst of static from the hand radio Thompson had clasped on her belt made all three of them jump.  Frowning, Captain Thompson grabbed it up, pressed the button on the side, and said clearly, “Captain Thompson here, please repeat, over.” 

The voice was garbled and staticy, but his message was loud and clear: a plane was circling, asking permission to land!  

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