hardy boys fan fiction

TIME SHARE

hardy boys nancy drew fan fiction

by

Hyena Cub

Chapter 5

hardy boys fan fiction

THE CHAPTERS

INTRO

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

Joe was stunned for several moments, as everyone stared.  Then Frank came over and helped Joe to his feet. 

“Thanks,” Joe murmured.  They embraced briefly before turning to see what it was the guard had shot.

It lay motionless, face-down, and it had wings; that was about all Joe could see for certain.  The thing was huge, far bigger than any bird he’d ever seen, and its wings were short; Joe didn’t know how it had stayed in the air at all.  “What the hell is it?”

“Bird of some kind,” said the camera kid, taking a picture.  “It’s huge, is it a condor?”

“No,” said Frank, shaking his head.  “Condors had far wider wingspans...and it was flying, Joe, it was diving right at you, and that thing’s got talons like a velociraptor.”

“Oh,” said Joe, stepping back a couple of steps.  “Lovely.”

“Don’t!” exclaimed the kid with the camera, as Frank stepped forward and gave the creature a cautious nudge with his foot.  He stumbled, nearly landing on his face, as it was clear the beast was far lighter than he’d expected.  Joe stepped forward to steady him and looked down at the bird with mounting disgust.

The mystery of how it stayed in the air was instantly solved, looking at the thing now from the front.  Its chest and its torso region were caved in, nearly flat, curving out towards its back.  It didn’t have any guts, to speak of, Joe was sure of that; there wasn’t any room, and thus would have hardly any weight to lift.  Its legs extended from the base of the thing’s wings, and were tipped by wicked-looking claws, just as Frank had said.  They were longer than any bird talons Joe had even seen.  It was maybe three feet high, covered in oily-looking, dark brown feathers, and its face was as flat as a Persian Cat’s.  In fact it looked a little like a Persian cat, with a beak in place of its nose.  Its head, where the guard had shot it, had nearly disintegrated from the bullet, looking as if it were made of fragile glass, not bone.

“My god,” whispered the kid.  Worried the kid might faint – his face was dead white – Joe put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, but the kid waved him off distractedly.  “No, no, I’m okay,’ he said faintly.  “Thanks...man, my mom and dad are gonna be shocked at these vacation photos.”  And he began to take pictures again.

“We should head out,” said Captain Thompson finally, shaking her head and backing away.  “If there’s one, there might be more.  I’m no biologist, but I’d bet my house this is nothing you’d ever find in an encyclopedia.  If this is what happened to the birds, I’d hate to meet a lion or something.  The Henry Doorly Zoo’s not far away, and who knows what madness had gone down over there.”

Joe grimaced at the idea.  “You’re right, let’s head back.  But what do we tell the others?”

“The truth,” said Thompson.  “And we can decide from there what we do.”

*** *** ***

The truth turned out to be far more difficult to tell than any of them could anticipate.  No one seemed to want to believe it, and Joe supposed he didn’t blame them.  Even after delayed sunsets, freak storms, and the arrival of an airplane from forty years ago, people still didn’t want to believe such a bizarre thing could happen.  Too many humans had a sort of mental security system that kept things out that were too bizarre for them to handle.

Joe, on the other hand, preferred the bizarre.  He was sick with worry about his family and friends, and confused as hell as to how any of this could happen, but even with all of that, he was enjoying himself.  Frank was of the opinion Joe needed to see a shrink when he admitted this, but that was okay; Frank was probably right.

Captain Thompson’s scout group spent half the morning trying to convince people of what they’d all seen, and the rest of the morning convincing some of the more stubborn ones not to go too far if they wandered outside. 

“We shoulda brought the bird,” Frank whispered.  “You think that would convince them?”

It probably would, but the sheep would just convince themselves the bird was some clever fakery.  Joe sighed.  At least they had a group of maybe twenty people who believed the captain and her group, and said that they would help if they could.

And so an hour later, over lunches of cold sandwiched and apple juice, they discussed.  And discussed.  And discussed.   Someone brought up the possibility of radiation poisoning, which made the Hardys uneasy.  It would certainly describe the horrid mutation of the bird thing they had found, which meant for all they knew, they’d already been exposed to dangerous amounts of radiation.  ‘Well, if I develop brain cancer or something in the next month, I’ll know,’ Joe thought moodily as he picked at the second half of his sandwich.  He wasn’t hungry all of a sudden.

The talk seemed to go on and on, droning into the background, and Joe’s mind had long begun to wander when Frank shook him suddenly.  “Joe!” he exclaimed.

Shocked out of his daze, Joe sat up straight, alarmed, sure that something weird was bearing down on them, ready to attack.  “What?  What?”

Frank blinked, and then chuckled, putting up a calming hand.  “Easy, little brother.  Seems like you zoned out there a little.  But this lady here mentioned something we might wanna listen to.”

“Oh.”  Feeling his heart begin to beat a little more calmly, Joe settled back into his seat and gave the assembled people a sheepish grin.  “Sorry.  What was the current topic?”

The woman Frank had indicated answered him, looking irritated that Joe hadn’t been paying attention.  “Black holes,” she said curtly.  “We were talking of the subject of black holes.  You see, one of the current theories is that within a black hole, time itself is warped.  The closer you get to the event horizon, that is, the last safe place of orbit you can achieve around such a black hole without being drawn in, the slower time goes.  If the Earth had, perhaps, slipped into such a black hole...”  She shrugged.  “On the subject of time travel, things start to seem less and less crazy.”

It was obvious a great many crazy things had been discussed while Joe had been daydreaming, but this struck a particular chord, and he looked at Frank in astonishment.  Frank had already made the connection, and nodded grimly.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Just what I was thinking.”

“What’s on your mind, son?” asked the lieutenant.  He had put away his sidearm, but he still had it on him, and Joe found that he was glad.  Neither he nor Frank (nor their dad, for that matter) cared much for the use of guns, but this was one situation that Joe was glad of them, especially after the attack of the mutated bird-creature earlier.  He saw several guards at the discussion, too, all armed. 

“Well...” said Joe.  “Well first of all, I dunno if any of you are familiar with any or our work, but we’re detectives, Frank and I.”

As expected, there were various scoffs and expressions or skepticism from the assembled adults, but Joe saw a few faces light in recognition or realization.

“We mostly help our father, Fenton Hardy,” Frank clarified.  “But have solved several of our own cases.  Believe that as you will.  However, our latest case involved a missing person...an easy case, in comparison to some.  The important thing was, this guy worked at a lab...maybe some of you saw a news report about a week ago about their attempts to recreate the effects of a black hole?”

Joe saw that many had, by the gasps of realization and the looks of dismay.  Some still looked skeptical, and Joe noticed many of these were from the old American Airlines flight.  He didn’t blame them, either!  He supposed that in 1966, the idea of making a black hole...something Joe didn’t even know if they knew about yet...was ludicrous. 

“So you think maybe this experiment got out of hand?” asked Jake, the guard who had been in the scout party.

“Possibly,” said Frank.  “The lab is right around here...maybe we should go over and talk to our client.  It was his lab that paid for our ticket home, which is why we’ve stopped here in Nebraska; his lab is just over the border in Iowa.  If we’re lucky...it’s still there.”

“Well then, ladies and gentlemen.” said the lieutenant, standing up.  “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a course of action.  Let’s not sit around any longer then, and head on over to Council Bluffs.”

Joe was all for that; the endless discussions were beginning to wear very thin, but of course others had their doubts.  What if they wouldn’t talk to us?  What if they got flung so far into the future that the black hole had grown?  Or maybe so far in the past that it wasn’t even there?  What if...

Captain Thompson finally ended the debate.  “We know we can’t go on as we are now,” she said.  “And this seems the only thing left to try.  I say we go for it.”

Well, there was that, and no one could dispute it.  Joe was more than ready, and let whatever might be out there take its best shot.

** ** **

The group going to visit the laboratory was smaller, but better prepared.  For one, they were able to use a car.  Joe remembered the generators beginning to work, and the 1966 plane that had coasted in, and figured that whatever messed things up had only temporarily shorted out the machines.  The kid with the camera opted out, as did Jake the security guard.  The ones left were the Hardys, the lieutenant (whose name Joe finally learned: Sherman Morgan), and Captain Thompson.  One of the airline employees volunteered the use of his Hummer, an ex-military vehicle that might be of the best use on their mission.  He handed the keys over to Captain Thompson, admonishing her to bring it back in one piece.

“My driving’s not that bad,” said the captain with a laugh, taking the offered keys. 

They also had backpacks full of rations (just in case), a couple of guns from the security officers) also just in case) and various, useful implements like hunting knives, rope, and other camping-type gear.  One never knew when the car might cut out, or they’d need the survival gear for some reason.

Finally, all seemed ready, and Captain Thompson looked at her three companions.  “All right, team, let’s head out.”

To Joe’s disgust, the man’s Hummer was pink.  Neon pink.  Frank wasn’t any more impressed by the color, but didn’t care whether not he rode in it, and was way too amused at Joe’s own distaste.  “I’m glad none of the guys’ll see this,” Joe muttered, climbing into the back seat of the shockingly-colored vehicle and wondering why the blazes a man would paint his car pink, much less the neon pink that coated the poor Hummer.  “I’d never live it down.”

The trip through the easternmost part of Omaha was uneventful; Eppley was right on the border, and there was hardly any land to drive through.  It was just over the river and into Iowa. On top of that, the highway was completely deserted.  Even the first few miles of Iowa countryside were uneventful.  “What’s the name of this lab again?” asked Captain Thompson.

“Mid-America Physics and Astronomy,” answered Joe, before Frank could.  Joe liked to answer questions when he knew the answers, because Frank almost always remembered things better than Joe.  “And here.”  He rummaged in his own backpack and dug out the card that McDougal had given them.  “The address is there.”

Lieutenant Sherman Morgan, sharing the back seat with Joe, looked a little puzzled as Thompson reached back and took the card.  “Why would they print the address of a secret lab right on a business card?”

“Well the lab’s no secret,” said Frank.  “They do a lot of normal, every day business there.  But some of its research is top secret.”

“Ah, that makes a little more sense.”  But Morgan still looked a little uneasy.  “Just be careful.”

It was good advice.  As they drove, the captain slowed the Hummer down, and told the others to be ready.

“What’s up?” asked Joe, grabbing the back of Frank’s seat and pulling himself forward to see.  Frank shot him a brief, aggravated glance, but Joe ignored him, squinting ahead.  “What the—is it snowing?”

“Yeah,” muttered Frank uneasily.  “And all across our path, too...if it’s like this all the way back to the lab....”

Joe cursed mildly as Captain Thompson drove carefully into the impossible blizzard that raged only yards ahead.  Joe saw with fascination that the flakes close to the hot side of the line were melting as they fell, but raged full force beyond.  “Another time?  Last winter, maybe?  Why the hell aren’t the temperatures colliding and merging, and, I dunno, making a hell of a storm?”

“It’s not any time close to now,” said Thompson tersely, as she drove carefully into the storm.  “No road.” 

Joe gasped as the temperature in the Hummer seemed to drop immediately about sixty degrees.  He heard Thompson turn on the car heater and wondered how long that would hold back the fatal chill.  ‘If I’d known Nebraska in the summer was this cold!’ he thought insanely as he wrapped his arms around himself.

The Hummer had fantastic traction, which was lucky, but even it was slipping and sliding over rough terrain now.  Joe bit his lip and sat back, buckling his seat belt.  ‘Shoulda done that first,’ he thought.

A sudden, hard THUD at the back of the Hummer startled everyone, and Frank let a small, alarmed cry.  “Another car?” he asked nervously as Thompson fought to keep them straight.  Though without other cars around, Joe didn’t figure it much mattered.

“I-I don’t know, I can’t see out of the back window.”  Joe spun around to see and realized it was frosted over, and the side windows were catching up fast.  “I-I see s-something in the side v-view, but—”  The woman’s voice was shaking not with fear, but with cold, and she did not slow down.  “W-we n-need to drive fast...get as far as we safely can, see if i-it c-comes out somewhere.”

Frank was nodding in agreement with the woman’s plan, even though he was shivering, too, and looked absolutely miserable.  What had the temperature dropped to?  Thirty below?  Sixty?  Was it winter or summer?  And what of the wind chill?  How low could it be before it was fatal?

Luckily he didn’t have to find out.  “Ahead,” gritted out Thompson, shivering so hard she could barely keep the Hummer no the road.  And the Hummer itself seemed to be getting sluggish, too.  Joe looked and was relieved to see swatches of tan and gold through the blowing snow, getting more and more clear as they neared. 

“Hurry,” Joe shuddered out, huddling in his seat.  Why hadn’t they thought to bring cold-weather gear, anyway?  The Hummer’s heater wasn’t doing a damned thing.

When they crossed the time-line once more, it was just as big a shock, from sub-zero winter to 85-degree, humid summer.  Joe gasped, feeling his ears pop, and wondered with brief panic if the pressure change was going to screw up his body too royally. The adventure was losing just a bit of its appeal!  The thing that had collided with them hadn’t shown itself, and though Joe was curious, he was also glad they didn’t have to deal with it.

“Thank God,” hissed Frank, maneuvering clumsy hands to open his window.  A blast of hot air hit Joe, making him gasp for breath, but he didn’t ask Frank to close it.  It felt too good, and his breathing evened out soon enough.  Still shivering, he slumped back in his seat.  Frank turned around, looking concerned.  “You okay, little brother?”

“Yeah,” Joe gasped, squinting at Frank’s face.  Was his own that pale?  It made him worry, himself!  “Are you?  You’re white as a sheet.”

“I will be soon.  I’ll be even better once we get to this twice-damned lab.”

“Amen to that,” said Morgan fervently.  “How long, Captain?”

“Close,” said the captain tersely.  “Close...few miles at the most.  Just hang in there and hold on.”  Now that she was on solid terrain, asphalt, Captain Thompson smoothly depressed the accelerator until they were going at least seventy miles an hour.  And so long as the road stayed smooth, that was just fine with Joe.

At that speed, it took very little time to reach the lab, but the Hardys both got a big surprise.  On the newscast, the lab had looked like any other ordinary building, except for the observatory dome at one end.  But now it was surrounded by guards with guns, and more than one of those guns swiveled in their direction as the Hummer drove up.  Thompson cursed in surprised alarm and decreased her speed dramatically before they got anywhere near, almost stopping the vehicle.  “Damn.  I can’t say I’ve ever had a gun aimed at me...American Airline pilots don’t often run into that kind of situation.  Any suggestions?”

Joe leaned forward again, squinting.  Frank said, “Well, for now...drive.  Slowly.  They’re not shooting yet, though we’re in range.  Lieutenant, you might want to stow your weapon.  If it makes these guys trigger happy....”

The man didn’t seem to like the idea much, but finally he nodded and put it away.  “You’re probably right, son,” he said.  “It’d spook ‘em and there’re a whole lot more guns out there than we have.”

“It wasn’t like this before,” said Joe, calmly feeling the peculiar sensation of his heart speeding up, of the adrenaline buzzing in his head.  It was strange to him that he could feel so completely jazzed and ready, and still so calm.  But it was always like this in danger, especially when someone pointed a gun at him.  “It wasn’t guarded like this.”

“Then I’d say it’s a good bet we’re in the right place,” said Frank, watching with his fists clenched as the Hummer slowly approached the first set of guards.  One of them, a grim-faced woman with brown hair, kept her gun on the car while the other aimed his up and approached.  Joe took a deep breath as Captain Thompson rolled down the window.

“What business have you here?” asked the guard.  There were circles under his eyes, and it looked as if he’d gotten about as much sleep as Frank and Joe had.  Maybe less.

“We’re...we’re here to see....”  Captain Thompson slowly brought up the business card, and Joe clenched back the urge to flinch as the male guard took a step backward, his muscles tautening, but he did not level the gun at them again.  They were big rifles, too, the ones the National Guard used.  Thompson took a big breath and read, “Hiram McDougal.  We’re here to see him. My name is Captain Jennifer Thompson, a pilot with American Airlines.  I have with me Lieutenant Morgan...military, army, though...well the situation’s...unusual.  And Frank and Joe Hardy.”  She nodded to them all in turn.

“‘Unusual’.  That’s one word for it,” muttered the man guard, but Joe was able to relax a little, because the guard’s weapon went from a ready position to more of an at-ease position.  “Go ahead,” he told them.  “Slowly.  And make sure you have ID, you Hardys.  You’re expected.”

Frank and Joe exchanged a surprised look as Thompson thanked the man and did as he bade, driving slowly towards the unassuming little building in the middle of the grasslands.  “Guess we shouldn’t be all too surprised,” said Frank after a moment.  “He seemed to trust us pretty good, and he knows of our reputation for being way too nosy for our own good.”

At this, everyone laughed a little, and the tension went down a little more.  But Joe could not let himself relax completely, not after all the traps he and Frank had been lured into during their short careers.  His base instinct was that it was legitimate, but he still had that lingering paranoia, as usual.

But the setup was indeed legitimate, and after everyone had showed their identification (and surprisingly they didn’t even blink at Morgan’s badly outdated  army ID and driver’s license), they were allowed to approach the building.  It was clear that McDougal had been informed of the Hardys’ arrival, for he was standing in the outer office of the labs, actually wringing his hands and looking as if Satan himself had paid him a visit.

“Wondered if I’d be seeing you,” he muttered as the four of them entered.  He hook hands briefly with Thompson and Morgan after the Hardys introduced them, then gestured for the group to follow him.  “And I imagine you have some interesting stories to tell.”

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