Hardy Boys Fan Fiction at the HDA - Lie To Me

he building stood tall and lonely, framed against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. The once warm red tiles on the roof seemed dull and rested heavily on top of the walls. Beneath those tiles, the windows sat like sightless eyes staring out onto the half mowed lawn. It was said that windows were the eyes to the soul. These windows had no soul, and no one could see beyond the inky darkness that filled the space beyond the shutters.

On the lawn, dead leaves drifted, swept helplessly to and fro by the parched summer breeze. They swirled wildly past the foot path, and onto the steps to rest in a careless pile before a tall and forbidding set of double doors.

The doors opened, like a huge yawning mouth, nudged by the persistence of the scorching wind. The leaves on the steps trembled for an instant in the leftover breeze before they were swept, unwillingly, through that hungry mouth into the dark and silent hallway.

Another gust of wind came in through a shattered window and the leaves tumbled further in, down a long grey and empty corridor. The leaves tumbled reluctantly on, pushed onward by the merciless motion of the wind.

And, when they finally came to rest, before them sat a pair of eyes.

Sightless and opened wide…

~~HBHBHB~~

The building was totally lifeless. With the exception of that one room located at the end of that long corridor. In the only populated room in the entire building, the temperature was rising steadily.

Both literally and metaphorically, Joe thought.

He watched carefully as the gunman paced nervously up and down the width of the room. He noted the flushed face, the sweaty brows, and the constantly shivery hands.

That man is seriously sick, Joe realized.

That was bad.

Then, Joe also noticed that the gunman had a look in his eyes; the look of a cornered and trapped beast being pushed to the edge of endurance.

…And desperate.

That was doubly bad.

What was it his father said about sick and desperate animals?

Come on, Hardy, remember, because that’s what you’re facing right now.

Yet, despite it all, the gunman was amazingly clear-headed and methodological in all his actions. He had them close all windows – regardless of the lack of power or air conditioning – and stacked the chairs and desks into defensive positions. He had ensured that there were no possible lines of sight from the outside world, which was an amazing feat, considering they were on the ground floor.

Joe continued watching as the gunman, when he finally stopped pacing, sat down at the edge of the teacher’s desk, his eyes still flicking alertly but nervously over all of his captives. Then he started to play with his gun. First he started to snap the magazine in and out; no doubt confident he would be the quicker should anyone try anything. After all, the shotgun was only inches away from his grasp. But it was what happened next that chilled Joe.

The gunman had, within a minute, disassembled the pistol and reassembled it.

Joe knew of only one other person who could accomplish the same feat.

The sounds of a helicopter rotor startled the entire room of people into alertness. The gunman edged jerkily towards the window and peeked out. Whatever he saw must have angered him tremendously, for his face suddenly snarled into a savage, inhuman mask.

Spinning to face all his captives, he turned his gun on all of them. With an expert flick of his finger, he switched off the safety catch and his finger began to move on the trigger.

Most of the students shrank back in horror, too terrified even to squeak. A number were too stunned to move.

Then Joe stood up and placed himself directly in the line of fire. He stood there and stared straight past the barrel of the gun, and into the bright fevered eyes of the gunman.

Come on, Joe willed the gunman to hear him. You don’t want to do this… you kept us alive this long because you want something… if you kill us it’ll all be over… Come on, don’t do this…

The finger tightened on the trigger.

But Joe ignored it and continued to focus on the gunman. He kept his gaze steady and showed no fear.

That’s what it was. His father always said, show fear to a cornered animal and it’s over.

Joe lifted his hands slowly as a gesture of surrender and submission. He continued to look the gunman in the eye…

Come on, you want something… shooting us won’t get you that…

Joe could feel the sweat pouring down his back. He could only hope the gunman did not realize how terrified he was.

Then slowly, the gunman lowered his gun.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief.

Relief turned to consternation as the gunman suddenly reached out and grabbed him, spun him around and prodded him towards one of the windows with that gun.

~~HBHBHB~~

The scene around the school building was surprisingly quiet, considering the drama that had just occurred.

Or perhaps he was just blocking out all the noise?

He could see the police officers busying themselves securing the scene, keeping the crowd at a safe distance, and helping reassure and resettle those students who successfully escaped from the ill-fated shooting before directing them into the Junior High behind him.

The media, as usual, were pressing against the barricades in an attempt to get access to real eyewitness accounts. They didn’t care for those lives still in danger inside. And behind them, the crowd gathered. They were worse, hungry for more sensational news, but always from behind the safety of the barricades.

He could see those injured screaming in pain. He could see a good number of students wailing in terror, clearly still in shock. He watched dispassionately as the paramedics rushed to and fro, tending to their patients. He could almost feel the flashing red and blue lights as they reflected off his face from the nearby police car.

But none of that meant anything to him.

His entire being was focused on that one set of windows at the end of the school building. That was the room his brother was in… with that damned gunman. The situation was extremely volatile. He knew. He could feel it in his heart and soul that Joe was currently facing down an explosive situation.

Damn Collig for keeping such a close eye on him!

Joe was in danger, and he needed to be in there with his brother. Not out here feeling useless and helpless. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in his brother’s ability to handle the situation, quite the opposite actually. It was the gunman he didn’t trust. And for that reason, he needed to be inside.

Nearby, Chief Ezra Collig was tersely giving instructions via his radio. He was demanding to know when the negotiator would arrive. In the mess of people moving about seemingly without direction, Chief Collig stood tall and firm, a bulwark in the aftermath of a disaster.

And at the moment, he knew that the police chief had half an eye on him all the time. He could see the anxiety in the chief’s gaze every time it fell on him. But he could not find it in himself to tell the chief the words that would set poor Collig’s mind at ease.

So Frank Hardy stood there, staring grimly at the building, his fingers clenched bloodless with fear for Joe and terrible anger against the shooter.

No, not just a shooter, but a killer.

How many of his friends and teacher had that shooter killed already?

He needed to be in there, but not yet. Not with Collig watching him that closely. But the chance would come, and may God have mercy for the gunman if his brother was hurt in any way.

Frank would have none.

Something distracted his attention from those windows that were closed to him. He looked up into the sky and saw the helicopter heading their way. Soon it landed in the fields, and a man alighted from it. He saw Con Riley swiftly lead the man through the crowd towards him and Chief Collig.

The negotiator had arrived.

Frank observed that man from where he stood. He was a man of slight stature, five nine at most, but with a muscular build. There was something familiar about his dark green eyes, but Frank was too distracted to pay too much attention to the dark haired man.

He watched as the negotiator exchanged some words with Collig and several others. His eyes followed the newcomer as he donned his bullet-proof vest and hooked on all the standard surveillance gear.

Then, as the man made ready to move into the school building with two SWAT officers as backup, they were halted by a terrified gasp that rippled through the crowd.

One of the windows to that room opened.

The blood in Frank’s veins froze when he saw his brother standing there, hands curled into tight fists, with a dark shadow barely visible behind him.

The gunman was behind his brother.

The negotiator moved forward slowly, alone, with his hands held high to show that he had no weapons and that he was not planning anything. He continued to move until he was standing directly in front of the window and directly facing Joe.

Then he called out in a loud and clear voice.

“I’m here…”

Let the author know what you think of this story

email your positive feedback to hdafeedback@yahoo.com

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

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.