Time slowed down as a horrified Fenton watched JR squeeze the trigger and knew there was nothing he could do to stop him – he was about to watch his son murdered right in front of his eyes! And then the sound of a shot and shattering glass; the kidnapper slumped down in his seat, holding his arm and cursing profanely as blood seeped through his fingers!

Whirling around, Fenton saw a police officer standing next to his father on the bridge deck and as he looked, the cop lowered his gun….Wasting no time, the young detective yanked the car door open and reached for his son.

“It’s okay, Frankie…you’re okay.”

The child felt his father’s arms around him but didn’t open his eyes. He trembled, cold and in shock, not understanding what had happened; he should be dead. The stranger had pointed the gun at him and – slowly he opened his eyes and glanced around – and the police had shot the stranger!

“FENTON! HOLD ON!” Frank heard his grandfather’s voice as his father held him tight and slowly waded towards the bank. He started to shiver violently, his teeth chattering as hot tears burned his cheeks and he just felt sick…and then without any warning, he was.

* * *

“Gertrude,” Cecil barked, wasting no time, “Get the climbing rope out of the trunk—”  He tossed his keys to the woman and knelt down next to the hole again, appraising the dark dirt sides. He glanced across at the distraught young mother and then nodded. Standing back up, he hurried across to help Gertrude with the rope.

Within moments, they were back and Cecil grabbed one of the blankets and passed it to the older woman, who draped it around her neck.

“What’s going on?” Laura asked, watching the older couple as her sister-in-law hastily put on a pair of leather climbing gloves.

“I’m going to need your help,” Cecil told her, “we’re going to anchor Gertie. She’s going down the hole after Joey—”

“What?”  The pretty blond was stunned and she looked from one to the other; were they crazy? Was Gertrude actually about to rappel down into the well? Who was this woman and what had she done with the ‘real’ Gertrude Hardy?

Gertrude’s gaze softened as she reached across and touched Laura’s arm.  “It’s okay, Laura. We’ve done this before!”

“Huh?” Laura hadn’t thought she could be anymore stunned, but she was.

“Yes, Cecil and I have been active members of a local climbers’ club for the past two years.”  The older woman looked fondly at her male friend; Cecil winked and then tied the rope to his waist, giving it a few good tugs for good measure.

“I d-don’t know about this,” Laura stammered even as she stood up and took hold of the rope.

“It’ll be okay,” Cecil reassured her and then added, “I’m stronger than I look!” As if to prove it, he dug his feet into the snow and took a steady grip on the rope. Nodding to Gertrude, he instructed, “Nice and easy, all the way….The dirt’s packed hard but a good nudge and you might start trouble.”

With a brief nod, Gert adjusted her hold on the rope, took a deep breath and cautiously stepped over the side….

 

Agnes hurried through the snow towards them, her hand flying over her mouth as she saw her daughter disappear over the edge and into the hole.

“Gertrude!” she cried out and then raced to help Cecil and Laura on the rope. “That girl is going to break her neck and that won’t help anyone!”

“That girl is one of the most natural rappelers I’ve ever seen,” Cecil gritted out as he fought the weight on the end of the rope.

“She couldn’t have waited for the fire department?” Agnes fretted, and then looking at the pale, tear-streaked face of her daughter-in-law and thinking of the small boy at the bottom of the well, she sighed, “No, of course not! I just hope she knows what she’s doing!”

“She does,” Cecil assured the women, “Gertie does.”

* * *

Gertrude wrinkled up her nose at the musty dank smell of the dirt. Some people liked its earthy aroma. Not her, and definitely not like this! The well felt like a tomb, and she shivered as she slowly lowered herself down the rope.

“Joey? It’s okay…it’s just Auntie Gert, I’m going to be there in just one moment, okay – so you hang in there.”  Her voice sounded eerily muffled by the well and she swallowed hard, forcing a calmness into her words that she didn’t feel. Many people didn’t know this, but Gertrude Hardy suffered from claustrophobia. So concentrating on her trapped nephew, she forced herself down each precious inch of rope. “Almost there, Joey, just a little bit more. Oooh, if your father could see me now,” she muttered nervously, “I’d never hear the end of it.” She snorted softly as she glanced down to estimate how much further she had to go. “Hmpf, I bet he’d never have thought his big sister would have this in her. No sirree…not prim and proper Gertrude Maybelle Hardy….Ooooh, if he only knew the half of it!”

It was amazing how dark it was down there, and she wished she had a light, but in her haste to get to the child, a light hadn’t been thought of…. And then – finally – her feet touched the rocky ground and she let go of the rope. Turning carefully, she heard heavy breathing and zeroed in on the injured boy.

“Oh Joey,” she whispered, crouching down in the confined space and slipping the blanket off her shoulders. “You’re going to be just fine…”

* * *

Joey opened his eyes slightly and saw a shadow hovering over him. He started slightly before recognizing the voice – it was his Aunt Gertrude.  ‘This is an odd place for her to be,’ he thought absently, groaning softly when the warm blanket was gently placed over him. The little boy wanted to ask about Frank and to tell her how much his side hurt, but he couldn’t. Instead he closed his eyes again and felt her fingers against his cheek, stroking lightly, and listened to her murmured words of encouragement. He was so tired – even the cold and pain seemed very far away now.

 

Gertrude didn’t like how unresponsive the child was. It hadn’t been that long since Joe had fallen and he shouldn’t have been this subdued.  Crouching beside him, she glanced up at the hole and frowned. The original idea of her holding onto the little boy as Cecil and Laura pulled them up, wasn’t going to work, but before she had a chance to think up an alternative, she heard the welcome sound of sirens and let out a heavy sigh – help had arrived!

* * *

Laura stood next to her mother-in-law, her pale blue eyes darting frequently from the well opening to the rescuers who were working feverishly to get her son out of it. Beside her, Agnes, Cecil and Gertrude waited just as anxiously. Just when the young mother didn’t think she could stand another moment of anticipation, she saw a burst of activity around the opening and then Joe was finally lifted out!

Quickly the paramedic carrying the child placed the little boy on a stretcher and Laura rushed to his side.

“Oh baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she took in the pale, dirt-streaked face of the child. And then she gasped as she saw his blood-soaked snowsuit…but before she could see anything else, the paramedics were moving the stretcher through the snow and towards the ambulance.

“Come on, Laura,” Agnes said softly, from the younger woman’s side, “we can follow them. Joey’ll be okay – you’ll see.”

“I’ll drive,” Cecil added.

Numbly, Laura let herself be led towards Cecil’s car, and as he pulled away, she laid her head against her mother-in-law’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard any word from Fenton yet about Frank and could only pray that this would all work out…somehow.

‘Please God, let my babies be okay,’ she prayed, ‘please…’

* * *

Fenton and Francis were on their feet the instant Joe was wheeled through the ER. The paramedics didn’t even pause, just rushed the stretcher through, giving the men only a quick glimpse of the unconscious child.

Frank was still in another room being assessed – having been taken to the hospital to make sure he was okay – and a frantic Fenton had been trying to reach Laura since they had arrived for any word on Joe.

“Dad—”  Fenton turned to his father, his face as white as a sheet, “Did you see – was there—”  His voice trailed off, his legs suddenly not strong enough to hold him. He sat down heavily in the plastic ER waiting room chair. He held his father’s equally horrified gaze, “was there a – a…piece of wood…sticking out of my son?”

The older man sat down beside him and placed a steadying arm around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. His voice was husky but quiet, “You need to be strong, son. Joey’s at the hospital – Laura will soon be here…you need to be strong—”  He paused and then added, “and yes…yes, there was…”

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.