For some reason the designers of airplanes must think everyone is average. The seats in coach class were close together and there was hardly any leg room. Frank may not complain but I don’t mind voicing an opinion now and again, like how cramped I felt when we exited the plane. Of course, I did wait until we were out of earshot of the cute stewardess.

It felt good to stretch my legs as we walked across the tarmac, headed for the terminal. Frank nudged my shoulder and nodded to several people standing around in light blue robes, with little flowers to hand out.

I rolled my eyes and headed inside where it was considerably cooler. We were supposed to head for the rental car agency booth to pick up the motorcycles and a package waiting for us. In a matter of minutes we were on the road, the bikes revving along. The map supplied us had the usual info, plus the route we would take to get to the compound. There had also been cash for necessities like food and stuff.

We headed due east on Interstate 10 toward Palm Springs. Stench’s group was set up in the desert about another hour from the city, north toward the Mojave Desert.

The motorcycles ate up the miles and soon we started seeing the white windmills. This had to be San Gorgonio Pass. Frank had been reading some guide book on Los Angeles and surrounding cities and told me about them. The hundreds of windmills or rather wind turbines use the strong winds whipping through the pass to generate electricity for the surrounding area.

By the time we roared into Palm Springs, I was starving. We stopped at a fast-food restaurant and grabbed burgers, fries and sodas. We sat at an outside table and savored the food. Frank was staring in the distance, looking uneasy.

“What? Your burger not good?”

“Too bad we can’t tour the Joshua Tree National Park. It’s only a few miles further east. We’ll probably pass it when we get on Highway 62 going north.”

“So what’s the trouble?”

“Joe, there’s several military installations out in the Mojave Desert. Twentynine Palms Marine Base is just north of the Joshua Tree National Park.”

I finished off my cheeseburger. “I doubt we’ll veer onto the base. I’m sure like in all the movies, there’s miles of electrified fence topped with barbed wire.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “They’re mostly training installations, Joe. Explosions, practice runs, like Twentynine Palms Marine Base.”

“What are you getting at?”

Frank leaned forward and lowered his voice. “There’s a no-fly zone over military installations, Joe. Stench must be pretty sure of himself to keep hidden from the base but use the no-fly zone to avoid pictures of the compound.”

“So he’s not some dazed and confused guru, that’s what you mean.”

Frank nodded and finished his meal. “We’ll have to skirt the Marine base. The last town after that is Landers.”

I frowned. “I thought southern California had towns with cool names.”

“Come on, Joe. We’ll have to get some bottles of water and snacks to last until we reach Landers.”

I looked up at a sunny blue sky with just a haze of little fluffy clouds. It would have been nice if we had been on vacation. Southern California was a nice place to relax in.

We stopped at a convenience store, grabbed a six pack of bottled water. Frank opted for healthy snacks, I grabbed some chips. I wanted candy but my dear brother was quick to remind me it’d be melted chocolate mush by the time we reached our destination.

We straddled our motorcycles and headed north on Highway 62. To our right, in the distance we could make out a green smudge, obviously the national park Frank wanted to visit. After awhile we could see another smudge on the horizon which as we got closer morphed into a long line of metal fencing. I caught Frank’s attention and pointed.

He flipped up his helmet visor just long enough for me to see the eye-roll. By the time we reached the small town of Landers, I was thirsty, hungry and ready to find a place to rest for a little while. It was a small town, with a mom-and-pop grocery store, a small movie theater. It seemed like a nice little town. Luckily, there was a diner with an ‘open’ sign so we stopped there.

It was mid-afternoon and the diner was empty save for an older lady working the counter. We ordered sodas and burgers again. I glanced over at Frank after she disappeared into the kitchen. “You think we should settle here for the night, make a run in the morning? I don’t know about you, but I could find a place to relax for the night.”

Frank stared thoughtfully at the old faded menu. “We might have thought about that in Palm Springs.”

I shifted on the stool. “What if we need a base of operations?”

“Hmm, not a bad idea.”

“Oh be quiet,” I muttered, hearing his faked surprised tone. “I have them on occasion.”

“The operative word being ‘occasion’,” said Frank with a smirk as the lady brought our food.

I decided he deserved it, so I kicked him in the ankle. I took a bite of my burger. “Mm, this is good.”

She smiled. “You two are new in town. Just passing through?”

“We’re touring Southern California,” answered Frank quickly. “Is there a place to crash for the night?”

The woman nodded. “The Relax Inn down the road. Welcome to Landers.”

I grinned and shared a look with Frank. “I’m sure we’ll relax in tonight.”

Frank just groaned and kicked my ankle.

We finished our food and got back on the bikes. The Relax Inn was a motel that looked a little bit faded around the edges but the prices were cheap and the room we got with double beds was clean. I fell across the bed I’d claimed for myself. “What do you think we’ll find tomorrow? Some hippies living in a modern-day commune or a cult?”

Frank sat down on the bed with a sigh. “I wish I knew.”

He spread the map out across the bed. “We’re here,” he said, pointing at a dot on the map. “There’s no mark from Landers to where the compound is.”

I sat up, frowning. “Frank, if it’s not marked on the map, how will we find it?”

Frank’s uneasy expression was back. “Maybe we’re not meant to. Maybe they’re meant to find us.”

I shook my head. “You’re saying that like ATAC set us up.” I got to my feet. “Frank, no. They’re the good guys.”

“We’re on a need-to-know basis which is no way to run an investigation. I found more stuff on Stench on the Web than what was on that disk.”

I walked to the window and stared out at the busy highway, the half-empty parking lot, the flickering neon sign announcing ‘vacancy’. “Frank, if it’s true, then we’re on our own.”

Frank flashed a grin. “No, we’re not. Before we leave tomorrow morning, I’m calling Dad, telling him where we are and what we’re up to. Give him a deadline for coming after us. Between him and the military base not far from here I don’t think we’ll have a problem with the cavalry.”

I found myself grinning. “Sounds good to me. Let’s hit the sack. I’m exhausted.”

Frank nodded. “Me too.”

We quickly got dressed for bed and turned out the light. In the dark, I watched the reflection of the neon vacancy sign flash on and off on the ceiling. And hoped we weren’t getting ourselves in too deep.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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.