I called Dad first thing to give him a heads’ up and let him know to give us a few days to see what was going on. I told him about my idea that the compound had to be close enough to the Marine base to take advantage of the no-fly zone and that Joe and I were heading out after breakfast.

He didn’t sound worried when we hung up. But I couldn’t help feeling that way. Joe thinks I’m a worrywart but I’ve heard horror stories about communes and cults. And I didn’t like not knowing what we were getting into.

Joe was up when I returned to the motel room. He glared at me and darted into the bathroom. A few minutes later he came back out, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “If you say your bed was as soft as a cloud, I’ll steal your extra water bottles.”

I bit back a grin and decided not to torture him. “The bed was lumpy.”

Joe grunted and sat down on the bed to search for his shoes. “Sleeping on the floor would have been better,” he muttered.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to breakfast and we can head out.”

We headed back to the diner after checking out of the motel. I told Joe what I’d told Dad over breakfast and then we were heading out of town in the bright morning sunshine.

Highway 247 veered to the west and north, back to civilization. The military base was due east of us now. That meant we had to continue in a north-easterly direction. I scanned the flat horizon and hoped that we’d find it without much trouble.

I settled in the seat and rode, Joe right next to me. Our bikes ate up mile after mile. We were basically off-road and there was nothing in sight. Were we going the wrong way after all? I slowed down, Joe slowing right beside me. He flipped up his helmet visor. “What’s up?”

I gestured to the flat ground, dotted with stunted spiky trees, saguaro cacti and boulders. “I don’t see anything.”

Joe stood up and glanced over his shoulder. “We’re still in sight of the base. We may have to go a little further.”

I sighed and pulled out a water bottle. I got another one for him. “Here.”

“I’m fine.”

“By the time you do get thirsty, you’ll already be dehydrated.”

Joe rolled his eyes at me but pulled off his helmet to drink. I did the same, wishing the water was cold, but not complaining. At least I had water.

We put our helmets on and started forward again. It would have been nice to see a road sign. There was nothing to indicate that any human had even been out here before.

A long shadow appeared across the sand in front of me. At first I couldn’t figure out what was casting it. Then I looked up. A huge bird flew overhead. Black with an orange head and a wingspan that was wider than I was tall. Two of the bird’s buddies joined it. Vultures, I thought.

A moment later I saw what they were after. A sheep lay on the ground ahead of us. One of the vultures was perched on its back. In an instant I could see a strip of the sheep’s flesh in the bird’s sharp beak. I swallowed hard. That bighorn sheep had to weigh more than two hundred pounds. I couldn’t help but wonder what had taken it down.

We kept going, eying the trio feasting on the sheep. I flashed back to an old animated movie and winced. That movie would be in my head for days now.

Suddenly Joe let out a whoop, muffled by his helmet. I saw it too. A warping wooden sign nailed to a big cactus: No Trespassing.

I stopped the bike and flipped up the helmet. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Joe had his visor flipped up. “Obviously there’s something to trespass onto. That means people. It might even be the compound. They don’t like visitors, remember?”

I nodded and we kept going. A few miles later we found another sign: Turn Back. Private Property. This sign was posted next to a road. It wasn’t paved but it was definitely a road. Joe shot me a thumbs up and roared forward.

Suddenly it looked like a giant hand had yanked him back. There was a loud bang and his motorcycle spun out of control. Not sure what happened I revved my engine to join him. Suddenly I hit the dirt. The weight of my bike pinned me to the dirt.

I took a deep breath and shoved the motorcycle to one side and pulled myself out. “Joe?”

“Okay.” Joe was sitting on the ground, his helmet beside him. He was inspecting the back tire. “My tire blew.”

I checked my tire and found a small sharp spike imbedded in it. “Because of this.”

“I guess when they said no trespassing, they were serious.”

“No kidding.” I made it to my feet. There would be a spectacular bruise on my leg tomorrow, I knew. I walked back a few feet to find more of the little spikes.

Joe stood up and gazed up at the sky. “No-fly zone.”

“What?”

“No one can search for us out here, Frank.”

“Then we’ll have to rescue ourselves.” I gestured in the direction we’d been heading. “Let’s grab our packs, the extra water and start walking.”

Joe frowned. “What about the bikes?”

“We’ll have to leave them.”

“Well, the rental company will just love us,” he muttered as we started walking.

But as we started off, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder. No-fly zone pertained to civilian and commercial aircraft only – not vultures. I suppressed a shiver despite the heat. We’d make it, I was sure.

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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.