It was cold and dark, realized Joe, wondering why he felt as if he were tied down. Then he remembered being buckled in. He took a deep breath of ice-cold air and felt as if tiny shards of ice were pricking his lungs; and then he felt the sharp twinge that made him wince. It wasn't too bad; maybe his ribs were just bruised. He moved his legs carefully to make sure everything was working. "Frank?"

Silence answered him and Joe felt a chill more inside than out. "Frank?"

"Hmm?" Joe heard his brother groan. "Oh man, my head hurts."

"Anything else?"

"I don't think so." Frank cleared his throat. "Ryan? Marc?"

"F-Frank? J-Joe?" came a shaky voice.

Joe recognized the voice as Leigh's. "Leigh? Are you okay?"

"M-my arm – it hurts."

"Don't move it," said Frank. "It may be broken."

A thin beam of light came on, piercing the pitch-blackness.  "Anybody awake?" came Ian's voice, sounding breathless.

Joe was vastly relieved to see light, however small. "Ian. I think Leigh's arm is broken."

"Ooh, my ankle," said Kari, sounding as if she were crying. "W-where's Marc?"

"I was going to check on him," said Ian. He flashed his light around. The rest of the band was stirring and apparently realizing aches and pains.

Joe undid his buckle. "Where's the first aid kit?"

Kari sniffed, sounding shaky herself. "Under the co-pilot's seat."

"I'll get it," said Frank, releasing his own seat belt. He glanced back at Leigh and felt bad to see tears streaming down Leigh's face. "I'll be right back." He moved to stand up but his left leg buckled and he sat back down hard.

Joe frowned. "Frank?"

"I think I may have banged my knee on the seat," he said, wincing and gesturing to the seat in front of him.

Joe pushed himself up and stood a moment, wondering why he felt like he was leaning to one side. Then he realized the plane was slanting downwards. He made his way to the aisle and steadied himself. The movement made his ribs hurt and he took a careful breath.

Frank looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "Joe."

"I'm fine."

"Joe."

"I may have bruised my ribs. I'm fine." Joe made his way to the front of the plane. He realized Ian's light was growing brighter and he glanced over his shoulder to see Ian right behind him. "Are there any more flashlights around here?"

"I don't know. Here."

Joe took the flashlight and squatted down to reach under the co-pilot's seat. He pulled out the first-aid kit and handed it back to Ian. Then he flashed the light around the cockpit.

Ryan was slumped forward, a thin trickle of blood running sluggishly down his right temple. Joe took a deep breath, wincing as he did it. "Ryan?"

Ryan didn't respond and Joe felt his heart sink. He turned to his right and saw Marc leaning up against the side of the plane, a dark bruise on his forehead. Joe leaned forward and felt for a pulse. Marc's pulse was strong and steady.

At Joe's touch, Marc jerked and then groaned.  Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Wha—?"

"Stay still."

Marc's eyes were dilated and he couldn't seem to focus on Joe. "Hey..."

"Stay still." Joe touched Ryan's neck and felt a weaker pulse. He turned to Ian. "We need light and we need to get out of here."

"I second that."

Joe turned to Marc. "We're coming back. Just stay there."

"I'll stay with him," said Ian, sounding unsettled. "It's dark in there and he might injure something."

Joe nodded and started back toward his brother. He handed the first-aid kit to Frank and flashed the flashlight around. "We need something to splint Leigh's arm."

Frank nodded. When Joe didn't say anything else, Frank looked up at him. In the dimness, he saw the worry on his brother's face and he let himself face the truth – they'd crashed somewhere, it was cold and dark. Who knew where they were? He took a deep breath. Things weren't looking very good right now. "Joe," he whispered. "We have to get out of here."

Joe gave a sharp nod. "I know," he said heavily. "I know."

                                                ***

The tiny lights blinked on and off, flashing the colors on the walls, the sofa, the woman seated on the sofa, an afghan wrapped around her. Laura shuddered underneath the afghan although the living room was quite warm. She'd been resting uneasily upstairs in her room but something had awakened her.

Memories flooded through her mind – that first Christmas with Frank. Her eyes zeroed in on the ornament that announced 'Baby's First Christmas' and had Frank's full name written on it. Joe had one too. Every year, she'd bought the boys an ornament, marking each year as special. And then there were the ornaments the boys made in school over the years.

Tears filled her eyes as she realized why she was so worried. Not so much that Fenton was stranded in New York City. She was worried about her sons. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong.

                                                ***

"It's been four hours since the plane disappeared from radar," announced the perky anchorwoman on the news channel. Despite the late hour, she was perfectly attired and groomed. "According to the airport official in Albany, the pilot, Ryan Thornton had wanted to leave before the storm hit. Unfortunately, the storm moved faster than anyone expected."

She looked straight at the camera. "The plane was owned by MacFairlaigne Software Incorporated but it is used by the popular heavy metal band Sorcerer."

Fenton sat up in his chair and stared at the TV screen. "No," he whispered, realizing the uneasiness he'd been feeling hadn't been because he was forced to spend another night in New York City.

"Rescue teams are already heading to the Catskills where the plane disappeared from radar. But due to the storm and the drop in the temperature to below freezing, things do not look good for the passengers of the plane. We will keep viewers posted."

The all-news channel flashed to a commercial and Fenton felt like throwing something at the TV. He needed more information. He needed to get up there to find his sons. He shivered, although he'd long since gotten warm. "No, Joe and Frank are okay. They're strong. Oh dear God, let them be okay," he said, realizing it was a prayer. Please let them be okay.

                                                ***

It was Adrian, fumbling around, who found the emergency kit in the small bathroom on the plane. It held two emergency lights and various other necessities. The plane had no real galley but there was one section in the back that served as a tiny kitchenette. In there, Erick – although he was limping badly – found more flashlights. "If we ever get out of here, I'm voting for the bus. I'm not flying anymore."

Savannah frowned at him. "Don't be negative." She tried shifting slightly but winced. She hadn't been buckled and had wrenched her arm when it hit the seat in front of her.

With the extra light, Ian and Adrian had moved Marc from the cockpit. He'd half-walked with them supporting him, and seemed okay except for the knot on his head and his dilated eyes.

Now they were wondering how to get Ryan out of his seat without inflicting more injury. Joe glanced out the nearest window but it was like a black mirror and all he saw was a blurry reflection. "We need to get help. God knows if anybody's even out looking."

"Ry's a good pilot," said Erick. "He'd be in constant contact with the airports."

Frank looked at Joe. "What are you suggesting? That someone go out there?"

"Not you," countered Joe. "Your knee would give way after a few steps."

"Well, not you either. None of us are really dressed to deal with the weather, Joe."

"Someone has to go." Joe gestured to the band in general. "Ian and Adrian are about the only other ones who could manage."

"Don't volunteer me," muttered Ian, half-heartedly. He sat down in an empty seat. "I'm damn glad Penny didn't fly with us."

Adrian cleared his throat. "Joe's right." When everyone looked at him. "He is. We could go."

Frank felt scared all of a sudden. "It's too dangerous," he told Adrian, but his eyes were locked on his little brother.

Joe just looked back at him, not saying anything. He'd said what he wanted – and with his bruised ribs, he really didn't feel up to arguing.

"Damn it," said Frank, suddenly angry – at the storm, at the fact he'd banged his knee hard enough to injure it. "Damn it."

"We'll be fine. I'm sure someone was tracking the plane and saw it go down. We probably won't have to go far to get help." Joe hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. He started for the door and for a moment felt panic. What if he couldn't get it to open?

Adrian joined him at the door and they pushed it open. A cold blast of air rushed into the plane. Someone tossed two coats toward Joe and Adrian and they shrugged into them. Adrian took one of the flashlights, leaving the rest for the ones staying behind.

Joe turned to see Frank staring at him, an odd look in his brown eyes. Joe nodded to everyone but looked directly at his brother. "We'll be back. I promise." And he and Adrian left, pushing the door closed behind them.

                                                ***

Joe Hardy looked around and felt a chill as he saw the plane. It was half-buried in a snowdrift. "Where are we?" he said quietly.

"Don't know," answered Adrian.

The night was clear and black, glittering stars looking sharp and pure in the night sky. The snow was smooth and barren of footprints and Joe felt scared. How could anyone be able to find them?

"Silent Night," muttered Adrian, looking around at the snowdrifts and the black sky studded with stars.

Joe gave him a look. "What?"

"What I always picture, listening to that song." Adrian shrugged. "I think that's north."

Joe hadn't even thought about the need for a compass. "Oh crap. Are you sure?"

"No. But the angle of the plane would suggest that north would be behind us."

Joe looked at Adrian, thought it over and nodded. "You're right. So...we head south?"

Adrian shrugged. "I guess. That's the direction we were headed. Isn't there some town right outside the Catskills or around the edge? Oh yeah, Woodstock."

Joe couldn't help but grin for a moment. "You would remember that, right?"

Adrian and Joe started walking south. Adrian sighed. "Too young to have gone. And the second Woodstock was a joke; nothing like the original. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin – wow."

Except for their voices, it was silent. Joe could hear the crunch of their footsteps on the ice crust. "So how did you end up with the band?"

"Ad."

Joe gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"An ad in a metal magazine." At Joe's look, Adrian grinned. "Serious. The band was looking for a drummer and I was looking for my ticket out of Devil's Falls, North Dakota."

Joe rolled his eyes. "An ad. I thought you did the garage band thing and struggled to the top."

"Well, we did. But I answered an ad before that." Adrian nudged him. "It was hard but worth it."

Joe looked over at him. "Everyone acts like you're the crazy one."

"My plan is working then." Adrian gave Joe a look and laughed as he walked on ahead.

Joe couldn't help but grin. He followed after Adrian but suddenly, his foot hit snow and kept sinking. He let out a yelp as he fell face first into the snow and felt himself sinking--and there was nothing to grab onto but more snow.

                                                ***

"It's been five hours since the plane went down," said the new anchorman. He was in a dapper three-piece suit and looked too chipper to have been awake long. "Rescue teams are pinpointing location as the Catskill Mountains, possibly near the town of Hunter. If that is the case, it will be relatively easy to reach the plane. If they are mistaken, the plane could be anywhere in the Catskills Mountains."

Fenton sat, staring at the television, cursing his being stranded and unable to do anything. And worse yet, he wasn't even home to comfort his wife. He reached for the phone, mildly surprised she hadn't called him. He put the receiver to his ear and saw why. There was no dial tone. "Damn, phone lines are down," muttered Fenton.

He got off the bed and walked to the window. Snow was falling thickly, covering everything in sight in a blanket of white. No one was outside and he saw only one car moving slowly along the street below the hotel.

"We have just received an update. There is no sign of a plane near Hunter. According to reports, there was no sound of a plane in trouble. The rescue team may have to recheck their calculations in finding the plane. Time is of the essence, for the temperature continues to drop rather rapidly. Without proper heat and protection, all the passengers on the plane could suffer from hypothermia or worse."

Fenton turned to look at the TV. He didn't need to be reminded of that. He sat back down on the bed, hoping against hope that the rescue team would find the plane soon.

                                                ***

"There. It's not much but it will keep the arm immobile until we can get it looked at."

Leigh nodded, her eyes red from crying. She searched his face. "You're worried."

"Don't," said Frank, more harshly than he meant to. "Just...don't."

"I'm sorry."

Frank's head jerked around to look at her. "What for?"

"I told Marc to invite you. I figured that since you'd both gotten so excited about the concert, I..." Her voice trailed off and tears welled up in her eyes.

Frank shook his head. "We could have easily said no."

Leigh didn't look too convinced. She just shifted her gaze to the nearest window, even though with the dim light and the night outside it was nothing better than a dark mirror.

Frank pulled himself to his feet and using the seat backs, made his way back to his seat. He saw Marc had drifted off to sleep once he'd made his way to Kari. Frank was unsure that was a good idea, but he couldn't tend to everyone.

He noticed Erick and Savannah were resting in their seats and Ian kept staring into the darkened cockpit. They still didn't know what to do with Ryan. Ian had put a blanket over Ryan but everyone knew it wouldn't help in the long run.

Frank could feel the air getting colder. Someone had to find them soon. He glanced at the door where his brother had left the plane with Adrian, nearly an hour ago. He felt a chill and hoped that his brother was safe. He couldn't ignore this worry anymore. Joe had to be okay.

He swallowed hard as he suddenly realized his parents were probably frantic and Aunt Gertrude so worried. Perversely, a song wound its way into his subconscious:  'I'll be home for Christmas...'

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.