ILLUSIONS
by
AUTHOR D
Chapter 5
The Chapters
Joe stared out the window moodily, barely registering the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the interior of the car. While a small part of him understood why his story might be doubted he still felt incredibly hurt that not one person who claimed to love or care about him would believe him. He’d never been this adamant that any of the hallucinations he’d had were real and found it upsetting that no one would give him the benefit of the doubt this time.
When Vanessa leaned her head on his shoulder, he automatically leaned over and softly kissed the top of her head but offered no further acknowledgement, instead resolutely watching the street lights pass by in a blur bitterly, wondering if his judgment would ever be trusted again. Caught up in his own self-pity, Joe didn’t even realize they’d already dropped Callie off and were now idling in front of the Benders farmhouse until Frank turned and nudged him.
“Joe… we’re here.”
“Huh?” Joe blinked, then looked around. “Oh, sorry.” He got out and walked around to the other side of the car, opening the door and helping Vanessa out, loosely holding her hand as they walked to the porch and climbed the steps, stopping in front of the door.
They stood awkwardly for a moment and then Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t see anything,” she said miserably. “I should’ve just told them I saw her too.”
“No,” Joe shook his head. “I didn’t want you to lie for me. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t see anything,” he assured her.
Vanessa nodded, but still looked guilty and very sad. “Call me tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.
Joe gave her the ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I will.” Kissing her goodbye, he waited until she was safely inside then returned to the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
The brothers didn’t speak until Frank had pulled onto the main highway. “Joe?”
“Hm?” Joe grunted, staring dejectedly out the window.
“Why are you so sure you weren’t hallucinating?” he asked bluntly. “You were so insistent that this time was different, that you knew it was real… why?”
Joe thought for a moment, wondering how to put the intensity of what he’d felt into words and realized he couldn’t. Still, he was encouraged that Frank even thought to ask and attempted to explain it in a way Frank might understand.
“Whenever I was… hallucinating…” he began, still tripping over the word even after two months, “after it was over, I always kinda just knew that it wasn’t real, ya know? Sometimes it was pretty obvious, like when I was seeing things I knew, afterwards, were impossible. But even if it seemed totally real at the time it was happening, when it was over I just… knew.” He blew out a breath of frustration. “Sounds stupid, I know,” he muttered, but then continued adamantly, “But I’ve seen people who were afraid for their lives before. I’ve seen the look in their eyes. This girl… she was terrified, Frank… absolutely terrified… She was real.”
A chill raced down Frank’s spine at the tone – the conviction – in Joe’s voice. Thinking back, Frank realized that when each hallucination was over – at least the ones Joe could remember – he always understood they hadn’t been real. There was always a shadow of doubt in his eyes as to what had just happened. But not this time… This time Joe was absolutely sure. The girl was real… and she was in trouble.
As Joe fell back into a moody silence, Frank glanced at the clock and made a decision; one he knew could get him in big trouble. Getting off at the next exit he quickly got back on the Interstate in the opposite direction, heading back the way they had just come from. It took several more minutes before Joe realized they weren’t heading for home.
“Where are you going?” he asked, puzzled
Frank pointed at the dashboard clock which glowed ‘12:15 a.m’. “Frightland closes at midnight. Should be deserted by the time we get back there.”
Joe stared at him, shocked. “You… you believe me?”
Frank glanced at Joe, choosing his words carefully. He knew Joe was desperate for someone – anyone – to believe him but Frank wasn’t willing to lie just to spare Joe some bruised feelings. Deep inside, he thought Joe had to know how this whole thing looked to everyone else. Frank took a deep breath, pursed his lips for a moment and then exhaled forcefully. “I don’t disbelieve you enough to risk a kid’s life.”
They rode in silence a few minutes and then he heard Joe’s voice, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “Thank you…”
As they continued driving, Joe seemed to relax a little, apparently comforted by the thought that someone finally believed him. Glancing to his right, Frank thought his younger brother was actually grinning.
“What?” Frank said warily.
Joe was trying to hide a full-blown smile, but failing miserably. “You know you are gonna be in such deep shit when Dad finds out about this,” Joe laughed.
“ME?!” Frank practically squeaked. “You’re the one who keeps insisting he saw a kidnapped girl who needs help! I’m just trying to give you the benefit of the doubt!”
“Yeah, but you’re the mature, trustworthy, dependable eldest son. Me, I’m the psychotic, drug-addled, baby of the family who sees things that aren’t there. And I know Dad told you to go straight home…” Joe stopped and looked at him, grinning in triumph when Frank flushed. “When he finds out we went back to investigate…” Joe laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in the seat. “It’s all gonna be on you, bro. I’m nuts, remember? Nobody’s gonna hold me responsible for anything.”
“IF he finds out,” Frank glowered even as his father’s voice - clear, lucid and angry - came back to him. “You drop the girls off and come right home. I mean it, Frank. Straight home.”
Slouching in the seat, Frank realized Joe was right. “God, I’m gonna be grounded ‘til I’m ninety,” he muttered darkly. “Scratch that,” he glared at his still grinning younger brother. “When Dad gets through with me, I’ll be lucky if there’s anything left to ground.”
Joe laughed out loud but after a moment of companionable silence, his voice was soft and slightly emotional, “Seriously, Frank… thanks…”
At twelve forty-five, Frank’s cell phone rang, startling both brothers. When Frank let it ring two more times, Joe picked it up and looked at the display. “It’s Dad.”
Frank cringed. He had nothing concrete to convince his father to let them head back to the old shack and investigate on their own; nothing but the desire to give his younger brother the benefit of the doubt and try to erase some of the pain and betrayal he’d seen in Joe’s eyes. Yet as much as Fenton loved Joe, Frank knew that wouldn’t even be close to enough of a reason to forgive Frank’s blatant disobedience – again – and give his assent to their search.
“Want me to tell him we’re hanging out at Vanessa’s for a little while?” Joe offered.
Frank actually considered it for a few seconds, but then sighed heavily. “No. I don’t want you lying to Dad to cover for me. Just let it go to voice mail.” As the phone continued ringing Frank couldn’t help but think, ‘I am so dead…’
Joe’s eyebrows shot up as he stared at Frank. “You’ll blatantly disobey Dad but you don’t want me telling a little white lie to cover your butt?” he asked incredulous, then added with a cheeky grin, “I could always tell him I was hallucinating we were at Vanessa’s.”
“No, Joe! I don’t want you lying to him!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I embellished the truth,” Joe said bluntly.
“Embellished the truth?” Frank repeated, eyebrows raised. “It’s called lying, Joe, and I don’t want you doing it on my behalf. And I’ll worry about my own butt, thanks anyway.” He sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair. “Besides when we do finally get home Dad’s gonna kill me anyway. No sense both of us dying tonight.”
“Suit yourself,” Joe shrugged. The phone stopped ringing and Joe dropped it on the seat between them. Seconds later it started chirping again. Joe glanced down but before he could speak, Frank cut him off.
“Turn it off,” he ordered. “I’d rather not know how many times Dad’s gonna try and call. It’ll only add to the anxiety of wondering how long he’ll make me suffer before he actually kills me.”
He rolled his eyes, hearing Joe snicker as he flipped the phone open and turned it off.
*****
When they finally arrived at the old shack it felt much more eerie and unsettling, Frank thought, now that the lights and sounds of Frightland were silent. He held a flashlight over Joe’s shoulder as the younger boy picked the old, rusted lock, glancing around every few seconds to make sure they were alone.
A moment later he and Joe were standing just inside the doorway looking around. The small building wasn’t much bigger than a good-sized bathroom but without a stick of furniture in it. It almost reminded Frank of a guard shack but was probably used for some kind of storage, given it was on a farm.
The two brothers separated, automatically going in opposite directions, their high-powered flashlights providing a much better look at the inside of the building than they’d had from the outside. As Frank slowly walked around the small room, it looked to him as if no one has been there for years, but still, something about the place nagged at him; something he couldn’t quite put his finger on… yet.
Hearing Joe’s footsteps stop, Frank looked over his shoulder at his younger brother. Slowly Joe took one more long look around the small room and let his gaze settle on Frank.
“I don’t understand,” he said, a tinge of doubt in his voice for the first time all night. “I saw her! She was here! I know she was!” Joe stared at Frank, suddenly looking afraid. “Wasn’t she?” he almost whispered.
Joe’s tone of voice –almost as if he were afraid of himself, couldn’t trust himself anymore – ripped at Frank’s heart. He didn’t want to believe Joe was still so messed up from the drugs that he’d hallucinated the young girl, not after he’d been so adamant she was real.
Frank offered the only thing he had to give – hope. “Let’s look around a little more before we give up, okay?”
Joe straightened his shoulders and nodded, seeming relieved at Frank’s faith in him.
As they continued searching, Frank focused his light on the floor, starting in one corner and moving slowly scrutinizing every inch when it suddenly hit him. The floor was spotless! He quickly shined his light on the one broken window and then back to the floor. No dust or dirt; no broken twigs or dead leaves crunching beneath their feet; no dead rodents or bugs… nothing. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he realized that, given the broken window, there should be a thick layer of dirt and debris covering the floor. And if no one had been in here for years – which the old, rusted padlock would indicate – the floor should be covered in debris, disturbed only by the brothers’ footsteps. But it was spotless. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found.
‘It’s been wiped clean!’
“Joe…” Frank said excitedly. “Check out the floor.” He pointed the beam of his flashlight downward. Joe immediately followed suit. He waited while Joe followed the twin beams of light as they slowly moved over the floorboards. Joe suddenly looked up, his eyes wide.
“Where’s all the dust and dirt?!” Joe cried out. “The floor should be covered with it!”
“Bingo,” Frank grinned.
They began poking around the small room in earnest but couldn’t find a thing to indicate anyone had ever been there, other than the cleanly swept floor. Frank could hear Joe muttering under his breath and knew he was getting frustrated.
“We’re not giving up yet,” Frank murmured when something in the very back corner caught his eye. It was wedged in between the floorboard and the wall, so small he almost missed it. Kneeling, Frank reached out and plucked a tiny piece of fabric from just under the edge of the floorboard.
Shining his light on it, he asked, “What color did you say she was she wearing?”
“Huh?” Joe took the few steps needed to cross the room and stood behind Frank.
Frank turned and looked over his shoulder at Joe. “Her sweater, what color was it.”
“Red, why?”
Frank stood and smiled, holding up the torn scrap of fabric and shining the light on it. It was red… and it hadn’t been there very long at all…
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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.