Frank felt, more than saw, Joe scramble past Kevin’s prone body into the swirling blackness.  Returning his attention to Kevin, Frank reached down and shook his shoulder.  “Kevin!  Kevin, can you hear me?”

Frank cursed silently when he received no response.  There was no getting around it – he’d have to carry Kevin out.  That would necessitate standing, rather than crawling, and exposing himself to inhaling the deadly smoke.  Putting the penlight back in his pocket, Frank tugged his shirt up a little higher, making sure it was snug against his face.  At least it would offer a little protection against the smoke.

Frank lifted Kevin off the floor and rested him across his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  Turning, Frank carefully headed back the way they’d come in.  The flames had consumed more of the living room and front hall in the short span of time since he and Joe had first entered the house.  Fire crackled around him, licking at his feet, forcing Frank to hurry.  Trying to picture the route Joe had taken, Frank had to rely solely on his memory, as the smoke was so thick he couldn’t see anything.  Just when he began to wonder if he’d taken a wrong turn in the darkness, Frank felt a wisp of cooler air.  Squinting through watery eyes and blurred vision, he thought he saw a shaft of light just ahead.  Picking up the pace, Frank practically ran the last few steps to freedom and fresh air.

Racing out the front door and down the porch steps, Frank continued on for several more yards, putting himself a safe distance from the burning house, before laying Kevin on the ground.  Pressing two fingers against the side of Kevin’s neck, Frank was relieved to feel a steady pulse.  Leaning down, Frank put his ear very close to Kevin’s mouth and listened, while also watching for a steady rise and fall of his chest. 

‘Damn!’ he thought, glancing back up at the house.  ‘Come on, Joe, where are you?!’  He desperately wanted to go back inside and help Joe find their father, worry starting to gnaw at him.  What was taking Joe so long?

Shaking his head, Frank knew he couldn’t leave – Kevin wasn’t breathing.  Positioning his cousin’s head properly, Frank began a steady rhythm of rescue breathing, stopping at regular intervals to see if Kevin was breathing on his own yet.

‘Breathe, damn it!  I don’t want to lose Joe and Dad trying to save you!’ he thought angrily.

“Frank!”

Hearing his name, Frank looked up. He was shocked to see fire trucks and police cars and realized Sam must have called for help.  He’d been so focused on his task, he hadn’t even heard the sirens or noticed the sudden commotion.  At first glance, it appeared that bedlam reigned, with people running everywhere with no clear purpose. However, closer inspection showed the police and fire personnel that had arrived on the scene were responding to rapid-fire orders being shouted out by their commanders, setting up equipment and trying to get the upper hand in a chaotic situation.

Frank methodically searched the crowd and, seeing  Sam jogging in his general direction, waved his arm overhead. “Over here, Sam,” he called out, and bent over his cousin once more.

“Hey, we need a paramedic over here!” Frank heard Sam shout. “Where are Joe and Fenton?” Sam asked, dropping to his knees next to Frank.

“They shouldn’t have been too far behind me,” Frank replied anxiously.  He stood as two EMT’s arrived, happy to let them take over.  “He had a pulse but wasn’t breathing when I got him out. I’ve been doing rescue breathing for,” Frank glanced at his watch, “about a minute and a half.”

Turning towards the burning structure, he fully expected, by now, to see Joe supporting their father as they made their way out of the house.  Instead he was greeted by alarmed shouts as firefighters dropped their hoses and ran away from the building as fast as possible.

“Get back!”

“Flashover!”

“It’s gonna blow!”

Forced backwards, Frank heard a loud roar.    He watched in horror as the windows blew out, sending glass flying in all directions.  Flames shot out through the front door and the window frames.  Suddenly the roof collapsed in on what remained of the structure, the noise drowning out his anguished cry of disbelief.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

*****

Behind the flaming building, burning wood rained down on the two motionless bodies lying several yards away from the house.  Being thrown so far by the force of the flashover had been both a blessing and a curse.  They had been spared being killed in the ensuing blast, but were now being pelted with white-hot debris from the explosion.

Fenton Hardy groaned as he was hit in the back, head and legs with flying pieces of wood and metal.  As consciousness slowly came back to him, he took a quick mental inventory, testing his limbs.  Aside from the injury he’d sustained, everything seemed to be in working order.  Slowly pushing himself to his hands and knees, he winced as his leg complained at the movement.

“Joe,” he croaked out, coughing violently.  He stopped moving until the coughing subsided and he could catch his breath.  Raising his head, he glanced around anxiously, now feeling the heat of the flames.  His breath caught in his throat as Fenton saw an arm and a leg sticking out of a pile of smoldering wood.

“No!” he gasped. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, Fenton quickly crawled the few feet separating him from Joe and began pulling the debris off his son.

“Joe? Joe!” he cried out, throwing the wreckage aside.  Fighting back the panic, he grabbed Joe’s arm and pulled him free.

“Joe!” he choked out, shaking Joe hard. ‘Please, open your eyes!  Please!’ he begged silently, checking for a pulse. The strong and steady thump-thump-thump beneath his fingertips provided a small measure of relief.

A quick visual check showed some nasty cuts and bruises already starting to form on Joe’s face. A few minor burns were visible but no obvious bleeding.  Running his hands over Joe’s arms and legs, Fenton was thankful to find no evidence of broken bones.  As he moved to check for head injuries, his luck ran out.  There was a three-inch gash behind Joe’s ear, the blood standing out in stark contrast to his matted blonde hair.

‘No!’  Panic rapidly gave way to anger, as Fenton couldn’t help but think Jeff Cutter had once again caused harm to come to Joe.  Reaching down, he shook Joe once more.

Joe moaned but otherwise showed no signs of regaining consciousness.  Fenton tried to stand, getting help for Joe the only thing on his mind.  Immediately, he cried out in pain as his right leg buckled beneath him.

Cursing his decision to ever allow Jeff Cutter into his home again, Fenton began crawling towards the front of the house, all the while sending silent pleas to Joe to hang on.  He heard sirens and shouting and knew help was only a few hundred yards away, yet it might as well have been on another continent.

Inch by painful inch Fenton crawled, keeping his eyes glued to the side yard.  He’d felt a small trickle of blood down the back of his leg when he’d tried to stand.  The trickle had now turned into a steady stream, soaking his pant leg and beginning to make him feel light-headed.

‘Keep going…keep going…keep going…’ Fenton didn’t know how long it would take before the firefighters made their way to the back of the house, and his son needed help now!

Every inch gained sent a searing pain through his thigh, making it increasingly harder to ignore.  ‘You’re almost there.  You can do it,’ Fenton encouraged himself, even as the trees and shrubs around him began to spin.  ‘A little further… that’s it…’

Only three feet from the side yard where he’d be clearly visible to the emergency personnel Fenton realized he wasn’t going to make it.  His vision blurred and the ground beneath him began to fade.  Fenton used his last reserves of strength to throw himself forward, praying someone was close enough to hear his final plea.

“Help…us…”

The words had barely left his lips when Fenton Hardy lapsed into unconsciousness.