HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

Joe strode across the deck of the Black Pearl. A dim glow was to his right, coming from flickering lamps behind hazy windows while to his left a glistening full moon hung low on the horizon. He glanced over to where the steps led down below and hesitated. Something had happened on the steps of the governor's mansion but he wasn't sure what.

He sighed and made his way below deck to the room he'd been using these last few days. In the dimness, the lantern's candle burned steadily, but too dim to really see anything. He caught the scent of wet clothes although those wet clothes had long since dried. He'd learned quickly that smells seemed to linger on the ship long after they should have dissipated with the wind.

Joe staggered over to the bed and moved to sit down but the sword got in his way. He stood up and removed the sword and scabbard and laid it beside the bed. He sat back down and vague images passed through his mind--sandy beach, a laughing blond-haired girl--but they faded, as other images were superimposed over the first ones. A windswept sea, lightning flashing.

Joe's eyes closed of their own volition and a single tear traced his cheek but he made no move to wipe it away. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. The confusion, the dull headache that refused to go away..he was missing something..someone..

He sagged and the sideways motion of lying on the bed was more a tilting-over fall than anything else. He pulled his legs up and wrapped one arm around them, curving almost into a fetal position. He needed to go home now, to his family, his...brother...

Fear snaked through his mind, fear that if he drifted off, he'd forget that other world, that other time. He shuddered but could fight the exhaustion no more and he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

Dawn filtered through through a dirty porthole, rousing him. His mouth was dry and his stomach rumbled painfully. Stiffly, Joe rolled over and sat up, careful not to hit his head on the bed's frame. He'd done that before and it definitely didn't feel good.

There was something else he was supposed to remember. Someone else...In his mind's eye, he saw a young man meticulously working on an elaborate sand castle, the dark hair tousled by the breeze.

"Frank," he whispered, his throat raspy and his voice rusty. "Frank. My brother."

A shiver swept over him and he felt an odd sort of relief. He hadn't forgotten with sleep. The relief nearly overwhelmed him. He hadn't forgotten. Joe Hardy took a deep breath of stale air, tinged with a melted wax smell from the guttering candle and the scent of the ocean outside. Something tickled the back of his neck and he lifted a hand to feel what it might be and his eyes widened. His hair, his hair was past the collar of the shirt. How was that possible?

He spotted what looked like a mirror but the surface was splotched with water spots and places where the silver coating on the back had scraped off. He squinted into the small mirror and went cold. His hair just brushed the bottom the of the shirt's collar, pulled back with a piece of leather lacing. Joe's eyes went wide as something glinted among the hair that had worked itself loose from the makeshift holder. He pushed the hair back and stared. "Mom is literally going to kill me," he muttered, too stunned to realize his memory seemed almost to be getting stronger. "An earring..."

Joe swallowed hard. When had he gotten an earring? The small gold hoop didn't look horrible in his left ear but he knew that his parents would be quite upset. "Mom, Dad..." It felt like years since he'd seen them. He took one last look at the long blond hair, the earring and felt a chill. Just how long had he been asleep?

A pounding on the door roused him from his thoughts and he took a deep breath. He was hungry, thirsty, quite confused and he didn't need any interruptions. "Come."

Will Turner burst into the room, breathless. Joe noted with some uneasiness that the man's hair was longer than it had been. "Captain, the Spanish ship is coming fast."

Joe frowned, noted the sword and scabbard and picked it up. He had no trouble this time attaching it to his belt and frowned. "Will, why is a Spanish ship after us?"

Will gave him a puzzled look. "Captain?" The other man took a step closer. "Are you all right?"

Joe noticed a stack of small papers covered in his familiar handwriting but the ink was splotchy as if he'd used a messed up ink pen. He picked up the papers and saw he'd written his name, his family..each paper the same thing. "How long has it been since you picked me up?"

Will frowned. "Tis six weeks, Captain."

Joe dropped the papers and they floated to the wooden floor with a stiff rustling sound. "Six weeks?" He frowned and bent down to pick up the papers. "The treasure?"

"Reburied, sir, per your orders." Will gave a sharp nod. "On the island we found it on. Twas after that the Spanish ship started following us." Will paused a moment and when Joe finally gave him a questioning glance, he continued. "You chose to by-pass both Tortuga and Port Royal to avoid a confrontation close to land."

Almost like a damaged film, he saw bits and pieces of memories, felt the jolt of clashing swords with Will, feeling rough wood against his rear end from falling to the deck during practices; shouting orders to head northeast instead of returning to Tortuga..

Joe shuddered, just as a weird sensation passed through him and the images of practicing with Will became clearer and he found it hard put to remember other things, more important things.

Joe slammed his hand on the desk. "Damn it, what is going on here?"

"Um, the ship is nearly broadside."

Joe gave a weary nod. "I'll be right there." He watched Will go through the door but stopped before he stepped through himself. Fear swept through him as he wondered if he'd lose himself completely when he walked through that doorway.

"Captain!"

Joe took a deep breath and forced himself through the doorway. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on, without forgetting that whole other life, his family...He shivered again and felt tears well up in his eyes. Why was this even happening?

He went topside and squinted in the bright morning sun. A ship roughly the size of the Black Pearl was indeed coming alongside. At the back of his mind, Joe found the name for this ship--a Spanish galleon. A row of cannon bristled out the hull, like porcupine quills.

A tall lanky man with long black hair and piercing black eyes looked over at Joe, an evil grin on his face. He shouted something in Spanish to the men scattered on the galleon's deck and they hefted lengths of rope. Joe saw Anamaria at the wheel. "Heave starboard!"

She gave him a startled look but forced the wheel to turn. Slowly, too slowly, the Black Pearl began to turn. Gibbs spun around. "Captain, what's on yer mind?"

"We can't let them board."

"Aye, true."

The sails snapped and the boom creaked as the ship continued to turn. Joe saw the Spaniard step away from the wheel, glaring at him. He shouted something again and several crew members threw rusty grappling hooks at the Black Pearl. Two hooks bit into the wood railing at the stern.

Ragetti let out a startled squeal and back-pedaled but Pintel grabbed the taller man's arm. "Cut the lines!"

There was a groan as the Black Pearl slowed it's movements and the other ship suddenly heaved to port as if to try to stop the Black Pearl's forward movement. There was a sudden cracking sound and the part of the railing on the stern broke away. The lines went suddenly limp and the Spanish ship rolled slightly in the backwash of the waves.

Joe saw that the name looked to be the Diego Cesar Olano. He glanced at Anamaria. "Keep turning, we need to get clear."

"Aye, Captain."

Joe scanned the deck of the Black Pearl. "Where's Elizabeth?"

Will gave him a queer look. "She's home, preparing again for our wedding. We're due back at Port Royal in a fortnight."

Joe didn't even bother asking how long that would be in English. He jumped to the upper deck to survey the damage. Pintel scowled at him. "If ye hadn't been so bloody determined to go back..."

Joe blinked. "That treasure had to be reburied. It can't be..." He wasn't sure how to explain his reasons. "You followed my orders."

"And look where it's gotten us." Pintel gestured to the other ship. They'd corrected their roll and were turning to give chase. "Bloody privateer," he shouted, shaking his fist at the ship.

"That's right," said Ragetti. "We didn't have to return it. We could be back in Tortuga...wonder what I could be doing right now," he added wistfully.

Pintel pulled his sword free of its scabbard. "That's where we should all be, celebrating our good fortune."

Without even thinking it, Joe pulled his own sword. When Pintel lunged, Joe knocked the blade aside almost casually. "Stand down."

Pintel didn't listen to him. He lunged again and Joe knocked the blade aside again. He pointed his sword at Pintel. "I won't tell you again."

Another sword clanged on top of Joe's and Pintel's. Will frowned. "We don't have time for this."

Pintel spared a final glance for the other ship and growled low in his throat but stalked away, Ragetti following behind him. Will took a deep breath and resheathed his own sword. "Pintel..."

"Has a point, I know. I can't explain it, Will. It was...just necessary."

Will studied him for a moment. "Very well, Captain." He nodded to the ship giving chase. "Despite it's nationality, we're evenly matched. T’would be like fighting ourselves."

Joe nodded and took a deep breath just as an odd sharp wind swept over them. From the other boat, cannons fired and the iron balls whistled through the air, some splashing in the water, nearly too close to comfort for the crew. One slammed into the wood of the deck at an angle. A moment later, it burst out of the side, luckily high enough above the water line not to cause any problems.

Joe swallowed hard, took the wheel and spun it to turn the ship broadside so they could use their own cannons. Will darted down belowdecks to ready the cannons. Gibbs frowned. "Mr. Turner's right, Captain. We're equally matched."

Joe grunted and felt the entire ship shudder as the cannons spit out their iron balls. He watched the balls splash into the water, thought he saw several make a direct hit on the other vessel. He felt another shudder but it swept through him. Gazing around, it didn't seem to have affected or bothered anyone else.

He spotted the Spanish vessel heaving to, to avoid the Black Pearl's cannon fire. The captain looked furious and was yelling at another dark-haired man who seemed to be trying to make a point. The second man looked straight at Joe and narrowed his eyes. Joe moved to keep the ship broadside so he could use his cannons and staggered, feeling oddly dizzy.

Standing next to him, Anamaria grabbed his arm. "Are you all right?"

"I--" He shook his head to clear it. "I don't know..." Another volley of cannon fire sent the spherical missiles toward the ship, some slamming into the deck.

Will ran up to him, breathless. "The powder magazines, Captain, the cannon fire's getting too close."

Joe felt panic swell up in him. Gunpowder. If that exploded, they'd all be killed instantly. "Fire our cannons again, knock him back. We can't afford..." Joe staggered again and grabbed hold of the ship's wheel to avoid falling. "We can't afford--"

"Captain!" came Gibbs' voice as Joe fell almost in slow motion to end up sprawled unceremoniously on the deck.

Will spun around and then glanced up as the other ship's cannons went off again. A cannon ball slammed into the central mast, catching the wood and fabric sails on fire. Slowly, the top half of the mast came down, as the wind whipped the flames. By the time the crow's nest slammed against the deck, it was engulfed in flames. Flames spread across the deck and several crew members tried to stamp out the flames.

As the fire ate through the wooden deck, the top half of the mast plunged through the deck and Joe realized that if the flames hit the barrels of gunpowder, they were all done for but he couldn't seem to move. The flames seemed to suck the very air around him and he couldn't breathe. "We have to get off--" managed Joe, as the dizziness swept over him again.

Anamaria crouched down beside him, giving him a worried look. "Captain...Joe, what are you talking about?"After a moment, she touched his shoulder, brushing her palm across his pin. Something pricked her and she noticed that all four leaves of the clover had withered as if it were dying. Her eyes widened as the pin came loose of the shirt. Afraid it would be lost, she picked it up.

"Abandon ship.."

Anamaria looked over as Will came up to them. "Captain..we have nowhere to go."

Will frowned and shook his head. "Something's wrong, isn't there. Something else.." He squatted beside Joe and when he moved closer he found he couldn't breathe. "What kind of ill magic is this?" he said, scooting away slightly and sucking in air.

There was a dreadful rumble belowdecks and with a loud whoosh, fire shot up out of the hold. For a moment, Joe felt he was flying and then...there was nothing...

***

"It would be an excellent signal fire," said Leo, smiling slightly. "No one would be able to miss it."

Frank nodded and looked over at Jack. "Your pistol."

Jack Sparrow grunted. "This shot's not meant for you..." His voice trailed off and then he shook his head. "I've said that before.." He looked at Frank. "You're not Bill Turner's son, are you? Bootstrap Bill?"

Frank shook his head. "Your flint can set off the gasoline in the helicopter." He pointed to the helicopter where the smaller set of rotor blades had twisted off and one blade had pierced the gas tank. A small almost invisible stream of gasoline trailed down the metal skin of the helicopter.

Harry cleared his throat. "Wouldn't a match work just as easy?" He fished in his pocket and dug out a matchbook in a chaos of neon orange and green. In glaring yellow letters the word Calypso was stamped on the matchbook's cover. "Nice club," said Harry with a shrug.

Jimmy heaved a sigh. "What am I going to tell Langstrom?"

"Told you not to do business with him," said Harry.

Jimmy grunted. "He offered me the chance to expand, Harry, what was I supposed to do."

Harry shook his head and scuffed the sand with his shoes. "Tell him no?"

"Does it work for you and Jason?" asked Jimmy.

Harry's shoulders slumped. "No." He tossed the matchbook to Frank. "Did you play with fire when you were a kid or something."

"I'm not a pyromaniac," said Frank as he caught the matchbook one-handed. He ripped out a match, scraped it across the rough strip and the match flared up. He quickly lit all the remaining matches in the book and stepped as close as he dared to the helicopter. He tossed it right at the helicopter and the stream of gasoline.

With a faint whoosh, the gasoline ignited and a blue flame sped up to the puncture in the gas tank. Frank ran away from the helicopter. "Run! It's gonna blow!" In a whisper, he repeated the words on the scrap of paper, feeling quite foolish.

There was a moment of dead silence and then the helicopter split apart in a deafening explosion. Frank dived head first for the sand as metal parts rained down on the five of them. He felt a searing heat for just a moment and then there was quiet.

His head practically buried in the sand, all Frank could hear was his own harsh breathing and the loud beating of his heart. He stayed there, feeling his muscles start to ache from the strain of not moving. He wasn't sure he could lift his head, he wasn't sure if he could see what the result was.

An ice-cold wind passed over him, leaving him suddenly shivering. Startled, Frank started to push himself up onto his hands and knees when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand was just enough pressure to keep Frank from getting up.

After a moment, the pressure was gone and Frank pushed himself up and into a sitting position---and stared. Almost as if he was watching a movie overlapping another movie, images merged and broke apart like shattering glass and forming other images.

Frank could vaguely see the men on the beach and the burning remnants of the helicopter but as if he were viewing it through frosted glass while other images seemed flicker across the frosted glass--images of his brother rushing off on a Jetski, his girlfriend spreading a towel on the sand...

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. How could this even be possible?

He could hear Callie's voice clearly now. "Come on, Vanessa, I thought you said you'd smoothed the sand down."

Frank sucked in a startled breath. Callie had complained about a pebble just before....

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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.