Just as the words came out of his mouth, Frank Hardy instantly wanted to retract them. However, no one had a chance to respond. A small beeper went off and Sergeant Davies grabbed at his belt and pushed a button that illuminated the device.

"Let’s go, we need to move to our site. Our agent is on his way here," the leader of the operation directed. He turned towards Fenton. "Follow us and stay back."

Fenton nodded and instantly the small convoy was ready to move. While Frank took the driver seat, his father looked over at him. He had heard Frank’s question and it deeply worried him. While he knew that Joe’s death had taken an unmistakable toll on his oldest son, Fenton Hardy also knew the bond that the brothers shared. Ever since they were toddlers, the brothers’ relationship was unbreakable. It was true that Frank and Joe had their disagreements, some that would last for a few days. However, there was always this unconditional love that existed between the two boys. A bond that even mystified their parents at times. For Frank to still be acting as if Joe was possibly still alive, Fenton did not know if it was out of desperation or instinct. While the head of the Hardy household felt that his son was dead, a part of him had to question that belief. More than anything, he was hoping for a miracle… that somehow his youngest son was alive by some stroke of luck. Then reality hit the middle aged man. The dental records identified the body as being that of Joseph Hardy. Dental records did not lie. Plus Joe was driving Vanessa’s Pathfinder. While it had been speculated that the bomb was meant for Vanessa, Joe had borrowed her car while Vanessa was in New York with her mother on business. He had the SUV for a full week while he conducted a few minor repairs on it. Anyone would have thought it might have been new to him, thus scraping the idea that the bomb was mean for Vanessa Bender. It all just did not make sense.

How could they have known so much about Joe’s comings and goings to be able to plot out a sick plan like that? To be able to cause an accident that the body was burned beyond recognition with dental records being the only source of identification? It was impossible! Simply impossible to think that Joe Hardy was still alive and not in the grave that he was retired to just two months ago on that hot summer day. Then another thought hit him, but just for a mere second.

Dental records don’t lie, but people do.

That comment haunted Mr. Hardy as sweat started to bead on his forehead. He felt his nervousness come out from the inside of his body like shock waves. Then he dismissed the last statement. It would not be fair to mislead Frank into thinking that there was a possibility that Joe was still alive, possibly in that cabin.

What kind of father would I be to mislead my son into thinking such craziness unless there was clear evidence to support such a theory! Enough is enough.

Fenton then vowed secretly that he would have to have a long talk with his oldest son, as soon as justice was served.

*****

Meanwhile, Joe and Iola had just dosed off to sleep when Joe kept hearing a rumble of activity above. He had never heard such rumbling in the time he had been there. Iola must have heard the same sounds because he could feel her huddle closer and closer to him. It made him nervous as he listened attentively for any clue as to what was happening. Then as if his questions were answered, the door to their dungeon swung open and clanged against the cement foundation. Two men came into view followed by Rawlins.

"Your father just does not know when to stop," Rawlins scowled as he stood there, his arms crossed. "Get up! It is time to pay the price for his stupidity my dears."

At that command, the two husky men to the side of him grabbed the two weary teenagers and nearly dragged them out of the room. Shoving Joe forward, the one man kept his arm securely around Iola’s neck with a small hand gun fixated to her head. Joe knew the threat without it being told. If he dared to escape, Iola would die. That was not a price he was willing to pay for freedom. They came to a set of cement steps that led to a trap door in what seemed like to Joe, the cabin floor. The younger Hardy hesitated at first, but was prodded forward up the steps. That was when a huge brain wrecking sound was heard and he felt his body being propelled off of the steps and into the air. He was not sure of it, but he could have sworn that what he felt was a bomb going off.

It felt like minutes, but Joe finally hit the cold hard floor… hard. The breath flew out of his lungs and he tried desperately to inhale fresh air to replace it. But all he inhaled was a lungful of smoke. He looked up from the floor and saw the entrance fully engulfed in a fireball; the heat was scorching the hair on his face and arms. Then he felt a hand pull him back.

"JOE, WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE OR WE WILL BURN ALIVE!" Iola screamed in terror as she grabbed him and pulled him back. The two men were lying lifeless on the floor. Joe was not sure of Iola’s plan, but he was willing to follow her since he didn’t have a plan at all.

The young couple crawled back down the short hallway, right on the heels of what appeared to be Rawlins. Both of the teenagers placed their shirts over their mouths and crawled along the mildewed floor. The only light that was present was from the light of the raging fire that blocked their escape from the cabin. Joe was thankful for that, but not for the heat that felt like a really bad sunburn on his skin. It didn’t help that the sweats they were dressed in clanged to their bodies. It reminded Joe of being in a sauna with winter clothes on. But it didn’t matter how uncomfortable they were, they had to continue on. The fire would engulf them if they didn’t keep moving. Joe just hoped that the tunnel led somewhere away from the danger.

"Keep going Iola," Joe managed to say between breaths. Iola continued on with breakneck speed. The dark haired girl was right on the tails of Rawlins, who was having problems crawling.

"Pass over him Iola if you have to, don’t let him slow you down," Joe commanded between coughs and breaths.

"Joe, just follow me. I know what I am doing," he heard her voice say determinedly. "Papa always said that when you are in trouble to follow the rats, they always know the way out. It is an old Irish saying."

The tunnel got darker by the inch and soon Iola stopped dead in her tracks. Joe nearly plowed her over, not expecting the sudden halt. Rawlins was trying to open some type of door, but it would not budge. Joe got up wearily and started to push along with Rawlins on the door.

"KEEP PUSHING! IT IS BOUND TO GIVE!" Rawlins shouted out.

"WHERE ARE WE?" Joe yelled back, still pushing with all of his strength.

"We are in an old mining tunnel. The people who lived here mined coal and they had their own private coal mine like many of the other settlers in this area. This is the only way out for us," Rawlins said with a sudden change of heart.

Was he truly trying to help them or was it just another one of his scams?

Joe was not willing to take the chance. Instead he continued to pummel the door. Soon he heard a loud crack and the door gave way on one side, opening only about a foot. Wanting to get Iola through the door first, Joe reached down to help her up. However, it was during that brief second that Rawlins made his move and tried to squeeze through the door.

"Thanks for the help dear Joseph, too bad that I can not extend you the same favor," Rawlins sneered as he tried to close the door behind him.

*****

Above ground, things were not going as well for Fenton and Frank. Just as the group was about to storm the old cabin, a blast rocked the mountainside. Once the shockwave ripped through the area and down the hollows, Frank peered over the Suburban. His eyes could not believe what he was witnessing. Sergeant Davies was trying desperately to get one of his men away from the burning structure while the others were trying to extinguish the two men who managed to run out of the ball of flames. The older Hardy wanted to turn his eyes away from the horror that was unfolding before his eyes… but he couldn’t. Deep down inside, he felt his stomach clinch and his heart seize. A flash of fear overcame him, but his feet were glued to their position. The only thing he could do was scream and that is exactly what he did. He didn’t know why, but he just had to scream a word that came straight from his inner being… his soul.

"JOE!"

But once was not enough. He found himself screaming his brother’s name over and over. Fenton was astonished at his son’s reaction. Fearing he was having a mental breakdown, Fenton rushed to his side and held his first born tightly. Frank argued that Joe was in the cabin, but he could not answer why he knew that. He just knew, or felt that he knew. Fenton was terrified, but not for Joe’s safety. His youngest son was always the one who was driven by his instincts, Frank was driven by facts. Frank was always the reasonable one when it came to matters such as this, but now Frank seemed to be trapped in between two worlds between reality and fantasy.

Oh God! Please help us. I lost one son, now I am afraid that I am losing another.

Then the paternal Hardy found himself saying another prayer aloud.

"If Joe was in there, God please give him the strength and wisdom to make it out and find his way home."

At that, Frank collapsed in his father’s sturdy arms and looked towards the cabin… waiting for a miracle that might not happen.

"I call out your name, but you do not answer. You were here, standing before me one minute. Laughing as the sunshine embraced you in its arms. Then the next minute, you were gone, leaving only ashes and memories." From a poem written by a dear friend of mine.

 

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.