Alone, and unaware of the manner of thoughts dredged up by his friends, Chet kept himself scrunched up behind the stack of boxes. His red daypack held across his knees, he was near the point of panic. Men's voices started to waft over to him in indistinct waves as he fought to keep calm. Perspiration dotted his brow and soaked his shirt , but even now he didn't dare make a move to swipe it away. One tiny bead of sweat trickled down into his eye and the stout lad blinked furiously. The voices drifted over, sounding much nearer to his hiding place.

"You wanna haul these out by hand, or the lift?" A rough voice querried.

A cough, then a soft spoken voice replied. Chet had to strain his ears to hear. "No, use the lift to take them to the truck, but load the boxes on by hand. Save the pallets for the last load. I want to be out of here by end of the week. The area is getting more dangerous, and our client isn't willing to keep up the ghost sightings around here. Better to cut any losses and start over legit."

Slight mumblings, then what sounded like words of agreement. A third and forth voice added their opinions, but didn't express any dissent on the plan. The second voice broke in again. "Alright already, enough. Get to your places; your regular places." Joe peeked out and saw the men's boots standing over by a stack of boxes. Their voices didn't carry real well over to where he was situated, but he counted four pairs of boots. At least one pair looked like what 'old Ugly' had on his feet earlier. "Evac!"

The one word, near shouted caused all the boys to jump. Luck was on their side however, and none of the men stopped in their rushing helter-skelter at their hiding place. Hidden now behind the machines, but still under the workbench, Biff and Joe tried to gauge what was happening. The narrow view, and the ability to see no higher than any of the men's waists didn't help them however. They did notice a forklift emerge from a large dark hole in the wall, a pallet on it's tines. The operator pulled to a stop in front of the stack of boxes against the far wall and jumped down to help his comrades load the pallet. He stumbled when he twisted his ankle, and tumbled on the ground. A ball cap flew off of his head, giving Joe a view of orange-red hair.

"C'mon Red, stop moping around on the ground." The man pulled himself up, retrieving his hat in the process. "Cut it out, I tripped on the floor. You know we didn't get the stupid thing even!" A grunt seemed to be his only reply. Within several minutes the pallet was fully loaded, and the men piled on the machine for the trip out to the truck. As soon as the forklift sped through the hole in the wall, the room fell silent.

A silence that soon was broken by a slight shifting against the farther wall where the boxes were located.

* * * * *

The path had widened out, and now was absorbed by a larger passageway. Frank stood at the joining of the ways and wondered briefly which way to take. Both boys flashed their lights up and down the rough stone corridor, hoping for some sign of a human presence passing through recently. Something silver glinted in the passage up ahead, and Frank knelt down to pick it up. Eyes narrowing, he glared at the silver candy wrapper that he now held in his hands. TJ stood over his shoulder and looked puzzled.

"Three Musketeers bar? Was Chet in here?"

Frank's mind abruptly went blank. "Chet does love food, but what make you think he would have been in here; our paths were heading in two divergent directions."

TJ shrugged, though the darkness served to hide most of the expression. "I haven't seen many people around eating candy bars, period. Besides, I saw Chet stuffing several Musketeer bars in his pack, for emergency use I suspect."

"Besides, we've come a long way underground."

* * * * *

Chet was growing uncomfortable with his imprisonment in the cave. Although still concealed behind the boxes, shafts of light had begun to seep through the cracks, letting him know that the walls were starting to thin; if he still had any doubts after evesdropping on the men as they worked. Hiding behind merchandise belonging to entities operating outside the law didn't bother the Hardy's stout friend, but getting caught by bad guys when hiding behind their stuff is bad news. Chet shifted his weight as he worked himself into a standing position. With any kind of luck, he'd get out of the room before the forklift returned. If Joe and Biff were around, he hoped that they'd found better places to hide than he had.

As quickly as he could in the confined space, Chet wriggled out from behind his cardboard fort. Even though he wished for the company of his pals, he tried to realisticly assess the situation. There had been no overly alarmed comments about the prisoners, so obviously they still thought the boys back in their confined cell. All he had to do is get out of the big room and aboveground, find the others, and call the police on this setup. He hurried towards the tunnel opposite him.

No sooner had he started to move, than Biff spotted him from his vantage point underneath the workbench. He nudged Joe with his foot, and when his friend glanced up, gestured slightly towards Chet. "Isn't that Chet?"

Joe frowned and wiggled forward to get a better view. Sure enough, his stout friend was hustling along towards the exit tunnel. But what he probably didn't know about was the man that had entered that tunnel several minutes earlier. From his vantage point on the floor, he shifted to visually follow his friend's path. "Rats!" he hissed, "he's got to hide!" Just as Chet had almost reached the darkened tunnel, the short, pale man the boys had seen earlier popped out. He froze in wonder at the boy's presence, before he rested his attention and his hands on the 9mm pistol by his side. Chet blanched, and took off away from the man as though all hell come after him. The little man swore loudly and took off after the intruder, his gun finally in his hand.

Chet dropped his pack behind him as he tore into the same dark passage that he'd entered the room by. His pursuer tripped over it as he entered, gaining the boy precious moments of time to vanish into the total blackness of the tunnel. With a snarl, the man jumped back to his feet and hurled the pack at the side of the tunnel. Then he raced off after Chet.

In the darkness ahead, Chet Morton hurried as fast as he dared in the darkness, hand trailing on the wall to guide himself. He could hear the sound of pursuit behind, and a shudder passed through his body. Hopefully none of the other men had heard the outburst - if that happened, he would be doomed. He stumbled on the uneven ground, stones rattling underfoot. Catching his balance, he continued on. Where was that crack?