CHAPTER 2
"Uunnggggghhh."
"Ugghhh... Quit it."
Joe listened intently, aggravated with whoever kept poking him on the shoulder, but they didn't answer. He didn't want to get out of bed and they were thumping way too hard. He might even have to open his eyes and do something about it. Later though. Much , much later.
Come to think about it, a lot more than his shoulder hurt, and his bed was listing starboard. Something wasn't quite right.
Joe pried his eyes open, convinced he could hear the eyelashes rip apart. His headache increased tenfold as soon as the minimal starlight invaded wide pupils, and he squeezed them closed again, slowly figuring out what happened. No one was tapping his shoulder, a cloth strap bound him there. Strap?... strap? tied up?...Humph, kidnapped...usually remember when that happens... ...No... Uh... strap... Seatbelt! I crashed the car! That shot the sapphire blue eyes back open.
He stretched his right arm out first, somewhat surprised when it moved relatively freely. He explored what he could reach, the sticky glob in the side of his hair, the pile of garbage in his lap, the seatbelt across his chest, the tiny cubes of glass scattered about.
It was the miniature trash pile on his left hip and ribs that finally percolated into his addled brain. The convenience store debris had settled there for the same reason Joe had - he was laying against the driver's side door, the car resting on its side with the front angled down. It was snowing in earnest now, the clumped flakes peppering through the upturned passenger window. At least an inch, maybe two, covered parts of the mangled seat and dash. He'd been here a while.
Joe craned his face around the air bag, straining to locate his feet. His left toes he spotted wiggling beneath the remainder of the steering column easily enough, but the right leg seemed to have crossed below the left somehow, disappearing at the knee under the wreckage. An attempt to pull it free shot a fierce pain lancing all the way to his navel.
Ok, so not doing that again...
Sweeping the glass away as best he could, Joe cautiously unbuckled his seatbelt, hoping to inch away from the now voluminous steering wheel. Thankfully, the sideways pitch of the vehicle had kept him from nose planting in the thing. The snick of the released metal buckle was immediately followed by a stifled groan, the resultant movement almost too much to take.
What's that noise? Oh yeah, the stream...
The cramping ache in his unseen foot took on a new meaning once he recalled the creek. His foot, maybe more, was submerged in the icy water sloshing around the pedals. And he was already beyond cold.
Fumbling at his waist, Joe was relieved to find his cell phone safely clipped to his belt this time. Time to call in the cavalry. He ran his thumb over the keypad, unaware of the red stain he left behind.
9-1-1.
Nothing. Not a ring, no 'please hold', nothing.
Are there still places in New York without 911 service? I can't remember...Why was I calling them? Oh yeah, the car.
*-S-P.
Huh, thought that would work... Gosh it's cold...
0.
No operator? Doesn't there have to be an operator? It's really cold...
He brought the tiny screen to his face, carefully studying the glowing letters. They meant something or other; he was pretty sure he'd known what this morning when he left the house. He had service. The battery was fine. It should work.
After a quickly abandoned, moan inducing shrug, he jabbed the select button, then the one. Seemed like the familiar thing to do.
"Hello?"
"Fr-Frank? You there?" Joe had no idea how raw his chattering voice sounded.
"JOE? What's wrong?!"
"Good, you're there, that's... uh, good...really, really, uh... good." The words were breathy, detached.
"Ooo-kay, then. Are you ok? Joe?... Joe?"
"No one else was there. You are. I'm glad."
"Yeah, me too. It's all around fantastic that I'm here. You're not firing on all cylinders - Now what's wrong?" Frank put a little edge behind his question, standard big brother worry starting to ratchet into something more. "What happened!?"
"Oh, sorry. That you, Frank?"
"Yessss. Where are you?" Frank pulled his car off the road, suddenly afraid to drive and process this conversation at the same time.
"In the volvo. I... sort of... wrecked Mom's car..."
"WHAT?! Are you alright? Joe?"
"Not so much, no. I'm stuck... and the water's cold."
Frank dropped his face into his hands, replaying the last few minutes. "Wait... You're still in the car? What water? How deep? Is it coming up?" Tell me you didn't crash in the lakes somehow? That the car's not sinking? No, he was driving almost directly away from Lake Ontario, can't be in the Lakes.
"No. A little water, not rising water. ...A creek, but the water's cold. Hurts." Joe seemed a little more focused, but still several notches short of himself.
"Listen, you need to call the police." Frank didn't want to end the phone call, but Joe needed more than a friendly voice could provide him.
"Tried, Frank. They're not at home."
What's that supposed to mean? He's getting confused. "Joe, hang up, and dial 9-1-1, right now. Call me back after. Right now, ok?"
"I told you... tried that. And I tried the operator. They won't talk to me..."
"That doesn't make sense." Frank wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or his brother. "What did they say?"
"Nothing... Calls won't go through... 'cept to you." Joe groaned, then cried out as the car settled another foot into the soft stream bed.
"JOE!?" Frank counted the hammering beats in his chest, every muscle taut listening for another sound, even a breath from his sibling. "Come on, Joe? Answer me.. Joe?!"
The second hand on his watch made a second round. "Joe?"
"Hey."
"Don't scare me like that, huh? How badly are you hurt?" I need something to tell the medics, help me out here.
"Uh... my foot's stuck under the wheel... sprained... maybe. Left side hurts." The assessment came slowly, thick words stretched out like taffy. "Humdinger of... a headache."
"Did you hit your head? Pass out?" Of course he did, just listen to him... Calm down, this isn't helping. "Joe?"
"Yeah. Some blood... I'm cold, Frank... tired..."
Blood? Not good... "Hey, no sleeping, ok? Where's the blood?"
"Umm, nose."
"A bloody nose? That's ok, not too bad. You'll be-"
"Ear... hair... pants..."
No... no, no, no! "Is any of that still bleeding? Joe?"
"Maybe?..." The answer was small, perplexed, and Frank heard the rustle of Joe's efforts to check. "Sorry... can't tell."
"That's ok. Just stay still and I'll call an ambulance. It's gonna be ok. Where are you?"
"Lots of trees... and a stream... There was a sign..."
"Think, Joe. Exactly where?"
"Uh, I passed Remsen, um... twenty minutes ago? Didn't come to Cold Brook yet... Could have been longer... Think I slept a while..."
Crud, knew he passed out. "How long do you think?"
"There's a few ...inches of snow," Joe seemed to be pondering, "in the car."
Way too long... "Never mind, that part doesn't matter." Frank scrolled through the GPS screens. "Ok, half hour past Remsen. On route 12 or route 5?"
"Twelve?"
"You aren't sure?"
"Probably twelve?" Joe waited. "You mad... at me?"
"What? No, why would I be mad at you?"
"Left the interstate..."
"Yeah, you did. We'll get to that. You didn't see any signs after Remsen?" Need a better hint here, and need it in a hurry.
"Clemmon's Crossing." The answer came after a long pause. "Could have... been Cooper's Crossing."
"Ok. I need to hang up and call the ambulance. I will call you right back."
No answer. "Joe?"
"Don't... hang up... Frank."
"I have to, Joe, you need an ambulance and a chat with me isn't going to make one appear. I will call you right back, soon as I'm off the phone." Frank didn't like the lack of comprehension in Joe's voice at all.
"Don't Frank... Don't go."
"It's going to take a few minutes, tops. Stay put and I will call right back."
"Don't... please..."
"I'm sorry, Joe... "
"Please..."
"Right back, I promise..."
Frank ended the call, swallowing down a building sense of panic. Of all the things Joe was, clingy wasn't one of them.
"Tell me again where he is, son?" The sheriff sighed. Working Halloween weekend was the bane of his existence, even if the actual holiday wasn't until tomorrow.
"Past Remsen on Route 12, near Cooper's or Clemmon's Crossing."
"Um hmm, so you said. Look, kid, there is no Cooper's Crossing." The policeman rubbed his forehead, wishing he could transfer this call back to EMS and return to his crossword puzzle. "Seven letter word for an unsophisticated person... starts with 'B'."
"Bumpkin-"
"You callin' me names, boy?"
"No, no sir. Seven letter word - bumpkin. Sir, I don't see Cooper's Crossing on my map either, but my brother's hurt, he may have confused the name. Please, can you send an ambulance out there?"
"What's your name again?"
"Hardy, Frank Hardy. If you could-"
"Spell that."
"H-A-R-D-Y, Hardy, Franklin Isaac. My brother-"
"Date of birth?"
For chrissake... "November 14th, 1991. Joe needs-"
"How old are you?"
Do the math... "Seventeen. Sir, my-"
"Yeah, your brother, I know. Joshua, is it?"
"Joseph. Please, sheriff, if a patrol could just go out there for a drive by-"
"If you and your friends think you're going to egg a patrol car, you've got another idea coming, son. I know how you youngsters are with your pranks, every crazy stunt is hilarious."
"No sir. No pranks. He's stuck in the snow, he's injured, and he needs your help." Frank clamped down on a simmering anger that threatened to explode, knuckles stark alabaster against the silver of his phone.
"Now see there's another thing. There's no snow anywhere around here tonight."
"Yes sir, I can appreciate that, it isn't snowing where I am either. I can't explain that, but it doesn't change the fact that Joe's hurt and you're the closest police station. Please?"
"Fine. I will call my deputy, wake up his wife and kids, drag him out of bed, and dispatch him down route 12. But if this is a fool's errand, you'll regret it, are we clear?"
"Yes sir, crystal. Thank you."
"I expect a call from your parents first thing in the morning, Mr. Hardy, don't forget it."
"Yes sir, first thing."
Frank slammed the phone onto the seat, quick breaths doing their best to dispel his temper.
He programmed directions into the GPS as quickly as he could, realizing he was now slightly south of Joe as well as east. His father's rule about no cell phones while driving was a good one, but Frank was about to make an exception. At least he had a hands free speaker, and if he got grounded later, so be it. That took care of his family rules; it wasn't going to do much for potential speeding tickets, but maybe then the police would pay attention to him. Turning the car around he left the interstate, determined to reach his brother.
Another rushed pair of calls extracted a promise from Sam Radley to track the GPS signal in Joe's phone and left a gingerly worded message for his parents.
Joe, come on, get the phone...
That's the sixth call to Joe's cell... Even Sam won't call me back... It's been over an hour... Joe?
"Hi?" Joe's gaze wandered around, trying to spot an elusive noise.
"H-hello?" Giggles twittered in the distance, bouncing about the woods, but there were no words. Maybe the laughing woke him.
A shrill chirp closer by captured his attention. The phone.
"Frank?" The rasp was much weaker now.
"Thank God. You scared the beejebbers out of me, Joe!"
"What? Why?"
"You have no idea how long I've been trying to get you back on the phone. Where are you? Did the police get there? Are you at the hospital yet? Are you ok? Let me talk to the doctor!"
"Ah... Mom's car... Are you cold, Frank? ...I'm really... really cold... ...Must be coming down with something..." Joe tried to spot a clock, but the oddly crinkled dash didn't seem to possess one. He talked to Frank a couple of minutes ago, didn't he?
"You're STILL in the car!?" Disbelief mingled with fear to roll in his stomach, but he had to convince Joe he had it together. Don't panic, not going to help, don't panic, five, four, three, two, one... "That's ok, Joe, don't worry about it. Look, I've been heading your direction and I just drove through Cold Brook, then got on route 12. I've got to be almost on top of you by now."
"Made good... time in the snow..."
There is no snow, Joe, just rain... What's wrong with you, kiddo?... "Right. Look around and tell me exactly what you see."
"Uh, trees... snow... the stream... the bridge..."
"One at a time. Lots of trees? Pines, hardwoods, saplings?"
"Really cold..."
"I know, I'm sorry. The trees?"
"Not pines... no leaves... Tall, dense..."
"Good, that's it. Stick with me, I'll come get you myself. How far is the road from the stream? Forty, fifty feet?"
"No."
"I'm on route 12, and the road's about forty feet up from the stream bank."
"No... Five feet... You laughing... at me?"
"Course not. Five feet?" Frank pulled over long enough to peer at the map screen again. "Joe, I think you may have turned off on Old River Road. It parallels the main road, but lower down. I'm going back that way."
"Quit laughing... not like you've... never missed a turn... Wow, headache. Think I might... have wrecked the car..."
"Ye-ah. You did wreck, Joe. Don't you remember?" I've gotta find him now... right now... where the heck is that cop? The answer better not be staring at 11 across and 22 down!
"Oh, yeah, did... It's cold here... There were toys... Hey... don't laugh."
"I promise I am not laughing, Joe."
"Heard you."
"No, the wreck's playing with your head. Ok, I'm on the river road right beside the creek. You said bridges?"
"Uh-huh. Can we do this... later?... I'm cold... Need a nap..."
"NO!" Don't you go back to sleep on me, don't you dare... "Sorry, no dice. Tell me about the bridges."
"One lane... Old. Stone."
"Only bridges I've crossed so far were metal and russet colored."
"Yep... Saw that one first."
Three not one, but who's counting? "Ok, I'm going the right way then. The bridge you see, how far is it from you?" See, question and answer, detective fundamentals 101. I can fake calm and collected, just have to sell it to Joe.
"Back bumper may ...still be on it." Joe let out a sharp hiss that tapered into a moan. "Glad you find... this... so entertaining."
"The last thing this is to me is entertaining. I don't know why you hear laughing, but I swear it isn't me. The car went off a bridge?" God, Joe, you could have died...
"Uh, yeah... More over it... than off, I think... Pillar at the end of the bridge... sort of launched it... 'Night, Frank... tired..."
"No you don't! No sleeping. The pillar you see. What's it look like?"
"The first bridge pillar was... uh... plain... but this one is... lumpy..."
"Lumpy? Like how?... Joe?... Joe?"
"ARRGGGHHH!"
"JOE!" Don't do this me, Joey. Come on, give me something here. A groan, sigh, anything... "J-Joe?"
"Arghh... uhhh... uhhh... uhhh..."
Frank's relief at the misery filled pants crushed his denial of how frantic he'd become. Only when he tried to speak again did he realize his hand was now firmly clamped over his mouth.
"Talk to me? Please?"
"Uhhhh... not...uhh...stuck...uhh...anymore... ...Wait..."
"I'm right here, kiddo." Frank squelched all his questions, the harsh grunts searing as much pain into him as his sibling. "I'm right here."
"Uhh... wanted to see... the pillar... better. Yanked my... leg free... Uhh... most of it..."
"Most of it?" Frank couldn't help a squeak as horrific images filled his head.
"It's ok... uhh... just skin..."
Ok, that's ok, skin grows back. Calm down, he's gonna be ok.
"M'better... Lion head."
"What?" Frank was still recuperating from the 'most of it' comment.
A sigh stretched out while Joe attempted to remember the question. "Ummm...The top of the pillar... It's a... lion's head."
Dammit...Frank cranked the wheel around hard left, reversing course with a squall of tires and speeding back the way he'd come.
To be continued...
