Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the books. OCs are mine.

Thanks to my Editor: Wendylouwho10 who read over the story for me and made content suggestions, helped with the flow, and provided some spelling/grammar corrections. The corrections were a bonus and not required when I asked for her assistance, so I take full blame for any typos. Thanks Wendylouwho10 for making my story better!

Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is AU. It is part of my story arc that begins with Frank and Joe in elementary school and progresses to this point where the boys are 18 and 16 with Joe turning 17 during this story. To understand this story, you need to read "Taken" definitely and "Recovery" would be highly recommended.

Author's Notes: I just had to laugh at receiving two requests for Joe to remain shirtless. :-) While I am greatly tempted by that thought myself, it is a cold morning and as someone who doesn't like to be cold, I had to give him the tee shirt at least. And now the hunt begins!

Chapter Ten

Rachel and Frank have arrived at the spot where they will leave the SUV and walk to the camp. Rachel has made the call to Marilyn. Back at the Hardy's camp…

Joe watched Marilyn closely. She was sitting with her back against a tree on the far side of the camp with her rifle resting lightly across her thighs. Her eyes were closed and she seemed unconcerned about his presence. Right before the last check-in she had uncuffed him and allowed him to put his tee shirt back on. He had given her a glare when she made the comment on the phone about him putting his clothes back on. It implied that more had been off than his shirt and was just another manipulation on her part. When she didn't cuff him after his shirt was back on, he was surprised. She had only told him to sit against the tree and wait. It seemed that she really did believe that he and Frank wouldn't endanger the other. And she was right.

Marilyn opened her eyes to find Joe looking at her. She smiled back. "Just one more check-in. It will probably be in about twenty minutes. Then it will be time for the hunt.

"Do I get to take anything with me?"

After standing and doing a slight stretch, Marilyn reached into one of the larger pockets on her hunting jacket. She pulled out a waterproof map. She looked at her watch and said, "I think it's okay for you to have it now." She tossed the map into his lap and then stepped away. I have marked three locations: this camp, your destination and the location of the gun."

Joe looked at the map. The destination was outside the park and in the state game lands. Gun shots there wouldn't draw any attention. He checked the distance again and then looked at his watch. That's a pretty far distance to go in less than nine hours and the location of the gun is in the wrong direction." Irritation was in his tone and it reminded him of some of his conversations with Dominic Laird.

Marilyn laughed, "I didn't say it would be easy. It's a challenge and you've always been up to them in the past." She stopped speaking and moved over to Joe's backpack and begin going through it. "Oh, and at the gun location is a GPS tagged beacon. You need to activate it within thirty minutes of your departure from camp or I'll be calling Rachel. Don't try to take it with you to get more distance from me. It's got a GPS for a reason. When you trigger it, that's when the hunt begins." She stopped speaking as she pulled out a Bible. "Really?" She asked as she turned to him and waved the book in the air. "A Bible?"

Nodding, Joe said, "Yes. Frank and I were planning on camping until Sunday afternoon so we'd miss church. We planned to read some scripture in the morning. We thought it would be nice considering the beauty of the area."

Marilyn gave an unladylike snort.

"You should try reading it sometime. You might learn something."

Marilyn put the Bible back in the bag and stood. "I know enough. An eye for an eye."

"I'd say that your husband being in jail and killing me or my brother isn't an eye for an eye," Joe responded.

Shrugging, Marilyn said, "It works for me and I'm more about retribution anyway."

"I don't think you understand that word. I'd say you're more about revenge and vengeance."

Her eyes narrowed. "Enough talk, Joseph. The winner can decide how to best describe it."

Joe could see he'd riled her up so he decided the best thing to do would be to close his eyes and be quiet. He'd rest for a bit because he'd be on the move for the rest of the day. Getting to that gun was going to be difficult in just thirty minutes because he wanted to get the hatchet. Unfortunately, the hatchet wasn't on a straight course to the gun.

It was a short while later that he noticed that Marilyn was pacing. After about a minute of watching her, he finally asked, "Is there a problem?"

Marilyn stopped and looked at her watch. "Rachel has been earlier than predicted on all her other calls."

"Is she past due?" Joe couldn't help but ask.

"No, but this is one of the parts where your brother could actually escape." Marilyn pulled her gun from its holster.

Joe looked from the gun to Marilyn's face. "You'd really shoot me now?"

"Yes, if your brother has been stupid enough to try something." Marilyn looked at her watch again.

"Frank may be many things, but stupid isn't one of them." Joe's voice was calm. There was no way that Frank would do anything to endanger him. But if there were an accident…. Joe moved to stand up and Marilyn pointed the gun at him.

"Sit back down."

She might not kill him for standing up, but he didn't need a gunshot wound while racing through the forest. He lowered his body back to the ground and the pistol dropped as the call came through.

"We're here and he's secured," Rachel's voice sounded through the phone.

"Any problems?"

"None."

"Excellent. I'll let Joseph it's time to start the hunt." Marilyn clipped the phone back to her belt. "Take off your watch and put it with your bag."

Joe stood and removed his watch and placed it inside his bag. It was a big disadvantage- not having the watch. He stretched a little. The day had warmed up some but he'd been sitting on the cold ground and without a shirt for a large amount of time. He felt somewhat stiff as he looked to Marilyn for the signal to start the hunt.

After pressing a few buttons on her watch, Marilyn said, "Go." As he ran away from her in the direction of gun location, she called after him, "Thirty minutes, Joseph!"

Joe set as fast of a pace as he could and once he was out of her view, he quickly diverted toward the stream and the place where the hatchet had been yesterday. Five minutes later, he had the hatchet under his belt. If he fell, he might seriously injure himself but he didn't want to run with it in his hand either. Joe ran for a couple more minutes and then stopped to catch his breath and to consult the map. Yes. He was back on track toward the location of the gun.

Fifteen minutes later he was at the location. The only problem was, he couldn't tell where the gun was located. He had thought that it would be marked in a way that he could easily find it. He berated himself for not asking Marilyn about how to identify the gun's location. Turning in a 360 degree rotation, he scanned the area. It would have to be something that she would know he would recognize. And then his eyes landed on a large flat rock that was about five feet wide. On top of it were some smaller rocks- rocks that looked out of place. Joe ran to the flat stone and looked at the smaller rocks. They were rounded and smooth as if they had been weathered by water. Touching one, Joe realized they were very much like the rocks on the beach of Lake Superior. Moving from the rock to the ground around it, he knelt and ran his hands along the edge. There under some leaf cover, he found a 9mm pistol. He checked the magazine and chamber. One round was all she gave him. He would have to shoot to kill or she would hunt him down with her fully loaded gun and kill him. The beacon! His hands went back to the leaves and found a small round device. He pressed the button on the top and it lit with a soft blue glow.

A flashback to a different place and time came to him. Thirty seconds… Time starts… Now. The words of Dominic Laird came to him as he put the pistol in the waistband of his pants at his back. Pulling the map out of his back pocket, he looked around and then oriented himself to the map. He took off at a fast jog. He needed to put as much distance as he could between himself and Marilyn. As he ran between the trees he thought about finding Marilyn and just ending it that way. But he shook his head. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't be the cold-hearted hunter that the Lairds were. But if they crossed paths along the way to the escarpment where Frank was… he'd do what was necessary to end it.

He'd been going hard for about an hour when he came to a stream. This one was bigger than the one near his camp; it had to be over twenty yards wide. He stood in the edge of the trees and looked around. There was a footbridge about thirty yards downstream from where he was. According to the map, this was the only dry crossing for the stream for a mile in either direction. He couldn't afford to go that far off course and get to Frank by sundown. But this was a very exposed area and he'd have to be careful even though he was sure Marilyn was still behind him. Joe stayed in the tree line and moved until he was directly across from the footbridge. As he stepped from behind a tree, a glint of sunlight on metal from up in a tree caught his eye and he dropped to the ground as a shot rang out. He moved quickly to position himself behind the tree again with his back against it as he sat on the ground. He looked at the splinters from the tree on the ground. If I hadn't seen the flash of sunlight, he thought grimly. How did she get here so fast? Pushing himself up, he kept his back to the trees and called out loudly, "How did you get ahead of me?"

"I decided you wouldn't try to escape so I decided I'd go ahead and come here where I figured you'd try to cross." Marilyn's voice carried across the sounds of the stream.

"You were supposed to wait to hunt me." Joe almost rolled his eyes at himself. Since when did murders follow rules of conduct?

"Well, technically I wasn't hunting you, Joseph. I just came to a spot I thought you might come to and waited. That wasn't really hunting."

"Semantics!" Joe yelled back.

"My dictionary!" she called back. "I'm going to stay here for at least thirty minutes. You can wait me out and cross here or you can move up or down stream and cross through the water. All depends on how much time you're willing to waste."

Joe closed his eyes. Thirty minutes. He could easily get to one of the other bridges and cross in that amount of time but he'd be going fifteen minutes at least in the wrong direction and then another fifteen minutes on the other side to get back on track. He needed to cross the bridge here to stay on his time schedule. The map crinkled in his hand as he pulled it from his pocket again. He realized now why she had given him a waterproof map. Joe looked from the map to the stream he could see through the trees. He'd go downstream. There was a shallow area there and if he did get swept away, it wouldn't have him floating past Marilyn. Putting the map away, he began to walk straight into the forest. He didn't want his movements to give away which direction he was going to Marilyn.

Fifteen minutes later, he was winded and standing in the trees near the spot he planned to enter. The terrain had been a little rougher than he had expected with downed trees and steep inclines. There was no way he could go for the bridge further down as the terrain didn't get much better. Carefully looking for sunlight on metal, Joe moved to the stream. Standing at the edge, he carefully stepped in. This was a good spot. The water was only three to four foot deep at its deepest according to the map. But it was extremely cold. He would have loved to have taken off his boots, socks, and pants to cross, but the threat of a shooter in the woods made that impossible. When he did get across, he decided he should have chanced it and removed his pants before crossing. The wet denim was extremely uncomfortable. It was going to be a hindrance to him but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He made sure the gun and hatchet were secure and then pulled his map out. It looked like he'd have cover for the next five miles and then he'd have to deal with another stream. Great. Studying the map he realized that the next stream was little more than a creek and should be easy to cross. Easier that is unless there's a woman in a tree nearby with a rifle. It was time to get moving, Marilyn's thirty minutes were about up. He was putting the map back into his pocket when he heard a distinctive sound- an engine. Joe almost moved in the direction of the sound when memories of ATVs came back to him. The first time was outside of the North Carolina compound and then on the beach in Michigan. Neither time had the ATVs meant anything but trouble for him and his gut was telling him that this time was the same. As he took off through the trees, he tried to stay in the thicker areas- areas where the ATV couldn't go. If she found where he crossed though, he'd be in trouble because she'd be able to determine his direction. Crap, he thought. Can't I catch a break? The rubbing of the wet denim against his legs answered 'no.'

Two hours later he was near the creek. He had stopped where he was close enough to hear the water but not see it. Since it was a creek he figured he was pretty close but he needed to slow his breathing and rest for at least fifteen minutes. He had barely stopped on the five mile hike and he was hot and sweaty now. In most survival situations, you really don't want to sweat in cold weather. His choices were limited however. So now his pants were still on the wet side and his shirt was almost as damp from sweat. There were numerous stinging scratches caused by branches and the occasional fall. The right knee of his jeans was busted open from a spill he took on a rock. Joe pulled the hatchet from his belt and dropped it to the ground and then pulled the pistol from his waistband. With the pistol in one hand and his map in the other, Joe sat down with his back against a tree. His stomach growled at him in frustration. He was hungry and thirsty. He'd chance taking a few swallows of the creek water if it was running clear when he crossed.

Joe looked up at the sun that he could see pretty well through the leafless branches. Wish I had my watch. He looked back at the map and then back at the sky. 2:00, maybe 3:00? He thought. He had between four and five hours to cover the rest of the terrain which included the escarpment and some hilly terrain. Joe closed his eyes and said a prayer. On the map, it looked like he had between eight and nine miles to cover. He could do three miles an hour easy when he was fresh, but he was far from that now and it would only get worse as the day went on. By the time he got to the escarpment, he'd be exhausted and climbing would be a bear especially with his sore knee. No doubt Marilyn would be waiting to pick him off if he couldn't find a spot to climb with cover. The escarpment was about sixty feet in most areas with a lot of hand and foot holds. The problem would be how much energy would he have left and how exposed would he be.

Standing back up, Joe realized just how sore he was. Tripping over limbs, roots, and vines had pulled his muscles as well as the strain of practically jogging over this terrain for hours. He stretched a little and then put away the pistol and the map. After retrieving his hatchet from the ground, he moved toward the sounds of the stream. He waited for at least ten minutes, studying the surrounding area. Nothing moved and normal forest sounds were all he heard. Joe carefully moved to the stream and knelt. He cupped his hands in the water and brought them up to his face without glancing down. He had to stay alert. Still no sounds as he drank the water. He drank some more and then quickly crossed the stream which only came up to mid-calf. Miles to go, he thought as he moved into the forest.

.**********.

Marilyn sat quietly in the tree as she watched Joe cross the stream. She had his back in her gun sight as he drank his water. But she put it down as he stood and moved into the woods. She was half a mile away in a tree on the mountainside that he had just come down. Earlier, she had found his wet exit point from the stream and had estimated where he would probably cross. Finding the vantage point was perfect and with her binoculars, she had scanned the area until she found him. She understood why her husband found hunting him to be so entertaining. He was resourceful, smart, and in shape for taking on these grueling hunts. She would never have been able to have stayed with him on foot and if she didn't know where he was going, she would probably have a difficult time tracking him. She had noticed that he had something in his belt. She wasn't sure what it was as it was on the opposite side from where she was, but she knew it had a handle. Perhaps it was a hammer or small ax he had found along the way. She couldn't blame him for picking it up and she would have to watch for it when they were in close quarters. And they would be in close quarters that evening. He would be tired and worn out with the escarpment in front of him. That is where she planned to confront him. It would be close enough to the camp that Frank could hear the shot. She smiled as she moved to climb down the tree. She wouldn't chance a gunfight with Joe when he was rested even though she herself was an expert shot. The son of a detective most likely knew his way around a handgun. But Joe would have been on the run for over six hours without food and with little water. He would be unsteady and she would have him. The only question that remained was whether she'd shoot for the heart to end things in a cinematic way or if she'd shoot him in the head which would no doubt leave his brother with that ghastly image for the rest of his life. She dropped lightly to ground and moved in the direction of her ATV. Such pleasant choices she had.