Finished, he lurched to his feet and staggered to the door. Opening it, he saw Laurel and the other Assassins in the main room, their attention focused on the radio that was giving the current weather conditions.
I must have been out for hours, thought Joe after learning they were currently in the eye of the hurricane that was expected to last for about another two hours. He grinned. He had time to sneak back to the house and take a cool shower. Granted, he had been given free reign over the island but he somehow doubted that freedom included times of emergency like now.
Quietly, he closed his door and made his way to the door they had arrived through. He eased it open and slipped through to the other side, shutting the door silently after checking to make sure their attention was still focused on the radio.
He lay against the rocky wall and closed his eyes. It was a bit cooler here in the main tunnel but that was probably because the shelter was packed with live bodies. Feeling better he pushed away from the wall and headed back through the tunnel putting one hand in front of him as he went, wishing he had brought a flashlight.
"How are we going to get Joe and get out of here after the storm but before the Network arrives?" asked Frank of his father after they had been silent for awhile.
Fenton turned on the transistor he had brought and tuned it to the only station it would pick up. Fortunately, it was for Beachcomb, the seaside town from which he and Frank had departed earlier.
Both Hardys remained silent as news of Hurricane Erika was broadcast. She was a category one hurricane that was rapidly diminishing to tropical storm status. The eye should reach the coast within the next hour and last no more than two hours.
"That means the eye will hit here first," Frank said as Fenton switched the radio off.
"It also means we have only a few hours to scout around and come up with a plan," Fenton said. "I think we should wait maybe thirty more minutes and then try and venture out."
Thirty minutes later the two left the safety of the basement. "You look upstairs and I'll check out down here," Fenton said. "But be careful. I doubt any of them are still around but..." he left the idea floating in the air as he moved away.
Frank went upstairs and began looking through the various rooms. There didn't seem to be anything about the house he could find to indicate it was a stronghold for Assassins apart form the arms in the basement. There wasn't a weapon anywhere else to be found.
Frank opened the next door he came too. There was glass all over the floor from where the balcony doors had blown in during the storm and the floor was filled with books and magazines that had been scattered by the wind.
Frank's curiosity turned to anger as he realized this must be the room Joe had been given. He could see Joe settling in here; curling up on the bed with one of the car magazines or a horror book. Frank spotted the model corvette Joe had wanted from Tory's Hobby World only two weeks ago.
"How could they have been watching Joe so closely and me not know it?" Frank growled, his anger directed at himself for failing Joe as he left the room.
Maybe not. Joe's words came back to haunt him again. Did Joe really believe they wouldn't want him just because he wasn't born a Hardy. He was raised one. Did Joe really think that counted for nothing? Didn't he know how much he loved him? How much they all loved him?
Blast it! Joe was his brother not this Danny person. How could Joe think for one moment that he would prefer someone he didn't even know over him? He knew Joe! Knew every smile; every glance; every thought. Or at least I thought I did, Frank amended as Joe's revelation about Iola popped into his head. Frank bit his bottom lip. Once this mess was over and Joe was back home where he belonged, they were going to have to talk about it. Frank knew why Joe hadn't mentioned it. He obviously felt bad enough about Iola and to let the Mortons know they had also lost a grandchild would have been more than Joe could handle. But he should have told me!
Frank headed down the stairs to find his dad. He was going to get Joe and take him home and no one, not the Assassins, his dad, the Network, or even Joe, was going to stop him!
"That was a bust," Frank said, finding his dad in the living room. "There wasn't anything that could help us up there."
"We can always borrow some of the artillery from the basement," Fenton suggested turning to look at Frank who had stopped beside an end table.
Frank picked up a frame and looked at the picture. "Danny," he stated seeing the similarities between the boy and himself. "I didn't see any other pictures of him around the place."
"They probably put them up so Joe wouldn't feel odd," Fenton said with a shrug.
"Do you ever wonder what it would have like if Joe and Danny hadn't been switched?" Frank asked.
"No," replied Fenton truthfully. "I could never think of Joe as anyone but my son. Even your suggestion sounds ridiculous."
"I wonder if Joe knows that," Frank said thoughtfully as he set the frame down without another glance.
"If he doesn't, he will," Fenton vowed. "Come on," he said, turning and heading to the kitchen. "Let's go see if there is anyway we can snatch Joe in the tunnel."
The two reached the kitchen just as the trap door swung up. Out popped a blond head as Fenton brought his foot back. As the face turned, Fenton's foot connected with the chin and the blond fell, half in and half out of the tunnel with his upper torso lying on the kitchen floor.