Author's Note: Thank you for the wonderful reviews and readership. Time to get Frank and Joe back to Fenton and Laura, even if in less than pristine condition.

CHAPTER 23

"Seseorang di sini!"

The shortest of a trio of camouflage clad soldiers called over his shoulder to his companions, breaking into a run to keep up with the hounds ahead. The search had been frustrating, the dogs finding few trails to follow, assuming you didn't count the hour they'd wasted cornering a bear cuscus. The baying presently emanating from the pack guaranteed they'd scented something more substantial. Sticky in the cloying night heat and bone tired, he could only hope it was the object of their search.

Movement in the barely visible entrance of a cavern claimed his attention, the glow from the lantern on his belt too dim at this distance to distinguish details. Whatever was up there was human at least. The dogs reached the ledge, ringing the area with an increasing cacophony of whines and yapping, scattering the damp leaf litter with their overly excited pawing.

He could hear a voice yelling at the animals, the shouts increasingly frantic as the beasts pressed closer. Unfortunately calling them back at this point was impossible; the bloodhounds having been chosen for their tracking ability, not an over abundance of good sense. No matter, he'd be up there in mere seconds.

The crack of a shot followed by a distinct yelp lent more urgency to his feet. The brighter circle from his light landed on a pale youth slouched against the rough stone, both hands wrapped shakily around an old fashioned revolver. One of the hounds whined on the ground, a red trail grazed over one haunch, the other animals now slinking about amongst the sheltered trees.

"Bangunkan Jati di sini untuk berbicara kepadanya! Sekarang!" The soldier shook his head; why did the only one of them that could speak any English have to be the slowest to get his rear up the hill? The youth in that cave didn't look so hot.

"Mudah anak laki-laki, menaruh bulu burung itu." He approached the cave cautiously, his own weapon drawn, but aimed slightly downward, his other hand extended and open. The farther he inched forward the more apparent it became that he'd found at least one of the young men he was seeking. The height and light hair matched what he'd been told; but no one had mentioned the kid was sick. Still, the idea that there were any other American teenagers in the area was absurd, so this had to be Joe Hardy.

The soldier slowed his steps further, eyes skimming the dark for any sign of the older sibling. This one didn't look like he could stand much longer, back plastered against the stone cave wall, the strained muscles in his bent legs visibly trembling. Sweat drenched the native style clothes and dripped off stringy blonde hair, while his confused gaze wandered somewhat, sporadically jerking between the soldier, the dogs, and a deeply shadowed lump at his feet.

"Mudah anak, Joe." He hoped the tone in his voice conveyed benign intentions, but the fearful heaving of the young man's chest did nothing to reassure him. Where was Jati anyway? At least he could talk to the youth.

"Perkenankan saya membawa Frank dan kami akan menangkap anda sampai beberapa pertolongan."

Too late he realized the downward tilt of his gun and use of the brother's name was mistake. To the half delirious boy before him, it gave every appearance of a threat to shoot his supine sibling. The darker mass at the cavern floor flinched at the sound of his name, knocking into Joe's leg and sending the preemptive shot wild, the revolver tumbling from his hands.

Joe blinked; almost unaware that he was the one that had fired a bullet. The soft snorting of the dogs and droning words of his attacker collided in his head, indecipherable in the fevered haze that throbbed there. It didn't matter. He couldn't let him take Frank.

The stance of the soldier before him took on a bizarre angle as Joe slid to the ground, the now well aimed pistol aligned directly with his chest. Apparently the Raneian didn't care for being used for target practice, even if Joe had missed.

"Leave us alone!" Joe tried to instill some venom into his words. He sat flat on the ground now, legs tented perpendicularly over Frank's shins, a hand blindly groping for the dropped firearm.

The soldier closed the gap to the pair, still hoping to calm Joe down.

"Saya mencoba menolong anda, Joe."

"Go away! I'm not letting you near Frank, so you may as well leave!"

The other pair of military personnel topped the ridge, rapidly moving closer once their companion confirmed Joe was no longer armed.

"Joe?" A lanky younger soldier moved in front of the first one, stopping about three feet from Joe to sit flat on the ground, upturned palms on his knees. "I'm Jati. We're going to get you home."

Home? I have to get Frank home. To the doctor. Need to wait for Dad. Talking. Someone's still talking.

"Joe, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that? You need help."

Listen… Joe tried to focus on the face before him, the words now familiar but still misleading. …No. The soldiers are talking. Trick. Soldiers did this to Frank. Can't let them hurt him again. Won't.

"I called for the helicopter to pick us up. It's going to be fine." Jati got the distinct feeling he was having this conversation with himself. Sighing, he turned slightly to speak to his companions. Looks like they'd be doing this the hard way.

Twelve hours ago, the promise of an airlift out of this purgatory would have been a godsend. Over the night though, as Joe's temperature climbed his coherence plummeted. Now the words were simply a smattering of gibberish. "Leave us alone!" …Not taking Frank. Not again.

"I heard that the first time, Joe, but I can help Frank. You don't know me, and I understand that, but you have to let us help you. You father sent us out here to get you. We're going to take Frank to the hospital." Jati shifted forward a half foot, enough to keep Joe's undivided attention while the other two flanked the cave mouth.

"Sekarang!"

Jati snatched Joe's gun from the ground and tossed it away as his companions pounced on the youth, pinning his arms to his sides before dragging him out into the night.

"NO! NO! YOU CAN'T." Joe flailed his legs at the man gripping him from behind, elbows jabbing backward into ribs, fighting desperately to return to his brother. The third soldier knelt beside Frank now, reaching for him, strange fingers tracing the stripes marring his torso. "NO!" …They'll kill him… couldn't manage to hang him, but now they'll kill him… I'm sorry, Frank… gah, no… "NOOO!…" A narrow glint of silver caught his eye. "No… don't touch me… Noooo… nnooo… can't… nn… oo …Fra…"

The incoherent shrieks faded into silence as Jati stood beside the struggling younger Hardy, the empty syringe disappearing inside a pocket. "Nighty-night. Sorry, Joe, but you were going to get hurt. Besides, I'm not that fond of being pummeled."

Another two minutes and Joe surrendered completely to slumber, unperturbed as he was strapped into a stretcher, heavy cables hauling it into the hovering 'copter a quarter hour later.

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Laura scrubbed her hands over her face before finally dropping her head into them, elbows propped on knees. The hard plastic of the chair pressed into her thighs, seemingly permanently glued there. There was an odd similarity to every other hospital waiting room she'd ever been in, as if there was an international protocol for speckled tile and bucket chairs. She'd seen enough to be a connoisseur. Fenton's hand trailed lightly over her hunched upper spine, the repetitive movement offering what solace he could.

Fenton was still supposed to be at the hotel in bed, but the news that both of his boys had been transferred in the capitol to a plane bound for Jakarta had made violation of that directive a foregone conclusion. Kerstin gave lip service to the order, fully expecting to be disobeyed short of calling in a small armored division. Ultimately she had escorted the Hardys to the hospital, ensconcing Fenton in a borrowed wheelchair overly crammed with pillows and propping his foot on the standard waiting room seating. She sat in a distant corner, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Biff made it his personal mission to perform all the pacing Mr. Hardy could not, establishing a figure eight pattern around the chair groupings that maximized the number of passes he made by the reception desk. Glaring at the clerk seated there might not produce an update any faster, but it couldn't hurt to try. They'd been here nine hours now.

"Mr. Fenton Hardy?" A soft spoken man gave his name an unusual inflection.

"Yes. Here." Fenton nudged Laura slightly, pulling her attention into the present. He had no doubt that her thoughts were both miles and years away, wandering with a pair of rambunctious little boys over every inch of their corner house and yard. Little boys with injuries a kiss and a band-aid would fix.

"I'm Dr. Sianturi. If you'll come with me, we can talk." The man was about Fenton's age and height, but of a more lithe build and an inscrutable expression.

Laura unbent herself from the chair, scooting sideways an inch to subtly maintain physical contact with her husband. "Please. How are our sons?"

"Alive… I would prefer we sit down to talk. There's a lot of information to go over." He turned and retreated down the hall.

Laura nodded numbly, clinging to the word alive as she wheeled Fenton ahead of her.

The doctor settled into the farthest chair at round conference table, shoving two others aside to accommodate the wheelchair. "Please sit. You are both the boys' parents?"

"Yes." The dual answer came from both of them as Laura adjusted the cushion for Fenton's leg and then sat beside him, fingers of one hand intertwining with his.

"Good. Shall we start with the younger one? His situation is somewhat easier to explain. His name is Joseph, yes?"

"Yes. He prefers Joe." Fenton gave Laura's hand a squeeze.

"Joe then. Somewhere along the way he cut his foot; I would estimate several days at least. The cut became infected and it appears there had been some attempt to drain it before he came in. In any event, the infection spread to his blood stream and resulted in fever and delirium. He was unconscious on arrival, but that was the result of an unknown sedative, not his illness. The foot has been debrided and will need care for a few weeks and he will need IV antibiotics for at least a few days. Blood stream infections can become quite serious if they progress from bacteremia to sepsis, and there is a small possibility of this getting worse, but it is more likely that he'll improve and be fine.

I'm slightly concerned by the delirium, which is a bit unusual in a young patient as a result of fever unless it is dangerously elevated. His condition now doesn't suggest that the infection was at that level of severity, but then again, no one was there to check his exact temperature at the time. He shows evidence of recent malnutrition and dehydration, and the information I received makes it seem likely he was exhausted as well, all of which would make him more prone to confusion. Once he's awake we'll have a better idea of what that means, if anything." The medic ran long fingers through prematurely gray hair. "Do you have any questions about Joe?"

Fenton replayed the conversation in his head. "A few. There are a few terms in there I don't recognize. What's debrided and sepsis? And is there going to be any lasting problem with his foot?"

"Forgive me. It's been a long night and English isn't my first choice for conversation." The doctor belated noted that it was actually well past noon now and decided to plow onward.

"I don't expect any long term problems with his foot. Debrided basically means cleaned out. In this case it was done in the operating room, but it doesn't always require a surgery. As he improves, he will need smaller debridements that can be done at the bedside to clean away any damaged tissue at the perimeter of the wound or infectious material in it.

The other word, sepsis, is a bit harder to explain. Bacteremia means you have bacteria from an infection anywhere in the body in your bloodstream, which is Joe's situation now. If this progresses, a patient can develop septicemia, more commonly called sepsis. This is a syndrome of effects from the infection. Usually low blood pressure is the first hallmark, and if that can't be corrected the lack of adequate blood flow can start to damage multiple organs in the body. Sepsis can be a deadly process and has to be managed aggressively to prevent respiratory, kidney, and/or liver failure."

Fenton watched Laura blanch further at the description of a problem Joe didn't have. The doctor seemed nice enough, but the information overload wasn't doing his wife any good. "I appreciate the explanation, but Joe doesn't have this sepsis, correct?"

Dr. Sianturi smoothed his rumpled lab coat, hesitating on the answer. "Correct, he does not."

"Then is there any particular reason to talk about it?" Fenton knew Laura was anxious enough already.

"For Joe, no, but I'm assuming you want to discuss Frank as well?"

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to be continued...