J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Thanks especially for all the reviews! I love reading them! The next chapter will be out tomorrow. God bless!

August 5 – Saturday

Phil was leaning against the wall of the cabin when Joe found him. He had his eyes closed as if he was half-asleep, but he couldn't have been, standing up like that.

"It's easier to sleep lying down," Joe commented.

"Speak for yourself," Phil grumbled. He opened one eye. "Is it morning already?"

"Dawn, at any rate." Joe shrugged and then looked more closely at his friend's face. "Is something wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep." Phil took in a deep breath. "I'm so tired, though. I just wish we had a real bed."

Joe frowned. Phil didn't look like he was feeling very well. Maybe he was just overly tired. Joe hoped so. If there was one thing they didn't need, it was for anybody to get sick, especially if it turned out as badly as Frank's accident had. True, Frank was recovering, but it would still be weeks before he could use his arm again without fear of further injury, and Frank didn't like that lengthy recovery time. He also clearly didn't like Joe looking out for him, even though he wasn't taking very good care of himself. In the last week, the two of them had had more fights than they probably had in their entire lives before this. It had to be getting annoying for their friends. For that matter, everyone seemed more impatient lately.

"Maybe you'd better try to sleep anyway," Joe told him. "I mean, there's no need to get up at the crack of dawn on this island."

Phil shook his head. "Why are you up then?"

Joe chuckled but he didn't answer. He felt like he was drowning under a pounding surf and every time he got his head above water for a few seconds, another wave would come and pull him under. He had been tied up, handcuffed, or imprisoned multiple times in his life, but he'd never felt the need to escape as strongly as he did lately. He simply had to get away from the bickering and grumbling. They had all agreed that no one should go off on his own after Biff's discovery of the potentially dangerous snakes, but Joe had thought he would just take a little while before everyone else woke up to be by himself. He didn't want to tell Phil that. He didn't want a lecture. Even if Phil didn't give it to him himself, he might tell Frank and Frank would definitely give him one.

"Might as well get started on breakfast," he said. "We've been getting lazy about that lately. It might do us good to have a real meal for once."

"Don't bother fixing anything for me," Phil said. "I'm not hungry."

Joe frowned in concern, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he went to seek solitude in the garden, if he couldn't get it anywhere else.

HBNDHBNDHB

Bayport's little non-denominational Christian church where the Hardys, the Hoopers, and the Mortons normally went was too small for the expected number of people for the service, so instead it was to be held in the Bayport High auditorium. It wasn't going to be very comfortable, since everyone would have to sit in folding chairs. But then, comfort wasn't the most important thing right now, Ned reasoned as he sat next to Nancy while they waited for the service to start. Some people were talking quietly, but with so many at once, it made a steady murmur over which it would be hard to hear someone next to him speaking in the sort of quiet voice that would be appropriate for such an occasion. Nancy looked like she was deep in her own thoughts, and so Ned didn't try to talk to her. He only squeezed her hand and gave her an encouraging smile when she looked up at him.

When she looked back down at her lap again, Ned glanced around at the people gathered. He didn't know many of the people there. There was no reason why he should, he realized now. There was the little row of River Heights people—himself, Nancy, Carson, Hannah Gruen, Bess, and George. Then there were the smattering of the Hardys' friends he had met. He saw Sam Radley, with his arm still in a sling, as well as Jack Wayne and Jerry Gilroy. He accidentally made eye contact with the latter from across the room and nodded a greeting at him. The argument that they had had was no doubt caused by being overtired and grieved. There was no point holding a grudge against the guys. Besides, if he'd been friends with Hardys, he must be a good guy. The close family of each of the boys were probably in the back and would process in. At least, that was how all the funerals Ned had been to before had been arranged.

Otherwise, Ned didn't see a single face he recognized. It was a funny thing. He had thought he was pretty good friends with Frank and Joe, but now, being in amongst all their other friends and relatives, he felt like an outsider. That was fine, he told himself. It wasn't like he had expected to have a red carpet rolled out for him. If anything, it was simply a testament to the sort of people Frank and Joe had been, that they had made someone who had only been on the periphery of their lives for about a year feel like he was an important part of their lives.

It wasn't like any other funeral Ned had been to, at least, insofar as there were no caskets or urns. It gave it a strange feeling, having the people for whom the service was being held so completely removed from it. Of course, the families had done their best to keep their sons as present as possible. There were three poster-size photographs on easels at the front of the gym, flanking either side of the podium. There was one each of Chet and Biff on the left side. The other side had a single photo with both Frank and Joe in it. That seemed appropriate, Ned thought. There was a fourth photo in front of the podium. This one was of all six boys. Ned was sitting far enough back that he could just make out which one was which, but he couldn't study their faces. He would have liked to. He had never met any of them besides Frank and Joe, and he would have liked to. It was too late now.

Ned's attention drifted back to the photo of Frank and Joe. His throat tightened as it really began settling in that they were gone. It was kind of ironic, actually. The first time he had met the Hardys, he had been dreading it. Bess had let it slip about Nancy's ill-fated date with Frank back in high school. That was the first time Ned had ever seen Nancy honestly annoyed. At first, he had been afraid that it was because there was some truth to Bess's hint that Nancy's interests in Frank weren't merely friendly. However, Nancy had set him straight at the first opportunity. And that was the first time Ned had realized how much he could trust Nancy. He had been less sure about Frank. From Nancy's account, it sounded like the interest was all one-sided anyway. Maybe Frank hadn't changed his mind about Nancy. Ned had tried to disguise his uneasiness by teasing Nancy about her "ex-boyfriends." He regretted that now.

He should have regretted it from the first time he met Frank. Both Hardys had immediately accepted him as a friend, and he had never gotten any sense of them harboring any kind of resentment toward him. Every time he'd seen them after that, they had won more of his trust and admiration. There would never be anyone else like them.

Ned tried to wipe his eyes unobtrusively, but he caught Nancy looking up at him. She squeezed his hand in imitation of his attempt to comfort her a few minutes earlier. He looked into her red-rimmed eyes for a few seconds, but then the music started, signaling the start of the funeral.

It was a long service, nearly an hour and a half. The pastor from the Hardys' church gave a short message, and then there were several eulogies. Ned knew that the Hardys had asked Nancy if she wanted to give one, but she had declined. She didn't think she could make it through. She wouldn't have been alone in struggling, though. Everyone who talked had a hard time.

After the service, there was a condolence line, which felt superficial, just going through, hugging and shaking hands and saying they were sorry over and over. Ned was glad when it was over, even though it meant that they were now standing out in the August heat in the parking lot of the auditorium. It was sweltering in Ned's suit.

Bess fanned herself with her program. "And I always thought it was cooler here than back home."

"It probably is," George replied. "It was pushing a hundred degrees there."

"Yeah. Here's it's probably just a cool ninety-nine," Bess retorted.

"Getting into some air conditioning would be a good idea," Hannah said.

Carson glanced back at the auditorium. "I would have liked to see if there was anything we could do to help, but I suppose they've probably got it covered. Let's go."

"I wish we didn't have to walk all the way back," Bess complained.

They had rented a small house for the weekend, but since it was close to most of the places they would need to go and since Bayport had a good public transportation system, they hadn't rented a car. Right now, they were all regretting that, as they were looking at having to walk several blocks in their dress clothes and the intense heat. Carson took his jacket off, and Ned both took his own jacket off and unbuttoned his sleeves to roll them up.

As he was doing this, someone called Carson's name. Along with the others, Ned looked up to see two men approaching them. One was in his mid-thirties and blond, while the other was about Ned's own age with dark hair and several fading bruises on his face. Carson shook both their hands in a friendly fashion that indicated that he knew them. Nancy also greeted them, although she was a trifle more reserved about it.

"It was good of you to come all the way out here, Don," she said to the younger one. "Are you all right? Dad told me that you got to worst of things."

The younger man nodded. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it was. And I felt like I needed to be here, all things considered."

Nancy turned to Ned and then gestured to her acquaintance to introduce him, although Ned had already guessed who he must be. "This is Don Cameron. Don, this is Ned Nickerson."

Ned watched a bit of uncertainty flicker across Don's face, especially when Ned held out a hand and said, "It's good to meet you, Don."

"Same here, Ned," Don replied, a little stiffly.

The other man was introduced as Mark Larson. He was already telling Carson that the crime organization back in Moku Pohihihi was nearly all rounded up. "They still haven't caught Dallas Ermington," he admitted ruefully. "She escaped in her yacht, but they'll find her."

"You sound more confident about that than you did last time I saw you," Nancy said.

"We didn't know that Dallas was behind it then," Mark pointed out. "Now we've got several witnesses to testify against her. Besides that, one of her lackeys admitted that the organization was behind my brother and sister-in-law's murders, so that chapter is finally closed. Almost, at least."

"Good," Carson said. "I'm glad."

"Me too." Mark glanced at the auditorium. "I'm just sorry it took this for it to happen."

He and Carson talked a little longer, and so Hannah and younger people moved into the shade to try to alleviate their suffering from the heat as well as they could. While they were waiting, Iola Morton came out of the auditorium and hurried up to them.

"Oh, good. I was hoping you hadn't left yet," she said. She glanced at the whole group. "Thank you all for coming. It sounds cliché, but it does mean a lot to me."

"Of course, we'd come, dear," Hannah told her. "I'm so sorry for what you're going through."

"This must be a really rough weekend for you," George added.

"That's for sure," Iola agreed. "My parents and the Hardys and the Hoopers all thought it would be easier if we had one service for all six of them, but the Pritos and the Cohens wanted theirs in their places of worship, which I don't blame them. Except for one thing. Could I please talk to you, Nancy?"

"Of course," Nancy agreed, and the two girls stepped out of hearing of the others.

They spoke for a couple of minutes, and when they had finished, Nancy returned to her group, looking troubled. Carson and Mark had finished talking, and so Mark and Don went their own way while the others started walking back to their rented house. Nancy fell back a few steps, and so Ned slowed down to keep pace with her.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

Nancy shook her head. "Yeah, kind of." She sighed. "I didn't need this right now."

"What happened?"

"Iola still thinks the boys are alive, and she wants help looking for them. I didn't know what to say."

Ned let out a long breath. "What did you tell her?"

"I said I'd see if I came up with any ideas." Nancy shrugged helplessly. "I didn't want to lead her on, but…"

"I know you didn't."

"I don't want to be selfish about this," Nancy went on. "I just…This has been awful. I don't want to be stuck chasing false hopes forever."

Ned paused. "You don't think there's any chance?"

"Oh, not you, too, Ned." Nancy groaned. "No. There's no chance, and it's only going to make it harder to pretend there is one."

"Okay. We'll figure out how to handle this."

HBNDHBNDHB

Biff and Chet were scrubbing dishes after supper that night. The other four castaways were nearby, since no one went out by himself anymore, but none of them were helping. Joe and Tony were continuing the landscaping project—working conspicuously far apart from each other—while Phil was in the cabin and Frank was sitting around the other side of, out of sight of the boys doing the dishes. Biff sighed heavily, and Chet looked up at him.

"Something on your mind?" he asked nonchalantly. "Or are you going to bite my head off for asking?"

Biff shook his head and sighed again. "That's what's on my mind. It's like walking on eggshells around here anymore."

"Right. I don't know why it all happened all the sudden." Chet shook his head. "And I was never worried about us getting along while we're stuck here. At this rate, we're going to wind up like those kids in Lord of the Flies."

"Well, I think Frank and Joe are only going to kill each other, so we don't have to worry about either of them coming after us," Biff said in a lame attempt at a joke, but he quickly dropped it. "It's weird. I didn't think those two ever fought. Like, ever."

"I can't say I've ever seen them before this." Chet shook his head. "And Phil's not in any better mood. Tony's still trying, but he's snapped at me a couple times for no reason. And here we were planning on doing some fun things to try keeping morale up."

Biff chuckled. "If there's one thing we can use, it's better morale. Say, you mentioned the music in the park like they did back home. Maybe we could try that."

"I'm not really in the mood anymore."

Biff sighed. "Yeah. Me neither. But we've got to do something."

Chet nodded. "And fast."