Forever Lost

by Franklin W. Dixon

  I glanced sideways at Stanley. “Does anyone know he’s here?” I asked Detective Cole.

  He nodded. “Of course. We called his parents this morning. They were thrilled to find out he’s safe.”

  I tilted my head. “Did . . . um . . . they see the letter?” If a rational adult had laid eyes on whatever this letter said, maybe they had information about where Alice might be held, or whether the letter was even from her.

  Detective Cole shook his head. “It seems Stanley brought in the mail that day,” he replied. “And then promptly disappeared the next morning.”

  I looked back at Stanley. He was chewing on his fingernails now, staring off into the distance. If he realized we were talking about him, he gave no outward sign.

  “Stanley,” I said gently. “How come you didn’t tell your folks about the letter? Wouldn’t they help you find Alice? I’m sure they want to find her too.”

  Stanley’s eyes came back into focus, and he looked at me like he had no idea why I was asking him that. His eyes watered. “Don’t you see?” he asked, shaking his head. “Don’t you?”

  “See what?” asked Detective Cole, leaning in.

  A tear trickled down Stanley’s cheek, and he swiped at it angrily. “I was with her the day she disappeared. Alice. They took her from right beside me.”

  I took in a breath, trying to remember our research. He was right; Alice and Stanley had left their campsite on a hike five or six years before. Hours later, Stanley was found on the trail, knocked unconscious by someone or some thing. Alice was gone.

  “I lost her,” Stanley went on, more tears dripping from his eyes. “Don’t you see? I had to be the one to get her back. If I get her back, my parents will forgive me and we can all be a family again.”

  I looked at Detective Cole, swallowing back a sympathetic sigh. Poor Stanley. He really believed he was responsible for Alice’s disappearance. Meanwhile some psycho with a fondness for sedative drugs had taken her to—what? Keep her prisoner forever? Start a child army? Always have someone to watch SpongeBob SquarePants with? What?

  Detective Cole touched Stanley’s shoulder again. “Stanley, listen to me. We will get her back. You have to trust me on that. But the three of us working together can find her faster than you can. When your parents get here, we’ll tell them you did it. We’ll tell them you’re the hero. But please—tell us where that letter is. Joe and I will go and dig it up and we’ll find Alice as soon as we possibly can. You have my word on that.”

  Stanley was silent for a minute, wiping his cheeks with no expression. After a moment, though, he whispered, “Can I see her?”

  “What?” I asked.

  But he turned to Detective Cole. “When you find Alice,” he explained. “Can I see her? Right away? I miss her a lot.”

  Detective Cole sucked in a breath and nodded slowly. “Of course, Stanley. You’re the first person I’ll bring her to. Okay?”

  Stanley nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. Then he took a deep breath. “I buried the letter at our old campsite,” he said, “by the river, under a tree that was broken in half.”

  I looked at Detective Cole.

  “I know that tree,” he said, nodding quickly. “I know all the crime scenes by heart, unfortunately. Where Alice and her family camped—there’s a big old pine tree that got hit by lightning last year. That’s where it’s got to be.”

  Stanley nodded.

  “Thank you, son,” Detective Cole said, standing up and patting Stanley’s arm. “You wait here, and we’ll tell you as soon as we know anything, okay?”

  “Okay,” Stanley agreed. “Can I have a glass of milk, please?”

  A few minutes later, as Detective Cole was explaining this break in the case to his fellow officers, and the receptionist was preparing a big glass of milk to bring to Stanley, my phone rang loudly. I jumped, then pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID.

  MISTY FALLS HOSPITAL.

  I smiled. Good—so Frank’s awake.

  “Hello,” I answered, casually holding the phone to my ear as Detective Cole gestured for me to follow him out to the parking lot. We were headed for the state park—stat!

  “Hello,” said a nervous voice. “This is Nurse Appleby from the trauma ward at the hospital. To whom am I speaking?”

  I frowned. “This is Joe Hardy, ma’am. Are you calling about my brother?”

  There was a pause, and I thought I detected a little sigh on the other end. “Um, yes, I am, sir. See . . . the thing is . . . this really never happens here, but . . .”

  My stomach clenched. What happened to my brother? Had he had a bad reaction to the sedative? Had his injuries worsened? “What?” I demanded.

  The nurse sighed, more loudly this time. “The thing is,” she said, “he’s . . . missing.”

  On the Run

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. I blocked out all other sounds and thoughts as my feet slammed the pavement across the hospital parking lot and into the woods that led—I was pretty sure—in the direction of Misty Falls State Park. My heart pounded in my chest and my arm throbbed in its cast, but I couldn’t slow down, and I definitely couldn’t stop. I had to get away from hospital security, Dr. Carrini, and Chloe. Something big was going down in that underground bunker in the woods—something dangerous. Chloe knew what it was, and she’d chosen her secrets over me. That smarted a bit. But I was glad I’d learned the truth now, when I still had a chance at getting away.

  Two security guards had followed me out the door, but I was smaller, younger, and faster than either of them. At first I could hear them close behind me, panting as their feet heavily slammed the ground. But as I crossed the lot, they’d grown farther and farther behind, until they were a good twenty yards behind as I crossed into the woods. One of them stopped at the border of the lot, hesitating.

  “Jack?” he called to the second guard, who was still following me. “Is it worth it? He’s off hospital property now.”

  The other guard paused, panting. “Maybe . . . maybe we should call the police.”

  I kept running. My feet pounded over dead leaves and exposed roots as I tore my own path through the dense woods. I could feel the chill of the forest air creeping up the back of my regrettably immodest hospital gown, but I didn’t slow. As I ran, the edges of my vision went blurry, and occasionally dizziness caused me to veer or judge my distances wrong. The purple sedative, whatever it was Chloe had given me, was still affecting my brain. But adrenaline had given me enough clarity to make my escape.

  Finally, what had to be a mile or more into the woods, I slowed.

  I had to get to Joe. And I had no idea where he was right now. Worse, I had nothing on me—not my ATAC-issued phone, compass, or any sort of GPS device. If I showed my face in town, I would be dragged back to the hospital—not even Detective Cole could keep his officers from doing that. Best-case scenario, I’d end up in a tense standoff with Dr. Carrini and Chloe, where they insisted I was messed up on drugs and made up everything I was saying. I’d have Joe and Detective Cole to back up my story, but I knew it would take awhile to work everything out, anyway. And truthfully, even Joe and Detective Cole hadn’t seen what I’d seen in that bunker. They couldn’t imagine the weirdness. They could only trust that I was telling the truth.

  So I had to get to Joe—and I had to stay out of sight. Which meant the best idea was probably to head back to our campsite in the state park. Hopefully it was still standing and hadn’t been ravaged by bears or ghosts or whoever the heck had been tormenting us the last night I’d stayed there. I hadn’t slept there in days, but Joe had still been in one piece this morning—whoever was responsible for the Misty Falls Lost hadn’t gotten him yet.

  I knew the park was northwest from the hospital, and within the park, our site was located on a river that ran through the eastern part (and, as we had found, was quite popular with bears). Looking up at the sun, I could see that it had already started its slow descent—to the west. Which meant that if I walked slightly to
the right of the sun, I should be headed northwest, toward the park. It seemed a terribly inexact navigational system—especially for a guy half in love with the lady who narrated his GPS system in his car at home—but it was all I had. With one last stretch—and a quick adjustment of my hospital gown—I headed off to the right of the sun.

  My stomach growled, and I thought of yet more stuff I didn’t have: food and water. Of course, ATAC training included extensive wilderness survival training, so I knew how to find clean water—and if worse came to worst, I could survive on edible bark and roots. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, though. I could really go for a burger, I thought as I headed into the slowly setting sun.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking, but according to the angle of the sun, it had been an hour or two since I’d left the security guards behind in the hospital parking lot. The park was about eight miles from the hospital, meaning I still probably had an hour or so to go. My mind had cleared a little as the drugs continued to wear off, and my vision was no longer blurry around the edges. I was having an easier time concentrating, too. I hoped I would be totally back to normal soon.

  Still thirsty, I could hear a little rush of water over to my right, behind a copse of trees. I headed over to investigate and found a small, clear brook running over a rocky bed. After investigating, I decided that the water was safe to drink and leaned down by the shore, grabbing up full palmfuls and sucking them down with relish. Water had never tasted so good, or so clean, or cold! I sighed, enjoying the feeling of it sliding down my throat.

  Crack.

  I startled at a noise behind me. It sounded like a branch breaking. But surely that wasn’t possible—out here? The forest was full of animals, but few would be big or powerful enough to snap a branch—few that came out during the day, anyway. The only explanation I could think of was that a human was following me.

  Crack. Shuffle, shuffle.

  Okay, there was no denying it now. My heart jumped into my throat as I realized the noise was coming from no more than a few yards away, and I was completely out in the open, by the brook with nowhere to hide. Somebody was coming. Could it just be a random hiker? The park was full of hikers and campers . . . being a state park and all. But with dismay, I reminded myself that I was miles from any sort of marked trail, and probably still a ways from the park boundaries. I was really still in the wilderness. There was no reason for someone to pass through here.

  Except if they were looking for me.

  How could anyone have found me, though? I had been careful as I was walking to double back a few times, create some false trails, and cover my tracks in case someone tried to track me through the woods. An experienced tracker could probably still find me, but would whoever was after me—whoever ran the murky whatever that was going on under the forest floor—have an experienced tracker? Nobody I’d encountered in the underground bunker had seemed like much of a woodsman. Definitely not Chloe.

  I quickly ran my hand over my hospital gown, then fingered the hem and ran my hand up and under the inside. There it was—bingo! A tiny studlike device was attached at the seam, nearly undetectable. I grabbed it and pulled it out. It was small, round, and made of black plastic, with a metal center and a tiny blinking red light. Has to be a GPS device, I figured. If it was, then whoever had planted it could easily have been following me on a computer this whole time.

  My heart sank. Who could have planted it on me? It had to be someone with access to the hospital. Chloe? One of the doctors? I shook my head. How far did this organization extend? Had I ever really had a chance at getting away? Could I still? I threw the device as far down the brook as I could and jumped to my feet. As someone crunched through the brush to reach the far side of the brook, I sprang into action, running as fast as I possibly could in the opposite direction.

  My feet hammered the dry brush on the ground as I used all my ATAC wilderness training to forge a path through the dense woods. If I could outrun these guys, without the device on me, I still stood a chance of getting away. But I could hear footsteps hammering behind me—heavy, but fast. Whoever it was, I wasn’t losing them. I started getting crazier with my movements, veering off at sharp turns, pounding through trees and scratchy branches. I could feel the sharp branches tearing into my skin, scratching me up, but I didn’t care. I had to get to camp and to Joe!

  I charged into a small clearing and stopped. To my left was a steep, craggy rock face, and to my right a small path led downhill through a bed of what looked like blackberry bushes. The path was the clear choice—and exactly where my pursuer would expect me to go, especially with my injuries. Instead I used my right hand to grab a shaky handhold up at my eye level on the rock face and tried to pull myself up. It was nearly impossible, but my training had given me enough arm strength to at least hold myself there for a few seconds, hanging against the rock, as I scrambled for a way to support myself with my left hand. I knew my left arm was too weak to support my weight, but my hand was free and could at least hold on to help balance myself. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could scramble up using mostly my right hand. Finally I found an outcropping to grab and shoved my bare feet into the rock, searching for something—anything!—to push myself up on.

  I could hear footsteps approaching behind me. I had only seconds. Finally I found it—a tiny protrusion in the rock’s surface, just big enough to get a couple of toes around, but it was enough. I molded my foot around it and pushed up, scrambling for and finding another handhold farther up the rock face. Then another, then another foothold, and finally I could reach up to the top of the ridge. I used my right hand to pull myself up and over, crying out as my left arm banged against the rock face. But it didn’t matter. Within seconds, I was up at the top of the ridge, looking down as my pursuer reached the clearing.

  A tall, stocky man walked into the clearing, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. I bit back a gasp. Baby Doc! It was one of the “doctors” I’d seen in the underground bunker. He’d always seemed a little out of it—but he was definitely paying attention now. I watched as he looked around the clearing, frowning. He glanced at the rock face and up to the top—I ducked back behind some trees out of sight—and then he headed down the path between the blackberry bushes.

  I took a deep breath. Freedom!

  I waited a couple of minutes for Baby Doc to be out of earshot. Then I slowly backed away from the rocky drop-off. I wasn’t sure where I was, but according to the sun, I was still facing west. Checking one last time to see that the clearing was empty, I turned to start my new hike—

  —and slammed right into Scar.

  “Where you going in such a hurry?” he said with a leer, grabbing me by the back of the neck and wrestling me to the floor with an athlete’s precision. The scar that covered his face made me shiver, remembering my time in the bunker, how the kids had seemed to fear him. What was this? How had Baby Doc and Scar tracked me and found me? Why did they want me back so badly?

  Just then footsteps approached from a line of sycamore trees. I gasped as Baby Doc emerged, talking on a cell phone. Had there been another way up here, around the rocky ridge? There had to be. Baby Doc wasn’t even panting—like he’d just strolled up from wherever the blackberry path led.

  “Yup, we got him,” he told whoever was on the end of the line, then hung up. “Boy, are you going to be sorry you ran,” he told me with a threatening grin.

  What now? What could they do to me now? I admit it: My normally cool, calm exterior vanished, and I freaked out a little bit. “I won’t go back to the hospital!” I cried, looking from one “doctor” to the other. “You can’t take me against my will! I’m a free man!”

  But Baby Doc just laughed. “Oh, we’re way beyond that, kid. You’ve caused way too much trouble to go back to the hospital. No, you’re going back underground.”

  And with that, they dragged me over the rocky ground a few yards away to what looked like a cave: a dark entrance leading into a craggy rock face, out of the bright sunlight. But a
s we walked a few yards in, a metal door opened.

  We were heading back into the underground lab. And any chance I’d had of getting back to my brother was gone.

  Memories

  Detective Cole and I headed back to Misty Falls Hospital. We still wanted to check out that letter ASAP, but somethings—like your sedated brother disappearing into thin air from a secure hospital—are more important than tracking down clues. As we drove, my stomach churned with worry over Frank. Why would he leave the hospital? My brother’s a traditional guy—he trusts doctors, science, and the law. I couldn’t imagine why he would have left the hospital without contacting me.

  Unless he felt threatened.

  Which led me back to the strange scene I’d witnessed this morning—Chloe sedating Frank and generally acting weird. She was usually so bubbly and friendly, but this morning she’d acted like she wished I’d take a long walk off a short pier. She’d seemed . . . nervous. I trusted her enough that I didn’t think much of it at the time. But what if that nervousness had something to do with Frank bolting from the hospital? What if she, or the doctor, had tried to do something that Frank knew was dangerous?

  “Don’t worry, son,” Detective Cole said with a weary sigh as he parked the police cruiser in front of the hospital entrance and patted my shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, and we’ll find your brother.”

  Inside, we asked after Frank at the nurse’s station and were told to proceed to Dr. Carrini’s office, where doctors were waiting to explain to us what happened. We followed the nurse upstairs to a quiet corridor of offices, where she led us into a large, bright corner office with DR. CARRINI scrawled on a Post-it note on the front door. Inside, Dr. Carrini stood with Chloe—Chloe? So she is involved—facing a huge window that overlooked the forest. When we strode in, Detective Cole cleared his throat, and Dr. Carrini and Chloe turned around, neither one looking super excited to see us.