15 Monster Truck Terror
* * *
“Let’s get moving, Phil!” Joe shouted. He hopped into the driver’s seat and squeezed in so he could close the door to the cab.
Joe turned the key in the ignition. The engine started for a split second, then cut out. He tried again.
“I thought you just needed to jiggle it right!” Frank shouted to Phil.
Phil reached over and tried the ignition switch three more times. With each try, the sound got weaker and weaker. “Sorry, guys. The alternator’s dead.”
“We might all be joining the alternator if we don’t think of something fast,” Joe said grimly. “The tornado’s getting closer.”
Frank spotted headlights coming their way. Jumping into the middle of the road, he waved frantically. The pickup truck came to a stop, and the driver stepped out. “Snowdon!” Frank cried out.
“An overpass has crashed down onto the highway. We can’t get to Lone Wolf!” Snowdon shouted.
“Our car is kaput—useless,” Frank told him.
“Pile in,” Snowdon said, waving the others out of the Blue Bomber.
A jackrabbit raced across the highway. Bullet jumped out of Snowdon’s pickup and ran off into the night after it.
“Bullet!” Snowdon shouted.
“I’ll get him,” Joe said.
“Bullet will be okay,” Snowdon said. “We need to think about ourselves right now.”
Snowdon’s pickup had two jumper seats in the back. Still, when Joe pulled the door closed behind him, he felt like a sardine.
“Turn on the CB, Joe, and tune in channel nineteen,” Diana instructed from the backseat. “Let’s see if the Windstormers are out there.”
“Mayday, mayday, this is Joe Hardy!” Joe said into the microphone.
“Mayday?” Phil wondered. “That’s the distress call for airplanes.”
“And we might be airborne any second now,” Joe replied, watching the massive whirlwind advancing toward them.
“Joe, this is Lemar Jansen,” Jansen’s voice came in over the CB. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to be chasing this monster.”
“That’s affirmative, Mr. Jansen. We don’t,” Joe radioed back.
“The Windstormers have detailed road maps and radar on the bus,” Phil said. “Maybe Mr. Jansen can tell us the best way to avoid it.”
“What is your exact location now?” Jansen asked.
Joe handed the microphone to Henry Low River, who gave Jansen a detailed description of their surroundings.
“You should be coming up on a dirt road on your left. It’s C-two-one-one-nine. Take that,” Jansen instructed.
“I see it,” Snowdon said, turning left off the highway. “I’m much obliged.”
“I’m much obliged, too,” another voice chimed in on the same frequency. “I see exactly where they are.”
“Who was that?” Frank asked.
“I know that voice,” Low River said. “It’s Toby Gill.”
Joe cupped his hands and looked out the window on the passenger side. Greg Glover’s monster truck was a second away from broadsiding them.
“Look out!” Joe shouted.
The massive black truck hit Snowdon’s pickup just past the passenger compartment, sending it rolling down an embankment into an irrigation ditch.
When the truck came to a stop, Joe found himself lying on top of his fellow passengers. The truck was on its side, and water from the ditch was flowing in through the broken driver’s-seat window. Joe could see that Snowdon and Low River were groggy and groaning. Diana appeared to have been knocked unconscious.
Frank was pinned beneath Phil. He could feel a hard metallic object jabbing him in the back. “Your window is the only way out, Joe!” he yelled to his brother.
Joe tried to roll down his window, but it stuck fast. “The door was smashed in when we rolled,” Joe said. “It won’t open!”
Frank removed the object that was jabbing him. “It’s a tire iron!” he yelled, handing it to Phil, who passed it on to Joe.
Joe swung the iron bar, striking the shatterproof glass with enough force to crack the entire surface of the window. He kicked the glass out with his foot and climbed out onto the door.
Joe saw the F5 twister only a few hundred yards away, a column of black that tore up the earth as it went. He spotted a small plane flying upside down around its perimeter. He realized the F5 must have passed by the local airport—and that the aircraft had no pilot.
“Give me a hand, Joe,” Frank shouted.
Joe tossed the tire iron up onto the bank and pulled Frank through the window. “We’ve got to hurry!” he shouted, pointing to the F5, which had reached a water tower about a hundred yards away.
“Get in the ditch,” Frank said, “and help them get to solid ground as I pull them out.”
Frank took Diana from Phil. He pulled her through the window, then lowered her down to Joe. Joe waded through three feet of water, carried her up the bank of the ditch, and gently put her down.
Joe saw headlights approaching. Glover’s monster truck was zeroing in on him. Spotting the tire iron on the ground, Joe grabbed it and charged the oncoming vehicle.
After leaping high into the air, Joe landed on the hood and rolled into the windshield. Clinging to a wiper blade with his left hand, Joe swung the tire iron into the driver’s-side window with his right hand, cracking it.
Joe’s second blow crashed through the window and made contact with the driver. The monster truck spun to the right and down into the irrigation ditch, throwing Joe off the hood. The giant left front wheel trampled over Snowdon’s pickup, barely missing the passenger window where Frank and Phil were lifting out Low River and Snowdon.
Joe jumped to his feet and swung himself up onto the runner of the monster truck, ready to knock Glover out of commission.
Lying across the seat, knocked cold by the first blow from the tire iron, Joe saw the Toby Gill impostor, Dutch Wise.
Frank heard the creak of metal giving way and watched in horror as the water tank was torn from the top of the tower and thrown against the ground. A flood of water rushed down the irrigation ditch, stranding Frank, Phil, and Snowdon on top of the pickup.
Frank saw a greater danger. The roaring column of the F5 was approaching a telephone pole, As it snapped the electrical cables, sparks flew from the live wires. If they touched the water, Frank knew thousands of volts of electricity would be conducted through the liquid and into the metal frame of the truck he and his friends were trapped on.
The tornado winds broke the telephone pole in half. “The wires!” Frank screamed as the pole with its live electrical cables fell toward the ditch.
16 Caught Inside a Tornado
* * *
Seeing the mammoth tractor tires that kept the metal body of Glover’s truck high over the water line, Frank got an idea. “Jump on the tires!” he shouted to the others. He remembered that rubber did not conduct electricity.
Phil, Low River, and Snowdon jumped onto the front left tire, while Frank vaulted over the hood and landed on the front right tire, just as the cables hit the water upstream, sending a powerful electric current coursing through Snowdon’s abandoned vehicle.
“Good thinking, Frank!” Phil shouted.
“You saved our bacon from being fried to a crisp!” Low River added.
“Our bacon’s not saved yet. Everybody into Glover’s truck!” Joe yelled over the din from the F5 which was now bearing down on them.
Joe saw that Frank was shouting something back, but the roar of the wind made him feel as if he were inside a jumbo jet engine. He couldn’t hear a word his brother was saying.
Frank leaped off the tire and onto the bank. Once Phil, Low River, and Snowdon were inside, Joe threw the truck into reverse. The three-inch treads of the monster truck tires grabbed the solid ground beneath the mud in the ditch and propelled them up the bank.
Frank was waiting, bracing himself and Diana against the gale.
/> Joe recoiled as the windshield was shattered by the immense pressure of the tornado winds. As Phil pulled Diana into the cab, Frank felt his feet being lifted off the ground. He clutched the door handle with all his might.
Joe felt the rear tires of the truck break contact with the earth. Frank wasn’t inside, but Joe knew he had no choice. He floored it.
Joe felt like a fish struggling on the end of a hook as the force of the mighty truck battled against the force of the tornado.
Frank’s body was suspended in midair, and his grip on the door handle was slipping.
Joe threw the truck into low gear. The front tires grabbed hold and pulled them forward. The rear end dropped down and got traction.
Joe sped across the open field with Frank riding on the runner and holding on for dear life. The deafening roar lessened.
“You can stop, Joe!” Frank shouted. Joe either didn’t hear him or wasn’t listening. “You can stop!” Frank yelled at the top of his lungs.
Joe brought the truck to a halt.
“It’s gone,” Frank said, taking a deep breath. “It’s over.”
Joe and the others turned around and looked. The F5 had dissipated, leaving only the ravaged countryside behind to remind them that it had ever been there.
• • •
Dawn had taken forever to come, Frank thought. Even though they were exhausted, the Hardys couldn’t sleep. The first light brought hope, but it also brought the harsh reality that the town of Lone Wolf was in shambles.
Frank walked out of Windstormer headquarters and realized it was one of the few buildings left standing.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” Joe greeted San Dimas, who was unlocking Jansen’s office.
“Morning, Joe,” San Dimas replied.
“How’s the prisoner?” Joe asked. He looked through the door at Dutch Wise, who had been handcuffed to Jansen’s desk for the night.
“I think the prisoner is wishing he had never heard of Joe Hardy,” San Dimas said, smiling.
“I’m just sorry the other two got away,” Joe said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure that they did,” San Dimas said. “It would have been nearly impossible to get out of this area last night.”
“I would have gotten out,” Dutch Wise grumbled, “if it wasn’t for these lousy kids.”
• • •
Deputy Klement pulled in front of Windstormer headquarters and let out Greg Glover. “Mr. Glover!” Frank shouted when he saw the squad car.
“Sorry, Frank,” Glover said. “I went looking for Bixby at his office last night and found Dutch Wise. I hear my truck caused you a lot of trouble.”
“It also saved our lives,” Frank told him.
Joe came out of the building with San Dimas and the others.
“I’ve got good news and bad news, Sheriff,” Klement told San Dimas. “The good news is I found your squad car.”
The Hardys, Phil, and Diana couldn’t help laughing, well aware of the news to come.
“Look who made it home,” Low River said, pointing down Main Street. Bullet was running full tilt, howling all the way. The dog jumped up onto Snowdon and licked his face.
“Bullet found his way back to Snowdon,” Low River said. “He must be part Cherokee.”
Snowdon laughed. “I think he’s part cat, and he’s used up about eight of his nine lives.”
“Deputy Klement,” San Dimas said, “why don’t you give Mr. Wise here a ride to the jail in Tulsa, since our jailhouse doesn’t have a roof anymore.”
“My pleasure,” Klement replied.
“I was sure we would have been able to nab Bixby and Kanner,” Frank said.
“Sheriff San Dimas thinks they may still be in the area,” Joe told him, “though I don’t know how we would find them in this mess.”
Frank thought a moment, then looked at Snowdon’s dog. “Bullet!”
“What about him?” Phil asked.
Frank pulled Alvin Bixby’s business card from his wallet. “It’s a long shot, but maybe Bullet can pick up Bixby’s scent.”
Snowdon let his dog sniff the card, then said, “Now go git ’im, boy.”
Bullet walked over to Frank first. “Not him! Find Bixby!” Snowdon commanded, and let Bullet sniff the card again.
Bullet took off, with Frank, Joe, and the others following closely. The hound dog roamed one direction, then the next, sniffing the ground, until Joe figured they had covered half the square footage of Lone Wolf.
Finally, outside Alvin Bixby’s office, Bullet picked up a scent and led Frank and the group to another one of the few buildings in town that the tornado had left untouched.
“The bank,” Frank said, exchanging a look with Joe. Where else would two greedy crooks like Bixby and Kanner go?
Joe, Frank, and Phil entered the bank, accompanied by Sheriff San Dimas.
“That’s the bank president,” Phil told them, pointing to a man in a suit, seated across a desk from two other men in baseball caps and sunglasses.
“There you are, gentlemen,” Frank could hear the bank president telling the two men. “The balance of the Tamco Corporation’s account.”
“I’ll take that,” San Dimas said, grabbing the suitcase with one hand and pulling out his revolver with the other. Kanner and Bixby looked up, stunned to find themselves surrounded by the Hardys and citizens of Lone Wolf.
“There are a lot of insurance policies that need to be paid off with that,” Joe said, grinning at his friends.
• • •
Three days later the Hardys were packed and ready to go home to Bayport. Kanner, Bixby, and Wise were in jail, and the town of Lone Wolf was well on its way to rebuilding.
“Can I give you a ride to the airport?” Phil asked.
“To tell you the truth,” Frank replied, “we’ve decided to take a train.”
“That’s a pretty long trip. Why would you want to take a train home?” Phil asked.
“After our week in Twister Alley,” Joe said with a laugh, “we don’t want our feet to leave the ground for a long, long time.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Aladdin
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1998 by Simon & Schuster Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN 978-0-671-00123-0
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THE HARDY BOYS and THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
The Chase for the Mystery Twister Page 10
