180 Typhoon Island by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

8 The Storm Breaks

* * *

Joe grabbed the blanket off his bed and ran to the corner. He beat the blanket against the flames but couldn’t smother them. “Lightning must have hit the hut,” he said.

“Maybe,” Frank replied. He quickly retrieved the fire extinguisher from beside the hut’s tiny electric heater. He popped off the safety lock, pointed the nozzle toward the base of the flames, and pulled the trigger.

The extinguisher hissed, a small cloud puffed out of the nozzle, and a tiny stream of bubbly liquid leaked onto the floor. Frank looked at the date stamped on the side of the canister. “Expired!” he said, tossing the useless extinguisher aside.

“Soak one of the sheets with water,” Joe suggested, still beating at the fire with his blanket.

“In the tub, or outside?” Frank asked wryly as he yanked the covers off his bed and dashed into the bathroom. In just moments he returned with the sheet thoroughly soaked, and joined Joe in trying to extinguish the flames.

Sweat poured down their faces as they battled the blaze. Despite their efforts, the fire climbed up the hut’s grass wall toward the ceiling. “It’s no use,” Joe said.

“Get your stuff and head outside,” Frank said. “If the extinguisher in the girls’ cabin works, we may still have a chance.”

Both brothers dropped their makeshift fire blankets and grabbed their duffel bags and ponchos from beside the door. As they stepped outside Iola ran up to them, holding her orange poncho in one hand.

“Help!” she cried. “Fire!”

The Hardys dropped their gear and ran to the other hut. They found the girls’ bags lying outside and Callie standing beside the hut. She was aiming a sputtering fire extinguisher toward a strip of burning thatch near the door.

“This thing doesn’t work!” she said angrily.

“Ours is no good either,” Frank said.

“And our hut is on fire too,” Joe added.

Callie looked around, panic in her face. “What?” she asked, not believing him. “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine,” Frank replied. “Got our gear out too—same as you.”

“I think lightning struck the huts,” Callie said. “We heard a huge bang just before the fire broke out.”

“If only the cabins had phones!” Iola said, moaning.

“And our cell phones don’t work either,” Joe said angrily.

“We’ll have to drive out of the jungle and get help,” Frank said. He pulled his poncho on over his head, even though he was already soaked and sweaty. The others did the same as they headed for the Jeep.

When they reached the battered old vehicle, though, they immediately noticed that it looked lopsided.

“Did it sink into the mud?” Callie asked. The entire road leading downhill looked like a mud slide.

“No,” Frank said, stooping beside the Jeep. “The tires are flat.”

“All of them?” Joe asked.

“Just the two right tires,” Frank said, examining the flats.

“Could the lightning have blown out the tires and set the huts on fire?” Iola asked.

“On a one-in-a-million shot, maybe,” Joe said.

“I think there’s a more likely explanation,” Frank said as rain dripped off his orange hood. “Someone did this on purpose.

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