by: Chet
Orange Crush
“Breyer, will you help me peal some potatoes for lunch? Enos , Daisy, Luke and Jessie Mae should be here soon an we really need to get it done.”
“Sure Ma’, potatoes are out on the porch right?” Breyer Duke asked his mother Gaby Duke as he stepped out onto the old farm houses front porch.
He sat down in one of the chairs on the porch an picked the pealing knife up off the small table between his chair and the other. With a deep sigh he began to peal the potatoes in the burlap sack like his mother had asked, but his heart just didn’t seem to be into it, the gloom in the air was heavy. Usually he was the first one to start helping with a big meal, but on this day melancholy ached his heart and the usual soft smile on his face was broken into a distant frown.
Blinking his eyes he tried to deny the tears that burned there as he cut the now pealed potato into chunks and placed them into the clean bowl for washing. Again he sighed, winning away the tears that ached him, but not winning away the empty spot in his heart that had been there for the past eight years.
Just then a rusty blue Chevy truck pulled into the farm drive way and came to a halt in the shade of a huge tree looming in the front yard. Bo Duke jumped down out of the truck, his worn out cowboy boots making the dry dirt puff into the steady breeze. The well aged and mature Bo hefted a pair of brown paper grocery bags out of the bed of the truck and walked towards the front porch.
“Son, will you grab the other two bags out of the truck for me please. I’m sorry I know your busy.” Bo said apologetically as he opened the screen door with his foot struggling slightly with the heavy bags.
“Its no problem dad.” Breyer answered setting the potato he’d been pealing down and going out to the truck to retrieve the other bags of groceries.
Bo carried the groceries into the kitchen and set them down by the refrigerator, he glanced at his wife who stood at the sink cleaning some fresh vegetables. With a heavy hearted sigh he opened the fridge door and began to put away the foods that needed to be chilled.
“Any sign of the others yet? What time did they say they were coming?” He asked, his head half way into the fridge.
“Daisy called a few minutes ago and said her and Enos would be over shortly to help with the cooking and Luke called early this morning just after you went into town to say that Barbra had to work late but him an Jessie Mae would be over at around two o’clock to help you with the General Lee. You know every year they like to get together and help wash and shine him up for the big parade.” Gaby Duke replied as she scrapped the sliced veggies into a pan of boiling water on the stove.
“Are Cooter and Hilery coming?” Bo asked closing the door and coming over to the cupboards to put away some dried foods.
“They should be here any minute too.” Gaby replied standing near the sink again.
Bo joined her at the sink an gently put his arm around her an looked her in the face, her bottom lip trembled even though she tried to hide it. And tears swelled in her eyes, but she did her best to continue preparing the meal.
“Oh… how I miss him Bo.” She said in a pinched, tiny voice.
Rubbing her back in comfort for them both he sighed heavy heartedly, he too missed his son. Eight years had passed, but not a moment had passed that he did not live remembering the dreadful emptiness.
“Me to Gaby… everyday. But we have to remember that Chet was a Duke, an we have to keep the hope that he’s alive, somewhere out in this cruel world.” Bo paused, he knew that words of hope and faith were no longer needed to uphold them. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Gaby Duke turned and gave her husband a hug with a deep courage drawing breath an then released him as Breyer came into the kitchen with the rest of the groceries. He set them down by the fridge and looked up at his mother an father, the sadness and grief plainly written on his face.
Bo waved his son over to them and Breyer obliged stepping over to his mother and father as they all gathered into a family hug of comfort for each other. The hug lasted for a few long moments and then was released, Bo patted his son on the back and went to the fridge to finish with the rest of the groceries.
“Hows the potatoes coming along Brey?” Gaby asked returning to her veggies.
“I’ll bring them into you shortly.” He replied as he went out the front door.
As the door tapped against the door frame behind him, the pair of familiar sounding cars coming into the drive could be heard from within the house.
“Sounds like Luke, Jessie Mae, Enos and Daisy are here.” Bo said as he stuffed the paper bag into the kitchen closet. “I’ll go see if I can help them with anything.”
***Meanwhile…
Chet tossed his duffle bag onto the dust covered old feather bed in the upstairs of the old run down saloon in the ghost town on Razor Back Ridge. He glanced around, his brown eyes gazing over every inch of the old room and taking note of the window and furniture. This was the best place he could think of to hide out until later that evening when he was to go and get his car at the train station, an it was needless to say that he was pathetically exhausted from the long drive to Georgia from New York.
An the trip had right down stressed him out, he’d gotten little more then a few hours of sleep in the freezing back seat of the old Buick, the car was the only thing he could trust. Every moment he knew he had to keep his eyes and ears on complete and total alert. Even in Hazzard, the place that he had called home in his childhood, even here he expected that there were enemies from up North lurking to kill him.
Running had been his final choice, he could not swallow one more beating from the captains on the Ranch, an it was clear that his final mistakes were yet to be made. Tiredly he shoved his heavy duffle bag to the floor and shook the dust out of the blanket on the bed. With a sigh of release he sat down on the edge of the bed and bent over to his duffle bag on the floor, he opened it an retrieved his .45 caliber Brass Eagle pistol. Taking care to check that the gun was fully loaded he lay back on the bed getting comfortable, the gun in his right hand equally comfortable in his grasp.
The young Duke boy’s head hit the pillow and he slowly drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but fight back the need to sleep. He’d done it for days and now it was hard to relax an just sleep, but his young exhausted body could no longer go sleep deprived an he fell into the darkness.
It would be many long hours later when the young man would awaken with a start in the deep darkness of the evening, his gun still grasped firmly in his right hand. The tiny scratching and growling sound echoed through out the old building, an a pair of raccoons scurried across the floor taking flight. Chet sighed and rested the gun in his lap, the deep darkness of the room enveloped him like a sea of fog. Only in the rays of the moonlight could he see the furniture and open door way of the bed room.
Gathering his thoughts he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to meet Cooter at 11:30 to go out to the station to get his car. Quickly he drew a wooden match from his pocket and flicked it across the buckle on his belt an put the flame close to his pocket watch. The watch’s long and thin black arms pointed to the roman style numbers on the face of the watch reading 10:50.
“Damn… that don’t leave me much time.” Chet muttered to himself and shook out the match.
He quickly got up from sitting on the bed and grabbed his duffle bag, it was too dark in the room to find the clothes in the bag that he needed. The cool evening air was beginning to nip the wind with its frigid October bite, Chet shivered slightly as he walked out to the Skylark sitting out front of the accent saloon. The drivers door creaked in strain as it opened and he sat down in the drivers seat, the dome light coming on as he needed it to. Quickly he lit a smoke and began to dig through his duffle bag, he drew out a leather shoulder holster and sheathed the .45 in it.
For the moment he slung the holster over his shoulder and continued to dig around in the bag, coming up with his old hunting knife. He stashed the old knife in a small sheath inside of his right chocolate colored bull hide boot, then carefully pulled his black jeans pant leg down over it. That done he zipped the duffle bag closed and tossed it in the back seat also taking a moment to drag his black leather jacket into the passenger seat.
Quickly making sure that everything was finally in order he slammed the door shut on the Buick and convinced the car to start. Soon he was on his way towards Cooters garage, his heart thudded steadily in his chest, anything could happen and he expected the worst just like he’d been taught.
Chet arrived at Cooters garage with 10 minutes to spare, parking the Skylark out back for storage just like Cooter had said he could. Nervously Chet pulled on his black leather jacket as he walked around the side of the garage, he pulled the heavy coat tightly around himself carefully concealing the gun and holster. With a deep sigh he relaxed himself and approached the open bay door of the garage, Cooters age old toe truck sitting just outside of it.
Boldly he stepped into the illuminated garage bay, the white Plymouth police cruiser still parked there with its hood up an its engine guts scattered. Brown eyes glanced around the garage in search of there scruffy, grease bathed mechanic friend.
“Hey Cowboy, Im over here.” Cooter called out to him from the small office on one side of the garage.
The office door stood wide open and Cooter sat on a old sofa chair as he slipped his greasy old boots on. Chet turned to him an nodded a hello, slightly surprised to see Cooter sitting there like that.
“Ready?” He asked approaching the yawning older man.
“I sure am, just about ready…” Suddenly Cooters reply was cut off by the loud voice of Hazzard County’s Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane.
“Cooter! Jit… who are you talking to out here in the dark, Cooter?” Rosco sauntered up to the open bay door, walking along side of the toe truck parked just outside the double doors.
Cooter looked up from where he was sitting and chuckled at the tired looking Sheriff. It wasn’t unusual that the Sheriff stay late to work on some after hours paper work or… of course something crocked.
“Why Rosco I was just talking to….” Cooter pointed in Chet’s direction an became quiet when he looked up.
The young man no longer stood where he had been standing just moments ago while Cooter was talking to him, he had just disappeared into thin air. Quickly Cooter thought of something to say, to make it look like he wasn’t a complete loon, he didn’t want Rosco to think that he had been talking to himself.
“To… to… my cat, yeah. Didn’t you hear I got a cat, big orange mean cat.” Cooter’s greasy face broke into a smile as he stood an stretched. “Here kitty…. kitty….kitty. Aren’t you around alittle late this evening Rosco?”
“Khee, well you know I was… taking care of police business. Jit…jit.” Rosco rested his hand on his hips as he glanced around the garage, the mechanic sure had acted funny. “I could have sworn I heard someone elses voice.. Jit… you get home and get you some sleep Cooter!”
The old Sheriff shook his head as he walked away, his Stetson placed crookedly on his head, he mumbled to himself as he walked away. Cooter sure was acting funny, not that that was at all unusual but, talking to himself now that was right down weird for Cooter.
Cooter shook his head to himself too, Rosco thought he was a loon talking to himself and yet he had to smile he couldn’t help but like the idea of confusing Rosco for a few moments. A greasy smile spread across his face once again as Rosco got into his patrol car and drove away, now back to business.
“Chet?” Cooter whispered into the darkened garage bay.
“Om’ here Cooter.” Chet replied in a low voice as he flicked a match an held it up to the cigarette between his lips, the small match flame illuminating his face for a brief moment. “Ready to go?”
Nearly jumping out of his skin for a brief moment as Chet’s face appeared out of the darkness, the flash of the flame the only thing reveling him from the garages dark inside corner. The aging mechanic ran his hand over his thinning hair and brushed his greasy sleeve over his sweat beaded forehead.
“Must you do that? You just about scared the grease off this hear clothing.”
“I’m sorry Cooter, but the Sheriff doesn’t need to know that I’m here right now either. Come on, we got to get my car before the station closes at 1:00AM.”
Chet walked around the rear of the toe truck to the passenger side, leaving and unforgettably confused look on Cooters face. None the less he walked around the drivers side of the truck an opened the trucks heavy door and hefted himself into the drivers seat beside the waiting young Duke.
Cooter looked at the young man sitting beside him on the vineale seats of the toe truck as he fumbled to put the key in the ignition. What had become of this young man that had him so sorely running from people at every turn, first he had made him promise that he’d not seen him that day, then he’d hidden from the Sheriff.
Easing the key into the ignition Cooter started the old truck, for a long moment he just stared at Chet still trying to figure him out. After a few moments of coming to no conclusion he shifted the truck into drive and they were on there way, cruising out of town in the bumpy old truck.
Cooter glanced around as they drove along, he couldn’t help himself much longer he just had to know what was going on with Chet. He scratched the back of his neck and rubbed his hand over his two day old beard.
“So Chet…” He began hesitantly, Cooter wasn’t looking to pry into the young man. “Where did you drive here from? Your car sure looks like its got a lot of miles on it.”
Chet sighed as he stared out the window at the darkness surrounding the dirt roads, there was no avoiding giving Cooter some kind of info to roll around in his head. But how much could he say before he endangered his old friends life, the slightest piece of info could be a terrible mistake.
“Well… ya know.. I been around.” Chet said in despair.
Cooter frowned slightly, he was gonna have to draw it out of Chet slowly. ” Ya ain’t been any wheres near here thats for sure. Your Yankee talk sticks out like ol’ General Lee does to Rosco, now come on, tell me where ya been all these years.”
The Duke boy kinda shrugged one shoulder, debating for a few short minutes, what could he hurt simply telling Cooter where he’d driven back to Hazzard from. It wasn’t where he’d come from that would endanger his old friend, it was simply knowing where he is now…. sitting right there beside him. Chet scratched the side of his head under his black Stetson and answered his attention still out the window at the darkness.
“I drove here from a big ranch in New York, a sort of boys ranch, I’ve been there a long time. Hence… my noticeable accent.” His voice was calm and low toned, he wanted to give the impression that this was not to be made a big deal of.
“Oh… that explains a lot.” Cooter said swallowing, New York was a very long drive for a sixteen year old young man all by himself.
“Cooter, I know you wonder where I been all these years, but right nows not the time to fill you in. I don’t want you in any kind of danger, its bad enough you know I’m here, I will tell you everything sometime ok? But nows not a good time.” Chet replied in a friendly but encouraging voice as the old toe truck pulled into the front parking area of the train station.
A warm glow of lights shown through the window an the open sign still lay in the window, for Chet it felt good to come to a halt an get out of the toe truck. It was the best way he knew to avoid more questions despite what he told to Cooter.
“Come on we gotta get your car.” Surprisingly Cooter smiled.
Chet only nodded and walked up the front walk way, Cooter at his heals as the young Duke boy glanced through the window before going to the entrance.
The young Duke boy straitened his back and raised his chin slightly as he opened the door an went inside, momentarily he held the door for Cooter behind him. His boots made a hallow thud across the dust paved wood floor as he approached the tellers desk.
The man sitting behind the desk was lean and tall, probably only inches taller then the dark haired Duke boy who stood before him. He was a middle aged man with a clean shaved face, light brown hair a matching mustache and unusually dressed in casual attire. Chet took note of the tellers clothing immediately, he eyed him trying not to draw any attention to the unusual fact.
“Can I help you two gentlemen?” His Yankee accent just about poked Chet in the eye.
Wordlessly Chet drew a piece of paper with the shipment number 1400 written on it an handed it to the teller.
“Om’ here to get my car, it should have come in a day or so ago.”
The out of place teller took the slip of paper from Chet and read the number, all awhile hiding a tall tale smirk that spelt trouble, every letter in capitals and bold print.
“Ok, let me just check my arrangement boards here see if your crate is here and where its at.” The teller stood and checked a chart behind the desk near a tall filing cabinet, slowly he shook his head, he could see the shipment crate on the boards an this was the person that he’d been waiting for. Casually he stood up still shaking his head and continued with his act, as though there truly wasn’t a shipment 1400.”Sir, shipment 1400 does not exist at this time.”
Feeling annoyed, his temper rising to a lethal height Chet leaned his hands on the desk, his palms flat against the wood grain. He looked the man in the eyes an stared, drilling into his soul long an deep, it clicked, he’d seen this man before, somewhere. It was that glint in those deep, sick looking green eyes, Chet knew that look, it was one that he’d seen many a times before.
“My cars here…. show me where it is…” Chet replied his voice cold and dangerous sounding.
“There is no crate numbered 1400!” The teller spat back, the grin that he had been hiding slipped onto his face making him look like a snake.
Suddenly Chet lunged forward an grabbed the teller by the front of his shirt and slammed him face first into the oak desk. The man yelped in pain as Chet thrust him up from the desk an looked into his bleeding face. Cooter stepped back in alarm at the sudden out rage of the young man, what had he seen in the teller to cause his outburst?
“Wheres my car!?” Chet spat at the man prepared to smash his face against the desk again.
An evil grin crossed the tellers bleeding face and he sneered at Chet an began to laugh. Chet slammed him back against the filing cabinet next to the wall an the teller landed on the floor on his back still laughing. A sudden unsettling feeling sank into Chet, the men from the ranch were here, they’d found him easy enough. His one mistake dawned on him like a pouring rain, he had put his car on the train and the files at the train station in New York had been easy to track him through.
“Get out of here Cooter! Run!”
With Chet’s sudden demand the old mechanic turned and ran out the door headed for his old tow truck sitting in the empty parking area. Chet followed closely behind, but instead of running for the old tow truck, he ran down the length of the board walk in front of the train station an jumped over the railing. He let out towards the large cargo building, he just had to get his car.
His adrenalin rushed through his body, his mind working fast, he plowed through the plain wood cargo door and ran inside the building. Luckily the lights where on an it took him only moments to find the crate that he had been searching for. He came to a stop breathing hard from his mad dash for the building, he drew his gun and took careful aim at the locks holding the huge wooden crate shut.
“BANG…BANG….BANG!!!” The gun shots echoed off the huge buildings tin walls as the bullets spat from the gun and the steal hinges on the locks dropped to the floor. The sealed end of the crate gave a low creak and clasped to the floor sending dust out from under it.
Chet stepped forward an looked into the crate, he had been right, the teller was a liar. His deep brown eyes fell over the 1970 Dodge Chargers awesome deep orange color, the black and white lettering reading down the side in a fancy manor. “Orange Crush.”
Blinking away his gaze, Chet hurried into the crate and slide through the stock cars window, in seconds the Hemi engine roared to life and pealed out of the crate. Seconds later the Charger exploded through the sliding door in the side of the building and screeched onto the pavement, the tires squealed and spun. Smoke hissed from the cars tires as the magnificent machine let out for the road back to town, soon it could be seen hot on the rear bumper of Cooters racing old tow truck.
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