This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any actual resemblance to persons or historical persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Dukes of Hazzard characters, settings, locales, ect. are owned by other entities who have not endorsed this fic nor have they given express permission for the character's use. Author makes not claims to these characters and is not making any profit from their use.
All original characters are the property of the author(s).
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author or any legally assigned agents of the author.
© Copyright: 2001. Cuz Bonita and Lisa Philbrick
Chapter One
From his position on the roof, Brian watched the deputy through his rifle scope. As MaryAnne left the courthouse, the scope’s target lines intersected on her badge. Brian curled his finger around the trigger and was about to pull it back, when MaryAnne suddenly stopped. She turned around and darted back up the courthouse steps, evidently to retrieve something she had forgotten.
Brian swore, lowered the rifle and adjusted the scope. He wiped his sweating hands on his black jeans and waited.
MaryAnne came back out of the courthouse a couple of minutes later, folding a piece of paper in her hands. She started to walk to her patrol car.
Brian took a deep breath, and put the badge back in the crosshairs of the rifle. He swung the rifle to bear and squeezed off a shot - and took out one of the gumballs on the patrol car. It exploded with a pop, the echo of the rifle shot lingering behind it.
MaryAnne stopped and flinched. In the same instance she dove to the front fender of the patrol car and pulled out her pistol. She looked at the courthouse and bushes and then carefully around the front of the car. She crept around the front of the car, looked towards the town square and then up…
Brian immediately fired a rapid of succession of shots, shooting out the squad’s headlights and windshield. Glass shattered with the reports from the rifle, and townsfolk scrambled in every direction. Brian ignored them and took out the entire rack of gumballs on the patrol car, making the lights explode and rain colored glass into the street.
MaryAnne shielded herself from the flying glass and ran like hell back into the courthouse. She burst through the doors of the booking room, her face three different shades of pale. Rosco had heard the commotion and was already at the window looking. He backed away when MaryAnne came in. As his young cousin collapsed to her knees, he exclaimed, "What the heck is going on?!"
"How the heck should I know?! I think somebody's shootin' at me!"
"Shootin' at you?" Rosco said.
"I saw somebody up on the roof, before they really opened up." MaryAnne stopped a moment, trying to catch her breath. "Man..." She looked at Rosco, her pistol still tight in her grip. Rosco carefully went back to the window and looked out and up. He traced his eyes along the tops of the buildings across the way, but didn't see anything or anyone.
"I think they took off," he said.
"If this is some kind of joke it ain't funny," MaryAnne said as she got to her feet.
Having seen the deputy retreat back into the courthouse, Brian made his next move. He fled from his position on the roof, and scurried down the fire escape with the rifle flung over his shoulder. He kept to the alley, running for the back of the courthouse.
Keeping the rifle over his shoulder, Brian reached inside his jacket and retrieved his handgun, his preferred weapon. He flattened himself against the back wall of the courthouse, forcing himself to drink in oxygen and slow his pulse. He had to make two perfect shots. He only wished he could spare his target the terror he was causing...but thoughts like that weren't part of his training; especially the most recent training he'd experienced at the hands of the Syndicate.
MaryAnne put her gun back in the holster and then rubbed her hands over her face. She was trying to think of who could possibly be taking pot shots at her and why? There hadn't been any trouble in Hazzard in recent weeks, certainly nothing to warrant anyone getting shot. She sighed and looked at Rosco. "I don't think I need to tell you that we should be careful."
"Nope, you don't have to tell me." His eyes
drifted towards the window again. Now both he and MaryAnne would be
on edge.
With the stealth born of a natural criminal, Brian silently
opened a window and climbed inside the courthouse, entering what was
apparently a file room. His black boots made no sound as he crept,
catlike, towards the voices in the booking room.
MaryAnne perked up suddenly, listening to something she
wasn't sure was really there. She looked behind her at the doors of
the booking room and then at Rosco.
"I dunno about you, but I suddenly don't feel to
good with hangin' around here."
Brian opened the file room door slowly, taking all the
time needed to ensure that the hinges made no creak. He paused, listening,
to the subdued voices in the booking room. Then he crept out into the
hall, stooping low to take a postion on the floor, resting on one knee.
He knew there was only one entrance and exit to the booking room...ironically,
due to his last visit in Hazzard, when he had snuck in to surprise
the Sheriff.
MaryAnne pulled her pistol out again and walked to the
booking room doors. Slowly, she pushed it open a crack.
Brian held his breath and remained frozen. If the door
opened all the way, he could be seen, while his shot was blocked. The
bullets would penetrate the wooden door, but he wanted to be absolutely
sure of his shot....without any doublt whatsoever.
MaryAnne pushed the door open a bit further and looked
up the hall. There was nothing there, so then she slowly poked her
head out enough to turn it to see down the rest of the hall.
Brian knew she saw his huddled form, though she may not
have put the pieces together yet. He fired a sudden shot at the floor
in front of her feet, the tiled hallway making an incredible echo.
Brian used the moment's distraction to turn and bolt back into the
file room.
MaryAnne jumped back into the booking room at the shot
and ran to Boss's office with Rosco following. She rammed her gun back
into the holster and grabbed the window, throwing it up with more push
than she meant. It was the only other way out of the courthouse, where
they wouldn't break their legs...or get their heads blown off.
Once Rosco was out MaryAnne started running towards the
backside of the courthouse where Maverick was parked. Her intention
was to run and run like hell.
"MaryAnne!" Rosco exclaimed.
MaryAnne stopped running and looked back at her cousin.
"What? Rosco, we don't have time for this!"
"C'mere! Look!"
Brian had heard the window slam up in the booking room, and he took cover behind a file cabinet, fully expecting an attack to come at him through the file room window, simultaneous to another one through the door. It was what he would have done, in their situation. And they had him outgunned, two to one. But when the voices were making startled exclamations from the alley, Brian knew they had chosen to run for it. "Damn!" He ran for the window and dove through it, landing with a roll. He hustled towards the alley at full speed.
Brian hit the alley at full tilt and fired off a round without slowing, aiming for tires. He had to stop that car. A firefight in the alley with two cops wasn't what he wanted, but it beat the full-scale war that would erupt if they escaped.
MaryAnne kept her foot on the accelerator and she hunkered down behind the steering wheel as much as she could. She swerved the car back and forth and saw out of the corner of her eye that Rosco was hanging on desperately to both the dashboard and the passenger seat.
Despite his gift for marksmanship, Brian had missed the tires, though the Firebird's hide had taken a couple of holes. "Dammit...." he swore softly as the blue car hit the street, heading for who-knew where. Already sucking wind, Brian knew he had to make a beeline for his own car, before the cops got smart and boxed him in.
MaryAnne swung Maverick around the square and slowed up a bit. Rosco pulled himself up through the open T-top to look back towards the bank. He saw Brian run for the alley where the Chevy was parked. He slid back down into his seat. "He's going for his car."
"Get your gun out," MaryAnne said.
Rosco did as he was told and he held the pearl handled pistol in his hand. "What are we gonna do?!" he asked.
MaryAnne looked back towards the bank and then at her cousin. "Survive."
Brian scrambled into his car and started it hurriedly, throwing it into gear with no pity for the transmission. The black car leapt from the alley and swung into the center of town, assuming that the prey had made tracks for the hills.
"There he is," Rosco announced. MaryAnne pushed on the accelerator and came full circle around the town square, putting her and Rosco behind the Chevy.
The blue hood in his mirrors gave Brian a surprise. "You're good, cousin..." he admitted. "You're good...but it won't be enough." Brian never turned his head, never watched the Firebird with more than an occasional flick of an eye to his mirrors. He maneuvered the Chevy as if he were in a hurry, but feigned ignorance of the pursuit.
Before MaryAnne could say anything, Rosco opened fire. The entire town had scattered out of the way like a flock of birds out of a field by now. They watched timidly from windows and from behind parked cars, watching the chase and the small puffs of smoke from Rosco's gun as he continued to pull the trigger.
It was Brian's turn to get a glass bath, and he ducked as the back window shattered. Rosco's third shot took out his review mirror, too close for comfort. Brian hammered the accelerator, realizing with sobriety that Rosco wasn't aiming for tires.
MaryAnne pulled her gun out, ready to hand it to Rosco when he ran out of ammo. When he did, he dropped the pearl handled pistol and grabbed MaryAnne's firearm. The shooting continued as the Firebird kept up with the Chevy, about a car length behind it.
It was all Brian could do to keep the Chevy straight on the road. He was under siege, and the gunfire was heavier than he expected. So he did something dangerous, something that would either work or backfire completely. He slammed the brakes hard, inviting the Firebird to impale itself on the Chevy's steel trunk.
MaryAnne pushed the clutch and brakes, almost hard enough to go through the floor. Rosco had seen the Chevy suddenly stop and he held on the roof column as MaryAnne turned the Firebird to the avoid going head first into the trunk. The back of the Firebird nicked the tail of the Chevy but MaryAnne didn't stop. Once she was around the car, she hit the accelerator and shifted gears, throwing dirt back at the Chevy as she and Rosco took off. Rosco looked back at the Chevy and popped off one more shot, planting it in the middle of the black car’s windshield.
Brian had been braced for impact, and his body was still tense when the windshield blew apart. Glass exploded and made him jump, and for a second he thought he'd caught a piece of lead. But it was only a shard of glass that the picked out of his shirt as the Firebird retreated. With his car damaged and his nerves frayed, Brian had no taste for continued combat, and he spurred the Chevy into the countryside as the Firebird headed back towards town.
MaryAnne kept the Firebird screaming down the road for a few moments more until Rosco grabbed her arm and said, "Slow it down, he ain't coming after us no more."
MaryAnne slowed Maverick down and finally brought the car to a stop by the side of the road. She threw the transmission into neutral and then looked at her cousin.
"He's gonna kill us, Rosco," MaryAnne said, her emotions getting the better of her as tears started to show. "My God...he's gonna kill us...."