by: Chet Duke

Lost and Found

“Thanks for your help Cooter!” Chet shouted back as he slid threw Crush’s window and into the drivers seat.

Cooter Davenport smiled and nodded. “Your very welcome, will I see yas tomorrow to give this thing that tune up?”

“You bet! I’ll see ya Coot, got to get more gas in this thing before it gives out on me.” Chet gave Cooter a side was grin and pealed out of the drive in front of the garage. Cooter just smiled and shook his head.

Chet drove around town square and down main street leading out of town, he slowed an pulled the Charger up to the pump out front of the 24 hour Kiwki Mart. He fished a $20 bill out of his pocket and slide out the cars window to pump the gas, it would take more then twenty lousy dollars to fill the tank, but 3/4 was enough for now.

Finished pumping the gas he closed the cap on the classic car and stepped back to admire it, for the millionth time since he’d owned it, but for the first time he was admiring it in Hazzard. Sighing tiredly he shook himself from his gaze of admiration and went inside the Kiwki Mart to pay for the gas, he smiled at the lady behind the counter.

“$20 dollars in gas.” He said and was about to place the cash on the counter for her to ring into the cash register.

When suddenly someone slipped there arm around his shoulders, nearly making him jump in surprise, his heart sank an he turned his head to the right and met a pair of familiar eyes. He stared at the one of three Corporals that he had known, a tall and husky man named Monty, who always smelled of rank beer. His dull blue eyes stared back at Chet, the whites around his eyes a sick yellowish color, his breath rank like rotting beer.

Monty’s left arm lay over Chet’s shoulders and his right hand was hidden with in the side of his jacket, he shifted slightly so that Chet could feel the cold hard steal of a hand guns barrel touch his ribs through the side of Monty’s jacket. Chet shut his eyes briefly and turned back to the young lady behind the counter, his smile a fake one now as he pressed the $20 dollar bill towards her.

“No snacks or drink to go with that gasoline Chet? What a pity.” Monty smiled an pulled his arm tight around Chet’s shoulder’s and turned him back towards the front door of the Kiwki Mart. Wanting to look as casual as possible with the gun pressing against his ribs, Chet nodded a goodbye to the lady and walked beside Monty, out the entrance an to his orange car.

He looked up as they came within a foot of the passenger side of Crush to see a Staff Sergeant from the Ranch slide into the drivers seat of his car. Monty pressed two fingers into the pressure point of Chet’s shoulder, being sure that he had his ut most attention. Grimacing, Chet stood tall as Monty leaned closer to speak into his ear as the Staff Sergeant known only as Rowdy drove Crush around to the side of the gas station and parked the car out of plain view.

“You know the penalty for running away, you have no choice but to come quietly.” Monty suddenly moved his hand and tightened it around the back of Chet’s neck, he turned him an led him over to the side of the building beside his car. Squeezing the back of Chet’s neck until he grimaced an suddenly forced him to bend forward.

The Corporal brought his left knee up and slammed Chet’s throat against it, hard enough to hurt him, but not hard enough to seriously damage him. Chet choked and buckled at the knees, Monty gripped the back of his neck and twisted him around.

“We’ll see you in the ghost town Chet… have a nice nap.” The Corporal sneered and slammed Chet face first into the shinny orange hood of his own car and released him, allowing him to sprawl onto his back on the pavement, unconscious.

As Monty promised Chet awoke in the abandoned saloon in the ghost town on Razor Back Ridge, the very town that he had spent sleeping in only hours ago. He opened his eyes and looked around, aware of salty taste of blood in his mouth an the wet cool feeling on his cheek. Groaning he moved realizing that he lay against a floor, both hands cuffed behind his back an his feet tied together with twine.

Chet twisted around an looked up at the man sitting at an ancient round poker table in the saloon, he recognized the man as a younger 1st Class Priavte named Steve. Steve sat with his back facing Chet, shuffling a yellowing deck of cards and taking long gulps from a freshly opened beer bottle. Smirking to himself Chet sat up slowly, being careful not to allow his boots to scrap the floor or anything else he was wearing to make any noise.

He sat up with his back to the wall, his hands still cuffed tightly behind him and his feet still twined together. Slowly he eased his wrists down his back bracing himself against the wall he moved so that his cuffed hands cleared his rear an so that they were attached just below his knees. Chet thanked god he was born thin and long, he could curl his long frame up like a spring, he may not be able to get the hand cuffs off but he sure could up his odds.

Rather then try and force the hand cuffs down around both his feet at the same time, Chet bent his right knee and drew it back pressing it hard against his chest. Thus making it easy for him to lower his foot under his cuffed hands, he did the same for his other hand and soon both hands were cuffed in front of him. Now for the twine holding his feet together, how foolish, these men had taught him to always come adequately equipped for a job… twin wasn’t mandatory equipment. Chet stifled a snort an raised his right pant leg with both hands, revealing his home made buck horn hunting knife. The sharp blade sliced through the twine freeing Chet’s boots from being tied together.

“CLICK CLICK.” The familiar metallic sound of a hammer being drawn back on a pistol made Chet look up from freeing the remaining twin from his boots.

“How clever of you Chet.” Monty said standing on the balcony smoking a cigar an looking down over the bar an entire saloon as women had done a 100 years ago. “Your very clever Chet, it’s a pity that all these years you did your damned best to make every foramens life a living hell.”

Slowly Monty began towards the stairs, Chet straitened his back against the wall an glanced at Steve sitting in front of him with his .45 caliber pistol pointed at Chet’s head. Chet gave him a mean cold brown eyed glare, baring his teeth in everlasting furry, an his comrade just sat there smiling coyly.

Monty came down to the round table an leaned against it with one hand, his cigar between his teeth an a thick leather bull whip in his left hand. Chet looked up at the foramen an his eyes widened, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach, he knew too damned well what was in store for him. Furiously he snarled an spit at Monty’s feet and began to get up, the hunting knife still clutched him his right hand, the point facing down.

The Corporal stood calmly watching Chet rise and waited…waited until the younger man was within arms reach an then he ducked Chet’s first swing with the knife. Monty stepped back, his years of wit reflecting in his eyes and posture, he quickly replied to Chet’s swing, raising the whip without uncoiling it and striking the back of Chet’s right hand with the whips wooden handle. Pursuing Chet as he clutched his battered hand, the foramen struck him again, this time across the side of his head, not hard enough to knock him out but hard enough to cause him to whirl around and go to his hands and knees.

“Go ahead Steve, take the hand cuffs off him, he knows the rules, he can try and fight back during his punishment all he wants.” Monty sneered, taking a last puff on his cigar and backing up to the middle of the room to give him an Chet space to work it out.

Chet turned himself around an sat up, his head spinning for a few moments from the blow to his head and a stream of blood streaked down from his brow. He willingly held his wrists up for Steve to get at an take the cuffs off, he knew his chances of getting his hands on Monty while he wielded the whip was nearly impossible. But it was better then standing by and being bound, at least this way he could catch himself if he were to fall.

Suddenly he shot up like a bullet out of a gun from where he was sitting, by the time the empty hand cuffs hit the floor Chet was plowing into Monty. He knew he couldn’t beat him in a fight, but he sure as hell was gonna give it every thing he was worth. Chet’s strong right shoulder slammed against Monty’s mid section and the old Corporal gave a grunt an before he could react Chet wrapped his arms around him and dumped him over his back. Monty fell hard on the floor, his head thudding the wooden planks with a hollow dull sound. Quickly Chet stepped away an turned around to face the Corporal trying to scrap himself off the floor, unsuspectedly he didn’t get directly up. He moved slowly, letting the whip unravel in one hand and pushing himself up with the other, his eyes watching his former student.

Without warning he struck out with the heavy wooden handle of the thick bull whip, hitting Chet in the throat. Gasping and choking Chet dropped to his knees coughing for air, he clutched his throat an hurried to raise to his feet. He could see Monty shake out his right hand, an the long leather whip uncoil its self entirely across the floor, it was coming he knew, there would be no escape once it began.

The first lash bit diagonally across his back feeling like the mighty bite of a venomous snake striking its prey with every ounce of its strength. Monty indeed had stricken with all his might, he wanted the first lash to make its greatest impression. Chet ground his teeth down hard as the leather bit into his flesh, but he could not help but cry out in a agonizing grunt. The back of his shirt lay cut open and ragged, he twisted around getting to his feet again, his anger on the rise.

Barely getting to his feet before another lash fell, Chet stumbled and moved away from Monty, he could feel the trickles of blood running down his back. Quickly Monty swung the whip, wrapping its length around Chet’s chest and tugging back hard, throwing the younger man off balance and bringing him down onto his back. Unmercifully Monty began to tear and rip Chet’s shirt from his body, until he lay on his back, the upper half of his body bare. Monty stepped back away from him, allowing him to try and get up again, a cruel an sly grin melted over his face as he watched Chet, soaking up the agony the young man was in an would soon be in.

Knowing there was no escaping the whip Chet slowly rolled over and began to crawl to the wall in attempt to pull himself up and fight back. Monty bared his teeth in a wolfish grin, waiting and waiting for Chet to barely get to his feet, then suddenly he swung the whip hard, striking him across the back again. An again Chet cried out an stiffened, leaning his shoulder against the wall he gritted his teeth hard fighting back the pain.

“I didn’t say you could get up!” Monty said, sneering.

Chet turned his beat red face towards Monty and spat on his right shoe. “Go to hell!” He cursed boldly.

“Why you sonofa…” His face reddening in anger as Monty became enraged.

He reared back and lashed the whip at Chet, striking the bare flesh of his back, again and again. The leather bit into his skin each time leaving behind a blood spewing weal, the whip landed on his shoulders an the back of his arms. Each time the whip cracked Chet flinched an gasped in pain, soon he found himself wilted to his hands an knees quickly weakening, his muscles starving for oxygen. After a couple more agonizing lashes, Chet could take no more an he clasped to his side and curled his arms around his head, his blood dripping to the floor.

Monty’s rage continued, once he realized that Chet was know longer reacting to each strike of the whip, he moved in an began to kick Chet in his bare ribs with brutal swings. He raveled up the whip as he kicked Chet an began to use the heavy wooden handle of the whip as a club to beat him, hitting him anywhere that he could, enraged to the point of insanity. Steve, the young recruit saw the glint of insanity in his leaders eyes an swallowed as he looked down at the blood spreading over the floor from Chet’s body. Knowing that if the Corporal did not stop soon, that Chet would be beaten to death. Afraid for his comrades life Steve hurried out the door and returned moments later following the Master Sergeant, known to all only as Blazer.

Blazer strut forward and grabbed Monty by the shoulder an roughly threw him back against the nearest wall. Barely glancing at Monty, Blazer quickly knelt beside his young students battered body an pressed two fingers against Chet’s throat seeking and finding a strong pulse. The Master Sergeant eyes quickly scanned Chet’s unconscious body, taking in how badly he had been beaten. Angry at what he saw before him he gently turned Chet onto his side an allowed him to rest there, then he stood and turned to face Monty who had retreated to the age old batwing doors.

“You….” Blazer said pointing a ridged finger at Monty, his voice low and cold. “Go and fetch Tumbler and Cait! NOW!!!” Blazer shouted, Monty flinched and bolted out the batwing doors.

The Master Sergeant turned back to his student laying curled up on his side on the floor, his blood dripping from his wounds like the faint trickle of a struggling stream. The Master Sergeant scanned Chet’s body again, looking for any wounds that could indicate fatale damage. His eyes landed on the good size bruises on Chet’s neck and throat where he’d been hit, Blazer touched the bruised areas, his attitude that of a concerned father. His fingers rubbed gently over the soft and fragile cartilage of his students throat an he winced to himself feeling some of the cartilage give under his fingers where it had been damaged. Blazer shook his head in discuss, on top of all the whipping Chet had taken and the brutal kicks to his ribs, he was in poor condition.

It wasn’t unusual for one of his students to get punished for something like running away, an often the older the student the more suveer the punishment, an sometimes a student got hurt an were cared for by a foremen. Even at times when someone was rather badly hurt they were taken care of on the ranch an never saw the face of a doctor, but Blazer knew that this wasn’t the ranch an that chances were, what him an the others could do would not be enough for Chet to make a full recovery.

Moments later a long blonde haired, middle aged women came through the doors accompanied by another well built mid aged 1st Class Sergeant. They both joined Blazer, taking in the situation, each of them kneeling on either side of Chet.

“He needs these cuts washed out quick, lets put him in that old tub of water I filled earlier for that little girl to wash up in.” Cait said motioning for the two men to lift him.

“That is a good idea Cait, here help me lift him Tumbler. Go open the door for us Cait.” Blazer said taking a tight hold on Chet under his arms while Tumbler lifted him by his feet.

Chet groaned an his head lolled from side to side as the two men carried him into a small room an gently placed him in the a large old wash tub half full of water. They placed Chet in the tub so that his bare chest leaned against one end and his arms hung over the edge, keeping his limp body from going into the water. Naturally Chet rested with his head hung over the end of the tub, picking up a wash cloth nearby Cait knelt down beside the tub an began to wash the long cuts on Chet’s back.

Huddled fearfully in the corner, a young blonde haired teenager hugged her knees against her chest where she sat against the wall. Her small, thin body shook with each shuddering sob she made in fear as she watched the three people loom over the young man who appeared to have been brutally beaten. Feeling the water hit his body an wounds suddenly brought Chet back to reality an sent him into a fearful panic.

His arms slipped from the sides of the tub sending him under the water for a few moments, until he could get his senses an push himself up with his hands an get on his knees. Cait stood an stepped back to avoid getting wet as he drew himself back to his knees with a gasp for air, he cough an hacked for a moment trying to get rid of the water he’d swallowed.

“Whoa! Take it easy Chet!” Blazer said an came around to face his startled student. “Breath Chet, an relax.” Blazer held up his hands trying to calm the startled Duke boy down.

Chet looked up at his leader briefly then leaned himself back over the tubs edge rubbing the water from his eyes with one hand, his head hung. For a few moments he set still, trying to recover his senses, without much luck he gave a heavy sigh an drifted back into unconsciousness. Tumbler came forward an grabbed Chet’s wet arm to keep him from slipping back into the water an going under, he glanced over his shoulder at Blazer an Cait.

“What now Blazer? He can’t even hold consciousness.” Tumbler bent his head down at looked into Chet’s unconscious face an shook his head.

For a few long minutes the head Master Sergeant paced the short length of the small room debating an pondering on what to do next. Chet was a damned good student, a head strong sonofabitch but a promise able tool that he’d looked forward to using in the future. It had taken years to build up the kid an years to train him enough to control too, it was no secret, this boy had always been a handful.

“Alright… this is what were going to do. Cait, wash him up the best you can, try an slow some of the bleeding. Then get a sheet from up stairs an have one of the boys help you wrap him in it, try an be mindful of his wounds.” Pausing Blazer placed a hand on Tumbler’s shoulder an spoke to him. “Update the tracking device in Chet’s arm an get an extra out an have it handy, I want to bug that orange car. In a half hour we’ll drive Chet back out to the garage, we can move his car from the gas station closer to the garage. Its near day break, if we leave him close to his car near the garage his mechanic friend will find him easily.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~