by: Kristy Duke

Chills rush roughly across my weathered body as I quietly glare out through my old store’s scratched window at the gloomy afternoon’s sky that seems to loom heavily over the empty streets of Hazzard. Thoughts lazily crawl through me of the tidbits of information that has came into the store, of all that I have heard about, of the men that has invaded Hazzard; of Sheriff Coltrane and Bo Duke’s disappearance. My imagination once again draws vivid pictures of all the things that they could be doing to their prisoners, forcing me to wonder if I’ll ever see them alive and well again; if so, if they’d ever be the same. A shiver of fear and regret races across my body at the horrible thoughts that flood me, of Rosco and Bo, helpless and suffering.

Listening to the silence that grows upon my empty store, I slowly drag my attention away from the empty streets to glance across my store, of my supplies that hang and are laid out in pride. Spread upon the far right wall lies a large advertisement for Hogg’s meat processing, with Hogg’s boasting smiling face covering half of the add. Staring at Hogg’s too familiar face, anger once again grows steadily within me, anger at Hogg for sinking deeply into his greed; thinking of money before thinking of his own town. If only he had turned away from the likes he had brought into Hazzard, if only he hadn’t opened that new sports store, Bo and Rosco wouldn’t be where they are right now. Hazzard wouldn’t be in trouble as it is now. Staring up at Hogg, my thoughts turn to Jesse and the local Duke family that I have watched grow over the years, watching the changes in Jesse’s children as they grew from children into adults. If something were to happen to Bo, the baby of the family, it would tear Jesse apart. Not that it wouldn’t if it was one of his other kids, it would, but differently. Bo is the baby of the family, the one that they all are over protective of, the one already troubled with bad health and is the one that makes Jesse feel important, needed.

After a long moment drowned in saddened thoughts of the town’s situation, my thoughts are interrupted with the silence as the small silver bell that rests upon the top of the glass door rings. Taking a deep breath, I glance over to my left to where the door stands five feet away from my old scratched wooden desk to find Laura Parka walking in with her nine year old son, James. “Hi Laura,” I smile at her as she glances around and then at me with a thin arm around her son’s thin shoulders, “James.”

“Mr. Rhuebottom,” they both smile at me together as James slowly slides out of his mother’s protective hug to nonchalantly run a thin hand through his thick shaggy copper brown hair.

I watch silently as James slowly follows Laura down through the clothes to the first isle filled with the cold refrigerators full of eggs, milk, butter and frozen dinners for a moment before my attention goes back to the window. Images flood through me once again of Bo and Rosco to Hazzard’s future filled with violence and pain as the gang takes over. Without Rosco, there is nothing stopping them especially with the roads blocked and the phones cut. Sooner or later, someone from outside of Hazzard has to catch on. . .

“Mr. Rhebottom,” James’ voice drags me back and I slowly glance back at the young boy’s lightly freckled face as he looks up at me with innocent bright green eyes, “Where’s the children’s cold medic -”

He is interrupted by the bell above the door that distracts both of our attention and we both look over to find two large men dressed darkly with smug and angry looks upon their face. The older man who looks to be in his middle thirties or so steps forward to leave the younger man near the door, both men’s hands lie hidden into their dark pockets of their windbreaker. “Rhuebottom,” the man’s gravely voice breaks the intense silence as he steps up to the desk, shoving James back as he pulls out his gun.

“James,” I whisper to the kid, fighting back my fear, “go back to your mom. Stay in the back.”

The kid fearfully nods as he slowly steps backwards, his green eyes memorized by the heavy gun in the man’s hand before he slowly turns around to walk quickly back to the back of the store. “Rhuebottom,” the man shoves the gun deeply into my forehead to spread chills across my body at the touch of the icy barrel. I cautiously watch him as he shoves a thick leather sack upon the desk, “fill it with all your money.”

I numbly nod as I quietly pray for Laura and James, that they won’t get hurt in the process of what the men want. “H. . h. . .here you go,” I nervously hand the man the bag and he greedily grabs it from me as he stares intensely through me with dark brown eyes. After a long moment he glances down into the bag and up at me, as if demanding more before he harshly hits me across my right temple with the butt of the gun. I yell out in pain as I drop to the floor as blood floods down the right side of my face as the two men begin to grab carts and run down the isles, grabbing whatever they wish. Feeling darkness over come me, I lose myself in prayer for them to leave without harming Laura or her boy, hoping they just take what they want.

A long moment passes of fighting against the deeming darkness before I hear Laura’s yell and followed by the boy’s crying as the men round the corner to wherever they had found shelter. “Give me your purse, your ring, and your watch…anything of value,” the man’s gruff voice is heard from where I lie, hiding behind the desk, struggling with my pain, “or the boy gets a bullet.”

“No!” she screams to be followed by a muffled cry as I imagine her taking off all her jewelry that her deceased husband had given her, “Here, have them…all. Just don’t hurt him!”

The men’s laughter ricochets’s off the thin wooden walls before I hear a thudding noise before the men’s footsteps reach the front door and I jump as a gun shot goes off, the noise exploding into the silent store. Smoke from the gun is poignet from where I lie as the bell goes off once again and the door is slammed shut, forcing the glass door to shatter. Counting down the seconds I slowly get up only to fall down with a harsh spell of dizziness, taking a deep breath I yank myself up again. Struggling with blurred vision and dizziness, I slowly make my way through my store where they have thrown and tore everything in sight, throwing what they didn’t want onto the floor. Breaking what they could.

“Laura? James,” I call out as I struggle through the store, hoping to find them both ok.

“Right here,” I hear a weak voice and I slowly follow it to the rear corner where I find them both sitting on the dirty floor, hugging each other and crying. “We’re OK…just shook up,” Laura starts before cutting herself off as she sees me, “Mr. Rhuebottom!” her hand goes to her mouth as she weakly stands up, “You’re hurt! C’mon James, we need to take him to Dr. Appleby!”

“I’m fine, really,” I lie as I struggle off the harsh headache and the blackness that continues to threaten, “just a cut and -”

“Could be a concussion,” she waves off my answer as she places an arm around me and ushers me to the door and out into the chilly autumn day, “better to get looked over than not to.”

I nod silently for a moment as I take in James who walks quietly next to me as I sens his fear radiating off of him. “I am so sorry about -”

“Me too,” she sighs heavily as we reach the doctor’s office, “but it’s not your fault and one of these days those crooked men will be stopped and will pay what is coming to them. They’ve ripped off the paint and electronic store already…the rest is soon to follow.”

Fear grows within me as my thoughts return to where they had started before Laura had came in for her groceries and for children’s cold medicine. “Hazzard’ll never be the same,” I hear myself whisper as I am escorted into the doctor’s office where the secretary rushes over to me.

*   *  *  *  *  *

Despite the familiarity of the old narrow, sterile hall way of the old court house an odd sense of difference from the last time I had walked down the hall, only a few hours ago. Staring blankly through the empty hallway that looms ahead of me, my thoughts rush steadily through me. Thoughts of the past when I had first started working with Levi and Trent on the store filled with stolen goods, to the hijacking, and onto the disappearance of Rosco and Bo. It was bad enough that they had Rosco due to my own selfish greed, but now they got Bo; Bo whose health depends on the medication that rests at home, depends on the bloody inhaler Luke had found on the kitchen table earlier today. Guilt steadily floods through me for not listening to Rosco’s warnings, to his instincts that he had of Levi and Trent since day one. He had warned me, over and over again, that they weren’t to be trusted, that they were hiding something. Yet I had ignored him out of my own greed as I had kept my thoughts and attention to what I wanted out of all of this: money. Now they’ve kidnaped both Rosco and Bo and who knows what they are doing to them, what they have done to them. First Garrett and Ethan, now Rosco and Bo.

For a long moment I stare silently at the closed door that rests ahead of me, the creamy window reads : HAZZARD COUNTY SHERIFF’S STATION. Intense helplessness floods through me as the situation I have gotten Hazzard in quickly sinks in, of the harsh reality of it. Levi and his men are now free to do what they want to whoever they want. They hold power over everyone in Hazzard. Grabbing onto the cold gold metal door knob, I allow my imagination to run wild within me of what their plans may be for Hazzard, of what will come next. “Damn it,” I shake my head in disgust and in disbelief as I force myself to remind myself of Luke’s plan. If his plan works, he may pull Hazzard out of the pit of danger I had drowned it into. Of my greed, my selfishness.

“Hi Boss,” Enos greets me quietly as I enter the sheriff’s station, he glances up from the file cabinet as he looks at some paper, “any changes, sir?”

“Only that they got Bo now,” I spit out in disgust, “the Dukes and I are to come up with a million dollars for ransom now. Together.”

Fear quickly enters his dark eyes as he takes a step back before collapsing down into a wooden chair that rests against the wooden railing that surrounds the front desk of Rosco’s. “No,” he whimpers as he glances at me with pleading eyes, hoping me to change my answer, “that’s impossible. Especially for the Dukes…I mean they don’t have any money not alone -”

“We know,” I nod as I eye Rosco’s desk, “Luke’s got a plan, but til it can work, we have to wait and rest. Like that’ll happen.”

Silence fills the large empty room as he glances up from staring down at his polished boots, his mouth begins to form words, but nothing comes out for a moment. “If there is anything I can do,” he pauses nervously, “anything at all, tell me now, sir. I want to help.”

“I appreciate that Enos,” I nod, “right now I just want to be alone…at Rosco’s desk if that is ok.”

“Ah yes sir,” he slowly gets up to glance nervously around the room and back at me, “I need to go out and patrol anyway.”

I nod as I watch him slowly descending down the stair and shuffles out into the hallway where he closes the door behind him. “Rosco,” I hear myself whisper as I climb up to Rosco’s old and chipped desk and I slowly walk around it, getting a feel of his work space. After a brief moment of walking around his old desk and looking around his surroundings, I slowly push his old chair back to silently sit down. Immediately, the uncomfortableness quickly settles in as I squirm about in attempt to find a position to get comfortable, only to fail. I sigh heavily as my thoughts race through the many years I had worked side by side with him, my own brother in law, and how stingy I’ve been towards him. His old chair is prime example of the less of everything I gave him, I got the new expensive stuff while he got what was thrown out. My own brother in law.

Silence stirs upon the open sheriff’s office as my attention falls onto the flat surface of the desk, eyeing the object that cover it. Old written reports are neatly stacked in an old metal box upon his left outer corner, right next to it is another metal box half full of unwritten reports that need to be filled out. On the other corner is an old black corded, dial telephone; a foot beneath the phone lies a half filled blue coffee mug. Below the metal boxes, a foot or so below, lies a folded newspaper and I slowly pick it up to open it up only to find a picture of a recognizable face. A dangerous leader escapes? Chills race through me as I read the headline to shortly read the article the takes up most of the front page only for harsh realization floods through me. Whinston Merlin. The dangerous leader that Rosco had arrested over twenty-five years ago when Rosco had shot and killed the leader’s baby brother after he had murdered Rosco’s soon-to-be wife. Flashbacks flood through me of the horrible crimes and things that Whinston and his gang had done before Rosco had arrested him to the trial I had went to witness. Of his threat towards Rosco. His threat towards Jesse. Jesse had held him back and helped arrest him despite Whinston’s pleas and bargaining with Jesse.

“Whinston,” I hear myself speak aloud as my thoughts rush through me. What if Levi and Trent are working under Whinston? If Whinston is at the head of all of this? No wonder why Rosco was so deadly against Levi and Trent, he must have instantly put two and two together after reading the article.

Slowly I glance away from the two pictures of Whinston, a picture of then and of now, to look at the date. The paper was dated a week ago. “Damn it,” I mutter as I feel myself numbly standing up. Of the threats in the court house, threats that no one had taken seriously at the time, after all, he was facing death; now he’s got Rosco and Bo in his custody. His way for the revenge of his baby brother and of his arrest. Whinston won’t stop at anything to make them suffer, to make Jesse suffer through Bo’s suffering. Through his past crimes that he had done before hiding out in Hazzard, they all had one thing in common: torture and pain of his victims.

“You OK, sir?” Enos meekly asks as I step out into the hall way as he exits from the public men’s rest room area, concern etches his face.

“No, I’m not. To be honest,” I sigh grabbing a cigar and a lighter from my pocket, “things have just grown from bad to worse. If that could have been possible. I’ll be at the Duke farm if you need anything. If not, go out and patrol as heavily as you can!”

“Yes sir,” he says nobly and I quickly walk past him to the front large glass doors to step out onto the cheap cement stairs, looking across the street. Eyeing my parked Cadillac, I quickly descend the stairs. Walking onto the side walk, a rushed movement quickly catches my eye and I slowly glance to my left to see Laura Parka and her son helping a bleeding Rhuebottom across the street, heading towards Applebee’s office.

“Mr. Rhuebottom,” I slowly state as I step towards them and they both stop to look at me and I get a clear site of the blood filled handkerchief that is pressed to his right temple, “what happened?”

“Two men robbed me and hit me with the gun,” he slowly answers, “took everything they pleased, including Laura’s jewelry and scared her boy there.”

Anger and fear quickly grow within me at hearing of the grocer’s story, of what had just happened; of what I am doing to Hazzard. If only I had listened to Rosco. . .

“I’m. . .sorry,” is all I can think of to say, but doesn’t seem enough, “look, right now I would advise you and anyone you know to stay at home as much as possible, until we can get the situation under control.”

“Damn straight!” Laura cusses angrily, catching me by surprise, “If you hadn’t been filled with greed and went after the smell of money, we wouldn’t be here, would we?! I hope you’re happy!”

“No, I’m not,” I hesitantly respond, “All I can say is I’m sorry…you are right and I’ll admit that you’re right. I am on my way to make it right…with some friends. We’ll get this straightened out.”

“When?” Rhuebottom presses with angered green eyes, “Because, if it isn’t soon, everyone in Hazzard will be left with nothing…and who knows how many they will hurt or kill to get what they want!”

A chill of fear rushes across my numb body as his statement echoes deeply within me, of the truth behind it. “We’re hoping by tonight by the latest,” I slowly respond as I feel their hostility towards me, “we are working on it as much as we can…but we’ll get them and through this and soon.”

“You better damn hope so,” Laura hisses towards me, fire of anger flashes in her dark eyes, “and before anyone else gets hurt! Let’s go.”

I numbly watch as she escorts Rhuebottom away while James slowly follows behind them with his head bowed down. Glancing up at the hazy sky, I say a silent prayer for the first time in a long time, for the safety of Hazzard, for Luke’s plan to work without anyone getting hurt.

“Alex,” I urgently jump into the back seat without waiting for him to leave his resting spot in the driver’s seat, “take me to the Duke farm as fast as you can. It’s urgent.”

“Yes sir Mr. Hogg,” he nods as he carefully edges my car out onto the street and heads towards the old Duke farm. The farm I had tried everything to possess.

***JESSE DUKE***

“No, no,” I numbly shake my head as I slowly finish reading the newspaper article that J.D. Hogg had urgently brought over only a few moments ago, feeling my own dread and fear melt over me. “You mean, he’s out?”

Silence quickly fills the old kitchen as I slowly sit down in one of the old chairs that faces the forest green table, the table that my own grand dad had eaten on as a kid. The same table that has had faced several Duke problems that had gotten discussed with great worry and fear. Feeling my whole body go numb in weakness over the nightmarish article, I allow my thoughts to stir my imagination. Of all the horrible things I had read twenty-five years ago that Whinston and his gang had done, I can only imagine of what he is doing to my own nephew. To my nephew who wasn’t even born yet when I had helped with his arrest. Yet he holds Bo hostage due to my bravery at the time, to the little help I had given Rosco years ago. I had never given Whinson’s silent threat much credit with the thought that he was arrested and behind bars, to eventually to be put to death. Yet now Whinston’s thin evil smile and his thick index finger pointed directly at me while he had testified at his trial, puts on a different feel to things. Fear. Intense fear for what he is doing to Bo, what he will do to Bo. Because of what I did twenty-five years ago.

“What is it Jesse?” Luke asks from behind me and I glance back at him, Cooter, and LB who stand leaned against the kitchen sink counter; almost surprised to see them there, “What’s in the article?”

I sigh heavily as I quietly relive that horrid afternoon of holding Whinston up while seeing Rachel dead body there with Warren standing above her. Everything had happened so quickly and yet so clear still today. From Whinston pleading with me, begging me to let him go to Rosco killing Warren and onto the court date. After a moment of forming my thoughts, I slowly explain to everyone of what had happened that horrible day, of the threat Whinston had given to Rosco and I. And of the newspaper article.

“And now they’ve got Rosco for the death of Warren,” I slowly end, “and they’ve got Bo, to suffer and die for what I did. They’re way of making me suffer, by watching him suffer and die.”

“Damn it,” Luke breaks the silence as he breaks away from the sink to begin pacing the floor, his skin has abruptly turned ghastly white in his fear for his cousin.

Silence once again builds amongst everyone that crowds around me, their own fears and worries shining heavily in their gloomy eyes and expressions. Forcing my attention away from everyone, staring blankly across the table and through the small window, my mind flashes back to the past. . .

“The court of Georgia finds Whinston Wyatt Marlin guilty. . .” the tall, bulky judge slowly and reluctantly reads from a thin notebook paper that the jury had brought back with them. His gray eyes scowl through his thin and oval shape bifocals as he continues to reads off the list of all that the jury had found Whinston guilty of. “. . .and of the death of Rachel Cutler.” Icy chills race roughly down my spine at hearing Rachel’s name, sending vivid scenes rush through my head, the gun shot echoing through my ears as her petite body raggedly falls upon the sun-soaked grass. Her long thick hair spread across the bright grass as blood soaked up her lavender summer dress, the pained _expression that had fallen upon her face as she had escaped from this world and onto the next.

For a moment, I pull my attention away from Whinston who stands proudly at the defense table with his lawyer, to glance at Rosco who stands sluggishly with the well known prosecutor. Watching the local sheriff who stands a couple of rows ahead of me, my thoughts continue to show the horrible events that had taken place only a few months ago. Of Rosco getting shot in the shoulder by Whinston’s younger brother only to quickly return the shot, killing the nineteen year old Warren Marlin.

A wave of silence rushes across the stuffy court room as the elderly judge slowly sets the thin piece of paper down upon the wooden desk in front of him while taking his bifocals off of his weathered face. Glaring out upon the gallery of attendants of the verdict, the judge stressfully rubs his wrinkled temples before letting go of a long breath that he had held in. “Whinston Marlin,” he pauses as he glares across at Whinston, “we will arrange for another date to determine your sentence of the harsh crimes you have been found guilty of.” He takes a dramatic pause to glance across the antsy jury and back at the prosecutor’s table. “Court is adjourned.”

A rush of static of conversation and emotions quickly emerges from behind me and from the jury box as they all get up to rush out of their seats, anxious to put their jury duty behind them. To my left two big and muscular guards appear to help Whinston back onto his feet and he quietly allows them to lock him back up, making him look awkward in his pinstripe charcoal gray suit and blue tie. A thin smile curves upon his handsome face as he is escorted near the isle as he stares evilly at Rosco, who silently watches. “You better damn watch your back, sheriff,” he hisses, “because once I’m out of this dump, I’m coming after you. No one messes with me and gets away with it! You killed my brother!”

The two guards grab harshly onto him as he spits at Rosco while glaring with cold eyes before he lazily eyes the seats behind the prosecutor’s table before finding me. For a long moment, he stares harshly at me with a broad evil smile flashed upon his tan face before he points a beefy index finger at me from behind his back. More icy chills rush through me as he winks a green eye at me before he is shoved out into the lock up hall way where they escort the arrested. A silent threat. Fear instantly rushes through me for the threat he had given the sheriff and then me. With all that he has been found guilty of, he should be facing death behind bars, either the death sentence or life behind bars. Yet, fear grows within me as my thoughts rise within me, of all the ways he could get out; seeking revenge. If it wasn’t for Luke and Daisy at home, I wouldn’t give much thought of the threat. But with their parents dead, Julianna dead, that leaves me. Where’d they go if Whinston killed me? An orphanage?

“Thank-you for coming, Jesse,” Rosco’s voice breaks my silent thoughts as he turns to face me, “I know it’s a long way for you to come and to leave Luke and Daisy behind and all -“

“It’s no problem Rosco,” I lean over to give him a small hug for comfort before letting go, “I just wish there was more for me to do. I can’t imagine how you -“

“Yeah you can. You lost everyone,” he pauses softly, “and then was left with Luke and Daisy. Not that they’re bad kids…I’m sure they’re great, but they can still be a hand full I am sure.”

“Sometimes,” I shrug as I read his thoughts, “but they also give me comfort and joy too. A little piece of their parents all wrapped inside. It’s never easy…if you need something, anything, tell me. I’m here.”

He nods silently in understanding as he wipes away the tears that had melted down his handsome face. “Thanks for what you’ve done already. If it wasn’t for you, he’d have gotten away and maybe Warren would have gotten me too,” he pauses sadly, “maybe that would have been for the best…the better. I mean, me being a sheriff puts me at risk for things like that. It comes with the job. But Rachel was just there for a walk, nothing else. An innocent bystander and she’s the one that got killed. Not me. If it wasn’t for me -“

“Don’t blame yourself Rosco. That is a nonstop circle that will drive you crazy, trust me, I’ve been there too,” I pause as I recount the guilt I had gained when my parents had died, “It wasn’t your fault, but Whinston and Warren’s. You did what you could do…there is only so much you can do. And for what’s for the better,” I swallow hard, “I think God has a plan for you, just as he had with Rachel. It’s hard to understand…trust me, I know that too. There isn’t a day that goes by that I wish it was me who had been killed instead of Julianna…I mean she’d be so much better with Luke and Daisy than I am. Especially when they get older, Daisy will need a woman figure. But I guess that wasn’t in God’s plan…He’s not done with me, like He’s not done with you here on Earth.”

He numbly nods as he glances to my side where JD Hogg stands silently besides me, lost in his own emotions. “He’s right Rosco,” he speaks up, “not your time. You did all that you could do…it’s not your fault you walked into their hide out with Rachel…you didn’t go looking for them. It happened by chance,” he pauses with his own tears in his dark brown eyes, “I am here for you, Rosco…anything you need, I’m here.”

“Thanks Boss,” Rosco gives him a wary smile before waving the prosecutor good-bye.

“Bo and Rosco…and Hazzard,” Cooter breaks the silence, dread and regret riding thickly in his voice as he moves over to the sink to dump his full cup of water down the drain, “damn it. How are we suppose to team up against the likes of him, Levi, and Trent combined and win? Without anyone getting hurt?”

“Just like we were going to do before we knew who our main opponent was,” Luke shrugs as he stares at nothing, fear brightly shines in his icy blue eyes, “to go with the plan as we planned on before.”

Chills harshly races across my numb and exhausted body as I stare up at Luke for a long moment as I go through the idea he had given up only a few hours ago. “Good luck,” is all that I can think of to say, knowing Luke is as worried as I am. “We still have a few hours to wait before Braiden is to walk into The Boar’s Nest.”

“That’s not all,” Hogg slowly interrupts the silence that had began to build within the kitchen after my statement and everyone looks over at Hogg who hides in the corner, “two of the gang members robbed Rhuebottom’s store, hitting him with the butt of the gun and robbing Laura Parka who had been in the store already.”

“Damn it,” Luke is the first to speak up, speaking of everyone’s fear, “he’s gonna be the first stop…from there on who knows who they’ll rob next or hurt. They need to be stopped and now.” His statement lingers in the crowded room, leaving everyone looking at one another in desperate hope that they can pull Luke’s plan out in order to save Bo, Rosco, and the rest of Hazzard.

***GARRETT DUKE***

An harsh pain seems to wiggle through the thick darkness that looms thickly around me as an irritating beeping sound to seems to slowly grow closer. For a long moment, I silently concentrate upon the increasing pain that grows within me while attempting to grasp where I am and what happened. Fear steadily floods through me as I rest entrapped in pure darkness with little to no memory of how I had fallen into the flood of darkness and to where the throbbing pain originates at. After a long moment the darkness seems to slowly deteriorate as the beeping grow louder and the pain grows harsher while a hint of light seems to shine through.

“Garrett?” a soft voice breaks my thoughts and I slowly turn in the direction I hear the voice is coming from before I am able to weakly open my eyes to find Kristy sitting rigidly upon the old metal chair through blurred vision. “Garrett!” she yells in excitement as she quickly stands up, covering her mouth in surprise. “You’re awake.”

Struggling to ignore the pain that screams loudly within me, I slowly go to respond only to be gagged by something to force my attention down upon myself to find a thick tube stuck down my throat. Gagging upon the thick tube forces more pain rippling down my throat and down into my chest as I silently turn my attention back upon my sister who’s normal loving and soft eyes are filled with regret and fear. “I’ll go get Dr. Tevail,” she finally whispers before she slowly eases out of the door and I am left alone. Glancing away from the closed door, I slowly turn my attention towards the opposing brightly white wall as I force my mind upon the past; searching desperately for what had brought me to the hospital.

“Well Garrett Duke!” a loud voice breaks my confused thoughts and I slowly turn my attention to an elderly man in a white coat walking in with Kristy. “I’m Dr. Tevail. I’ve been your doctor since you had came into the ER a couple of weeks ago. I am glad to see that you have finally woke up.”

I glance from him and towards Kristy as my mind remains lost with pain growing within me or perhaps I’m noticing the pain for the first time, since I had supposedly be lost within the past two weeks. “It’s ok,” she nods.

“In fact it looks so,” Tevail nods as he looks me over for a long moment, “your breathing seems a lot easier than it did an hour ago when I last was here. What you think of taking that ugly tube out?”

I stare blankly at him for a moment before he nods to himself before counting to three and telling me to blow out. I slowly do as I am told and as he tears the tube out of my throat I am forced into a coughing fit as more pain rushes down my scratchy, numb throat. “He’s OK. That’s a natural response after having relied on that for so long,” Tevail explains to Kristy who silently nods and I silently recall the fight I had with Luke over the attack I had given Bo. Silently I wonder if this is how he feels every time an attack comes, if he feels this much pain and fear. I had never taken his condition too seriously nor him or his family. “There he goes,” Tevail nods once again to himself as he writes something down upon his clipboard for a moment, “I’ll let you two be for a while. If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”

Kristy nods silently as she blankly stares down at me, her green-blue eyes are moistened with tears and filled with harsh emotions. “Garrett,” she whispers as she slowly sits back down after Tevail closes the door behind him. Surprise and relief continue to fill her voice and her expressions as she pats my right arm gently and I look down to find it casted. “I am so sorry…about everything. The fight, how I acted.”

“I probably deserved it,” I reluctantly force out, my lungs feeling like someone had lit them on fire with each breath I attempt to get, “it should probably be me to apologize for,” my mind continues to come up blank as I think of what had happened, of why she’s apologizing to me for. Kristy would never do or say something that didn’t deserve to be said or deserved to be done. “What happened?” I finally ask the question that has been running through me since awakening.

“You and Ethan,” she starts out and scenes slowly begin to clear in my head of signing something for Hogg,” were hired to drive Hogg’s semi and it got hijacked or stolen. You and Ethan -”

“Ethan!” I interrupt her as the dark figures quickly enter my mind, silver metal baseball bats booming upon me, sending pain through me before darkness had seeped in, “Is he…he ok?”

“He didn’t get it as bad as you,” she wipes away her tears with a shaky right hand, “he’s out already and attempting to seek punishment to whoever -”

“It wasn’t Bo,” I start out as the men’s conversation runs through me, the parked General. Has to be a set up because it wasn’t Bo’s voice or Luke’s, “it wasn’t Bo and Luke. I don’t know…they were dressed up or something.”

“We figured that…that really isn’t the issue any more,” Kristy says it numbly, her emotions grow immensely upon her face, “they were accused and arrested a day after this happened. They’re out now.”

“What is,” I ask, reading into her quivering voice that gives way that something else is wrong, “what is the issue now then?”

She sighs as she looks down at me with questioning eyes. “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s take -”

“No, tell me,” I urge her only for her to shake her head stubbornly, “tell me Kristian!”

“They got Bo and Rosco locked up somewhere and they have control over the rest of Hazzard. Roads are blocked, phones cut,” she weakly responds, “if they don’t come up with a million dollars by eight tomorrow morning, they’re gonna kill them.”

A flood of tears runs down my older sister’s cheeks before she quickly wipes her face with the palms of her hands and her fear runs into me, growing deeply through me for my twin brother. My brother that I never cared much for, the one that I had caused pain upon several times before. “The same -”

“The hijackers,” she nods, “and their friends or whatever you want to call them,” Kristy pauses for a long moment, “Luke has a plan that they’re to put to action later tonight, despite the threatening ransom note, to see where that leads them. For now, we just wait.”

“While they do whatever to Bo and Rosco…to Hazzard,” I numbly respond as it all comes back to me, to the fight in the Boar’s Nest, to the fight I had with Kristy, and onto the beating I had taken when we got pulled over. “You could go distract them and I -”

“No you’re not. You are staying right here until Dr. Tevail tells you that you can go, when he signs your release,” she sternly responds with fire in her eyes, “they can deal with this without you this time. You escape as you’re thinking about, you’re likely to injure yourself more!”

“It was just a thought,” I shrug to send more pain rippling through me.

“Keep it just a thought,” Kristy firmly responds before relaxing once again, “Jamie and Shay will be happy to hear that you’re awake…as will everyone else. Jamie has been asking about you…so has Shay.”

***LUKE DUKE***

Fear and anxiety quickly climbs through me as I numbly stare out through the dirty window at the rain falling down upon the farm’s front yard. Dark evil storm clouds begin to grow darker above as a low rumble of thunder ripples across the sky. Irony thickly rushes through me at the dark threatening sky and the heavy down pour as the darkness seems to match my mood, my thoughts that pours through me. As if the weather knows how I’m feeling, of what I am going through.

Taking a deep breath in attempt to calm my raging emotions, I slowly glance down at the old alarm clock that lies on the oak night stand. Four-fifty in the afternoon. Meaning we all have nearly two hours left to wait before Braiden enters The Boar’s Nest.

“Damn it,” I cuss angrily in frustration before my attention falls back onto the old photo I had pulled out of the small door of the night stand, only a few moments ago. My heart seems to halt as I cautiously pick up the photo to take it all in, once again, silently reliving the day the photo had been taken. In the photo, I was twenty years old and standing proudly besides Bo who had been fifteen at the time, my arms wrapped tightly around his thin shoulders. Uncle Jesse had taken the picture only moments before taking me to the bus station, where I had left to join the Marines, in war. Despite being fifteen, Bo had looked more like ten due to being so small and weak for his age, thanks to his illnesses.

Once again I sigh heavily to glance out at the rain as a bolt of lightning brightens up the dark sky to be followed momentarily by a loud roar of thunder. “Bo,” I whisper my cousin’s name as I glance down at the photo. His baby blue eyes shone full of pain, fear, and sadness as he weakly and bravely smiled at the camera. His complexion is a deathly pale color under the few freckles that had covered the bridge of his nose, his pale complexion expresses the harsh effects that his illnesses held over him, death slowly eating away at his weak, vulnerable body.

A chill brushes across my body, not from the chilly rain, but from the unsettling thought of how close I had came to losing my cousin to death. Only days after the picture was taken, was when Bo had that cardiac arrest in his sleep; the cardiac arrest that had changed everything for him. Staring at the picture, I quietly wonder what he would be like if he didn’t have the cardiac arrest, if he wasn’t left with the emotional disorder that plagues him today. Would he be as care-free and loving as he is today? Or would his illness, leave him serious mattered and angry? Or would he have given into the powers of the disease and died when he fell into the coma? Instead of fighting against it? Perhaps it is his child-like personality that had brought out his inner strength and stubbornness that was needed to win the battle.

A bright flicker of lightning brightens up the sky once again to attract my attention and abruptly, the bedroom light quickly flickers off to leave me in darkness. A short moment later, a loud ripple of thunder echoes within the dark clouds and the lights hesitantly flicker back on. For a long, silent moment I stare at the sleek figure of The General Lee standing proudly in front of the old and weak steps, taking in the bright orange paint with the 01 and the Confederate Flag on top. A deep sadness heavily sinks in as I watch the heavy rain harshly beats against the orange paint, sadness at the sight of The General without Bo sitting proudly behind the wheel, showing off his talent and skills. Dread thickly soars as harsh and nightmarish thoughts begin to vividly rush through me, of losing Bo to the likes of Whinston and his men; of never seeing Bo drive the General Lee again. Once again chills rush across my chilled body at the thought of losing Bo, of never seeing him again, not being able to tell him I’m sorry.

Once again, my last encounter with Bo vividly washes through me, my harsh and angered words seems to echo loudly within me. For a moment, I am lost in thought of how my words must’ve hurt him, dug deeply into him. He was already feeling like we were babying him, that he was being left out and I went and told him to grow up and stop feeling sorry for himself. Bo never felt sorry for himself, he hated it when other people felt sorry for him, because of his differences, because of his illnesses. And yet I had said the first thing that had came to mind with little logic behind it.

Abruptly a soft knock upon the closed door interrupts my thoughts and I slowly turn away from the rain pounding on The General to look at the white door. “Come in,” I hesitantly respond and I watch as Daisy slowly steps into the room.

“You OK?” she slowly asks as she stops at the foot of my bed, concern and worry painted across her tan face while she takes me in.

I watch her for a long moment before I glance down at the picture, silently taking in Bo as he had been when he was fourteen years old, before I had left him when he needed me the most. “I don’t know,” I glance back up at Daisy as my emotions accelerate within me, “I just hope my idea works…and before it’s too late. I don’t know what I’ll do if. . .” I cut myself off as I am unable to finish my thoughts, unable to speak of Bo dying to the likes of him. “I just keep thinking of what he could be doing to Bo. . .to Rosco. I mean, from studying the past and hearing what all Whinston has done,” more chills rush across me, “of all that he’s capable of doing.”

“Yeah, me too,” she nods as she wipes a tear from the corner of her right eye with a shaky hand, “I think everyone is…and what they’ll do to Hazzard.”

“And Hazzard,” I agree as I slowly glance down at the clock; an hour and a half to go, “us vs them. Whinston may be the head guy of the group, but I think that Levi and Trent are almost just as dangerous as he is. Perhaps Levi had led the group before Whinston escaped or something.”

Daisy nods quietly as she glances down at the picture from where she stands and her expressions grow deeper and sadder, showing her own vivid flashbacks of the past through her dark blue eyes. “Well I have to get going for work, I just came in to tell you good luck,” she sniffles back more tears as she steps towards the door.

“Thanks, we’ll need it,” I silently respond as I slowly stand up while putting the picture back down, “I just hope it works.”

“All you can do, is try,” she shrugs as I follow her out into the hall and into the living room and kitchen where we find Jesse sitting, trying to read the newspaper with some coffee. “I’ll be seeing you all around. Once again, good luck…nine-fifteen.”

“Yeah call him at nine-fifteen. Kristy will run you Garrett’s cell phone with a paper with his number written on it. Good luck leering him out,” I force a smile for her and she nods before stepping out into the rain and to her