Exhaustion slowly begins to drain through my numb body as I stare out into the blinding bright summer day that lingers out through the open door of my old and small garage. The fat, local commissioner’s angry voice continues to echo off of the thin wooden walls that surround us only to force my anger to grow deeper within me. “Boss,” I quickly snap at him as I force myself to stare at the man that stands only a few feet in front of me. Fiery anger spits back at me through his dark brown eyes as his yelling comes to an abrupt halt. “Rosco wrecked,” I pause as I take a step closer to him and he cowers backwards, “no,” I shake my head in disgust, “wrecked isn’t the word. . .more like totaled his patrol car chasing Bo. Now,” I pause to point back at the white old modeled police car parked behind me, “I fixed his car, it now looks like a car and runs like car. I billed you,” I once again hand him the paper he had angrily thrown on the floor only moments ago, “and now you pay me for the repair. That’s how it works.”

Anger seems to grow in his eyes as he glances off to the side where his loyal side kick of a sheriff sits upon the edge of my desk, looking like a lost puppy. Looking back at me he points a chubby finger at me before saying, “You’ve got to have gone crazy if you think I am going to pay this much on an old ratty car as that! I could go and buy a new car for that much that you’re billing me!”

I give him a sarcastic laugh before glancing back at the newly repaired police car, admiring my own work, before looking back at the local law.  “Good luck finding a car that works for that price,” I shrug at him as I fight back the anger that threatens to burst through me, “meanwhile, I fixed that car up as you asked me to. Here’s the car, the keys, and the bill.”

“Damn it Cooter!” he cusses angrily at me before he steps forward to snatch the keys that I hold out to him. After staring at it for a long while, he glares up with a forced smile across his fat face. “Fine, Cooter. You want to play, we’ll play your game. You’ve raised your price, I’ll raise mine. I now add a hundred dollars a month onto your mortgage payment of this here dump you call a garage.”

My heart comes to angry halt as Hogg threatens to raise my mortgage to send my mind rolling with nightmarish questions of how I’d ever manage to have enough money to support my garage monthly. “You can’t do that, Hogg,” I force my voice to stay calm only to make it quiver with the anger that boils within me, “you raised it at the beginning of the year. You know damn well that’s why I had to raise my prices to begin with -“

”Your prices?” he huffs at me as his anger comes to joy at seeing the stress he has instantly created for me, “The only prices you’ve raised was for my vehicles. . .everyone else’s has remained the same. You didn’t think I noticed?”

An awkward silence slowly welcomes itself within the humid garage as I stare at the fat commissioner in disbelief and intense anger. Self doubt quickly begins to accelerate within me as my thought recoil deep within me of the harsh consequences that may follow the choice I had rashly made yesterday. “Glad you were able to notice that, Hogg, perhaps now you’ll connect it with you raising my monthly payment,” I abruptly snap at him, refusing to give him any ground or give in to him, “besides Hogg, prices of equipment and car parts has risen as well, if you haven’t noticed. Your bill includes the prices of those parts that were required to fix the totaled car that Rosco brought in plus for my time and work. You take it anywhere else, you’d be charged more. I guarantee it.”

Hogg grunts in distaste as the fire in his eyes dies down to be filled with the greed that normally shines across his smug face while he works up some scheme or another to gain more money, for himself. “Lucky for you you’re the only mechanic in town, huh Cooter?” he winks at me as he pulls out a fat cigar from his pocket with a silver lighter, “I’ll be expecting an extra hundred at the beginning of the month. You don’t have it, the garage is mine.”  He takes a step back before looking over at his sheriff, “Rosco, take the keys and go out and patrol. I need more ticket money in order to pay our lousy mechanic your bill for the car you wrecked!”

“Oh yes sir, Boss,” the sheriff stiffly stands up to take the keys from the commissioner before shoving me aside to make his way to his car.

Raw emotions explodes rapidly through me as I continue to stare blindly at the court house that lies across the street from my garage as the commissioner’s angered voice thunders in my head. His harsh threat sends chills racing down my back as my thoughts ricochets into the future with the dreadful questions of how I would ever be able to earn the extra hundred dollars at. “Damn it,” I shake my head in disgust at myself and the hole I have instantly buried myself in only to make a point to the fat commissioner. Now the only obvious option open for me to keep my garage is to raise my prices for every honest and hard working citizen of Hazzard who lives daily under the ugly wrath that Hogg spreads across his town. A seed of guilt slowly grows within me at the thought of charging people more due to my actions towards Hogg’s unethical choice to raise the price of my monthly payment. Something I had meant to keep between him and I as I had quietly struggled to make the payments he had been billing me for the past seven to eight months. But if I don’t raise my prices then there will be little way possible that I could even imagine making the payments each month and save my garage, the garage I had worked hard to build and to keep.

“Damn,” I cuss once again as my frustration and anger continues to grow deeply within me towards Hogg and at myself for being foolish enough to push as hard as I had. If only I had fixed Rosco’s patrol car as I always had and quietly took his greedy demands while working hard to meet them, as I had for the past eight months. . .

“My rent would be a hundred dollars less than it will be at the beginning of the next month,” I speak aloud to finish my thoughts while I restlessly rise of the hard metal chair I had sat upon after the crooked law had crept out of the garage, “and wouldn’t have to worry about losing the garage.” Sighing heavily, I gradually grab my small ring of keys that lies mixed within a stack of papers I had been filling out before being interrupted by the commissioner and the sheriff.  Continuing to fight with my thoughts and worry, I slowly slip out of the shadowy garage and into the bright summer sun before climbing into my old and loyal tow truck with hopes of calming my thoughts and emotions. Backing out of my garage and onto Main Street, I tiredly look back at my old wooden garage to force my thoughts to momentarily visit the past few years I had spent hard and fun times of working there before bouncing into the future. The future that had became clearly uncertain within only a matter of seconds as Hogg had threw the threat towards me, the threat he clearly planned to execute upon my next payment. The next payment that I now question if I will be able to pay or if I’d have enough money stored up to keep it up and running for a couple of months to give me time to think things through to find a way. Or perhaps in a week and a half I’ll be shuffling across the street to hand the one man I despise the most the dream I have worked my whole life towards achieving.

“Crazy Cooter,” a familiar voice crackles through the static of the CB player to interrupt my thoughts while I watch the town square pass by before I slowly force a left turn onto an off street that leads out of town, “this is Lost Sheep, you out there Cooter?”

I sigh heavily as the scene of the town fades into open farm land with trees and hills outlining the near and far distance as I slowly grab the CB handle off of the seat next to me while contemplating on whether I should answer the call or ignore it; despite it coming from my best friends.  “This is Cooter,” I reluctantly answer into the handle and I cringe as I my voice quiver slightly with the rugged emotions that continue to rip me apart. Slowly I take a deep breath in a vague attempt to hide the worry and fear that plagues me, I slowly continue, “what can I do for y’all?”

“We were wondering,” Luke’s strong voice slowly responds on the other end as the sound of their powerful engine proudly purrs in the background, “if those parts for The General came in yet? Shep has sent us into town for some chores and thought we’d go -“

”What I tell you last night when y’all asked?!” I abruptly interrupt him as agitation quickly flares deeply within me towards their innocent question, a question asked with no harm intended. Yet with Hogg’s words echoing in my head they seem to pierce through me like needles, only reminding me more of the situation I find myself in. “Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” I slowly respond after a long awkward silence. Guilt once again climbs deeply within me for snapping at such good friends, friends that would no doubt be glad to help me fight Hogg and to raise the money to support my garage or to help me find a way to support my garage. Or all three. They’ve always been there for me and for a solid moment I reluctantly consider telling them of the argument I had with Hogg and of Hogg’s response to the bill I gave them. Of him raising the mortgage even higher. Despite knowing that they’d help me find a way to support my garage, stubborn pride fills me to prevent me from opening up and telling them of my problems and my fears. Instead I say, “I’m out on the road right now and as of the time I left the garage, only a few minutes ago, the mail hadn’t come in yet nor has any packages. If not today it should come in tomorrow. If not by tomorrow I’ll give them a call and ask them about it. You and Bo will be the first to hear when I get it, ok?”

“Um yeah sure Cooter,” Luke’s voice is weak with uncertainty, something that he rarely allows to show, “we didn’t mean to upset you, just figured we’d ask since we’d be in town and all. Everything ok? You ok?”

Irritation continues to climb within me towards his questions and concerns as I once again wish to be left alone, left alone with my problems and emotions that seem to climb and build bigger by the minute. “Yeah I’m fine. Just am having a rough morning is all,” I slowly respond as I stare through my mud splattered windshield at the familiar scenery that surrounds me. The familiar scenery that normally calms me down when I am upset and brings me comfort. Today it only reminds me of all that may be taken away from me within a matter of time if I don’t come up with a solution to my problems, if I can’t raise enough money for my garage. Without my garage, I might as well as pack up and leave. The only reluctancy I’d have of leaving would be leaving good friends behind such as the Dukes. “Give me another half hour to an hour or so and I should be back at the garage if y’all want to stop by and I can have another look under the hood.”

“He’s running ok for now at least. A little choked up is all,” Luke responds after a moment of static, “but we’ll stop by after our errands in town are done. We’re gone.”

“Ten four,” I dryly respond before throwing the handle down besides me before turning off onto Rainbow Cliff Road. Staring out the large hills that rolls off ahead in the distance I once again begin question whether or not I should turn to the Dukes for their help with my garage and the raised rent I’ll have to pay. I wouldn’t have to ask, all I’d have to do is explain what had happen this morning and would know I was in trouble. . .that the garage is in trouble. Silently I picture telling them and instinctly visualize Bo’s temper flying towards Hogg while Luke slinks back into the corner while nervously running a hand through his thick hair while obviously thinking the situation over. Bo was the quick tempered one of the pair while Luke was quieter and the thinker, Bo being the one that normally sank them into trouble and Luke being the anchor to pull them back out of trouble. “Damn,” I slowly say aloud to break the silence in the cab of my truck as my own stubbornness resurfaces with plenty of excuses to not lean back to the Dukes for help. They have enough to worry about with Bo’s asthma acting up lately, doctor bills along with other bills of necessities that they are struggling to pay, and with farming season under way they are busy. They have enough to worry about and enough going on that they don’t need my problems to add onto theirs.

Following the winding road that rests upon the edge of a long, steep, and rocky cliff my thoughts and problems abruptly evaporate as my vision fixates upon an well dented car that lies welded in place by a thick large tree a third of the way down. My heart leaps to a halt as fear races within me for whoever was driving and was within the car when the car had taken the wrong turn down the cliff.  “Sheriff Rosco,” I slowly say into the CB handle as I park my truck alongside the cliff parallel to the light blue car. Keeping my eyes on the car, I continue, “this is Cooter calling Sher-“

”I heard you Cooter,” Rosco snaps over the CB, clearly agitated towards me interrupting his afternoon nap, “what you want?”

“There looks to be an accident,” I slowly begin to respond while scanning the area in hope of finding moving bodies somewhere, “on Rainbow Cliff Road. Looks like a car took a ride down the cliff. . .it is stuck against that big odd looking tree a third of the way -“

”I know what tree you’re talking about. Anyone hurt?” he questions in return.

“I just came onto the accident and can’t see anyone from where I am parked,” I slowly respond, “but you probably should bring an ambulance just in case.”

“OK Cooter,” Rosco sighs heavily over the CB with apparent stress and worry of his own before static rushes over the CB and I once again throw the handle down besides me while opening my door. My vivid imagination begins to unwind within me, displaying clear and fearful pictures of all that may have brought the car down the deep cliff only to be caught upon the tree. More chills spread across my body at the thought of the people that had been entrapped within the closed doors of the now damaged car, blood and death enters my mind. “Help’s coming,” I yell down at the car as I place an unsteady foot upon a rock in my descent downward and my voice is thrown back at me.  Struggling with fear of my own safety, I lose myself in prayer for the poor people within the car as I nervously continue to climb down in hope of finding people alive .

I slowly reach the small landing where the car had came to a halt against the large bushy tree as an abrupt realization of how trivial my problems are compared to those within the car who may be badly injured or worse. The thought of babies and innocent children sends more fear within me and for a moment I struggle with my fear of what I may about to see before stepping to the car. “I’m here to help,” I yell out again as I slowly peer through the back window that lies only badly cracked, the door dented and scratched. A slow worm of relief fills me at finding the backseat empty except for a newspaper and a couple of other overturned papers. Sighing heavily I slowly move forward to the driver’s door where the window is shattered and the door caves harshly inward to grab my breath away while my imagination grows fearfully worse of all that had happened. Glancing in, expecting to see torn and bloodied bodies, my heart comes to an abrupt halt in fear and surprise to find the front seats to be both empty and filled with shattered glass from the windshield and side windows. Questionably I glance at the doors to find them to be both tightly closed and locked, across the car, both doors locks are tightly held down and the doors shut.

Sighing heavily I slowly take a step back as sirens begin to pierce through the silent afternoon while I stare up the cliff that I had just climbed down before turning around. Looking down the steep ditch a wave of dizziness washes over me with prolonged fear at how far anyone would have to fall if they had happened to fall out through the windshield. After a couple of minutes of taking in the steep fall, I move forward a couple of feet to take in the half shattered windshield and become even more suspicious to find no drops of blood upon the sharp and ragged edges of the glass. If someone had been thrown out through the windshield, there would have to be some blood, some evidence of injury. Yet no sign of anyone lies anywhere within or near the car.

“Cooter!” Rosco’s familiar voice booms above me and I am surprised to see him standing at the edge looking down at me, “Anyone in the car? How bad?” Sadness and fear shine clearly in his bright blue eyes from the distance he stands above me, his voice quivering in his own fear.

“No one is in the car,” I shrug as I glance back at the damaged car upon the large rock that protrudes from the cliff with the abnormally grown tree on the edge of it, “in fact, I don’t see any sign of people anywhere.”

He stares at me in disbelief as he momentarily watches the ambulance parking behind his newly fixed patrol car, looking back at me he slowly and reluctantly begins to climb down the way I had climbed down. “You better catch me,” he mutters nervously and I watch as he slowly climbs down, his aging body apparently shaking slightly in fear of his safety but of the damaged car as well. After a few unsteady minutes he steps down to stand besides me to look questionably at me before walking to the car windows to glance in the two side windows and at the broken windshield. “No one’s there,” he says with a mixture of shock and relief in his voice, “and no blood. How. . .where could they be?” He looks back at me with bright eyes full of questions before they fade into realization and of dread. “But if they fell,” he starts as he steps cautiously to the edge and looks down, “there’d have to be blood or something, wouldn’t there, Cooter?”

“One would think,” I say as I approach him, “I couldn’t find any and I can’t find anything or anyone from here other than the broken glass at our feet and the empty car there.”

“How many, sheriff?” a strange voice captures our attention and we simultaneously glances up to find three paramedics standing at the top peering down at us, “How bad?”

“As of now,” Rosco glances unsurely at me and back at them, “none.”

“None of what? No injuries?” the older one asks with a look of surprise wrote across his leathery tan face.

“No one is in or around the car,” Rosco responds as a younger paramedic climbs down with a box of equipment to check things out for them. “There’s no blood anywhere. . .” his voice trails off as he turns around to take in his vast, wide open surroundings. “The dang thing didn’t drive here on it’s own. . .a car has to have at least a driver. Yet -“

”No one,” the paramedic interrupts Rosco, his voice quivers in surprise before he joins us to glance down at the rocky wall in expectation of finding blood, a body, at least some sign of a person. “Not even blood. . .only cut glass and a broken car.”

“Well if the driver ain’t down there,” I point down the cliff where bright greenery shines up at us from the creek that runs in between the woods of green leaved trees, “the only explanation I can think of,” I pause to look at Rosco, “is that someone had purposefully drove the car down here while jumping out before the car left the road. If that’s the case, I’m willing to bet that whoever did it, was expecting the car to reach the bottom in a heap of fire. Instead it got trapped here.”

“Why would anyone want to trash a new and expensive car as this. It’s a Ford Taurus. . .at least a 2006 model. Looks somewhat new,” the paramedic eyes the car with a hint of jealousy, “lot of money just to throw down a cliff.”

“If Cooter’s right,” Rosco abruptly snaps as he turns to face the both of us with anger and fear mixed in his eyes, “it means that whoever brought this car here has something to hide or get rid of or both. Most likely a criminal hiding from the law that knows which vehicle he or she is driving. You get rid of the plates and the car, the easier to become invisible. Damn,” he shakes his head in disgust as his attention goes back to the car, “I don’t know which is worse,” he sighs heavily while looking at us, “someone entrapped and thrown out of the car or a criminal in Hazzard with something to hide.”

I nod silently in agreement before backing away from them to slowly begin to climb up the steep cliff I had climbed down only a half hour ago in search of the driver and riders of the car. Reaching the edge of the cliff I slowly glance around the edge of the road and at the dusty dirt road that curves around the hills and trees. “Here!” I yell as I come upon some heavy marks engraved into the dirt behind the ambulance, which is parked behind the sheriff’s car and my tow truck. “These marks, “ I point down at them as the remaining paramedics and their driver gather’s around, “could be of a driver jumping from the car as it made it’s decent.”

“Either that,” the older guy huffs, “or someone was doing some heavy wrestling or rolling. Those ain’t tire nor animal tracks.”

Silence awkward comes between us all as everyone on the road kneels down besides me to look at the scuffle marks while Rosco and the young paramedic slowly begins their some what long climb up to the road. Somewhere in the distance a large bird caws to force it’s eerie voice to bounce off of the stone wall of the cliff as we continue to stare at the marks and down at the car in a mystified shock. Shock of the sight of the empty and damaged vehicle feet down, but also at the marks indicating that someone had obviously had jumped out of the car before it had fallen those many feet down to be caught between a large tree. “Perhaps it’s not as hostile as you make it seem, Sheriff,” the young paramedic slowly speaks up after joining us to look at the marks, his dark brown eyes glances around his peers before landing on me and back to Rosco, “perhaps the driver’s brakes went out, he knew he was going, so he jumped out before the car took the fall.”

“Maybe,” Rosco grumbles nervously as he stands up from kneeling on the ground, “but if that were the case, you’d think he’d go for help. But,” Rosco shrugs as he goes back to eye the tree and the ground far below, “then again, perhaps he is still walking and searching for help.”

“That the case,” I slowly stand up to glance around the surroundings that outlay the scuffle marks in the dirt, “they’re mighty lucky and have good timing.” Silence once again whirls around us as they all silently nod in agreement while my heart once again comes to a halt at the sight of prints I hadn’t seen until now, prints looking like foot prints and end at tire prints.

“What is it, Cooter?” Rosco approaches me to break the silence.

“I. . .I don’t know for sure,” I slowly point down at the ground, “to me, that there looks like foot prints that had gotten ran over at some point. . .by either one of us or someone driving by and didn’t see the car.” I pause to point to the tire prints that the smeared foot prints stop at, “And the smeared prints end a foot or so away from tire prints. Then again, it could be from one of us or someone else driving by, but. . .” I let my thoughts hang as I silently wonder if I am allowing my imagination to draw out the foot prints or if they are really there under the tire prints.

“But highly coincidental,” Rosco finishes my thought and I look over to see a flicker of panic in his eyes, “Those do look like foot prints that had gotten smeared by tire tracks and they do stop at another set of tire tracks. Damn,” he shakes his head in disbelief before he steps away from everyone. “Well we got to do something, standing here looking won’t do us any good.”

“No sir, it won’t,” the older paramedic says with a hint of impatience in his voice, “and if there is no bodies to be taken car of, we must go to be available for new calls.”

“Roger,” Rosco quickly turns around to eye the older paramedic, his own impatience flare with an agitated temper, “hush it! You have a damn CB in you’re ambulance there, “ Rosco angrily points at the dusty ambulance, “if you are needed at another call, you’ll be the first to hear it. Meanwhile,” he pauses to look around at everyone else, “I think we should start searching the area just in case the prints have nothing to do with the car. Someone may be hurt or worse somewhere down the cliff that we can’t see from the car or here. It won’t hurt to search the cliff and down there along the trees to see if there is anyone down there.”

“There’s no blood, Sheriff,” the younger one insists to slowly quiet down with the steel glare from Rosco.

“I don’t care. . .no one is leaving until I am certain no one was in that car when it fell down,” he quietly eyes everyone, “understood?” Everyone nods quietly in agreement. “OK then, the driver of the ambulance, you should stay around the ambulance. Perhaps look alongside the road for a little while on both sides. Roger,” he eyes the older paramedic, “since you are the one so worried about it, you can help the driver. You two,” he points at the younger paramedic and at the quieter of the paramedics, a tall slender man with thick reddish brown hair, “I want you searching the wall of the cliff. Meanwhile, Cooter and I will take a drive down to Creek Road and walk along side the foot of the cliff. Any problems, y’all better speak up now?”

“None with us,” Roger sighs in defeat as he shoves his hands deeply down in his pockets.

“I’ll have my CB on in the car. You find anything, call it in,” he says as he eyes me before walking to his car. Climbing into his car, he quickly turns it on and drives away just as I close my door. Breathing heavily he grabs his CB from the floor of his car and says into, “Enos, you hear me?”

Static responds momentarily before the deputy says, “Loud and clear Sheriff.”

“Good,” Rosco quickly follows the curving road, “I want you to meet me on Creek Road as soon as possible. I’ll fill you in when you get there.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, sheriff,” he responds, “I’m just a few miles away from there.”

We ride a while in silence, lost in our own thoughts before Rosco quickly turns onto Creek road to drive a little ways before pulling off onto the shoulder of the road, parking in bright green grass. “We can walk back a little ways and we should get to the cliff,” he says reluctantly, “and then begin searching the area.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’ too,” I nod slowly as I open my door and slowly step out, “you want to stay here and wait for Enos while I head out.”

He nods. “That may be best. That way you’ll get a head start on the search and I can direct Enos to where I am parked and fill him in on what we are doing. Figure the more the better.” He shakes his head in disbelief once again, “Damn.”

“I agree, Sheriff,” I nod before I slowly turn my back to begin walking into the thick woods while I once again lose myself in prayer. Perhaps the young paramedic was right by hoping that the brakes had gone out and the driver had jumped out in time to save himself from the violent fall his car had taken and is on his way for help right now. Or perhaps, knowing that his brakes had gone out and that the cliff was coming up, he had called for help beforehand, which would explain the foot prints leading to another set of tracks. Or perhaps the driver had fallen out of the car and now lies somewhere badly injured or dead from the deadly leap his car had taken. Or perhaps Rosco is right, perhaps the car was driven off the cliff intentionally in hope of losing the car along with any evidence the car had held against him or her, making whoever it is a criminal of some sort and on the run from the law. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had intentionally ran a vehicle over Rainbow Cliff in order to shred valuable evidence and to become more hidden from the law.

Reaching the easy flowing thick creek that interrupts the green, thick woods that line most of Rainbow Cliff, I glance up at the tan cliff wall that protrudes thick rocks while other areas remain flat and sharp. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary I slowly step into the creek to feel the chilly water sinking into my old boots and through my jeans, feeling the flow against my legs as I walk across the rocky creek, chills spread up and down my body. After a short moment, I step up the bank of the creek and begin walking towards the cliff, anticipating what I may find or not find. Sighing heavily, I pull out my pocket watch to find that I’ve been gone from town well over the half hour I had told Luke and more worry slowly begins to add onto the worry that I’ve been full of for all who could have been in the car.  Walking through the shrubbery and weeds, I am reminded of the troubles I had found myself in before all of this, of the reason I had been driving. I wasn’t out on a call, but was driving to clear my head, to calm my emotions, and in hope of finding a solution to the problem I had dug myself into. Now I silently begin to worry about my garage and customers that may be trying to find me to work on their cars or to ask me questions or simply for gas. My mind begins to recall all the appointments I had on my calender for this afternoon for normal tune-ups and changes to only recall a few names and times. Only a few, but each and every customer is important to my business and anger begins to reside within me towards missing them and making them angry by not being there for them; for them and anyone else who may need something fixed or changed or gas.

I sigh heavily as I shoo away pesky flies and mosquitos forcing myself to recall why I am here and the importance of finding the car I had found. There still could be someone hurt or worse that needs my help and if I hadn’t taken the drive, who knows how long it would have taken for someone to spot the car. It hadn’t been well seen from the road, but I had seen it coming at the right angle, if I had looked away for a second at that instance, I too would have missed it. Once they all hear why I wasn’t at the garage and that I was helping with an accident, they all would understand and be supportive. Another important reason why having an assistant at the garage would come in very helpful and handy, I could be out on calls or helping someone and the assistant could be at the garage, or vice versa. If only I had the money. . .

My thoughts slowly and reluctantly cut themselves off as I reach the tall stony wall to bring my thoughts back to the car that hangs upon the sharp rock and against the tree and worry builds within finding an injured person. After a long few minutes of walking alongside the cliff and searching, walking in and out of the woods to search a few feet away from the cliff as well as besides the cliff, I reach directly below the car. Looking up at the car I spot Roger and the driver walking along the side of the road along with the other two paramedics climbing the cliff, up and down, looking for any evidence of someone. Looking back at the ground I slowly walk directly straight into the woods for several feet and walk around within the woods looking for something.

“Cooter,” Rosco breaks the thick natural silence from behind me after about ten minutes of searching below the car. I slowly glance around to find him walking besides Enos who grimly smiles at me before his attention goes onto the ground in his own search. “You find anything?”

“Nothing,” I slowly shake my head before my attention goes up onto the men searching above us. Looking back at Rosco I respond, “nothing at all.”

“Same here. I called in at Roger before Enos and I began out,” he shakes his head before watching Enos leave his side to look deeper into the woods. Looking at me he continues, “and nothing there with them on the road or on the cliff. I don’t know Cooter.”

I nod in agreement as we begin to walk together looking at our surroundings as we go along. “How vague and smeared they may be,” I slowly begin, “it seems clear to me, that, that car took off without a soul in it. That the driver had jumped out right before the car had taken off, whether if it was the brakes or a criminal with hopes of damaging evidence against him. And no one seeing anything. . .”

“Only seems to confirm it,” Rosco sadly nods while finishing my thoughts again, “as I said earlier, I don’t know which is worse. Someone within the car as it taken off or a criminal throwing the car off the cliff to help hide himself and evidence here in Hazzard. I guess criminal could be caught and taken to jail while still being alive and uninjured. My question being what kind of criminal it is and the damages he’ll do in Hazzard.”

Once again I silently nod as my mind drifts from what he has just said to all I had to worry about before turning around that curve to find the car; of losing my garage and of the customers I am now turning away for now by not being there. “Could go either way I guess. Best hope is that the paramedic is right. That it was the brakes that went out and the guy went walking for help,” I suddenly come to a halt as I realize I hadn’t told Rosco of another possibility, “or knowing the brakes went out and the cliff was coming up, perhaps the driver had called ahead for help to come get him. Which would explain the foot prints leading to tire prints.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Rosco says with a flicker of hope in his eyes, “but you would think they’d call in help if that were the case. But perhaps he didn’t have a number to call if it was from out of town and didn’t have a CB. Perhaps they’re looking for the garage or the sheriff’s station. . .perhaps they’re there now.”

I shrug at him as Enos returns with sadness drowning his brown eyes as he gloomily looks at us before shaking his head to say he didn’t find anything either. “Talking of my garage,” I finally say after looking up at the guys ahead and back at the law, “I have several customers lined up for this afternoon and need to be there for the gas pumps and other customers. I could tow the car back to the garage to take a look at it if you wish. Either way I should get back to the garage sometime before too many people get upset.”

Rosco nods in understanding as he looks up at the car. “OK Cooter,” he silently responds, “tow the truck back to your garage, but don’t touch anything. Until someone comes in to claim it, it should be held as evidence.”

I nod. “OK Rosco,” I take a step back, “so is it ok to leave or you need any help?”

“Looks as if there’s nothing else to do. Enos,” Rosco looks at his deputy, “take Cooter to his truck and get a report from the crew on the road.”

“Yes sir.”

*                                  *                                  *

The silence that has built within the crowded and stuffy Mercury only forces Max’s anxiety to increase dramatically within his tense body as he stares out through the passenger window.  He feels himself beginning to tap his feet obnoxiously against the dark floor mats while he runs a rough, callused hand over his handsome face. Questions once again begin to cross his twisted mind of the operation he had so carefully planned while lying entrapped in an ugly and abandoned warehouse where his gang had hid for the past few years. Thoughts of leaving the old warehouse only brings a tinge of sadness through him as he slowly realizes they could never go back now that the feds had found them there a few days ago. “Damn it,” he hears himself cuss aloud as his agitation grows wildly within him. First they get kicked out of their well lived in home, leaving valuable things behind, and now they are lost within a small hick town in search of a new hide out for him and his men. Dread fills his tired body as he silently takes account of all the things they had to leave behind in their haste to leave the large and dark building, things that the feds would be more than glad to store for them as evidence against them.

“What is it, Boss?” Sergio asks from behind the wall. Dark expensive shades covers his dark and intense eyes as he eyes the dirt road ahead of him while he taps the black steering wheel nervously with his right index finger.

“Everything,” Max lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in as he stares into the dark woods that surrounds his side of the road. “Randal call in yet as to where they took the kid to?” Max asks, despite knowing the answer. If he were to call, he’d hear a ring somewhere within the car, if not his own.

“No sir,” a nervous voice slowly responds from the backseat to grab Max’s attention into his mirrored visor to look at the three large muscular men that is wedged in the backseat. Steel, the youngest member, fidgets slightly in the middle with agitation vivid in his alert green eyes that stares defiantly back up at him. “Why Hazzard, Boss?” he once again begins to complains of leaving the city for a small county, “We could drive out of state, go to a city in Florida, Alabama, or Texas. That’d be farther away-“

”Shut up Steel!” Sergio yells back at Steel with anger and hatred laced within each word, “Max had went through that on the way up here. How many times he have to explain to you?! You stupid or something?!”

I watch as Steel quickly glances away while slumping down in his seat, his hand nervously reaches out to play with his loop ear ring. Silence slowly begins to build back up within the car as Max turns around to look out through his window, his thoughts falling back onto his plan they had all worked on. Sighing heavily he begins to worry of all that could go wrong with the plan that had seemed so perfect only a couple of days ago. It is a perfect plan, but only if nothing happens to interrupt the plan of action that will slowly unravel within the next few days and if no one within the group messes up.

Abruptly his cell phone gives an irritating vibration upon his hip to interrupt his worried thoughts and he slowly pulls the phone up to look at the caller ID. “Randal,” he says aloud to allow everyone to know who it is. Lifting the black flap, he places the phone to his ear and says, “Randal. You find the place yet?”

“Not exactly, Boss,” his voice is weak and shows sign of worry and stress to force Max to hold his breath once more in his own nerves, “Ronnie,” Randal pauses for a long moment to intensify Max’s worries and impatience rushes through him, “messed up.”

“Messed up?!” Max’s voice loudly echoes off the walls of the car, his anger penetrating through his voice as he quickly sits up and finds himself clenching tightly onto the seatbelt that restrains him, “How the hell could he mess up! I gave him a simple job to do. . .drive the car off the cliff and to jump out before the car left. What he do? Forget to jump out?!”

Silence is thrown back at him from within the car and on the other end of the phone except for Randal’s heavy breathing. “Nothing that simple, Boss,” Randal slowly replies to force Max’s anger to climb rapidly through him, “he jumped the car off the cliff and had jumped out in time,” he pauses once again and Max feels Randal’s fear of recalling their failure over the cell phone, “but as the car fell, it landed on a large rocky ledge a third of the way down and got caught on a tree.”

“A tree?” Max slowly asks before falling into silence as he allows what he had said to sink in, “Never mind. Then what you all need to do is to push it over the ledge it is on. . .I don’t care how the hell you do it, I just want the car on the bottom of that cliff and destroyed.”

“Um,” he begins to stutter, “we can’t do that, sir. By the time Ronnie got to the van a tow truck was seen through the trees coming so we hurried up and left. We hid the van in some bushes and sneaked our way through the woods to find the tow stopped and the mechanic climbing down to look at the car,” he pauses once again, “soon after the sheriff came and then an ambulance.”

“Damn it!” Max yells again as emotions rushes through him, “I gave you all a simple job and you all go mess up! What I tell you before we left?!”

“Not to mess up,” Max hears Randal let out a sigh over the phone, “look Boss, it was no one’s fault. We should have checked the cliff out before just jumping the car as we had, but who would guess the damn car would get caught up against a damn tree on the cliff?! We didn’t.”

Max glares blindly through his window as his thoughts swiftly change from thought to thought. Of the past that had chased them to Hazzard, to their plan, to all that Randal is saying, and onto fearful questions of what to do to get out of the mess they now find themselves in. “Well then,” Max takes a deep breath to hold back his emotions, “I guess all we can do is forget about the car and hope they don’t find any evidence against us within the car. After all,” Max tries to reassure himself, “we stole the car and had it cleaned out before leaving Atlanta. . .just in case something like this happened.”

“Boss,” Randal’s voice quivers in reluctancy to continue, “that’s not all of our problems with the car. You know that letter you gave Gage to hold onto and to mail once we get rid of the car?”

Dread fills Max’s tense body as he silently pictures what Randal is about to tell him. “What about it?” Max abruptly asks, fearing the answer.

“He can’t find it,” Randal blurts out, “he said he put it in his back pocket before sitting in the backseat, now it’s not there. We searched the van and the woods and found nothing. The only thing we can think of is -“

”That it fell out in the damn car!” Max roars with anger as his mind floods with dreadful thoughts of what else could go wrong while searching for an answer to pull his group out of the mess they had placed them in. “If someone where to find that note. . .”

“We know Boss, we know,” Randal says sympathetically while allowing a moment of silence to flood through the phone.

“Where’s the car now?” Max forces his voice to a calm whisper.

“The mechanic has towed it away. We followed at a distance,” Randal answers confidently now, “he towed it to this small shack looking garage in town. We are now parked across the town square from it. . .we can’t see inside from where we are at, but we know he’s in there somewhere.”

“Yeah reading the damn note and calling the local fuzz,” Max snaps at him, “never mind. Look, have everyone stay in the van. I want you to sneak over to the garage and make sure he stays and don’t make no phone calls. Meanwhile we are now heading for town and I will meet you there. We can’t allow the mechanic to talk to anyone or do anything.”

“Yes sir,” he slowly responds before relaying to the other guys what he is doing, “what should I do if he calls someone or tries to leave? It’s broad daylight here and in town -“

”Hell I don’t care, just keep him in there and quiet. Go in and tell him the car’s yours,” a wicked grin crosses Max’s bearded face, “because it don’t matter what he now knows, just as long as he isn’t allowed to tell anyone else. The hick mechanic won’t be saying anything by the time we’re through with him.”

“OK Boss,” a small hint of laughter trails in Randal’s voice at the thought of all that Max had implied, “I’ll be looking for you.”

With that Max abruptly closes the flap on his phone to hang up on his cousin before looking over at Sergio who remains looking at the road in tense anticipation of where the road will lead him. “Forget the hideout, we’ve got more important matters to deal with,” Max says to interrupt the silence within the crowded car, “find the town of Hazzard and the town square. I need to find Randal and undo the damage they all did.”

“Yes sir,” Sergio says with a sly grin spread across his tan face, “you need me for help, you know I’ll be glad to help.”

“I’ll use you and Randal. Three against one should work out just find for us,” Max nods in agreement, “especially against an hick mechanic who will only view us as customers until we start in on him. This may prove to be fun after all.” Another wicked grin spreads across Max’s face at the thought of putting out his frustration in the form of violence.

“I thought Saul and his group would be waiting at the mill?” Dwight questions from behind Sergio.

“Well then, call and tell him we have a change of plans,” Max sarcastically throws back at the large man who glares evilly back at him.