An odd and awkward silence once again builds within the small undercover patrol car as the two local lawmen glance nervously at one another before the sheriff slowly turns back around in his seat ahead of me.  For a moment, I allow my imagination to run wild within me of all that could be happening beyond the thick trees and bushes that separates us from Max’s gang and the FBI, of who had shot at who and why. “I have a problem, sheriff,” I dryly state to interrupt the silence as my thoughts flash from the gun shots and the battle being fought feet away and onto my future. Of what this battle between Max’s gang and the FBI holds upon my future, whether it will prove of my innocence or convince the feds of my guilt as they see it.

“What you mean you’ve got a problem, Duke? You’ve got several of them that I can think of right now,” the sheriff gruffly responds ahead of me, staring out through his window, “You’re a Duke, that’s a problem, you’re guilty of beating the town’s mechanic, and of beating your own gang member while in jail. I’d say you’ve got several problems.”

“I’m done defending myself against your unlawful accusations. I’ve told you my story, I’ve told you the truth. If I had done all that, you think I would have ran to the feds once I got lose from jail?” I throw back at them as I struggle to swallow down my anger that begins to build within me.  “Don’t matter right now, what matters right now, is that I’ve got to go pee.”

The sheriff lets out a huff of disbelief while shaking his head. “You better hold it, then,” he finally responds, “because we are ordered to watch you and make sure you don’t escape. Which I presume means to keep you inside the car no matter what. Better hope they don’t take too long in apprehending your criminal friends.”

I glance over at the deputy as I begin to fidget in my seat in attempt to convince them of my urgency. “Come on Sheriff. If I wanted to escape, I’d a done it back at the jail instead of going to the feds,” I pause as he shakes his head in denial in the front seat as does the deputy, “well then, can’t say I didn’t warn you all. Sergeant Mills ain’t going to be too happy to have to clean up my puddle just because you denied me to do it outside.”

The sheriff makes a small noise from the front seat. “You’re right, he won’t be too happy, but not at us, at you,” he rebukes, his attention remaining out through his window, “there is no way, Duke, that you are leaving this car unless Mills himself gives us permission to let you out. And as of now, he’s a little too busy to ask for his permission.”

I let out a long deep breath while I slowly bend over to rest my head in my hands as I allow my mind to wonder through my plan to escape that I’d been thinking over ever since Mills had left the local hick law in charge of me. I slowly look over at the deputy who sits besides me to find him once again looking through his own window, neither one of them viewing me as a threat to them or of escaping due to the locked doors. Feeling a small smile cross my face, I glance ahead of me, my head remaining in my hands before I slowly move my right hand away to slowly move it to lean on the top of the seat besides me. Taking a deep breath, I abruptly shoot up from my seat to lean over the seat and as the sheriff jumps in surprise, I sharply elbow him in the face before I yank his gun out of his holster.

“Sheriff!” the deputy yells in fear as he pulls out his own gun from the holster, his eyes wide and focused upon the un-conscience sheriff.

I quickly place the barrel of the gun tightly against the sheriff’s temple while resting my index finger gently upon the trigger to send my mind ricocheting back into my past, of the last time I had shot a gun. “I’d drop the gun, deputy, if you don’t want a beheaded sheriff,” I gruffly say as I harshly eye the deputy who stares blankly at me for a long moment before slowly nodding, “in the front seat at the floor. So you can’t get it.” Once again, the deputy nods before tossing the gun onto the floor in the front seat. “Very good. Trust me, Deputy Strate,” I read his name from his name tag, “I don’t want to hurt the sheriff nor you. But thanks to you and your sheriff’s bogus charge, I have to prove myself innocent of the charges, and I don’t see a better way or chance of doing so than to do it right here and right now.  Understand?”

He nods thoughtfully. “Hitting Rosco and putting a gun to his head don’t prove your innocence,” he nervously states, “in fact, it does the opposite.”

I eye him harshly. “When I want your opinion, Strate, I’ll ask for it. Now!” I yell pressing the barrel harder into his temple as the sheriff starts making moaning noises, “I want you, Strate, to get out and walk over and open my door.” He nods slowly before he opens his door and another round of gun shots fire out while he walks behind the car and moments later, opens my door. “Very good, deputy. Now I want your handcuffs.” He slowly grabs out his shiny metal handcuffs and hands them to me as I once again lean over to grab the sheriff’s handcuffs just as his eyes abruptly opens and he lets out a yell. “Relax sheriff and no one will get hurt. Just listen and do as I tell you to do. Understand?”

“Huh, huh,” he slowly whimpers as I press the gun tighter against his head to make it known.

“Very good. Now,” I slowly step out of the car, while keeping the gun to his head, “Deputy Strate, I want you to sit down where I was sitting and to put your hands up by the sheriff’s head.” He eyes me coldly as he reluctantly sits back down where I had been sitting and places his hands up as I had told him to do. “Good job.” I quickly snap a half of each handcuffs onto his hands, “Now sheriff, it’s your turn. Raise your hands to meet your deputy’s.” After a brief hesitation, the sheriff follows my orders and I pocket the gun momentarily to handcuff both deputy’s hands onto his. “As you said, sheriff, hopefully this don’t take too long. I bet your arms will be getting pretty tired of behind tied up like that.”

With that, I offer them both a smile before slamming the door closed and a moment later, the metallic clicking noise of the doors re-locking rings out. Taking the gun out, I wave at them, before I slowly begin to follow the foot prints that the feds had left in the mud on their way to Max’s hideout.

***LUKE DUKE***

Staring coldly at the powerful man that stands boldly in front of me, everything seems to come to an abrupt halt as thick and violent emotions radiate throughout my entire body. His seething words continues to yell back at me through the thick silence that he has created within the small shed, his evil words describing Bo’s painful and slow death, of Jesse being the one to find his nephew beaten to death. Chills race rapidly up my pain-filled body as my imagination quickly builds vivid scenes of Max and his men beating Bo to death, of Bo’s baby blue eyes filled with horror and pain as he lived his last moments of life. “No,” I hear myself whimper aloud as my uncle’s wise face enters my mind, his clear crystal blue eyes that had always been warm and welcoming, now filled with tears and horror. Tears and horror at finding Bo’s beaten and lifeless body, covered in blood, lying hidden somewhere within Duke territory.

“You say something, Sergeant,”Max asks, tauntingly using my rank I had worked hard to earn while in the Marines. Nine years of my life I had worked hard to shove behind me, nine years I wish I could forget. The yelling, the violence, the blood, and the death. Nothing could have ever prepared me for that, not even the harsh and long training it had taken to get enrolled into the Marines. “Well Sergeant,” Max states after a long moment of silence, “sorry to say that your time here is almost up. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had -“ Max abruptly goes silent as several gun shots ring out from outside to be shortly followed by cries of pain and surprise. “Damn it,” Max swallows hardly as he eyes me, his cold eyes momentarily flash of fear and panic before he quickly turns away to walk to the door. Max comes to a halt at the door as another round of gun fire explodes to send his eyes towards me for a moment before he unlocks the door and slowly opens it a couple of inches.

“FBI!” a bold and loud voice yells out from outside the open door and Max cusses out in anger before he abruptly slams the door shut, leaning his body against the thick wooden door. “Max,” the agent outside yells through the door, “I suggest you to open up and surrender before you or anyone else gets hurt.”

“I’ve got a hostage!” Max yells out, “Tied to a chair…I’ll shoot him in the head if you don’t leave.”

The agent outside goes silent more a moment before yelling back, “I can’t do that, Max. You know that. Let your hostage go and step out. Perhaps we can make a deal and -“

”Forget it!” Max yells out, eyeing the closed door with hatred and anger before he reluctantly steps away to stand a foot ahead of me before throwing the knife down that makes a metal clicking noise as it hits the wall in the corner. “I’ll shoot him!” Max yells out as he brings out a black metal handgun and jams it into my forehead to send fear rippling through my body. “Tell them to back off, Luke!”

I eye Max for a long moment as I feel the icy metal pressed against my forehead while I slowly and carefully think of what to say and of the consequence that would follow. “Don’t worry about me. Come get Max!”

Max’s eyes grow darker with intense anger as he hits me across the face with the butt of the gun to send blackness threatening to overcome for a moment while a wave of dizziness and nausea floods through me. “You’ve sealed your fate, Sergeant,” Max hisses at me as his gun is shoved deeper into my forehead.

“According to you, you were going to kill me anyway,” I attempt to yell at him only for my voice to come out in a loud and quivering whisper, “so why should I listen to your orders and threats now?”

“Shut-up!” Max yells and he quickly lifts his gun up in the air to back hand me again only to be interrupted by the door being kicked open.

“Freeze!” a tall and broad shouldered man wearing a dark wind breaker quickly walks in with his gun extended and followed by another agent. “It’s over Max.”

“For him,” Max yells as he backhands me again and blackness floods over me momentarily before my sight returns to find that Max had stepped a foot away from me, his gun aimed at me, and his index finger set firmly upon the trigger. Taking a deep ragged breath, I close my eyes while I lose myself in a silent prayer in preparation of the powerful metal bullet to steal my life away from me.

I gasp in surprise as a heavy force violently runs into me to shove me sideways while the loud and evil gun fires off to echo off of the thin walls. I slowly open my eyes to be surprised to find myself lying sideways upon the floor, tied to the chair, and still alive. Taking a deep breath, I slowly glance around to find one of the agents kneeling in front of me as he slowly stands back up before another gun shot fires. “Damn it! I missed him!” a gruff voice angrily yells out as Max hurriedly runs out through the open door way and into the dark night where more gun fire violently tears into the night. For a moment, I listen into the gun shots and the cries and yells that pierces through the dark night to send vivid flashbacks of war within me.

“Luke,” a male’s voice interrupts my thoughts of war and the violence and horror I had witnessed and I slowly look up to find the smaller of the two agents kneeling down besides me while the broader shoulder agent runs out after Max. Eyeing the agent, I slowly recognize him as the one that had been kneeling on the floor besides me after I had been shot at, who had only moments ago had stood up in readiness to fight against Max. “Luke,” he repeats as he slowly sits the chair up and another round of dizziness rushes through me as he takes in the thick chains that chain me to the chair before his eyes fall upon the blood soaked rag that is pressed against my stomach where I had been shot at. “Damn it,” he cusses, “Luke, I’m FBI Agent Russler. I’m here to help you.”

I slowly nod as I attempt to fight back the blackness that once again threatens to come over me while attempting to focus upon the agent. “Thank-“ I cut myself off as I begin to cough harshly to send pain rippling through my lungs, reminding me of Bo and his asthma. “Thank-you, Agent,” I slowly gasp after my coughing fit comes to an end. “You saved my -“

”Don’t mention it. It’s my job,” he lends me a friendly smile as his eyes slowly avert away from my gun shot wound to around the shed before he takes out a flashlight. “We had to cut off the electricity.” He informs me as he turns the flash light on to shine it around the small building before it comes to a halt at a key ring with a single key upon the ring, hanging upon a long nail several feet away and near the door. “Ah ha, there it is,” Russler slowly moves away to take the key and as he moves behind me with the key, he sets the flash light down to direct it upward. “I’m going to untie you. That is if this key works,” he pauses as he grabs onto the lock at the back of my hands to apply more painful pressure before a snapping sound rings out and the pressure fades away, “there we go. You get shot or stabbed in your stomach? Where the blood is coming from?”

“Shot,” I grimace as he begins to take the chains away from my wrists, “as I had gotten out of our car, right before they captured us.”

“OK. I am untying you,” he pauses as he begins to untie the chains around my chest, “when I take the chains away from the rag that is applying pressure to your wound, you’ll need to hold it there. Apply the pressure yourself. If you can,” he says as he continues to walk in circles around me and as the chains fall from my stomach, I quickly grab onto the blood-drenched rag to tightly hold it onto my gun shot wound to reinforce the numbing pain. “Very good. We’re almost done. Just your legs now. How are you feeling?”

For a long moment, I stare blankly ahead as my vision blurs and blackness threatens while my thoughts return to being shot and captured. Of the fear and pain that had rang clear in Bo’s blue eyes as they began to drag him away, his breathing wheezy and gurgling  as he struggled painfully to breathe. The last time I had seen him and the last time I will ever see him alive. “Luke, you with me?” Russler asks aloud, to bring me back to where I am at.  “You OK? Hang with me…paramedics will be here soon. Just as soon as this is over. You gonna make it?” Russler, finished untying me of the chains, loudly drops them on the floor before he comes around to kneel back down in front of me. “Us? Whose us?”

“I’m fine as I’m ever gonna be with a bullet within me,” I attempt to put some light upon the situation and Russler lends me a small smile, “Us as in Bo and me. My cousin,” I pause as I struggle to block the image of them taking him away from me, taking him away to kill him, “he was with me when they shot out our tires. They shot me and beat him to grab him.” I go silent as I attempt to ignore the pain raging within me, “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Ask me anything,” he shrugs, “I’m here for your service.”

“Make sure they find him,” I state to receive a questioning look from him, “make sure they find Bo.”

“Well, if he’s here,” Russler states, “I’m sure they’ll find him.”

I slowly shake my head to force the dizziness and blackness to worsen and I quickly stop to sit still, my breathing weak and painful. “Max said they killed him. Tortured him to death,” I stop as the scenes once again build in my mind, “and hid him on Duke property. You’ve got to find him,” I pause to cough once again, “before our uncle, Jesse, finds him. This alone will tear him up, not alone if it is him to find him.”

Russler nods in understanding and sympathy. “We’ll do our best, Luke,” he says and as I slowly close my eyes he places a hand on my knee and as I look at him, he says, “C’mon you gotta stay awake.”

Ignoring the pain once more and the blackness that swarms around me, I slowly nod as more gun fire and cries ring out. “Just like war,” I slowly state, my voice slurring, “the gunshots and cries. Something,” I pause as I focus on my breathing, my thoughts returning to Bo and his bad asthma and the acute asthma attacks he had often suffered. “I’ll never forget. My nightmares won’t allow it.”

Russler once again nods in understanding as his attention falls upon the closed door for a moment. “My dad said the same after he had returned home from Vietnam,” he pauses thoughtfully, “he had nightmares and according to mom, he never was the same as he had been when he had left. War changes people, stays with people.” He goes silent for a moment as someone near by yells out, “All this, physically, will come to a halt once we get Max. We get Max, his men will submit and surrender. It’s all about the leader. You take the leader out, the rest of the gang is lost and useless.”

“OK,” I state as I close my eyes momentarily, wanting it all to be over, though know it’s only the beginning. The beginning of a life without Bo, whose young life was taken with violence and hatred; something he had never witnessed nor was capable of portraying himself. Always innocent and young at heart, caring and loving. Though when his temper was riled, he was ready for a hard and good fight. But nothing that would cause anyone serious injury nor would he wish to cause injury on anyone. Not Bo. Sighing heavily, I open my eyes to fight the darkness and to stay alert while awaiting for help to arrive, even though everything in me wishes to just give up. Deep down, I know giving up is not an option. Uncle Jesse and Daisy will need help and support to get over the tragic death of Bo.

“That your orange car that’s hidden out back?” Russler slowly asks to break the silence as he sits down to get more comfortable while pulling out a walkie talkie. “This will tell me when it’s over.” He holds it up to me to send a whole lot of yelling before he turns it back down so only he will hear it.

I nod. “My cousin and my car,” I sigh painfully, “mostly my cousin’s. He built it while I was away at war with little help from a family friend. He gave me half of the car or part ownership once I returned. Said that’s what he built it for. For us.”

“Pretty impressive,” he nods in approval, “of what I saw. I only saw a glimpse on our way here.”

“It is,” I slowly reply, “he’s a genius when it comes to cars, at building and driving them. Or was,” I go silent for a moment as I fight the tears of sadness that begins to build, “It’s a great car.”

He nods. “Don’t give up, Luke,” he boldly states, “we will find your cousin. I’ll bring it to Sergeant Mills’ attention as soon as we close up here and get you off to the hospital and things are safe.”

“What are you not telling me?” I ask him as I pick up on his hesitancy of talking about Bo, he eyes me questionably. “You’re holding something back, I can tell.”

He bites his lower lip as he hangs his head. “It’s not the time to say anything about it,” he firmly states as he looks back up at me, “because as of now, who knows if it is true or not. Or if we are too late. You’ll be the first I tell when I can. I promise you that.”

Being a sergeant myself in the Marines, I understand where he is coming from though remain confused and irritated at being lied to. “OK,” I slowly state in defeat.

***BO DUKE***

Time abruptly seems to come to an abrupt halt as the television freezes upon Luke’s beaten and swollen face covered in blood as he blankly stares at Max who stands in front of him with his sharp knife. Pain continues to throb painfully through my body, my lungs engulfed in fiery pain as I struggle against my asthma to breathe, all seeming to worsen as guilt once again explodes violently within me. Guilt at placing Luke’s life in the hands of Max, of failing to shoot the agent as I had been instructed to do, missing deliberately in full knowledge of what the consequences would be. Closing my eyes, tears run down my tender face, as I fall into prayer in protection of Luke, of a miracle to occur to halt Max from taking my cousin away from me.

Suddenly, my attention is quickly taken away from my prayer and my eyes shoot open as loud and recognizable gun fire explodes outside to penetrate the silence that seeps in through the open window. “What the-“ Randal grunts, his voice squeaks in panic, as he shoots up from the couch besides Sergio. Eyeing me harshly, he draws out a black gun from his waist band as he makes his way to the small window that rests a few feet from the TV. “Damn it,” he audibly lets out a deep breath as he stares out the window for an extra minute before turning around to face us, “the feds are here.”

“Impossible. How could they find-“ Sergio whispers from behind me as he takes another handful of my hair and in anger, pulls my head back once more and I hiss out in pain. “Ronnie,” he sighs as he eyes the younger member of the gang who stands in the dark corner quietly, “You damn idiot! You are always messing things up! First, you shot the damn kid to bring more attention onto us and now you told the retard’s,” Sergio pauses as he pulls harder on my hair to force tears to my eyes, “brother our plans. Heck, not only that, you helped him escape!”

With that, Steel abruptly takes a couple of steps before reaching Ronnie to harshly throw him into the corner, holding him there, he places a sharp knife to the frightened man’s neck. “Steel. . .please.” Ronnie begs, his hands clawing at Steel’s strong and muscular arms with no avail, “He was going to rat me out if I didn’t give him the note or help him escape. He said he was going to rip it up once he got away from the jail.”

“And like the idiot you are, you believed him!” Steel stealthily moves the knife from his neck to quickly swipe at Ronnie’s upper left arm and he cries out in pain as his white shirt sleeve abruptly is drenched in blood.

“Steel, Sergio,” Randal calmly states eyeing them both before looking back out the window, “this is not the time to turn on each other, but to team up in order to survive. We can deal with Ronnie once we are safe from the feds. For now,” he pauses as he turns his back from the window to eye his friends, “Ronnie, you are with me. Steel, you are first to go get the kid and tie him up next to Bo. Once you do that, guard the house and make sure that no one enters.”

“And me?” Sergio questions as the TV unfreezes as Max peers out the door, Luke seeming to come back alive, looks up with a hint of hope in his eyes.

“FBI!” a voice loudly yells on the TV to send a wave of silence across the room.

“You are to guard our hostages,” Randal eyes me for a harsh moment as Steel quickly walks down the hall to do as he was told to do. “If the feds get past Steel, you are to kill them both and then join Steel in his fight with the feds. But not until they enter the house. Max wanted it to be him to kill them, but if they enter the house, that will leave you no choice. You understand? Only when they enter the house. . .” he lets his statement linger on as Max yells something back at the feds about having a hostage that he’ll shoot if they don’t back off.

“Perfectly,” Sergio slowly states as his gun is shoved tighter into my temple while my focus remains on the TV as Luke stubbornly informs the FBI to come in after Mills despite Max’s threat of killing him if they enter.

“Bo!” I hear Keith’s young and innocent voice yell out behind me as Steel carries him out, his hands are tied tightly behind his back and his feet are tied together. I slowly turn and watch Steel throw him down next to me, Keith’s bright green eyes looks up at me with a mixture of fear, pain, and relief dancing within. “You’re alive.”

“For now he is,” Sergio laughs behind me as Randal grabs Ronnie by the neck and forces him through the kitchen and as he opens the door, more gun fire explodes outside, followed by a loud shrill cry of pain.

On TV, the door is violently thrown open and two large and muscular men with guns run in, aiming their guns at Max and determination stuck in their hardened eyes. “Freeze!” the first agent yells as he comes to a halt a couple of feet away from Max, the other and younger agent a foot behind him, they both eye Luke and then Max. “It’s over Max.”

“For him,” Max quickly replies as he violently and forcefully backhands Luke across the face with the gun he had replaced his knife with.

“Luke,” I hear myself gasp painfully for air as disbelief and fear rush thickly through me at what I’m being forced to witness. I had always viewed Luke as being invincible and yet he sits tied to a chair with a gun aimed at directly at his head, a second away from being shot and killed. “No, no,” I hear myself begging as I close my eyes again only for Sergio to pull my hair back to force my eyes open to stare back at the TV where Luke sits with his eyes closed. His eyes closed, awaiting for the bullet to violently steal his life away from him. “Not Luke, no,” tears begin to streak down my face in forced acceptance of what is to happen, to him and then to me.

After a long agonizing minute, a broad smile spreads across Max’s bearded face as he presses the black trigger and a loud explosive gun shot rings out as the TV abruptly turns black and the lights flicker off. “Damn it!” Sergio cusses, “They cut the electricity!”

“Well Serg,” Steel says as he walks behind us and to the window, “we know this place better than them. We’re at the advantage, not them.”

“Yeah, but they could have waited a second later so we could see his cousin getting shot, the blood and the death glare,” Sergio laughs behind me, “anyone comin’? I want to pull my own trigger.”

Steel snorts at the window. “Not yet, but I agree with you. I say we do it now,” he says as he moves away from the window, “that way we both can go out and help the others. Instead of being sitting targets as we now are.”

Silence slowly builds within the dark farm house as Steel’s dark shadow moves out into the kitchen as harsh emotions violently rush through me while I stare at the dark television screen. For a moment, my mind rewinds back several years ago, before he had joined the Marines and had gone to war, of how I remember Luke being. Strong and protective. Smart and bold. Someone who I had looked up to and enjoyed being with. War had changed him, as it would anyone. He was still smart, strong, bold, and perhaps still a little protective, though he was different. He was more distant and quiet and within the first few months upon arriving home, had insisted on being left alone. He had began to slowly open up within the past year, slowly accepting the old life he had left behind, accepting for once, that he was safe from harm from gunfire and ambushes as the one he had been so badly injured in. Feeling safe and protected, he was proved how wrong he had been when he had gotten shot upon exiting The General. And now he is violently shot and killed because I had failed to shoot and kill the FBI agent I had been instructed and shown how to shoot. I had Luke killed.

***GARRETT DUKE***

Leaning tiredly against the thick trunk of a large tree, I silently take in several dark shadowy figures that fight continues to fight back and forth, using guns, knives, and their fists to defend themselves. Several more dark shadowy figures lie upon the muddy ground, a few lay motionless while a couple dark figures twitches every so often. The dead and the wounded. Watching them, my mind falls back upon Knoxville and the several battles my friends and I had went through with rival gangs, battles that had killed several friends while wounding several more over the years. Un-consciencely, my hand slowly raises to my neck to begin nervously tracing my thick and ugly scar that runs up and down my neck as flash backs vividly displays in the back of my mind. Flashbacks of the time I had been cornered into a dark alley by a couple of opposing gang members, carrying large and sharp fighting knives while I had struggled to defend myself with my bare fists. Chills rush rapidly down my back as I am reminded of how close I had come to dying at the hands of the enemy, of the pain and fear they had instilled within my injured body as I had spent several months in the hospital due to their beating. Of the nightmares that continues to plague my dreams of that horrorific night.

Abruptly a muffled gun shot erupts nearby to drag my thoughts and attention away from my own battle wounds to once again scanning the large open land that lies ahead of me. As another gun shot is fired, my attention is drawn upon the small wooden shed that lies several feet away from the old house, as two dark shadows escapes from within. One dark shadow chasing the other with a gun aiming at the running target ahead of him, the first shadow seems to nervously glance around his surroundings as he runs. Taking a deep breath, I watch them momentarily as they run before I slowly walk behind the tree line until I am even with the back of the old shack looking house where it lies empty of all the fighting or of anyone. The windows that had at first shined brightly with light has now faded into pure and evil darkness, a dark shadow of a body slowly crosses along the double windows near the back door, looking out for a long moment before backing away and disappearing.

“Ready or not,” I whisper to myself as I slowly grab the black hand gun out of the waist of my pants, the gun I had stolen from the sheriff in order to escape. Glancing back at the fighting dark shadows and then at the dark house, I quickly run from behind the trees to the cement steps that leads a couple of feet up and to the spring back door. Taking a deep breath to control my emotions and my breathing, I peer into the screen and into the darkness to find the dark shadow figure standing several feet away; his back turned to me. Grabbing the small handle, I slowly and silently open the door a foot and a half open in order to squeeze myself in sideways before slowly and silently closing it. The dark shadow remains standing in the door way as I find myself in a small dark kitchen as I quickly walk behind the tip toe to a shelf to hide momentarily behind it. I watch the dark figure cautiously, taking in the man’s weight and height as the man remains oblivious to me as he stares into the other room, his arms seeming to be held across his chest. After a short moment, his large and muscular arms drop to his sides and abruptly chills race up and down my body in fear the sight of a large and sharp knife held tightly in his right hand to send my thoughts back to the night I had almost been killed by a knife.

Once more, I take a deep breath while I attempt to push my fears, thoughts, and emotions behind me while reminding myself of my plan and what I am about to do. Counting silently to five in my head, I slowly and silently arise from crouching behind a counter by the door to slowly tip toe to the entrance to stand a foot behind the gang member. Holding my breath, I boldly tap him on his left strong shoulder and he makes a silent noise in surprise as he begins to turn around. As he turns around to face me, I abruptly knock him on the head with the butt of the sheriff’s gun to force a small grunting noise to escape from him as his thick body crumples to the ground. I give him a couple of swift kicks to ensure that he’s un-conscience before stepping on his hand with the knife, using all my weight to unlock his hold upon the knife. My foot remaining on his broken hand, I slowly bend over to grab the knife and back farther into the kitchen before opening a cupboard to find it to store large and thick sacks, looking to be money bags from a bank or so. Silently, I shove the knife back to be hidden amongst the stolen goods before slowly and carefully closing the door to not give away my hiding place.

“Steel,” a thick male’s voice comes from the other room, “you see anything?”

Biting my lip, I step over Steel’s still body to slowly study the dark room, allowing my eyes to continue to adjust to the dark house.  A closed wooden door lies to my right, just outside of the kitchen and a couple of feet away from the fallen gang member, while a couch sits several feet away with a man’s head sticking up and looking away. As the other gang member slowly turns his head, I quickly fall to my stomach and begin to push my way over to the couch, once again focusing on my breathing to relax it in order for him not to hear me. “Steel?” the man asks, his voice thick with concern as he looks towards the kitchen, “You in there? You see anything?” Silence once again returns as I rethink my plan to take out the muscular man that sits in front of me on the couch. A loud wheezy sound comes audible, sounding a few feet ahead of me. “Steel!” the gang member becomes panic, anxiety thick in his voice.

“Perhaps Steel,” another voices responds somewhere near the other gang member to send chills through me at the thought of facing two gang members at the same time. Something I hadn’t accounted on. “Got smart,” he coughs harshly for a moment and I realize that it is from him the wheezing is coming from, “and ran away. You all will never -“ The gang member turns away from the door and quickly bends over and a moment later a yell erupts from the other person who had been talking, to cut him off.

“Shut-up, Duke!” the gang member yells to inform me that it is either Bo or Luke, and not a gang member. “You say one more thing, you’ll be watching the kid die. Not bad enough you had your cousin killed, next will be the kid. Right next to you. Got it?” After a moment as Bo or Luke doesn’t respond, the gang member moves in his seat and is quickly followed by another cry of pain. “I asked, you got it?”

“I got it,” he slowly responds before falling into coughing once more, when the coughing resides, the wheezing worsens as he struggles to breathe and I’m quickly reminded of what my dad had said about my twin. That he was born with under developed lungs and bad asthma. Meaning his prisoner is Bo and probably the kid he is threatening, the agent’s kid.

“Great,” the gang member hisses as he leans back in the couch, his pressure momentarily leaning up against me before I quickly move away. “Steel!” he yells back, leaning forward the couch, looking back towards the kitchen before he nervously glances down to where I assume Bo and the kid are sitting.

Silently counting to five again, I slowly come to a kneeling position before slowly standing with the gun above my head to grab his attention. Just as he turns to look at me, surprise and fear enter his eyes as he sees me, I quickly and forcefully bring the butt of the gun harshly onto his head. He yells out in pain and surprise as his body falls over and on top of Bo before rolling over and falling onto the ground. Bo cries breathlessly out as he falls from his knees and onto his stomach with the pressure of the falling body and through the darkness, I see that his hands are tied tightly together behind his back as is his feet together before the thick cord or rope his tied hands tightly to his tied feet.

“Shhhh. It’s OK. I’m here to help,” I whisper as I run around the couch and find the boy’s dark shadow sitting up, leaning back against the couch, his arms tied behind him. For a short moment I eye Bo lying on the ground, tied tightly in and odd position and onto the boy before I step over Bo and to the boy. “Let me cut your rope,” I whisper and he nods as he leans forward. Pulling my pocket knife out of my pocket, I quickly untie his wrists and his feet.

“What about Bo?” the boy points to Bo’s still body, the only noise he makes is from his wheezy breathing as he struggles to breathe and sounding as if he’s losing. I nod at the boy before turning to Bo and as I feel the rope tying him together I find it to be of a thick and solid cord.

“I can’t undo him with my knife. It’s not a rope like yours was,” I turn back to the kid, “anyone else in the house?”

He shakes his head at me. “Only those two. The rest went out to help fight against the FBI,” he pauses as he crawls over to Bo to place his hand upon his shoulder, “they hurt him. He can’t breathe without his inhaler. We can’t just leave him.”

The kid seems to eye me pleadingly through the dark as he remains sitting next to Bo. “Look, I am willing to bet your dad is out there. How about I take -“ I yell out in pain and surprise as something hard and solid hits me in the back of the head to force blackness to surround my vision while I feel my body falling painfully to the ground. The kid cries out in pain and fear, sounding far and distant, as I begin to lose  consciousness. . .

Pain abruptly explodes in my head as I slowly force my eyes open to stare into thick darkness to send fear and panic rapidly washing over me with fearful questions of where I am and what had happened. A loud and slow wheezing sound slowly comes audible to me while my hand comes to my head to feel a small wet and thick blood where the pain shoots from. “What the -“ I cut myself off as I pull myself to my knees, dizziness floods rapidly through me while my vision slowly adjusts. A large dark figure lies besides me, from where the wheezing comes from, lying in an odd way while another large shadow lies on the other side of me. Slowly, my memory floods through me, to remind me of what had happened, forcing me to wonder how long I had been out.

“Damn it. Where’s the kid?” I yell at the man besides me, the one wheezing, that I had identified earlier as Bo.

“He took him,” he forcefully says before coughing chronically before spitting out something, “outside. After he knocked you out.”

I nod as I slowly rise after picking up my gun I had stolen from the sheriff and turn to face the other lying body as he starts to make gurgling noises. “Not yet,” I say as I forcefully kick him and he abruptly lies still once again. Eyeing Bo for a moment, I walk into the kitchen to find the other member on his hands and knees, trying to get up and as I walk in, he eyes me just as I hit him in the head with the butt of my gun once again. He yells out this time as he falls back down, lying silent on the floor where he had been at before. Taking a deep breath, I slowly walk to the screen to find a dark shadow just a few feet away from the stairs with the kid in his arms with the gun to his head. Everyone else stands several feet away, still and silent. For a moment, I take him in while my mind runs rapidly through all that I could do in order to save the kid and free my future from jail time for something I hadn’t done. Coming up with a plan, I nod to myself before moving away to the other side of the kitchen where I break out the window with the butt of my gun and shoving all shards of glass out of the window with the gun.

Climbing onto the counter, I glance back at the still body before slowly staring out through the broken window and down at the muddy ground that lies several feet below the window. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn myself around to drop both my legs out the window to find myself holding tightly onto the window ledge. Eyeing the muddy ground below me, I take a deep breath, before slowly letting go to drop a few feet to land upon my feet.

Leaning my back against the house in order to keep in the shadows, I take another long look around my surroundings before carefully following the wall of the house around the corner. Following the side of the house to the edge, I lean against the old house while taking in the unarmed agents that are lined helplessly in the shape of a half circle. Max’s dark shadow stands a couple of feet away from the cement stairs leading to the wooden door and several feet away from the agents’ half circle while several dark shadow’s lies silently still on the muddy ground. A smaller dark shadow stands tensely against Max’s large body with what looks to be a gun to the kid’s small head, holding the agents’ son hostage in order to ensue his freedom. Taking a deep breath to control my emotions once again, I glance back at the line of agents to find one of them eyeing me before nervously eyeing the kid and Max. Grabbing his silent attention, I place my finger to my mouth while pointing to Max in hope that he’ll do something to distract Max’s attention so I could sneak up from behind.

“You think you’ll get away with this, Max,” the agent boldly states as he steps forward a small step to walk directly in front of Max, further away from me. Max tightens his hold on the kid and the kid gasps loudly in pain and surprise while the agent comes to a stop several feet in front of Max.

“What you think you’re doing, agent?” Max hisses from behind the kid, “I’ll shoot him right here and now. The blood will be on your hands…you know I’ll do it.”

The agent behind him whispers something in his ear and the agent in frustration turns around to yell, “Not now Trey!” Max’s full attention is drawn away from the kid and onto the fight amongst the two agents, “Can’t you see what we are doing? What he’s going to do?!” his voice seems to echo off of the thick woods that surrounds us as I slowly begin to tip toe against the side of the house where it remains hidden within shadows. “We are standing here doing nothing and allowing a known murderer to walk lose amongst innocent citizens of Hazzard. Innocent citizens of America! Sure we got most of his men down or captured. So what?” he pauses to step to the side to glare angrily at Max, looking back at the other agent, he points to Max and says, “ You don’t think he can go and recruit more gang members that is just as evil as these were?! Sure, we may have slowed him down a while, but trust me, Trey, he’ll resurface and be angrier than before. Ready as ever to kill more people, torture more people, and to rob as much banks and stores as he can. We got him here now, we can’t just let him walk away.” He pauses once again and his arm drops to his side, “Look, I understand that is your son. You know how much I love him, he is a great kid. But it is also our job to put an halt to this man…this evil man who has killed and tortured many and will do more if we just allow him to walk away.” He steals a glance at Max as I make it a foot behind him, right at the stairs.

“That’s my son, Neilson!” the other agent yells stepping into the agent he had called Neilson, shoving him closer to Max, “I can’t let him die!”

Neilson shakes his head and looks up at Max who stands proudly and boldly in front of me, seeming to enjoy the encounter the two agents are having. “I know that, Trey,” Neilson’s voice is calm and understanding, “none of us wants him to die. But what do you think Max will do with him once he leaves this property? Leaves Hazzard?” He pauses to look at Max and at me before looking at the agent he had called Trey, “Think about it, Trey, Keith has no use to Max once Max is free and gets what he wants. He’ll just be in his way and we all know what generally happens to hostages that are just in the way. Don’t we?” Neilson once again pauses to catch his breath, “By then, Max will be free and we will have no to little clue as to where he has gone to. Leaving people in danger of becoming Max’s next target.”

“I can’t allow you to do something to endanger my son’s life more than he already is!” Trey yells as he angrily shoves Neilson once again, this time Neilson steps out of the way to only to receive a small hit in the arm.

“Enough you two,” a calm voice speaks up from besides Trey, his voice and his confidence clearly defines authority and I silently guess that to be Mills, “arguing is not going to help Keith or any of us other than to ensure more danger upon everyone. We will listen and do as Max is instructing. No need to place a child in more danger than he already is in. Trey is right, Neilson. Get back in line!”

“Yes sir,” Neilson meekly replies and as he moves to where he had been standing a moment ago, I take a bold step to stand directly behind Max, finding myself to be a couple of inches taller than him.

Taking the sheriff’s gun from my waist band, I quickly and tightly place my arm around his neck and shove the gun harshly against his temple and he gasps in surprise. “If you want your head to remain on your shoulders, Max,” I pause for a moment, “I would let the kid go nice and easy like.”

Max snorts as his presses his own gun tighter against Keith’s head and the kid lets out a small sob of fear to send a rush of anger through me toward Max for the trauma he is placing upon an innocent child.  “You’re not in control, I am,” he hisses, “the second you press your trigger, I’ll be pressing my own trigger. I may be dead, but so will the kid.”

“Well,” I pause thoughtfully while eyeing the half circle of agents staring back at us, Mills and Trey in the center fidgeting from foot to foot, whispering something back and forth. Applying more pressure to his neck and upon his temple with the gun, I slowly continue, “at least you’ll be dead and the earth will be shed of one less scumbag as yourself and everyone else will be a little bit safer than if they were to let you walk free.”

“Agent Mueller,” Max abruptly yells out to grab Trey’s attention, “you better call your agent off of me or I’ll shoot your son, right here and right now. There will be no more negotiation as you all like to call it.”

Mueller nods for a short moment before staring at us to allow an awkward silence to spread amongst us and for a moment, I wonder about the two thugs I had beaten inside. If they have awoken yet or not, if they have, of what they have done with Bo who remains tied on the floor as I had left him in order to chase down Max for the kid. “Let Max go,” Mueller finally yells back at me, “we will worry about him after he leaves.”

“Damn cowards!” I yell back at them, “By then he’ll be free and gone. Free to go kill other people, to kill other children who happen to be in the way.” I pause to shake my head at them, “I’m not letting go of him until he either lets Keith go or until he is dead with my bullet. The choice is your’s, Max. You going to walk away tonight or do I get pull my trigger? I’d hate to see the kid die, but I’d love to put an end to the pathetic thing you call your life!”

Max’s confidence seem to slowly shed away at his life being the one threatened instead of him threatening others, of losing his control to me, while he decides upon the coincidence. “What kind of agent are you to be willing to jeopardize a child’s life? By now you know I am capable of shooting him and I will,” he hisses as he makes an effort to show me how tight his index finger rests upon the trigger. Any more pressure and he’ll be shooting the kid. “You’re not a very smart agent, that’s for damn sure. Once the kid’s dead, I’m dead…it will be you standing here with the gun facing all your fellow agents who will by then have their guns in hand. Especially Agent Treyton Mueller.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Max. I am not agent…all those agents, mean nothing to me other than that they will have the power to arrest me,” I pause to give him a sarcastic laugh, “which I might add, they already have.”

“What?” Max asks surprised.

“That’s right. I’m not an agent. I’m Garrett Duke,” I hiss in his ear, “you know, the Garrett Duke, that you and your men framed for beating that hick mechanic in town. The same Garrett Duke that you had your boy Ronnie come in to confess beating the mechanic with me to make them think I was apart of your lousy gang.” I angrily tighten my arm around his neck and he makes a choking noise as I press the gun angrily tighter against his temple, “And you know what, Max? I don’t take it kindly that someone would frame me of doing something I didn’t do. I don’t take it kindly that you and your pathetic gang had me sitting in jail for the past three weeks for something you did!”

“Look Garrett,” Max hisses as he struggles to breathe, “you got to understand, it wasn’t personal. You were already in jail for the beating…we didn’t beat the mechanic in order to frame you. You just happened upon it and the local law assumed it was you. So we just had Ronnie act like you was a part of our gang to help keep tabs on the law…nothing against you. You just happened to be there.”

“Is that so? Well I take it personal when it is I sitting in jail for three weeks for something you did! And why?” I make sure my voice carries so the agents will be able to hear me, “Because Randal over there left your hostage note in the back seat of that car that they were suppose to throw over that cliff and explode. But it got caught upon a large rock, didn’t it? The mechanic found it and towed it back. It was Randal’s stupid error and it was I who fell for it!”

“How you know that?” Max hiss angrily at me and as he struggles from my grip, I tighten my grip.

“Your boy Ronnie told it all to me after I had beaten him up in jail. Told him I wanted to hear why I was sitting in jail for,” I pause for a long moment, “he refused at first but I talked him into coming close to my cage to tell him something. I then grabbed him and threatened to beat him again if he didn’t tell me why I was in jail for!”

“Ronnie, you -“ Max abruptly yells into the open air, his body tense with anger.

“No need to be upset at Ronnie, Max. It was you that beat him up for shooting that kid, you knew he was a mess up, and what you do? You made him go in and confess. Get him out of your way and put a spy in the jail all at the same time. Would have been a good idea if it had been someone loyal and smart and not someone like Ronnie who felt dejected by you for beating him to begin with and stupid on top of that!” I yell into his ear.

“I should have killed him as I was going to,” Max slowly replies, his confidence seeming to evaporate with each mistake he realizing he made by letting Ronnie into that jail with me, “and not allowing myself talked into keeping him alive to be our spy.”

“Damn right, you should have,” I respond sarcastically, “but you didn’t and here we are. And since you now know who I am, it is up to you to decide on what to do. You either let him go see his dad nice and easy like or I’ll shoot right here and now. Finally put a stop to the man who has ruined my life,” I pause as I apply more pressure on his temple, “What’s it going to be, Max?”

Max remains silent as he glances down at the kid in his arms and then back out at he half circle of agents that stare back at us, silent and still.”OK, ok,” Max finally says as he slowly raises the gun from Keith’s head and then lifting the other hand. For a long moment, Keith boldly glances back, unsure if he is safe to go and I silently nod at him. Giving me a bold smile, he turns and quickly runs towards his dad before Mueller excitedly hugs him while lifting him, speaking something to him. After a short moment, Mueller turns and disappears behind his men and away from Max. “There Duke, I let him go,” Max spits, “now let me go.”

I give him another sarcastic laugh. “Drop the gun away from us,” I pause as he does as I have told him to do, “now walk with me.” He silently nods and we slowly and silently walk the few steps to where Mills stands now with his gun in hand and handcuffs in his other hand, “Very good, Max. Before I hand you over to Sergeant Mills, I want you to explain the truth to him.”

“Nice try, Duke,” Max grunts, “I’d rather die, than to sit the rest of my life behind bars.”

“Very well, wish gra-“I start to say, my index finger pressing slight more pressure to the trigger before he interrupts me.

“Stop, Duke! I can’t die,” he gulps as he eyes Mills ahead of him and the agents that begin to surround us, their guns in hand now, “Garrett has never been apart of our gang, not now and not in the past. We didn’t know Garrett until he was arrested for beating that mechanic. I had Randal, Sergio, and Steel attack the mechanic to retrieve and shred the note I had made for Mueller’s son. Not Garrett. As he said earlier, I had Ronnie arrested for the attack to be a spy as of what you all were doing, and talked Ronnie into acting as if Garrett was apart of our gang.”

“OK Garrett, we get the point,” Sergeant Mills finally says, “we can take him from here.”

I eye him for a long moment before nodding and shove Max over to Mills who harshly shoves his thick arms behind his body to tightly snap the handcuffs onto his thick wrists. “You are under arrest for…” Mills begins to say as he takes him away, several other agents guiding other arrested prisoners away.

For a long moment, I am left alone to watch the agents do their work of loading their prisoners while a couple more are on phones, most likely calling for an ambulance and another form of transportation to transport the prisoners to jail. “Garrett,” a male’s voice speaks my name from behind me while a hand lands upon my shoulder and I slowly turn around to face a younger agent with dark blond hair in a crew cut and intense green eyes looking at me. “I’m Agent Neilson. The one that spotted you. You were terrific there!”

I nod in appreciation. “Thanks. I had to do something…anything was better than sitting in jail for something I didn’t do. Plus, anyone willing to hurt an innocent child as that, just makes me mad,” I shake my head in disbelief, “but you did great yourself. If you didn’t step up like that, I don’t know how I would have snuck up behind him like that. Thanks. I hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble.”

He shakes his head. “I doubt that. Mueller thanked me on his way out with Keith,” he pauses as he glances around at the wounded and dead that lies upon the ground, making it look like a battle ground, “sad it came down to this. Three of their’s died, two were injured. Of what we know so far. We had one agent killed and two badly injured, plus their hostages.”

I nod as I am slowly reminded of the two gang members I had fought inside of the house, of Bo lying tied in the odd and uncomfortable position they had tied him in. Of his losing battle to breathe. “Damn it. Here. It’s the sheriff’s gun I had snuck out of his holster to escape from the car,” I hand him the gun and he nods while taking it from me, “and I almost forgot,” I pause to point to the house, “there are two more members inside the house that I fought. I left them untied and un-conscience when I left the house for Max as well as Bo who is tied up tightly in a thick cord. I couldn’t cut it as I did Keith’s rope with my pocket knife.”

He nods his appreciation at me as he turns and waves a couple of agents over and as they approach, he informs them what I had just told him. “Ok we’ll get on it,” one of them says as they turn to leave, talking a couple other agents into joining them.

“Thanks, Garrett,” he sighs as he motions me to follow him, “I’m instructed to keep my eye on you. Under law, you are still under arrest,” as I eye him questionably in defense, he puts a hand up to stop me and says, “They still have to check Max’s story out. He’s a good liar, but there is no need for you to do all this if you were apart of his gang unless there was a fight amongst you two,” he pauses, “but also on the charges that were brought to you while you were in Knoxville. Those we have no control over, so most likely, when all said and done, you’ll be serving your time back in Knoxville.”

“Great,” I say sarcastically as I follow him through the bushes and trees to their parked cars where the local law sit in one with the back seat crowded with Max and a couple other members of the gang. The other car holds two members with an open seat. “Please say I’m not sitting next to them.”

“Most likely not. They called in for a couple of ambulances and for someone to get another car down here,” Neilson replies as Mueller and his son quickly approaches us.

“Thank-you so much for your bravery, Garrett,” Mueller says enthusiastically, “if not for you,” he goes quiet, “well I don’t want to think of what would have happened. Thank-you so much for saving Keith’s life.”

“As I told Neilson here, I wasn’t going to sit in jail for something I didn’t do and to see someone even think of hurting an innocent child, makes me mad,” I respond as I smile down at Keith, “Glad I was able to help. For a moment there I was beginning to think it wouldn’t work.”

“Thank-you, mister,” Keith smiles up at me, his innocent face bruised and cut, his green eyes sparkle with hope, “Did you get Bo out? Is he OK…he can’t breathe without his medicine.”

“It’s Garrett, not mister,” I smile at him, “I don’t know where Bo is right now. I didn’t go in for him, but Agent Neilson had a couple of guys go check on him and to help him out.”

He nods with a forced smile. “OK. Good,” he finally responds before he steps away from his dad to give me a hug, “thank-you.”

“Anytime,” I respond as Sergeant Mills slowly joins us to nod at Mueller who say something to Keith and slowly walks away. “Hi again, Sergeant.”

He nods. “Thanks Neilson, I got it from here,” he slowly speaks up and Neilson pats me on the back as he walks back to the tree line. “Well Garrett, you helped us out of a tight spot there. Thank-you. You are damn lucky you succeeded in helping Keith and not killing him,” he pauses shortly, “and you have given us some more doubt on your own innocence in this matter as well. Guess it works out for both parties…all except Max and his gang.”

I nod slowly as a loud siren pierces through the silent night, growing louder as the ambulance gets closer. “Well I saw the opportunity and I took it. Makes me upset to see someone hurt or think of hurting an innocent child,” I slowly respond as another identical unmarked patrol car comes to a halt in front of us, “guess there’s my ride, huh, sergeant?”

He eyes me for a long moment and then at the car as an young agent dressed in jeans and button up shirt slowly steps out to take in his surroundings. “For now. We have some issues to go through and then perhaps we can work through a deal of some sort. Your actions should be rewards someway,” he forces a smile at me, his thick creamy green eyes go from cold and hard to a hint of warmth and kindness in them before the smile disappears and the same hardened look enters his eyes.