Pulling my old car to a halt in front of the old square shaped building, my heart sinks heavily in sadness as I glance into my rearview mirror to find the old wooden garage standing dark on the other side of the town square. For a long moment, I stare through my mirror at the old and dark building as my thoughts fall back onto last night when I had forced myself to visit my friend at Tri-County to send chills racing down my back. Chills at how harsh and violently my friend had been beaten, at just how vulnerable he looked lying on the hospital bed while struggling desperately for life while seemingly to be dropping slowly into death. “No,” I hear myself say aloud in frustration and fear as I throw open my heavy door as I quietly tell myself to think positive. Cooter can’t die, he’s too tough and stubborn.  “Damn it,” I hiss as I close my door to turn towards the old garage to get a better look at it as old memories flash behind my eyes, of all the times I had spent there hanging out with Cooter to enforce the fear to grow within me. Fear of losing my friend to such horrible violence, fear of losing what I once had, and fear of what the future may hold for Hazzard.

Sighing heavily, I force myself to slowly turn around to step up on the curb and walk up to the cement stairs to gradually walk into the lobby of the bank to find several people already lined up at the several tellers. Checking my pocket once more for the check I had received yesterday for a couple of long weeks of hard work, I finally find the smaller line to line up in. “Hey Brodie,” Mr. Raymond Larns slowly turns around to face me as he slowly scans me with tired green eyes, “how’s it going?”

I shrug silently while everyone’s silent conversations seem to echo off of the walls and flooring to draw anxiety throughout my tense body as I force a smile at my father’s friend and the man who had occasionally watched me while I was growing up. “Things have been better,” I finally respond as he glances over my shoulder to draw my attention out into the sunny day to find an new vehicle just outside, parked illegally alongside the curb. Looking back at Raymond, I continue, “to be honest.”

He nods understandably at me. “Yeah. I’m sorry to hear about Cooter,” he slowly continues, his interest remaining upon the illegally parked car, “it’s hard to believe anyone would want to harm Cooter, not alone that bad.”

“I don’t understand -“

”Everyone stop what you are doing,” a loud authoritive voice interrupts me and I slowly turn around to find several men lined up at the door, all waving guns around, “hands up. Everyone listens to us and no one gets hurt. Understood?”

Fear abruptly explodes within me as I scan the masked men with the guns as my mind returns to Cooter, wandering if this was the last thing he had seen before he was captured by the dark world of his coma. Taking my eyes off of the gun men, I glance around the bank to find everyone with wild and fear-filled eyes as they raise their hands in obedience of what they were told to do, including the bankers behind the counter. I slowly raise my own hands as I glance back at the gun men to find them separating from one another as the door behind them opens and a tall broad shoulder masked man emerges with a young boy held in front of him. Anger explodes violently within me as I eye the small boy looking to be five or six years old, his bright eyes held wide in terror as the black hand gun is held tightly against his head. “Anyone moves or makes one small mistake,” the lead gun man says, his voice is thick with authority and power, “I’ll be pulling this trigger and it’d be y’all who’ll be responsible for the death of this cute boy.”

Silence quickly follows his harsh and threatening statement as my attention remains on the boy as my mind falls into thoughts of all that they’ve put the boy through so far and how he must be feeling. For a moment my mind attempts to find some hope and answer on how to save the boy from the gun that is pressed against his head before my thoughts are interrupted by reality. “You all heard the boss,” another masked man yells out as they all begin to spread out around the room, “so now you are to listen and listen well. As he said, it will only take one small mistake for him to pull the trigger. Understand?” he pauses to look around the room, “Good. We are now walking around the room with bags, you are to place any money or anything of value within it. And -“ he points to the child, “don’t try to hide anything. You will be searched after you place your valuables in there, we find something missed and I don’t have to remind you of what will happen. Once we reach the counter, the tellers are to place all the money in the volt there in our bags as well as any valuables on yourself. You all are to have your hands up until we get to you and then you are to raise them back up once we leave you. . .we don’t want to hear a sound from any one of you.”

I watch in horror as each of the gun men begin to move towards us as the man seeming to be in charge, the man with the boy, remains standing near the doors while watching intently as his men perform their work. Question flood rapidly through me as I recall Jesse’s interpretation of the man Rosco had arrested for Cooter’s beating as I watch the men search people for their valuables and money. Is it only coincidence that the Duke had badly beaten Cooter a couple of days ago and now these men are violently robbing the bank? Or was Garrett teamed up with these guys and was the only one caught in the act of the beating? Or is his sister and him telling the truth when they had said he didn’t beat Cooter, but had went in to pay for gas and found Cooter?  “You blind or something?” abruptly I am thrown out of my thoughts and questions as the cold metal barrel of the gun is pressed against my forehead and I look up to find a muscular masked man to be standing in front of me. “It’s your turn.”

I nod numbly as I slowly lower my hands to reach into my pocket to throw in my wallet before I raise my hands and as they search my pockets and the legs of my pants, I bite my tongue to hold back from yelling out at him in anger. Standing up from searching my pant leg, he winks at me from under the mask before he reaches Raymond who wildly eyes the man in terror as the man says something to him as well. Raymond nods before his arms are lowered into his pockets to throw in a brown leather wallet along with a wad of cash that was held together by a gold clip and a gold pocket watch. The masked man looks at his bag before he bends down to search Raymond’s legs before standing up and staring at Raymond for a long moment before he points at Raymond’s left hand with his gun. “The ring you fool!” the gun man yells.

“No..no,” Raymond cries out and I glance back at the guy with the kid for a moment before looking back at Raymond as fear grows within me, “you can’t take that. That was from Mary.” My heart is gripped with sadness as I recall his wife who had always been there for anyone who needed her with an open heart for anyone and anything, who had died ten years ago with cancer to leave Raymond a scarred widow and the sole parent to their four children.

“C’mon Raymond,” I nervously say into his ear, “give him the ring. It’s not worth – “

”I’ll die before they get the ring,” he says as he continues to fight with the masked men, his only thought being of losing the ring his wife had bought him years ago for their wedding.

“Your wish is granted,” the masked man gives a small laugh as his finger begins to tighten against the trigger and fear floods within me at the thought of losing someone else close to me to such harsh violence. Violence that Hazzard has seemingly bee secluded from for the most part until now. With little thought and with fear-filled adrenaline, I abruptly shove Raymond away just as the powerful gun sends a loud booming sound echoing off of the walls. I yell out harshly in intense pain as the bullet abruptly rips into my chest to send my flying back a few feet before I land harshly upon the wooden floor to send several people moving out the way, yelling out in fear. Dark blackness quickly begins to settle within me as I quickly become fiery hot and I force my arm up around my right chest to feel thick sticky blood to begin oozing out from where I had gotten shot at. Abruptly my vision blurs as the bank seems to be spinning around me while everyone sounds far and distant, the pain continues to explode rapidly through me as harsh numbness begins to move in.

“Brodie!” I hear Raymond’s fear-filled voice, sounding far and distant and as I glance in his direction, am surprised to find him leaning over me, looking at me in horror. “No! C’mon Brodie!”

“It’s. . .Ok,” I fight to say to realize how painful it has become to breath, not alone to speak as the darkness continues to grow darker, “Raymond.” I look up at him as he presses something onto my chest to send the pain rising within me and as I go to argue against his help, I am over took by pure blackness and everything seems to disappear. Everything, but the pain and numbness.

***SHERIFF ROSCO COLTRANE***

A heavy wave of exhaustion abruptly explodes within me as I stare blindly down at the report I had typed up about Garrett Duke’s arrest as my mind continues to numbly comb through all the facts known of Cooter’s beating. The new and abandoned car hanging alongside the cliff continues to haunt me to send my thoughts back upon the wanted poster I had received yesterday of the gang with the kidnaped boy. Could Garrett be involved with someone like that? His background check had came back with several run ins with the law and the description of the so-called friends he hung out with. Are they that kind of gang that is capable of such a cold act of violence? Garrett’s background shows a long history with violence, but none of which involves a six year old child or kidnaping of anyone. His history seeming lost with fights with members from another gang in Knoxville, drugs of several sorts, and with alcohol. Not a very likeable guy it seems, but to beat someone he doesn’t know as bad as Cooter? And why?

Abruptly the black phone rings loudly to penetrate through the thick eery silence that had been building for the past few minutes since I had finished typing. Sighing heavily, I force my attention away from my paper work to slowly grab the phone off of the hook to force the ringing to stop as abruptly as it had started. “Hazzard County Sheriff Station,” I slowly begin, “this is Sheriff Rosco Coltrane. How may I help you?”

“Rosco!” a female voice yells into my ear, full of frantic and terror, “Sheriff Rosco!”

“This is him. Calm down, miss,” I slowly say as panic grows within me, “May I ask who is calling and how I may help you?”

“I’m Rose Parker, from Hazzard County Bank,” she slows down, her breathing hard with emotion, “We’ve been robbed, Sheriff!” Once again fear and panic enters her voice as the sound of crying and yelling in the background comes apparent through the phone, “Several gun men…robbed all our customers and took everything in the back and,” she pauses to sniffle back her own tears, “they hurt several people. . .including shooting Brodie.”

I am abruptly paralyzed by fear as all that she has said quickly sinks within me as  Hogg walks into the room to eye me suspiciously before disappearing within his own office. “OK Ms. Parker,” I finally reply as my thoughts and emotions explodes within me, “I’m on my way.”

“Please hurry sheriff,” she says, “they left a few minutes ago. . .they told us not to call anyone for at least ten minutes otherwise. . .otherwise they’d shoot the kid!”

“The kid?” I ask as my thoughts return to the wanted poster, “I’ll be there. Hang tight.” With that I quickly hang up the phone and run quickly out of the sheriff station and out into the bright day to step into my car. Pulling out of my parking spot I pick up my CB and say, “Deputy Strate…Enos!”

“Yes sir, sheriff,” he responds.

“I want you to meet me at the bank in town,” I spit into the CB handle, “as of now!”

“Yes sir,” he replies nervously, “sheriff.”

“Oh no,” I numbly say as I make my way around the town square and the familiar old style ambulance comes into view, it’s sirens piercing through the silence as it pulls to a park directly in front of the bank. Stiffly stepping out of my patrol car, I numbly watch as several paramedics jumping out from the back and through the front doors, three paramedics carrying a stretcher with medical supplies resting on top. Allowing them to go in first, I watch in disbelief as the reality of everything slowly begins to settle in. First the beating of Cooter and now this, forcing my thoughts to return to Garrett who remains down in the basement cell pleading his innocence.

Taking a deep breath in attempt to calm my raging nerves, I reluctantly open the front door to Hogg’s bank and am hit with intense shock at the violence and fear that is held tightly captive within the bank. Several people stand aimlessly around the empty room with a look of horror and surprise wrote across their face while several more people are grouped in a circle in the middle of the room as if looking into something with interest. A couple other civilians have found the paramedics with the stretcher, leading them to the middle of the room, while a couple other paramedics begin to circle around the room.

“Sheriff Rosco,” I slowly turn in the direction to find Rose Parker standing a couple of feet away with tear stained cheeks and fear-filled green eyes.

“Hi Rose,” I nod at her as I eye the room once more, deciding on whether to go check on Brodie or to talk to her first. Deciding I’d be in the way I eye Rose once again and ask, “You OK?”

“Am I hurt?” she shakes her head, “No, they didn’t touch me other than to make sure I didn’t hide anything from them, but they did that to everyone.”

“Who where they?” I ask as I drag my book out of my pocket with my pen, “You notice anything about them?”

“They all wore masks. Several men ran in with guns, lined up right there by the door and told us to put our hands up and not do anything. A moment later a tall broad shoulder man in a mask walked in with a kid at gun point. They all told us to give them everything we got or he’d shoot the kid, said it’d,” she pauses to fight back more tears, “take a small mistake to pull the trigger and it’d be our fault. The gun men went through the lines and took everything before making the workers give them all the money behind the bar. They shot the partition glass there at the end to make a point if we didn’t wait the ten minutes to call for help.” She pauses for a long moment. “Ron Plauster called for the ambulance a couple minutes after they left, said that it’d be more than ten minutes before the ambulance finally showed up for Brodie.”

I nod slowly. “So. . .why they shoot Brodie for?” I finally ask as I glance over her shoulder to find Brodie’s still body lying on the stretcher, the front of his white shirt is stained blackish red with his blood. The paramedics are placing the air mask upon his face with some needles while they quickly move him past me and back to the door. Looking back at Rose, I say, “I mean if they didn’t shoot anyone else and was threatening with the kid and all?”

“I. . .I don’t know,” she shrugs nervously, “you’d have to ask Raymond Larns over there. He said something of the guy trying to take his wedding ring and he wouldn’t give it, so the guy was going to shoot him. Brodie shoved him out of the way in time to take his bullet for him.”

“OK,” I nod at her, “is there anything else that stands out to you?”

She shakes her head. “Not that I can think of other than what is already obvious. I mean they beat a few up it looks but you’d have to talk to them. Brodie is the only one they shot though.”

“Thank-you Ms. Parker,” I begin to say as the door opens behind me and I glance back to find Enos standing there with a look of horror wrote across his face.

“Sheriff!” he yells walking over to me, “I saw them putting Brodie into the back of the ambulance, they said he got shot!”

I nod sullenly at him. “I want you to make rounds around that half of the room,” I point across the room, “and ask questions about what they saw. I’ll take this side of the room. . .and Raymond Larns. Make a list of all you interviewed and of what they said. They’ll all probably say the same sort of thing, but people see things differently and some might pick up on things that others missed.”

“Yes sir, sheriff,” Enos says while lowering his eyes, his voice quivering with shock and grief. For a long moment I stand in place as I watch my deputy walking towards the part of the bank I had pointed to, on his way to interview the people and to get the same story that I had just heard. Same story, different variations of it. I sigh heavily as I once again glance around the bank and all the damage that has been done, to the building and to the people that had been entrapped during the robbery. Not only had they been robbed, but had to witness the shooting of another citizen that had attempted to save another from the metal bullet.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly begin to say a silent prayer for the people that had been violated within the bank and for the safety of Hazzard. So far Cooter lies in critical condition in the hospital with little hope of awakening from the coma he had been beaten into and now Brodie has been shot and the bank robbed. What’s next?

“It’s all my fault, sheriff,” a familiar voice alerts me and I glance up to find Raymond standing in front of me, his whole body quivering in fear and guilt as tears streak down his tan face. His green eyes scream in agonizing emotions of all that now lies trapped within his aging body. “I didn’t mean for them to shoot Brodie,” he continues to shake as he seems to grow weaker with each breath he takes, “they wanted my wedding ring. I told them I’d rather die than to give it to them and he said he’d be glad to do it. . .or something like that,” he pauses, his green eyes wandering aimlessly around the room, “when he pulled the trigger,” he once again stops as tears rush down his eyes and it takes him a moment to regain himself, “Brodie shoved me out of the way. When I stood up,” he takes a step back to look down at where Brodie had fallen and a dark blood stain stains the dark wooden floor, “he was there, covered in blood. He got shot, sheriff, because of me.”

I place a caring hand upon his tense shoulder as I struggle for words to help comfort the farmer that has already lived through so much within his life. “It’s not your fault Ray…it’s those robbers that pulled that trigger, not you. Brodie,” I start to say as the door opens behind me to grab my attention to force more dread and emotion to boil within me at the sight of Bo and Luke stepping into the bank. Fear and terror is quickly washed over the younger Duke’s face as he grows deathly pale as he looks around while the older of the two silently takes it in, hiding his emotions through a tight shield of armor. For a moment, my thoughts fall back on how bad Bo had taken Cooter’s beaten and how he had been hospitalized for a day for one of his attacks. First Cooter and now Brodie, both really good friends of Bo’s. Sighing heavily, I force myself to look back at Raymond and to attempt to place the Dukes of my thoughts as I continue, “Brodie is the one that shoved you out of the way, it was his choice and I am sure he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for it. You didn’t do that, Ray. . .those gun men did it.”

“I. . I should have given them the ring. Just as Brodie had said,” he shakes his head in grief before he looks over my shoulder and I glance back to find Bo and Luke quickly approaching behind me. “He said it wasn’t worth it, give them the ring. But. . .but it was one of the few things of Mary’s that I have and of our wedding. I . . .I couldn’t just give it to them.”

“It’s not your fault Raymond,”I firmly say as I glance up as Bo and Luke come to a halt behind me and I glance back to find Bo staring hypnotizingly at the thick dark blood stain with fear and sadness in his emotion-filled blue eyes. Looking back at Ray, I say, “We’ll get them Ray. . .they won’t get away with this.”

He nods as he stares at Bo and worry quickly enters Ray’s eyes to force me to return to what I had been thinking before of how bad he had taken Cooter’s beaten and I reluctantly begin to think of how he’ll take this. “What happened, Sheriff?” Luke’s wise voice speaks up as he welcomes himself into the conversation.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Luke,” I harshly snap at him and he stares at me for a moment before looking at Bo who continues to look at the blood stain. Taking a deep breath, I say, “The bank’s been robbed by several gun men, the leader holding a kid as hostage to take everything. . .even everything that everyone had on them.”

“Damn,” Luke hisses as he places a protective arm on Bo who slowly steps away from the blood stain and his face remains pale with fear. “We saw the ambulance take off a few minutes ago,” he slowly states, his arm remaining on Bo in protection of what is going on, “they shoot someone?” Luke’s attention slowly falls upon the blood stain and for a moment a tint of fear enters his eyes as he looks back up at me, “How bad?”

“They -“

”It’s my fault,” Raymond weakly speaks up to bring our attention onto him as he stares at the stain, his hands shoved into his pockets, “I should have given ‘em the ring as they demanded…as Brodie had told me to. I couldn’t do it. . .it’s one of the last things I have from Mary.” He pauses as more tears fall down his stained face before he continues, “I told them I’d rather die than to give it to ‘em.” Once more he goes quiet as he struggles through his emotions, “next I knew I was being shoved to the floor and a loud sound exploded. I looked up to find Brodie,” he falls into silence as he points to the stain and looks up directly at Bo, “to find Brodie on the floor covered in blood. They shot Brodie,” he breaks down crying once more and I glance up at Bo to find horror and grief quickly filling his eyes as shock quickly enters. Looking back up at Bo, Ray says, “I’m sorry, Bo…I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence surrounds us as everyone’s quiet conversation seems to echo off of the walls while Bo looks up at in disbelief at Ray before his attention falls onto the thick and dark blood stain. Luke quickly pulls him away from the stain and away from us, whispering something into Bo’s ear before he forces Bo to sit down in a chair a few feet away from us. Returning to us, Luke says, “What now Rosco? First Cooter and now Brodie,” he sighs heavily as he eyes me questionably, “this is too coincidental not to be related to one another. And too close together.” He pauses, “Garrett couldn’t have done this from his jail.”

“No,” I snap at him, “but that don’t mean he isn’t working with anyone who could have done this for him. According to his past record he has a whole lot of friends with just as bad if not worse of a record as he does.”

Luke nods as he protectively glances back at Bo who stares blindly ahead of him, his thin chest heaving in and out just as it had done after seeing Cooter being loaded into the ambulance. Looking back at us, Luke nods and says, “Very true, Sheriff.” He glances back at Bo with worry before he eyes the stain himself and looks back at me with wary filled eyes. “I think I better get him out of here and perhaps go check on Brodie and Cooter at the hospital. You need any help, just let us know Rosco. You know we’re always willing to help protect Hazzard and by how these guys operate, they’ll need to be stopped soon before any more damage is done.”

“Thanks for the offer,” I nod at him before saying, “but there is no need at placing you in danger or any other citizens in danger of them. I’ll be calling the FBI for help on this…Enos and I can’t do this by ourselves. . .no matter what Hogg thinks.”

Luke gives me a small pat on the back before saying, “Call the FBI. Hogg will get over it if he don’t like it, Rosco.”

I nod as I silently watch him slowly walking over to Bo who now hides his face in his long thin hands before looking up at Luke as Luke places another protective hand on his shoulder. After a short moment of talking, Bo stands up and they slowly walk back out of the bank and to their orange car that is parked out front.

“First Cooter,” Ray says to bring my attention back onto him, “and now Brodie. Who’s next?”

“No one if I can help it,” I quickly respond, “I have to get to the office and make the call, Ray. You need anything, you let me or Enos know. Don’t blame yourself. .. It’s not your fault.”

He nods quietly at me as his attention goes back to the stain as he silently relives the shooting before I place a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at me, surprised to see me. “Oh yeah,” he nods as I gently walk him away from the stain and towards the door, “well I’ll be at home if you need any more from me.”

“Thanks for your help, Ray. Go home and relax,” I tell him and he quietly nods as he walks to his car before I step back in to tell Enos that I’m going back to the office to make the dreaded phone call.

*                                  *                                  *

“Rosco!” Boss’ demanding voice echoes upon the thin wooden walls as I sullenly step into the sheriff’s station to force a roar of anger to rise within me. Anger towards the greed that Hogg is filled with as I silently imagine what he’s angry about. “There you are!” he yells as he climbs down from my desk to stop a couple of inches in front of me, blocking me from passing him, “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you and Enos and neither one of you answer!”

“Sorry Boss. We were kinda busy,” I silently reply while sorting out how I should inform him of his bank being robbed, “your -“

”Busy?” he questions me with doubt thick in his brown eyes as he lights up the unlit cigar he had been clinging onto as he had approached me, “Busy doing what, Rosco?”

“Police work, Boss…that’s what we do,” I harshly respond as I angrily walk past him, pushing him away with my shoulder as I do. An awkward silence fills the room as I approach my desk as dread and fear fills me at the thought of calling the FBI into Hazzard. “Your bank was robbed this morning, Hogg,” I finally say as I lean against my desk to watch the fat commissioner. Fear and panic quickly spread across his face as he quickly walks towards me and as he goes to say something, I stick my hand out to stop him. “Before you go on ranting about the money that was lost, that was stolen, let me inform you that not only was your money stolen, but so was everyone’s in this town. Money and any other goods that was on them. Not only that, they shot Brodie who was trying to protect Raymond Larns who was in line ahead of him.” I pause as I slowly stand up to walk over to a file cabinet to start looking through it before I come upon an FBI paper that had been written up the last time they had visited our town. Walking over to my desk I lie the paper on the desk and look up at Hogg. “You may object Hogg, but I am calling the FBI for help.”

“Oh no you are not! That is my bank and this is my town Rosco!” he yells as he comes a foot besides me, spitting as he yells angrily at me, “I will make the calls here, Rosco, not you. I am in charge, not you. Whether you like it or not. If I say call the FBI, you will, if I say you are not going to call the FBI, you will NOT call the FBI. And at this moment, you are not to call the FBI!”

I shake my head in disgust at the man I had been teamed up with for so many years, with the man I had considered my friend and had went willingly along with his schemes in the past to gain money for himself. “So far, these guys or whoever they are, have beaten Cooter violently and cruelty to where he is now fighting for his life. And for what? A car?” I ask him as I feel my heart racing rapidly within me, “And now they rob Hazzard’s bank while holding an innocent boy at gun point and robs everyone in the bank of what they have on them along with all the money that was locked in the volt! As I had said, they also shot Brodie who is now in the ER and hopefully still alive no thanks to the men that is in Hazzard County!”

“But we got the Duke boy downstairs!” he protests.

“Yeah so? They don’t seem to be stopping any just because we got a member of their gang in our jail,” I throw back at him, “This is too big for Enos and I to deal with, Boss. According to witnesses at the bank, there were several masked gun men that robbed them. A lot more than me and Enos. And no, I am not going out and deputizing Hazzard citizens and putting them at risk either,” I sternly say as I recall his option of it earlier after Cooter was beaten, “I’m sorry Boss. Be angry at me all you want, do anything to me that you want, but right now, I am the sheriff of Hazzard County and it is in my job description to do anything in my power to protect and serve the people of Hazzard. Which means to get all the help that I can get to put this evil and violent gang to a halt before anyone else gets hurt.”

He stares at me with shock and surprise at all I had said as he watches me speechlessly as I grab the phone and begin dialing in the number that is scribbled on the paper I had found a few minutes ago. “FBI headquarters,” a stern robotic voice comes over the phone after the second ring, “how may I help you?”

“Yeah um,” I stutter nervously as I attempt to ignore Hogg who lingers threatenly over me, “I am Sheriff Rosco Coltrane from Hazzard County and we are in need of some help from an higher force than just what we have here in Hazzard.”

“OK,” the man on the phone dryly replies, “What seems to be the problem?”

I look up at Hogg who blows smoke at me in anger before he steps back and quickly walks to his office where he slams the door shut behind him. Swallowing hardly, I slowly begin to tell all that is going on, beginning with finding the abandoned car alongside the cliff to arresting Garrett Duke for the beating of Cooter, and of the latest bank robbery with Brodie getting shot.

“That everything, sheriff?” he seriously asks.

“Yes sir,” I slowly respond, “for now at least.”

“OK Sheriff,” he quickly replies, “I am going to transfer your call to Sergeant FBI Frank Mills who is in charge of a series of bank robberies that sound a lot like the one you described to me. You tell him all that you told me and he’ll take it from there. OK Sheriff?”

“Yes sir,” I slowly respond as a large clicking noise rings in my ear to be filled with a statistical silence as the call is being transferred to another agent. Listening into the silence, I nervously begin to think of how I should explain it.

***SERGEANT FRANK MILLS***

Hatred and anger roughly explodes within me to send a fresh flow of adrenaline to soar rapidly through me as I stare at the large wanted poster that hangs upon the bulletin board. On the bulletin board with all the other posters that hangs in array along the long board, posters with pictures of hardened criminals who have performed all sorts of violent acts of crimes. Yet this poster stands out from the rest, is different than the rest of the posters in the fact that Max Dulback stares back at me through the black and white photo. Staring back at me tauntingly as my thoughts fall back to a couple of weeks ago when we should have brought him and his gang down during our raid at his hideout. Instead his son got shot and killed by Mueller in attempt to save himself and his own son being kidnaped and used in their robberies they’ve committed since the kidnaping.

“Sergeant,” my thoughts are quickly interrupted by an urgent whisper and I quickly glance back to find Agent Raynors fidgeting in place a foot behind me, playing nervously with his sky blue tie. “There’s a phone call for you. Line three.”

I stare intensely at him for a brief second before nodding and walking quickly to my desk that lies across the room and near the window that looks over the busy city. Grabbing the black handle off of the cradle, I quickly turn the line over to line three and say, “Sergeant FBI Agent Frank Mills.”

“Sergeant Mills,” the voice says briskly on the other end, his voice full of authority with a mixture of fear and panic mixed within, “this is Sheriff Rosco Coltrane from Hazzard, Georgia. We have this problem down here in Hazzard and they directed me to you. Said you’d be the guy to talk to about it.”

“Ok,” I nod despite the fact that the sheriff wouldn’t be able to see it as I slowly take a seat within my padded swivel chair as my thoughts move from Mueller’s kidnaped son and onto wondering where Hazzard lies. “So what’s going on in Hazzard?”

I hear him sigh over the phone as silence begins to settle in. “It all started a couple of days ago when the local mechanic found an abandoned car half way down Rainbow Cliff, caught against a tree,” the sheriff begins before he slowly continues with the story that ends with the local bank being robbed and a kid shot. “The bank robbery just happened an hour or so ago. I just left the bank to give you a call, Sergeant.” Sheriff Coltrane pauses for a moment. “I am only a small town sheriff, Sergeant, I am not equipt to deal with this sort of thing and nor do I have the man power to confront such evil as what has struck my town.”

“It sounds like our Max Dulback that we’ve been lookin’ for,”I slowly respond as my mind returns to the wanted poster. “You say you’ve arrested someone already for the beating of the mechanic?”

“Yes sir,” he dryly responds, “but he is refusing to admit to doing anything or knowing anything about the people who robbed the bank. Says he drove into town and found Cooter already lying in his puddle of blood.”

I fall into silence as I pull a piece of printed paper onto my desk and quietly once again read down the known members of Max’s gang. Not finding a Garrett Duke, I say, “I have a list of Max’s men and I don’t see a Garrett Duke on here. That doesn’t mean he’s a new member or that we have someone miscounted and miscalculated his gang.” I pause as I glance up to find Trey Mueller standing over my desk, looking at me in hope of some answers. I quickly look away before saying, “Hold tight sheriff. I’ll be down there within an hour and a half with a van load of equipment and man power.”

“Thank-you sergeant,” relief enters his emotion-filled voice, “your help is very much needed and very much appreciated.”

“We’ll see what we can do together,” I firmly reply before I hang up the phone to force myself to look up to Trey. “Max and his men are in a small town of Hazzard. I think it is an hour south of us or so. Go round up our team…from wherever they are, and I’ll load the van. Be ready in fifteen.”

“Yes sir,” he nods before he quickly turns around and begins to walk back a few feet before reaching his own desk to grab his own phone.

*                      *                      *

“Earlier this morning, a gang of gun men broke into Hazzard’s State Bank holding a little boy at gun point,” the DJ sadly announces over the radio, “while what seems to be the main guy, held the boy at gun point, several other gun men walked through the lines, demanding their money and anything other with value to be placed within their bags, with the threat of the leader shooting the boy.” A long moment of silence pass over the air as the DJ clearly attempts to control his emotions.“According to the sheriff and several eye witnesses, Brodie Johnson was shot while trying to save Raymond Larns who was refusing to give the gunmen his wedding ring from his late wife. According to the report, Brodie was shot under his right shoulder and should be fine and out of the hospital within the next couple of days.” Once again the DJ goes quiet, his emotions audible through the silence. “All this follows the harsh and violent beating of Cooter Davenport who remains in critical condition as he remains in a coma after two days of the beating. As of yet, the police are unwilling to discuss any other information with the public. If anyone has any information upon the gang that has infected our quiet and peaceful town, they are to go directly to the sheriff. These men are clearly armed and dangerous.” More silence as the DJ takes a deep breath, “Now onto the cold weather that the forecast is now showing for the following few days.”

An evil smile quickly spreads across Max’s face as he takes a couple of steps to turn off the old radio to force silence into their small and cramped hide-out.  “These men are clearly armed and dangerous,” he mimics the DJ and laughter explodes within the room as he does his version of the emotional DJ. “Perhaps now, they all will take us serious.”

His gang members silently nod in agreement as the morning’s events still ring clear in their mind, of their successful bank robbery. “What’s next?” Sergio questions from the small card table that sits in the middle of the room, his bottle of beer glued in his hands.

“We wait,” Max huffs as his smile quickly vanishes as his attention falls upon Ronnie who continues to hide within the dark shadows of the far corner. “Ronnie!” he yells, his voice echos off of the thin wooden walls to draw everyone’s attention onto Ronnie who eyes everyone back with wild dark eyes.  “Ronnie!” Max yells again before he quickly walks across the room before he reaches him and abruptly and violently grabs tightly onto Ronnie’s leather coat and harshly shoves him into the wall. Ronnie breathes in sharply to  prevent from yelling out in pain, refusing to look at Max who continues to hold him against the wall.  “You stupid, idiotic coward!” Max spits in his face and as he goes to attempt to fight against Max’s strong hold, Max strengthens his hold and holds him tighter against the wall. “What I tell you?” Ronnie remains silent. “What I tell you…tell everyone before we left for the bank this morning?”

“Um,” Ronnie clears his throat as Max backhands him across the face to get him to talk, “to follow your orders, to follow your plan.”

“Oh? So you can hear after all?” Max says sarcastically to get a few nervous laughs across the room. Growing serious, Max shoves him once again against the wall, hitting Ronnie’s head against a sharp corner of a cabinet, “Which was, genius?”

“To go in and get everyone’s money,” Ronnie grasps through his pain to get another backhand across his face, “to leave the shooting to you. If someone is to argue or struggle against us, we are to look at you where you’ll shoot the kid.”

“Exactly,” Max nods as he grabs his gun with his free hand to place it to Ronnie’s tan face, “so why didn’t you do that when that old man didn’t give you his damn ring?!”

He shrugs as he nervously glances around the room, at the rest of the members who watches with anticipation of what will happen next. As Max hits the butt end of the gun against his cheek, he yells out in pain and looks back at Max. “Because I’m sick and tired of you having all the damn power. You do this, while we do your work!” Ronnie spits in Max’s face, “I’m done doing your work, it is about time we all get a piece of the action…to actually use our guns. Not just you.”

“You are a whole lot stupider than what I gave you credit for you little piece of garbage!” with that Max once again shoves the gun across his face before throwing him onto the ground to begin continually kicking him with his steel toed boots. “We had a damn plan and you could have ruined it for all of us! Just because you are too damn greedy and worry about your own pitiful self! Well,” Max pauses to send more kicks at Ronnie, “you put us all in danger of being caught…we still could just because you wanted the power! You ain’t worth all of us going to jail for, just because you play by your own stupid rules! Since the day I brought you in, you selfish and greedy pig, all you’ve been is trouble for us…it’s about time we end our trouble!” Max slowly stops kicking him to steadily aim his gun a foot from his chest and throws the safety off before placing his index finger upon the black trigger.

“Max wait,” Sergio quickly jumps up in time to stop him from shooting Ronnie, “I’ll be the first to agree with what all you said, but you think shooting him is the best solution to our problem?”

Keeping the gun pointed at Ronnie, Max asks, “Well I sure ain’t having someone like him in our gang! We’re liable to go down with him when he messes things up.”

“I agree,” Sergio says calmly before looking at Ronnie who lies on the floor covered in blood, “but killing him will only leave us with a body. A body we’ll have to take care of and clean up after. You really want to clean up after that garbage?”

“What else you have in mind, Sergio?” Max harshly responds as he gives Ronnie another strong and powerful kick.

“Well little ol’ Ronnie here,” Sergio smiles at Max, “has had a change of heart, now haven’t you, Ronnie?”

“Uh sure,” Ronnie grunts from the floor and as he moves, Max gives him another kick.

“I don’t care if he has or not, I’m done with him,” Max scowls at Sergio.

“So are we,” Sergio quickly speaks up, “so Ronnie here is going to walk into town and confess to shooting that black kid…and for beating the mechanic up.”

“They already got their suspect,” Max argues, “one I like better to be than our own! He goes in there he’s going to rat us out.”

Sergio shakes his head. “Oh no he won’t, because if he does his baby sister is going to have a very painful death,” Sergio looks down at Ronnie whose dark eyes grow bigger with fear, “and he’ll go in saying he and that Garrett Duke are friends. They went in together to do it.”

Max goes quiet for a moment. “What will he say when they ask about the bank robbery? You know, the rest of us?”

“He’ll act dumb…or be the dumb jerk that he already is,” Sergio responds, “say he doesn’t know who they’re  talking about. He was sure he was there by himself. Which the law won’t believe, but they can’t force it out of him…especially when he knows the consequences. Right Ronnie?”

“Leave her…alone,” he grasps painfully before choking up blood, “kill me.”

“Nah, I like Sergio’s idea better,” Max gives him another kick, “Aaron is already in Atlanta due to family problems…he can keep a very close eye on her until we’re satisfied with Ronnie’s performances…or unsatisfied.”

“Yeah. The cells downstairs has barred windows on the outside…he can hide paper and pen when he goes in. That way he can listen into the law and write it down, we’ll come by at midnight and pick up the notes,” Sergio continues, “the day the notes stop, the day his sister meets her death.”

“I said,” Ronnie grasps while struggling to get Max’s gun only for Max to back hand him across the face with it, “kill me. I’m the one that messed up, she has nothing to do with me or this. I did it!”

“Damn right you did and now you’ll be paying for it,” Max laughs before whispering into Sergio’s ear, “but what if he does give us away? Even with the death of his sister, we’ll be stuck with the law to face.”

“Come on Max. If we can take out those feds in Atlanta, we can take out these hick lawmen here,” Sergio responds, “and the feds if they come down as well. This way we’ll have a spy in the system to know what they know.”

“Alright Ronnie, your sorry butt has been saved by Sergio,” Max grunts forcing Ronnie up to throw him back into the wall again, “you heard the story you’re gonna give, didn’t you? You are to walk your pitiful self into town and turn yourself in. Say you did it on your own. You say one word about us, your sister gets your bullet.”

Ronnie looks at Sergio and back at Max. “She didn’t do anything,” he pouts.

“So you better do as told or she’ll be paying for your stupidity,” Sergio grins at him, “you and Garrett beat the mechanic. Act real friendly to him no matter what he does. And write us every day, even if it is to say you didn’t hear something…you better hear something sometime or we’ll be getting impatient. You understand?”

Ronnie nods as a tears mix in with the blood that covers his face. “Good…about time you understand something,” Max spits at him before turning back to Saul who had taken Sergio’s place at the table. “Saul, I want to take Ronnie here in to get washed up…make sure the blood is all gone. Then you are to walk him to the door and watch him walk towards town. Once out of site, take the car and drive into town and make sure he makes it to the sheriff’s station alright.”

“Yes sir,” Saul obediently stands up to flex his muscular dark body before grabbing Ronnie harshly by the arm to force Ronnie to yell out in pain. “You dumb idiot, I told you one of these days you’d get yourself into more trouble than you can handle.”

“Shut-up Saul,” Ronnie hisses through his teeth as he is thrown into the bathroom.

“Wash up. You’ve got five minutes and then I’m going in and I’ll do it for you!” Saul yells before slamming the door closed behind Ronnie.

***GARRETT DUKE***

“Just remember,” William whispers into my ear as I stiffly sit down behind an old and scraped desk after we had been ushered into a small office by the deputy, “you don’t have to say anything.”

“Sergeant Mills will be in, in a minute,” he stiffly responds before turning his back on us and as he walks back out into the sheriff’s station, I peer through the crack to stare at the men in suits milling about before he closes the door behind himself.

“You hear me, Garrett?” William asks to bring my attention back to him, “They will come in here and ask you some questions, bully you around a little bit, but you don’t have to say anything. In fact, I’d advise you not to say anything.”

I stare at him for a long moment as my mind goes back to Knoxville and my dad demanding me to move to Hazzard to be with Kristy. To get myself out of the trouble I had found myself in at the bar, yet now I find myself in trouble for something I didn’t do or thought of doing. “So I can look guilty?” I sarcastically ask.

“They can’t draw conclusions from silence. You say one thing wrong, whether it is what you meant, they can use it against you,” he whispers as he goes back to looking at the paper work in front of him, “especially when they see your record, they are going to see you as a perfect candidate for the beating.”

“I didn’t -“

”Save it for them, Garrett. You’ve already told me,” he quickly snaps as he continues to stare at the paper work in front of him. Silence is quick to follow as he rereads through the paperwork he’s had since Kristy has called him, leaving me to stare blankly ahead of me.

After a couple of silent minutes, the silence is abruptly broke as the old wooden door squeaks open  and a tall lean man walks in with sandy blond hair and creamy blue eyes. He eyes me for a moment before stepping forward and another man in a darker suit walks in an inch or so taller than him with darker hair and eyes, perhaps a few years younger than him.  Together they stand a foot in front of the closed door as the older agent looks at his file of paper for a moment before he looks up and together they walk to the back of the desk. The agent seeming to be in charge takes the swivel chair while his partner grabs a folded metal chair behind him to set up besides him. “Well, well, well,” the older one says looking at William, “the famous William Thortan. I was wondering if I’d ever get called to a case you took in. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You won’t be so happy to be teamed against me when we’re done here, sergeant,” William replies gruffly, “agents, this here is my client. Garrett Duke.”

“So the file says. I’m Sergeant FBI Agent Frank Mills,” the agent with dark sandy blond hair says before pointing to his younger partner, “and my partner Agent Treyton Mueller. Let’s get started here. First of all, you have anything to say, Garrett?”

They eye me harshly with demanding eyes before I glance at William and back at them. “Yeah I have something to say,” I slowly respond, “this is a bunch of lies you got me on here. I didn’t do it!”

“Just as everyone else we interview says,” Mills says as he eyes me for a long moment before glancing at his partner, “Trey, don’t you wish we could get a penny for each time we’ve been told that?”

“Heck yeah,” his partner says dryly, “we’d be millionaires by now and could retire.”

“By your humor, I think you get paid too much as it is,” I throw back at them, “but seriously, I didn’t do it. I found him like that and went and got help.”

They go silent as the leader writes something down before eyeing me harshly once again. “Just like you didn’t help your gang rob that auto store in Knoxville? Wait let me check out all the charges,” he puts a finger up to hold me while he looks back into his folder again. “Oh look at this Trey,” he feigns surprise, “he was charged with breaking and entering, vandalism, theft, and with assaulting a police officer…as well as running from the law as well.” He looks up at me, “That’s quiet the list of charges for a day’s work. Now you’ve got beating and attempted murder…you better hope he don’t die, then it’ll be murder.”

I eye him harshly. “That all has nothing to do-“

”This is enough already!” William yells to interrupt me, “I told you not to say a thing to them, Garrett! How do you expect me to help you when you don’t damn listen to me?!”

“So I’m suppose to just sit here and let them accuse me of something I didn’t do?! There’s no way I’ll admit and go along with that,” I quickly reply, “because I didn’t do it.”

Mills shakes his head in amusement for awhile before we come to a stop and silence resumes. “The funny thing is, is that there is a guy out there in the other room,” he offers me a fake smile, “that says you and him are really good friends and that he helped you beat the mechanic. Says Cooter Davenport made you mad when he wouldn’t negotiate the price of the gas when you accused him of charging you too much. You started the fight and he joined in to save your sorry butt.”

“What the -“

”Garrett! This is part of their trick,” William holds me down, “so sit down and do as I tell you to do. Otherwise, you’ll be on your own.”

I eye him harshly before sitting back down and eyeing the agents. “I don’t know who you are talking to or what kind of drugs they are on,” I pause to calm myself down, “because the only person I know in Hazzard is my sister and she definitely wouldn’t be lying to you like that!”

“He ain’t no girl,” the younger one says as he slumps down in his chair, staring daringly at me, “a guy. The name Ronnie Anders mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of him,” I respond matter of factly, “so maybe he’s the one that did the beating, but it wasn’t I.”

“Officer Durbank did say you were a good liar, good with excuses as well,” Mills responds coolly,  “Says you have a way with words, I suspects that helps you win the ladies over as well, huh Garrett?”

I stare at them for a long moment as anger and resentment build thickly through me as I slowly begin to question who the Ronnie Anders person is or if he really exists. “Don’t see where that has anything to do with now,” I shrug, “and I still don’t know who your Ronnie Anders person is.”

“You’ll get to meet him soon enough. The sheriff said that he’ll put him next to you,” Mills smiles, “I take it you’re in Hazzard to hide from your charges…you have a lot of years of looking through bars ahead of you, Duke.” Mills goes silent again. “But hey, if you’re willing to make a deal with us, perhaps you won’t be looking through bars as long.”

“What deal?” William asks, looking up at the two agents,

“He confesses and gives up the rest of the gang,” Mills responds, “we’ll lessen the charges. It all depends on how Cooter fares out. If he dies or not.”

“Forget it!” I yell jumping up to force my chair to the ground, “I am not confessing to something that I didn’t do! I admit to the charges in Knoxville…not the beating of the mechanic. I didn’t do it!”

“Sheriff!” Mills quickly yells and Sheriff Coltrane quickly walks in, looking around before looking accusingly at me. “We’re done with him for now.”

“Yes sir,” he nervously responds as he grabs the handcuffs behind my back, “Let’s go Duke.”

William shakes his head in disagreement towards me as he watches me being taken away. “I’m not admitting to something I didn’t do!” I yell at him before the sheriff leads me out of the room and back down stairs and back into the cell I had been locked in the past couple of days.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone this time,” the sheriff grins angrily at me before he turns and walks back up the stairs where silence once again resumes downstairs, being only interrupted by the footsteps upstairs.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *

Anger and resentment quickly rises within me as I am abruptly awaken by several loud, thundering footsteps echoing down the small and narrow flight of stairs. Sighing heavily, I stiffly sit up on the torn cot to reluctantly watch the two local patrolmen escorting a broad shouldered and muscular man with shaggy dark hair. The escorted man’s face is gruesomely bruised, swollen, and cut up to leave his left eye swollen shut and his right eye partially swollen and black. Silently watching the local law slowly leading the beaten man to the empty cell, chills rapidly run down my back as my imagination vividly draws conclusions of how the man of his shape and size got beaten so badly.

“Hey there Garrett,” the beaten man breaks the silence after the deputy removes the handcuffs from behind his back. He slowly turns to face me while offering a forced crooked smile while the sheriff closes and locks the door with a loud and finalized metallic clicking sound. After a moment of silence, he looks back at me from looking at the closed door, with a look of disbelief in his half open right eye. “Damn, I can’t believe it came down to this. Can you, Garrett?”

Anger and hatred abruptly erupts through me as my mind instantly falls back onto the interview with the two agents, of their calm and taunting voices asking about my so-called friend they were interviewing in the other room. Some guy named Ronnie. “You rotten, idiotic coward!” I yell as I quickly jump up from the cot to rush toward the thick metal bars where he stands to force him to quickly back away from the bars in fear. At the stairs, the two local lawman comes to a halt to turn their attention once again towards us  while remaining quiet. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to speak calmly, “I don’t know who you think you are or who you’re fooling, but I have never once seen you not alone to even know who you are! You stupid liar!”

“Stupid liar? Idiotic coward?” he mimics as he confidently steps a foot closer to the bars, “You’re scaring me, Garrett.” He feigns a feared look before it disappears into a look of intense pain as he steps up towards the bars again, “Come on Garrett…don’t you recognize me through all this?” he points to his face, “It’s me, Ronnie. I uh…” he looks down ashamedly, “I just got in a fight with a couple of guys. And lost.”

With a thick rush of adrenaline, I abruptly reach through the bars to grab a tight hold upon his black leather coat with both hands before harshly pulling him forward to throw his head against the metal bar, forcing him to yell out in pain. “Garrett Duke!” the sheriff tightly yells my name as I bang his head against the bar once more and blood begins to run down his bruised face.

“I don’t recognize you, because I’ve never seen you before!” I yell as I bang his head against the bar as the patrol men quickly reopen Ronnie’s door, “I’ve never seen you before, just like I didn’t do that to that mechanic, you pathetic liar!” I hit his head upon the bar one last time before shoving him away and the sheriff catches him before he falls to the floor.

“Enos, go call Doctor Applebee and have someone run down a towel with an ice pack,” the older sheriff says as he sets the beaten man upon the cot upon the far brick wall before eyeing me harshly. “You think by beating your pal here, that you’re proving anything to us?” he asks me harshly as I sit down on my cot, giving him my back, he continues, “Well, you did prove one thing. You proved that you are damn capable of beating Cooter as badly as you did.”

As the sheriff falls into silence, his words echo in my ears along with William’s smooth voice telling me not to say anything to them, leave it to him to prove my innocence. I give out a sarcastic laugh at my own stupidity for allowing my anger and temper to have such control over me, as it always has.  “William’s gonna love me for sure now,” I mutter aloud under my breath before looking up to find Sergeant Mills and Agent Mueller quickly walking down the stairs with gloves on their hands. Mills holds onto a white cloth towel  while Mueller holds a Ziploc bag sealed shut and bulging with ice. They quietly walk by my cell while they both eye me accusingly before looking forward and walking into Ronnie’s cell to make me glance over my shoulder to eye the beaten man. His eyes are closed and he lies slumped against the cold wall while the sheriff slowly stands up from besides him.

“What happened?” Mills gruffly questions as Mueller sits next to Ronnie and places the ice pack to the beaten man’s forehead with a gloved hand before grabbing the towel from Mills.

“We. My deputy and I,” the sheriff nervously starts, “locked Ronnie in this cell where he immediately walked up to the bars there and started talking to Garrett,” he pauses as I turn my back on them once again and close my eyes. “Garrett got upset and started calling him a liar. Said he didn’t know him or saw him…he had first intimidated Ronnie here to step back from the bars.” He once again goes silent for a moment, “Ronnie then began mimicking him where he walked back to the bars. Garrett got upset and grabbed onto Ronnie’s coat,  Enos and I had started for their cells, then. But before,” he sighs heavily, “before we even got to their cells, Garrett pulled Ronnie forward and forcing him to hit his head upon the bar there. Several times.”

Silence momentarily builds within the jail as I remain sitting with my eyes closed, forcing myself to concentrate upon my muscle car and back to hanging out with my old friends. ‘Anywhere, but here,’ I think silently. “He’s un-conscience,” I recognize the younger agent’s voice, “but I think he should be fine other than a headache.”

“We’ll let the doctor be in control of that, Mueller,” Mills gruffly responds behind me, “your deputy  said the doctor will be here in a couple of minutes.”

“We tried to stop him,” Rosco speaks up, his voice falters with emotion, “we were too late.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sheriff,” Mills responds, his voice growing farther away as I listen to footsteps moving to the door behind me, “things like this happen all the time in the big jails. Don’t they Garrett? You would know, now wouldn’t you?”

I slowly open my eyes as a loud clicking sound echoes through the jail as my door swings open and Mills confidently walks towards me to stand a few inches ahead of me, standing over me. “Yeah, so?” I question eyeing him hardly.

“Nothing. I was just making a statement,” he coldly responds before looking back at Ronnie for a brief moment and looks coldly back at me, “You mad at your buddy there for giving you up? Is that it?”

“He’s not my buddy. I’ve never heard or seen him before,” I respond, continuing to eye him harshly and un-blinking, “He’s lying about everything. I don’t know him, am not friends with him, and nor did I beat that hick mechanic.”

“Sure could have fooled me,” he states as another set of footsteps begin to echo down the stairs and an elderly man in a black overcoat walks down with a black bag in hand with the deputy following him. After eyeing the man and the deputy, Mills looks back at me and continues, “especially after what you did to your buddy there. You just showed yourself as worthy of being the prime suspect in the beating of Cooter. You better hope he don’t die…you’ll be charged with murder then.”

“You’ll have to prove that I did it, first,” I confidently respond while shrugging nonchalantly at him.

“Oh we will, trust me,” he smiles at me, “if we already haven’t done so.” He winks at me before he walks out the door, locks the door behind him and walks into the cell behind me. “You Doctor Applebee?”

“Yes sir,” the elderly doctor says as I hear him unzipping his bag, “your guy here looks pretty beat up, he do all that?”

“No sir,” Mills respond, “he only hit his head a few times against the bar to break open his head. The rest he came in with. Says he got caught up in some street fight in Atlanta a couple of days ago and lost.”

“I’d say so,” the country doctor responds with a dry chuckle, “but he’s lying. He lost at whatever fight he was in, that is no doubt. But these other bruises and cuts,” he goes quiet for a moment, “are a lot fresher than a couple of days old. I’d say a few hours old.”

Attempting to ignore the doctor and the lawman in the other cell, I slowly lie back down to close my eyes once again, trying to think of a better time. Of Knoxville, my car, my true friends. A chill once again rushes down my back as my thoughts fall back upon the last time I was arrested, of something I actually had done, and the time I spent in the pen before I got let out due to the law messing up. “Damn it,” I say silently under my breath as for the first time in a long time, fear begins to swell within me. Fear at the thought of doing hard time in a cell with hardened criminals as last time, but this time, for something I hadn’t done.