The Late Doc Walker

[pendragon1980]

(I tried this RR several years ago, and it fell flat the disappeared during one of the times one of the Coltranes tripped the server cord. Let's see what happeans second go round)

This is definitely NOT one of the perks of the job Dr. Chance Walker thought as she drive her black Bronco thought the muddy back roads of Hazzard County. Recent rains had left the dirt roads slick with mud and pocketed with water filled potholes. And each and every time the Bronco struck one of those potholes, Chance had to wince and glance over at her precious cargo. The over-sized cooler sat on her passenger seat, currently shielded by the sun by her brown leather motorcycle jacket, seemed ordinary enough, unless one took into consideration the red medical symbol painted on the side, or the contents.

Blood from Capital City blood bank was a precious and much needed gift indeed, especially to a rural backwater clinic like Chance s. As a physician, Chance kept a stock of whole blood at the office, in case of emergencies. However, as Hazzard s ONLY licensed physician, she was the only one able to pick up the blood supply. Such are the disadvantages of running the sole medical office in town. Sure, she could have asked her friends, the Dukes, to pick up the supply and taken written orders from her along with them, but the thought of Rosco pulling them over and the resulting probably pursuit and explanation of them carrying over two gallons of whole blood in the General Lee frankly made her cringe. She was already risking enough by transporting the blood in the heat of the day and the constant bouncing around of the SUV s unforgivable suspension. So this was why Chance was making fast tracks back to town.

Another deep pothole, another teeth-clenching bump caused another worried sideward glance. But this time when Chance brought her eyes back up to the road, she caught a fleeting shadow as something dashed across the road in front of the truck. Slamming on the brakes , Chance flung her arm out to brace the cooler from hitting the floor. She gritted her teeth as the Bronco slid several inches in the mud before coming to a halt. After taking a steadying breath and muttering something fairly unprintable, she got out of the car, wondering what she had almost struck. A deer perhaps? There were certainly enough of them back in the swampy area Chance had been driving through.

Several minutes went by without Chance seeing anything, so she turned back to return to the car. After all, with the blood sitting there in the heat, even with the cooler, time was valuable. That when a slight but determined tug on her sleeve caused the young doctor to jump. Turning quickly, Chance looked down to find herself face to face with a young Hispanic boy, about twelve years old, she would have wagered. His clothes were dirty and worn, but had a steady handmade look about them. His deep brown eyes matched his hair and his skin was only a shade or two lighter. He was thin, but healthy.

Even as Chance studied the boy, he reaches up and tugged on her sleeve again, this time harder and more persistently.

“Are you hurt?†Chance s inquiry was automatic for her line of work.

But what came from the boy s mouth was a steady, rapid stream of Spanish.

Uh oh, Chance thought. Spanish wasn t s language she knew and she momentarily regretted taking classical Latin in college instead. But now she did know who she was talking to, somewhat. It wasn t an unknown face in Hazzard that Mexican aliens sought the safety of the impassable swamp areas known by the locals as Euchi swamp. The combinations of crocc, quicksand and the good possibility of getting lost frequently kept the INS and police alike away. As such, these swamp people were cut off from the world, usually living happily in the swamp they called their home. But rarely they ventured out, even more rarely they came into contact with civilized folk. Like when they needed help...like a doctor s.

While Chance considered all this, the tugging on her sleeve become more insistent and more anxious.

“All right, all right, What do you wh... Hey!â€

Sensing Chance’s agreement to help, the youth had climbed into the Bronco and sat there, sending off another stream of hurried, panicked Spanish.

Ok then, Let s go. Chance slid into the driver s side. Guide by the pointing motions of the boy, Chance drove the truck deeper into the Euchi swamp. But instead of coming to any sort of structure, they arrived at a small wooden dock pointed into the swamp, a small, crude boat alongside. As the boy s speech and gestures became more frantic, Chance pulled the Bronco right onto the pier itself. The wood planks creaked with the weight of the SUV. Hardly waiting for the car to stop, the boy scrambled out and into the boat beckoning for the doctor to follow. Chance never hesitated for, not even with the blood still sitting in the Bronco. Someone obviously needed the help for a doctor, so that is what she focused on. So Chance grabbed her medical bag from the back seat and stepped into the boat, cautiously eyeing a nearby basking croc. Within moments, the young Spanish boy and Dr. Walker were headed even further into the swampland.

***

Back at the dock, the black Bronco sat sedately on the aged dock. The recent flooding of the swamp had damaged the already rotted wood and the structure wasn t accustomed to the heavy weight. With a sighing groan, almost as if in defeat, the dock suddenly gave way. The Bronco was sent, front fender first, crashing into the water, becoming mired into the muck and filling with water. The cooler of blood was slammed against the dashboard, the force of the impact causing it to open and spill the plastic containers over the seats and floor. A couple opened as a result, staining the seats, floor, not to mention Chance s forgotten leather jacket with red. The scent of fresh blood attracted the local croc community. Soon a feed frenzy arose over the remaining blood packets, open and sealed alike. The animals ripped into anything they could put their teeth to: blood containers, the leather seats, and Chance s already stained jacket, shedding it in their ravenous state.

The current carried the plastic containers and cooler, now beyond repair, away, leaving only the bloodstained and mangled Bronco and leather jacket as the only evidence Chance Walker ever passed that way.

(Lordy, anyone want to come across this mess?)

[DaneyDuke]

A local high school student was in a different part of the swamp, looking for a wild plant for a science class. Rasha looked at her watch. Knew she should be leaving the area before it started to get dark.

She had been walking for about thirty minutes when she came upon what was left of the broken dock and black Ford SUV.

Her hand came up to cover her mouth, as she recognized the odor. Brown blue hazel eyes glanced away for a moment. Rasha considered maybe she wasn’t seeing the terrible scene.

She looked again, took a deep breath and turned to run. In her haste through blurry vision as the tears slowly trailed down her cheeks, she dropped the plastic bag containing the item for school. She had to stop and lean against her vehicle, out of breath and taking a few moments to gain her composure.

She heard a leopard frog’s chuckle amongst the other wildlife. She got into the vehicle and closed the door, before grabbing the cb.

Her left thumb pressed the talk button, her right hand fumbled with the cb channel dial. “Can anyone hear me? There is a black SUV that went off a dock in the swamp.†She said and released the talk button and waited for a response.

(cue anyone!)

[Brian Coltrane]

(I'm mulling this one over....been a looonnnng time and my writing is pretty lame these days. Trying to see what comes to mind here.)

[DaneyDuke]

(I'm mulling this one over....been a looonnnng time and my writing is pretty lame these days. Trying to see what comes to mind here.)

(Maybe a simple "The person heard the distraught voice over the cb" and responded. Cue back to Chance and her location.)

[MaryAnne]

Her left thumb pressed the talk button, her right hand fumbled with the cb channel dial. “Can anyone hear me? There is a black SUV that went off a dock in the swamp.†She said and released the talk button and waited for a response.

(cue anyone!)

Patroling on a dusty road about 10 miles from the swamp, MaryAnne heard the short, troubled broadcast over her CB. She picked up her CB mike.

"This is Deputy Coltrane, can you repeat that please?"

(cue Daney)

[DaneyDuke]

"Yes ma'am. Deputy Coltrane, a black SUV went off a dock," Rasha replied calmly over the cb. She then set the mike down on the box.

(cue anyone!)

[Cowboy]

"Break, Deputy MaryAnne Coltrane, this is Ghost, Im about 5 miles away if you need a tow. Im covering for Cooter hes out of town for the week."

Leans against the tow truck relaxing in the heat while I await a response fully expecting the need for a tow. Pauses pondering a moment, I jump into the old truck and begin driving towards the swamp. Considering if nothing else lending a hand where its needed. The old truck rattles on down the muddy back roads.

(Cue Anyone, hope this helped)

[DaneyDuke]

"Break, Deputy MaryAnne Coltrane, this is Ghost, Im about 5 miles away if you need a tow. Im covering for Cooter hes out of town for the week."

Leans against the tow truck relaxing in the heat while I await a response fully expecting the need for a tow. Pauses pondering a moment, I jump into the old truck and begin driving towards the swamp. Considering if nothing else lending a hand where its needed. The old truck rattles on down the muddy back roads.

(Cue Anyone, hope this helped)

(It does. I can't believe how much time I've wasted caring, thanks "Ghost")

Edited May 23, 2011 by DaneyDuke