Bad Apples

[MaryAnne]

Fargo pushed Brian harder against the Chevy, yanking Brian's right arm behind him and pulling up. "Oh yeah? What, you got a lil' group of friends out here, boy? Ya sit around a fire and drink piss-sh** moonshine and shoot your mouth off?" Fargo chuckled. "Yeah...I bet you're one of them. Shoot your mouth off and not have a goddamn clue of what the hell your talkin' about. And seein' as you have no damn idea what I'm talkin' about, I'm gonna tell ya. See, I'm lookin' for an SOB by the name of Riddick and he was last seen in this area. And he has some nasty wounds in 'em, wouldn't take much for 'em to bleed all over something...." Fargo looked down at Brian's hand. "Like, your hand here..." Fargo turned his grip on Brian's right hand tigher. "...now I'm going to ask you one more time about them bloodstains in the grass my partner here saw. Don't tell me you don't know nothing about them, because I hate it when people lie to me...."

(cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

A hiss of pain escaped through Brian's teeth as Fargo leveraged the bent arm higher. Gritting his teeth, Brian thought desperately of putting up a fight...but Fargo's grip was no joke, and the sniper rifle that Anderson held wasn't doing anything to brighten the outlook.

All Brian had, ironically, was his hick act. He'd play the card for all it was worth.

"Awright!" Brian gasped out when it felt as if his arm was about to dislocate. "AWRIGHT! Ah won't lie to ya. Ah do know who yer talkin' about...ah found 'em."

Then, with a calm, quiet voice, Brian added, "And you'll nevah find 'em."

(Cue Fargin' and Dammit!)

[MaryAnne]

Rosco, meanwhile, had climbed down from the rooftop of Rhuebottom's store and hurried down the road the Camaro had traveled. He saw the taillights of the Camaro, judging the car was about a hundred yards down the road. As quickly and quietly as possible, Rosco jogged down the road. As he got closer he could see the two men and Brian were having what looked to be a one sided conversation. He crept up quietly, pulling his .38 out and holding it at the ready. He paused behind the back of the Camaro and listened....

Fargo wasn't impressed with Brian's answer and sighed, still holding a firm grip on Brian's arm and hand. "Well now ain't we just a tough little redneck. Shall we find out just how tough you are when I snap your arm off? Do you think you can stand to have every bone in your body broken just because you didn't want to tell me where Riddick is? That's kinda stupid don't you think? 'Course I don't take you to be too bright to begin with..." Fargo nodded to Anderson and the sniper turned the butt end of his rifle around and jammed it into Brian's ribs.

Brian yelped at the cheap shot and buckled a bit, but Fargo's tight grip kept the young Coltrane leaning against the car.

"Now," Fargo said, "this can all be over with very quickly...you show us where Riddick is and we'll let you go back to the farm in one piece. Otherwise, they'll never find *you*...."

(Cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

"Ah can't show ya where he is," Brian heaved out. "'Cause he ain't here."

With a pained breath, Brian folded the cards but kept his bluff. "Ya see...ah hauled 'em out of those woods, 'cause ah knew ya'll were gunnin' for 'em. Figured he was worth some money...thought ah'd cash in easy-like. So ah called a buddy of mine, n' we thought we'd sneak yer prize away from ya. It worked, too...my buddy took that dude of yours and hightailed it outta heah. If ah hadn't been fussin' with wipin' the blood off my clothes...I woulda been long gone mahself. "

Brian gave a self-depreciating laugh that turned into a cough. His arm felt like it was being slowly dislocated, and his ribs ached from where the rifle stock had connected. These guys were playing for keeps...and the story he just gave them, would either buy him time...or a single bullet.

(Cue Fargo & Anderson and/or Rosco & MaryAnne!)

[MaryAnne]

Fargo looked at Anderson with a 'what do you think?' eye. Anderson gave a shrug, which was about as much as Fargo expected. Fargo took a moment to consider Brian's explanation and figured it could have been plausible. There was one way to find out.

"I see," Fargo said, the words dropping like stones. "So I got some hick trying to cash in on my hard work. First he tries to lie to me, now he tells me he wants to cash in on MY HARD WORK!!!" Fargo grabbed a hold of the back of Brian's hair, yanking his head back. "You've just stepped on a train that's a one way trip to meet your maker. We're going to find your buddy and you're going to get Riddick back for me, and after you do that I'm going to drop you off the highest cliff I can find...." Fargo pulled Brian away from the Chevy and threw him toward the Camaro, sending Brian to the ground in a heap. Anderson turned and kept his rifle pointed at the black-clad Coltrane, while Fargo took a moment to tuck the gun he had relieved from Brian into his own waistband.

Once Fargo's hands were away from the gun, something sprung from behind the Camaro yelling "FREEZE!!"

(Cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

Brian looked up from the ground to see Fargo and Anderson turn their heads towards the voice. It was all he needed. He rolled and swept one leg out in a sweeping kick, knocking one of Fargo's legs out from under him and bringing the bounty hunter to the earth. Fargo landed hard on his back, and Brian leapt on him instantly, knowing that he could not allow Fargo to draw that gun. With a knee planted firmly in Fargo's chest, Brian delivered a heavy punch to the jaw, hard enough to spin the bounty hunter's face towards the ground.

At the same time, the noise between Rosco and Anderson indicated that there was no peaceful surrender going on....

(Cue Rosco, Anderson, or Fargo!)

[MaryAnne]

...Anderson had turned to see who had joined them and then turned his head back when Fargo suddenly went down. Rosco took the opportunity to try to subdue Anderson, but the sniper turned back to Rosco and wouldn't have of it. The butt end of Anderson's rifle struck Rosco in the stomach. He then struck again, the rifle hitting Rosco's jaw and sending him sprawling back onto the hood of the Camaro. Rosco's pistol dropped from his hand and he looked to see what Anderson was going to do next and the sniper was charging toward the sheriff with the barrel of the rifle at the ready to apply a choke hold. Rosco managed to bring one foot up, catching Anderson in his gut. As the sniper's arms came foward with the rifle, Rosco grabbed hold of the gun and pushed Anderson back with his foot. The sniper was not letting go of the rifle and Rosco followed off the hood of the Camaro, now having the opportunity to pin Anderson down on the trunk of Diablo.

Rosco was now trying to apply the same move Anderson had attempted, pushing the rifle barrell down to use it in a choke hold. Anderson, however, was pushing back and the rifle was held in a push-o-war between the two. If it weren't for the fact that Rosco carried around a 50something pound Basset hound frequently, he would have lost this battle at the first shove from Anderson.

But the Sheriff wouldn't be able to keep up the fight. Anderson had an advantage in endurance and age, and Rosco could feel his arms start to buckle on him. Sensing this as well, Anderson held his push and then suddenly let up enough for Rosco to be thrown off completely. Rosco fell forward a little and Anderson shoved the Sheriff off him, sending Rosco failing back against the front end of the Camaro.

With rifle still in hand, Anderson turned his attention to the fight Fargo was in with Brian. The bounty hunter was struggling to get some kind of leverage on Brian but with a knee against his chest and his already wounded stomach, Fargo wasn't getting far. Seeing this, Anderson took a postion so that he had everybody within sight of him. He aimed the rifle skyward and fired a shot, shattering the night....

(Cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

....and the sound of the rifle shot froze Brian in place, fist raised and poised to strike. A numbing dread filled him at the thought that Rosco had been shot. A quick glance towards Anderson showed the sniper standing with the gun raised upward, a cruel smirk on his face. A short distance away, Rosco was half-crumpled over the Camaro's nose. It was a sight that would have driven Brian to rash action, except that the Sheriff lifted his head and slowly straightened up.

The game was almost over, and the score was two to zero against the Coltranes. Brian released Fargo and stood up, raising his arms halfway to show he had no more resistance to offer. Frantically, his criminal-trained mind tried to conjure a way to get Rosco off the hook...without revealing that he and the Sheriff were relatives. So far, the bounty hunters didn't know Brian's name, and assumed him for a local hick. The bounty hunters also didn't know that Rosco knew anything about Riddick. Maybe, Brian thought, he could plant a seed of doubt in Fargo's mind that would make killing a cop seem unnecessary. He sure as hell hoped so....and he also had to hope that Rosco would understand, and go along with it.

"Ah reckon you were on the wrong patrol at the wrong time, Sheriff," Brian drawled, letting his arms drop. "Here you figured on handin' out a couple of easy parkin' tickets, n' found yerself in hot water. Didn't figure you for the type on gettin' involved, seein' as how you're so close to ree-tirement n' all. I'll be damned if you've caught so much as a butterfly in the past five years! Ah suppose it's the thought that counts, but help like yours, ah don't need!"

Brian gave a mocking grin with the words, but his dark eyes were sending an entirely different message to Rosco. Silently, Brian pleaded with Rosco to play along, and get the hell out of this, if he could. Because if Fargo killed Rosco right now, it wouldn't change Brian's own fate. If any Coltrane posteriors were going to be saved, it would have to be one at a time. ...

(Cue Fargo, Anderson or Rosco!)

[MaryAnne]

"Shut up," Fargo barked at Brian. The bounty hunter walked over toward Rosco, holding the gun Brian had had before, while Anderson kept a careful eye on the situation with the rifle at the ready to be used.

Rosco stood, his hand over his chin as he moved his jaw, making sure it all still worked. Far as he could tell he still had all his teeth too. Getting hit with the butt end of a rifle hurt like hell. He looked at Brian, noting silently to himself the exaggerated accent and seeing the look in Brian's eye. A Coltrane sense was telling him to follow along. Rosco looked at Fargo as the bounty hunter approached.

Rsoco eyed the gun in Fargo's hand. "Uh, yeah it would appear I took the wrong patrol at the wrong time..."

"Where'd you come from?" Fargo asked. He swiftly relieved Rosco of his pearl handled pistol, yanking the gun from the holster.

Rosco slowly raised his left hand to point behind him. "Back that-a way."

"Where's your patrol car, Sheriff?"

Rosco pointed again.

"You walked up?"

Rosco nodded. "Saw y'all from down the road there....looked like a scuffle so I left the car and came up quietly...."

Fargo nodded. "I see. Didn't wanna come in like gangbusters eh?"

Rosco swallowed. "Right."

"Hmm..." Fargo paced a moment, back and forth infront of Rosco. He stopped and pointed toward Brian with Rosco's own pearl handled pistol. "You know this joker?"

Rosco's blue eyes flicked toward Brian. The younger Coltrane's dark eyes were pleading and there was the ever so slight shake of the head. *No...*

"No. I only seen 'em around town from time to time," Rosco replied.

"I see..."

Anderson was getting anxious. "C'mon Allen, make up your mind. What are we gonna do with him?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking!" Fargo returned to pacing. Just what he needed, the Sheriff to come waltzing in. He should have Anderson shoot 'em, leave 'em and they take the local yocal, find Riddick and then dust off the hick once that's done. Who the hell was going to care about some backwater county Sheriff? But all the same....he was a Sheriff and killing a Sheriff tended to make things complicated.

Fargo paused in his pacing and looked at Rosco's pearl handled pistol.....

(Cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

Brian hoped Rosco would live to forgive him, for what he was about to say next.

"G'wan n' shoot 'em!" Brian suggested to Fargo. "So what if he's the county Sheriff! He's as yellah as the day is long!"

Brian's voice was a mocking drawl, and his expression was one of scornful distain as he glanced from Fargo to Rosco. "Folks might get curious when the Sheriff don't return from his patrol, and mind ya, his brother-in-law is the County Commissioner. But that ain't gonna save yer yellah hide, is it Sheriff! Makes mah own pree-diciment downright tolerable, knowin' you're gonna hit the ground first."

Brian laughed malovently, appearing to be eager for Rosco's demise...

...but the laughter was feigned, and in Brian's dark eyes, there was both pain and apology as he locked his gaze to Rosco's. The last bluff had been played. Either his dangerous ploy had helped Rosco's chances...

...or he had sealed his cousin's fate.

(Cue Fargo! )

[MaryAnne]

Rosco gulped. Fargo had listened to Brian's tirade and seemed somewhat bolstered by it. He looked at the pearl handled pistol for another moment and then lifted it upward, aiming it at the Sheriff, the barrel less than a foot away from Rosco's face. Rosco felt his limbs tingle with a sicking ache and his mouth went dry. He looked at the eye of the barrel and then at Fargo...and saw the same black depth. The Sheriff held his breath, making several last ditch attempts in in his mind to figure a way out of this...but there was nothing. He wondered if Fargo would take the request of not being shot in the face and instead just take the bullet straight to the heart, sparing Brian and later MaryAnne from the gruesome discovery.

Fargo pulled back the hammer on the gun. Rosco started shaking. "Wait--"

"Hold it, man," Anderson spoke up. "He really ain't worth the trouble. Even tho' this is a hick little county, he's the Sheriff and if his brother-in-law is the County Comissioner this place will be crawling with law if they find him dead. We don't need that, man....not for what we're after."

"Yeah but he knows what I'm here after," Fargo countered. "He knows who I am and why I'm here."

"So? You're the one that told 'em that. That any reason to kill 'em now?"

"Could be. He too could try to get in my way of getting what I came for."

Rosco shook his head. "I won't," he said, his voice weak. "You boys just go about your business. Just don't hurt nobody..."

Fargo snorted. "I'd like to promise you that, Sheriff, but I can't."

"I mean it. Listen...I'm too close to retirin' to get involved in anything dangerous. I'd like to see the sunset in my sunset years."

Fargo make no immediate move to disengage the weapon and few tense moments passed.

"Look....if yer gonna kill me, could ya not shoot me in the face?" Rosco asked.

Fargo snorted. "Might be an improvement for ya, Sheriff."

Rosco closed his eyes. "I got kin! I don't want 'em to find me that way."

Fargo didn't lower the weapon any, but seemed to be hesitating. He was considering Anderson's point on the law swooping down on the county should the Sheriff be found dead.

"Let 'em go, Fargo," Anderson said. "He's harmless. Yellow n' harmless. He ain't worth the bullet."

Fargo stood pat for another moment, his trigger finger flirting around the curve of the set off as he thought about the situation. Finally he decided Anderson was right. They didn't need more heat on them and the Sheriff that stood before him was nothing more than a terrified old man, who just happen to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time. Although Fargo knew that Rosco knew who he was and that he was looking for Riddick, Fargo figured the Sheriff wouldn't care. Afterall, Riddick was an ex-con and by removing him from the county he'd be doing the Sheriff a favor in making his retirement years more enjoyable. Fargo loosened his grip on the gun and eased the hammer back. What the hell. Let the old coot go.

Fargo tossed Rosco's pearl handled pistol off into the dark woods. "Git out of here," he said.

Rosco half collapsed onto the hood of the Camaro but quickly regained his composure. He nodded, gave Brian a quick look that basically said *I owe you one* and turned, hastily walking back down the road.

Fargo turned to Brian. "Sorry kid. Maybe next time." He jerked his thumb toward the Camaro, gesturing for Brian to get into the car. Anderson came up and offered additional persuasion with the business end of his rifle, if Brian needed any further persuasion.

(Cue Brian!)

[Brian Coltrane]

Brian got into the Camaro without a word. He had watched Fargo's decision process with deepening horror, and for an awful moment, had thought that it was all over for the Sheriff. The bluff had nearly been played too well. Fargo was as cold, ruthless and brutal as they came, and had it not been for Anderson picking up on the scattered seeds of doubt, Rosco's body would already be cooling in the street.

With difficulty, Brian kept himself from looking out the car window to watch Rosco's departure. He said nothing as Fargo and Anderson sat down in the car and started it up. He kept all emotion from his expression, his dark eyes fixed forward in a silent stare out the windshield.

Rosco's words echoed in Brian's mind as the Camaro pulled from the curb. **"I got kin! I don't want 'em to find me that way..." **

Brian felt the same. But in his own case, he had the feeling his body would never be found.

(Cue MaryAnne!)

[MaryAnne]

Rosco heard the rumble of the Camaro as it pulled away. He turned breifly, watching the taillights fade down the road. Knowing Diablo was still parked there, Rosco walked back to retrieve the Chevy. He had a feeling they were gonna need all they could get to fight these dudes, save Riddick and get Brian back.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, MaryAnne sat in the waiting area just outside the emergency room. She had heard nothing from the doctor's on Riddick's condition and in all honesty, wasn't figuring on hearing much for awhile anyway. It was truly something that the man was still alive when they wheeled him into the emergency room, so naturally the doctors were working feverishly to save him. They were not about to stop and give MaryAnne a play by play progress report.

So MaryAnne sat, having no idea that Brian was now a captive of Fargo and would be used as a bargaining leverage to get Riddick back. All she could do was sit and pray that Riddick would pull through.

(Cue Riddick or Brian!)

[Riddick]

The doctors worked vigorously, there patient had been unconcious and un responding on arrival. There main concern, the bullet lodged in Riddick's back that poured blood, blood that he had already lost far too much of. They quickly closed the knife wound on his chest temperarly, enough to slow the bleeding so that they could emeditly go to work on his back.

The bullet wound was bad, very bad. The doctors rolled Riddick over onto his chest still keeping the aid of the machines on him to help him breath which he was unable to do on his own. The bullet lay lodged deeply in Riddick's back dangerously close to his spin, the amount of damage to nerves had yet to be determind. For five long hours Riddick battled for his life in sergery, but in the end the doctors were unable to remove the bullet. Riddick was far too weak to hold him under sergery any longer, a specialist would have to remove it later when he was stronger...if he pulled through at all. Riddick would be lucky if he ever regained conciousness again, he had lost a great deal of blood and hadnt regained

conciousness since before his arrival at the hospital.

As all the good doctors do thy made there patient as comfortable and stable as possible. Riddick was moved from the E.R. to an intensive care room where he would be carefully monitored and cared for.

He lay on the hospital bed, a soft white hospital blanket tucked under his arms covering most of his chest. The large knife wounds on his chest, abdomen and arm lay neatly stiched now inside and out. A breathing tub down his throat an in each nostril, taped to his fave and neck. Ivs ran into the flesh of his motionless arms an the big veins that lay there, dripping, dripping constantly. His eye lay gentally shut against a pale pale face and his chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths.

A nurse stood at his bed side filling out his chart and checking his vital signs. One of the two doctors that had worked on Riddick during the surgery ventured to the waiting room to seek out the female deputy who had brought his mangled patient in.

The mid aged doctor spotted MaryAnne Coltrane in the waiting room and he approached her rubbing the tirdness from his eyes. He had seen many terrible cases in his time and many strong patients, but never one like the man the deputy had brought in. The doctor waved MaryAnne on to follow him, an he led her down the hallway to the dark door way of Riddick's room. Machines bleeped, an made sounds of all kinds, and above them came the sound of unsteady breathing. The exshausted doctor turned to the deputy.

"He is stable for the time being, through five hours of surgery and all our efforts we could not remove the bullet in his back. Its amazing even to me that he is still alive at this very moment." The doctor paused gazing at his patient for a long silent moment.

"He has lost so much blood its gonna take a real mircale to pull him through, I give him a 25% chance at the most. I'm sorry, theres no way of telling how much nerve damage was done either. An he hasn't shown any signs of conciousness since you brought him in, your welcomed to visit him all you want. I'll be just down the hall." The doctor shook hid head, he had done as much as he possible, absulutely could. He walked away down the hall like he had said and disapeared into another room.

(Cue MaryAnne.)

[MaryAnne]

MaryAnne stepped further into the room, approaching the bed Riddick laid upon. "A miracle..." she whispered, echoing the doctor's words. She looked at Riddick laying there, his face obscured by an oxygen mask and breathing tubes. Everything that could possibly be hooked up to him, was, and the machines beeped in a steady rythym. His heart rate, pulse, blood pressure...all the vitals were being monitored and yet, with each heart beat came the next measured chance of whether or not Riddick would continue to survive. MaryAnne realized as she stood there, that although Riddick had been Hazzard for awhile, she hardly knew him...and now quite possibly may not ever get the chance to.

Of course, given their respective backgrounds it wasn't like they had much in common to begin with. But all the same, Riddick was a citizen of Hazzard and as with all citizen's of Hazzard, MaryAnne had an obligation to the safety of everyone in the community. And to see Riddick in this condition, bothered MaryAnne to the core.

But it was out of her control. And knowing this MaryAnne did the only thing she could do. She sighed deeply and bowed her head. "Lord...if you see fit within your divine power to allow Riddick to remain of this earth, I ask that you give him the strength he needs to pull through this. He's strong as an ox... but even the ox has a limit."

All the answered her was the silence of the room, mixed with the sound of the machines...

(Cue Riddick or Brian)

[pendragon1980]

(I know I wasn't cued, but I have permission to join the story.)

Chance stood in the doorway of the hospital room, respectively silent during MaryAnne’s prayer. Dressed in the green scrubs of a surgeon and blonde hair pulled back away from her facce, she looked very different from the easy going country doctor of Hazzard county. When she heard the ambulance call come in from Hazzard, she had been concerned and only one man in the county matched Riddick’s description. She hadn’t been to actually work on the man, but she decided to check in on him.

Stepping up besides MaryAnne, Chance took the chart and studied it. What she saw was grim, to say the least. Even if Riddick survived the night, he could very well be paralyzed.

“He’s going to need more than a miracle, MaryAnne. Riddick lost almost half his blood volume. He’s going to need some aggressive medicine to even pull through…†Chance had a idea, something the hospital had just begun to work with. It was risky, possibly fatal in Riddick’s case. Her eyes betrayed her indecision.

(Cue MaryAnne)

[MaryAnne]

MaryAnne had felt the presense of someone behind her and she looked up at Chance as the young doctor looked at Riddick's chart. She heard what Chance said, about Riddick needing aggressive medicine and she also heard what Chance didn't say, confirmed by the hesitant look on her face.

Curious, MaryAnne couldn't resist asking. "What more could they do for him? Or to him, for that matter?"

(cue Doc)

[pendragon1980]

"There is a drug treatment called HemoGenesis. Very new, highly experimental. They've started using it for chemothearpy patients in small doses to help the body replace the blood. But a higher dose would produce a faster, more dramatic response. In Riddick's case, it would stimulated enough blood production to keep him alive, but..." Chance took a long breath. "As weak as he is, the shock to his system could prove fatal to his heart. It would be a risk, it could either work the miracle you are looking for...for kill him instantly."

The young doctor looked back on the man laying in the bed. The chances of this working were slim to say the least, but it may be the only chance Riddick had to see tommorrow.

(Cue MaryAnne)

[Riddick]

(Sorry for walking on ya Doc. But I had this post on the brain an needed to put it down.)

Although Riddick lay lifeless on the hospital bed, not moving or showing any signs of the life that once thrived in him. His mind lay very much alive an thriving, an dreaming. In his dreams he seemed to relive the events of the day, but his mind played tricks on him changing things around.

All of it just seemed to roll around in his mind, he could see Fargo's face as clear as day everytime he relived the events. An at one point in time in his dreams he retracted a memorie from his life in New York, not long after he had escaped from jail. He relived his first encounter with Fargo, the encounter that had nearly taken Fargo's life from this world for good, his life would have been taken by Riddick's hands.

Away in this other world Riddick lay unaware of MaryAnne and the Dr. Chance Walker lingering near him. He also was completely unaware that Brian's own safty was at risk because of him. There was know way that he could know that somewhere Brian set in the hands of the very people that may very well have taken his own life.

But in this world he was aware of the people that had pulled him out of there, he had herd Brian's voice when he lay in that creek an he had herd MaryAnne speek to him faintly on the way to where ever he supoosed he lay now. Where ever he thought, wherever he lay now he wished an hoped that he would get the chance to thank Brian and MaryAnne, the last two people in the world that he had thought would be there were. An they deserved much more then a thank you, but a thank you was all that he could pray for.... to beable to thank them was all that he could hope for.

(Cue ANYONE)

[Brian Coltrane]

Meanwhile, Brian was finding hope to be in short supply. Prayer was all that was available to him; and he employed it, for the sake of his cousins, as well as Riddick's. The ride he was getting in the Camaro was one-way, and he knew it.

Brian's conscience was such, that it would not let him put in a word for his own sake. The important thing was, Rosco and MaryAnne were safe. He would trade in his own life to keep it that way. He had to keep this team of bounty hunters off the trail, at all costs.

Anderson's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "Which way was your friend headed? What's he driving?"

Brian debated how to answer. He had to stay alive long enough to make sure Rosco and MaryAnne could regroup, and perhaps get reinforcements to protect Riddick at the hospital. If the big brute was still alive.

The rifle gave an ominous click. Brian was about to give a creative lie for an answer when Fargo interrupted.

"Don't bother asking him now," Fargo said coldly. "He's not going to tell us the truth anyway. Are you, boy?"

Fargo's eyes glanced in the review mirror, staring back at Brian, reading the startled expression in the dark eyes. Fargo's face curled up in a sinister sneer. "Just what I thought. You go ahead and think about your answers real hard. Because when this car stops, we're going to take our time tearing the truth from you."

Anderson gave a grim smile back at Brian. He was looking forward to this.

Brian kept up the local hick act for just a bit longer. "Wait a minute, now. I ain't got no interest in cuttin' my days short. I'll tell ya what you wanna know without any incentives bein necessary, awright? Then you can hang onto me long enough to see that ah'm tellin' the truth n' that you get that varmint back. Then, once you got what you came heah for, just lemme go, call it even, and we'll all forget one another."

Brian paused, and then played his act further. "Ah'll even throw in the cash I got on me. All twenty-three bucks."

At this, Fargo and Anderson broke into laughter. "HA HA HA!"

Brian frowned. "Awright, I'll throw in my free pizza coupon and a six-pack of beer."

"HA HA HA HA! Nice try, Johnny. But it's too late for bargains." Fargo turned onto a narrow, hilly road. The Camaro began to slow down...

(cue anyone!)

[DaneyDuke]

and rolled to a stop when the driver saw a female standing on side of the road. She stepped to the passenger side and hazel eyes looked over the front seat occupants. “You fellas lost?†Daisy asked.

“No,†Fargo spoke gruffly. He left the keys in the ignition. The engine idled down.

“Oh,†Daisy smiled. “Then you wouldn’t mind helping me fix my vehicle over there…†She pointed to a white Jeep. “Just take a coupla minutes.â€

“We don’t have time-†Anderson’s answer was cut short by a stare from Fargo. They exchanged looks for a moment. Fargo exited the Camaro and followed the brunette woman. Anderson also got out of the vehicle when it appeared that Fargo was motioning him over.

He walked slowly. “What is that smell?†He wondered out loud.

“It’s fresh air,†Daney called politely from her seat in the jeep. “So where you fellas headed too?â€

Neither Fargo or Anderson replied. “I think it might be a loose wire or something…†Daisy patted the jeep’s hood. She glanced over her shoulder and wondered if this was such a good idea.

“We’ll check it out.†Fargo and Anderson agreed.

[Brian Coltrane]

Rather than thank his luck for this possibility for escape, Brian was agitated. He'd caught the warning glance from Fargo as the two men excited the car. Any escape attempt Brian made, would put the women in danger.

Equally of risk, was the fact that if Daisy or Daney noticed him in the back of the car, they were liable to call out a greeting and then start asking questions, which could endanger them as well. And so far, Brian's captors didn't have his name, and threfore had no idea who the interfering "hick" really was.

If the Duke women gave him away, Brian would be out of the fry pan and into the fire. He'd likely be dispatched by the bounty hunters anyway, whether or not they ever knew his identity. The difference was, as long as they didn't know....then Rosco, MaryAnne and Riddick were protected.

And yet the will to escape, and to live, was pulling at him strongly. Brian wanted nothing more than to open a car door and attack, or run for it....

....but there were two Duke women who would pay the price if he did.

Brian leaned back in the seat and sighed. Coltrane luck had handed him a card he couldn't play.

(cue anyone)

[DaneyDuke]

Anderson chuckled listening to Fargo speak with the woman called Daisy. Now, he understood that his partner was only trying to see if he could get any information about Riddick, the Sheriff from her or the passenger seat chick. When the loose wire fixed, he smiled and echoed Fargo’s courtesy goodnight to the two.

Fargo waved as the jeep sped off. He hadn’t learned anything new but that was alright. A crooked grin appeared on his face. He began to walk with Anderson back to their vehicle.

Down the road and away from the two strangers, Daney picked up Dixie’s cb mic and pressed the talk button. “Sheriff Rosco, there was two city fellas askin’ about you and Riddick just now...â€

(open cue)

[MaryAnne]

Rosco was half way to the hospital in Diablo when Daney's voice came over the airwaves. A brief moment of panic set in as he thought of the possibility of Fargo and Anderson going around and asking different people about Riddick, and possibly hurting other folks. He picked up the CB mike.

"I already know about them and they're dangerous! Listen, you get yourself back to your uncle's farm and you stay there. That's an order!"

Rosco hoped Daney would understand his stern order. He didn't want anyone to get hurt.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, MaryAnne was staring across Riddick's bed at Dr. Walker after listening to the suggestion of HemoGenesis. It was a risky venture, no guarantee of working. MaryAnne recalled the other doctor putting Riddick's chance for survival at 25%. Those were low odds. The HemoGenesis would either increase that, or wipe it out all together. And suddenly MaryAnne found herself at a crossroads.

She looked down at the man laying on the bed. On the one hand, they could leave Riddick as he was and he would either recover slowly, or die slowly. The Doc's suggestion would either speed up Riddick's recovery a bit, or kill him instantly. To leave him as he was put the situation in the Lord's hands. To do the other, quite possibly would force the Lord's hands.

Whatever is to be shall be....

If Riddick was to live or die, MaryAnne knew that the big burly ex-con would have preferred it be done quickly, and not for him to be left like some vegatable rotting in a fruit stand. She took in a deep breath and looked back at the Doc.

"How soon can you start on that HemoGenesis?"

(cue anyone!)

[pendragon1980]

"The sooner the better." Chance called the nurse into the room and ordered the proper drugs. The nurse raised her eyebrows at the dosage but didn't question it.

With the nurse gone, the young doctor turned to the deputy. "You may want to leave the room, MaryAnne. If this goes sour, I don't want anyone else held responsible but myself. That nurse..." Jerked her head towards the door"...will follow my orders to the letter. But if this man dies, there gonna be questions asked. Hemogenesis is not yet tested for trauma patients. And certainly not at the dosage I'm gonna inject Riddick with."