Author: Sam

Story: On-Road-Off-Road: 3 of 3

Series: n/a

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

Enos rarely got angry. When he did let his emotions rise, he stayed in calm control, unless, of course, Daisy Duke was involved; he’d always been in love with the prettiest Duke. Seeing her Dixie in the pond as he raced around the corner, Enos felt a sudden surge of fear. The sight of her standing in the jeep, mad as all get out, turned his fear to relief then anger... especially as Elmer, the man apparently uncaring of the damage he’d left in his wake, was pulling further ahead. The anger kicked up into high gear just a few seconds later as the image of the General Lee flying over the cliff-side resurfaced in the police deputy’s mind.

With a soft, rarely heard curse, the young officer put on speed. He wasn’t worried about the track; Enos had been racing these roads since he’d been able to sit up in a car. He’d spent many a youthful afternoon roaring through the fields and over the roads with the equally daring Duke cousins. Just because Enos had chosen to follow the way of the law didn’t make him less of a driver. In fact, he was one of the best drivers in Hazzard County, even the Dukes said so.

All that expertise was his saving grace.

As Enos gunned the engine to catch up to the leaders, he was blind to the movement of the red stockcar’s driver. The law enforcement officer never saw Elmer’s car drop back to his side, actually allowing Cooter’s green stockcar a temporary lead. In fact, Enos didn’t become aware of Elmer until he felt the side of his own car slammed, momentarily losing control of the steering.

Eyes wide, Enos didn’t even have the time to yell his horror. He merely grabbed the madly veering wheel and yanked back. Fortunately, Enos’ long years of skill at reckless backwoods driving managed to help him instinctively avoid pulling too hard and sending his car into a spin or, heaven forbid, a flip. It also took split second precision timing and control to enable Enos to steer away from death’s door, narrowly avoiding the wall that marked the end of the gravel road around the old pond. There was a wide swath of torn up gravel and dirt left behind as Enos managed to pull his stockcar back on the marked track of the race, over a relatively gentle field, providing the shaken officer a few seconds of recovery time.

Trying desperately to control the shaking in every limb of his body, Enos struggled to catch up to the other drivers, knowing he needed more speed but not yet able to control his body enough to coax it out of the abused car. Then, much to the officer’s chagrin, Luke Duke, in the black Mustang, passed him, thus signaling that Enos was dead last.

As the race left the road for the off-road portion of the race, it was quite apparent that Elmer wasn't going to give anyone a chance to pass him again. He revved his straining engine, fighting to regain the lead he’d lost to Cooter when he’d dropped back to eliminate Enos. So far, his attention hadn’t settled on Luke, but that most likely wouldn’t last.

The only remaining Duke left in the race was still being cautious. So far, the Mustang was purring like a baby cat, but it wouldn't be for long once he forced his way up to the lead and the dangerous machinations of Elmer Jenks. True, that man's car was running half in pieces after slamming and pushing his way to the lead, but Luke wasn't going to count on that car failing the race anytime soon. Elmer was just too crafty to let himself get disqualified legally and at only the halfway mark, too.

Engines revved, tired squealed, and transmissions hummed as the race tore through field and over dirt and mud. Cars jockeyed for position, staying the course, but not quite as steady as before. In fact, the few remaining drivers left in the race were too wary to get near the lead cars, hoping the old red stockcar would quit before another accident happened, especially one as bad as the General Lee had been in or as near-deadly as Enos’s had been.

For his part, Cooter was too blinded by intense anger to really be overly cautious. So far Elmer had blown up a car in Emmy-Beth's face, run Bo off a cliff, sent Daisy into the pond, and nearly plastered Enos across the pond wall, not to mention the various drivers he’d forced out of the race with less near-lethal means. Cooter intended to take Elmer down, by hook or by crook, and that recklessness showed in his maniacal driving. The normally happy-go-lucky mechanic was all over the track, looking every bit as crazy as his handle suggested. Cooter's green stockcar was attempting to keep up with Elmer's red one for the lead position he’d so readily given up moments earlier. Unfortunately, the mechanic's near-blind rage was his downfall.

Keeping just ahead of Elmer, Cooter was too busy watching behind, making sure Elmer couldn't gain another advantage, to watch where they were going. He grinned at the frustration showing in his adversary's face. The sudden satisfied grin splitting Elmer's handsome features, though, confused the enraged mechanic, and it took more time than Cooter had to realize just why. He'd been so distracted watching Elmer that he'd forgotten to watch the track. His startled eyes took in the ditch and the rocky cliff-side before him, his reflexes unable to made the hairpin turn at the crazy speed he'd been keeping up.

With a yell from the startled driver, the green stockcar hurtled into the ditch, flipping up and back, slamming against the cliff-side.

Going at the speed they were, the remaining cars in the race could only skid past, no one able to maneuver into a stop without risking a second car ramming him from behind. Luke swore as he passed the upside-down car, unable to see movement, and unable to stop to help. He couldn't risk getting in an accident with Enos behind him.

Fortunately, however, Enos could risk stopping, and he did. Being last in the race had its advantages. The police officer skidded his car sideways, barely avoiding colliding into the upturned stockcar. Without even bothering to shut down the car, the deputy slid out of the window of his car and threw himself towards the other car. He could smell gasoline, and there was a definite chance the car would blow into a raging inferno. Without pausing to think, Enos slid down the ditch on his belly, reaching into the still rocking, leaking car, and grasped Cooter's harness. Then man was unconscious, blood spreading down his face from an unseen injury under his badly mutilated helmet. Enos slapped the harness release with a little prayer and felt instant relief as it sprang, the harness falling away. With a mighty tug, the smaller man drug the stockier-built mechanic from the stockcar, all too aware that he had little time to work.

The force of the car exploding knocked both men towards Enos's waiting car, sending the young officer hurtling a few feet further than the more heavily built Cooter. Without pause, ignoring the painful injuries, Enos flipped himself over a couple of times to put out any flames, then raced over to his friend. He flung handfuls of dirt on the other man, trying to smother the fire, and finally ended with throwing himself over Cooter's limp body, using his own hands and arms to bat out the small flames. It worked, and he finally sat back... finally checked to see if his friend even still breathed.

He did. Cooter's eyes flickered open and he groaned, then swore. Blinking rapidly, the man turned his head and saw the smokey, dirty cop seated next to him, tears running down a now mud-streaked face. With another groan, Cooter reached over and gripped Enos's hand tightly, surprising the officer with his strength. "Thanks, buddy!" Pulling himself to an achy sitting position, the mechanic looked over at his destroyed car and growled, "Let's get going, Enos. Elmer's gonna kill Luke if we don't stop him!"

Enos blinked in shock, but pulled himself to his feet and helped Cooter to his, making their painful way towards his still running car.

The roar of engines sounded nearby and the crowd suddenly sat up and took notice. The race was coming to an and, but it was quite apparent to the waiting crowd that there were only two engines coming. Somehow, everyone else had dropped, or been forced, from the race. All eyes stared intently at the road, waiting for the first glimpse of the two racers still competing. A cheer started up as the pair rounded the curve, but died in every throat as they noted that it was Elmer Jenks’s beat up red stockcar in the lead, with the black Mustang following behind. Luke was apparently doing his best to catch up, to pass the deadly driver ahead of him, but he’d hung back too long, it seemed.

With a roar of his abused engine, however, another curve ball was thrown as Elmer spun his car before it could reach the finish line. He was blocking the way ahead, as if taunting Luke, and there was little reaction time for the younger driver. The crowd waited with baited breath, expecting the Duke boy to force the car into the trademark Canyon Leap he and his cousin so often used in a chase with law enforcement.

But there was nothing between Luke and Elmer to give the Mustang that needed lift. It required at least a mound of rock and dirt, a ramp even of the smallest height, to start the car in its upward soar, and Luke didn’t have that advantage as he hurtled toward the stockcar blocking the finish line. Instead, he was forced to jerk the wheel, sending the black car rushing in a new direction.

His maneuver didn’t prevent the threat of collision, however, as Luke became horrifyingly aware that he was now headed directly for Jesse’s pick up, a stunned Bo still sitting on top the cab hood. Luke forced his hands to lessen their grip; there was no time to change his direction, no way he could stop his momentum. Flexing his fingers across the leather-covered wheel in his hands, Luke Duke took the only option available to him: he sped up.

Too stunned to scream, acting on pure instinct, Daisy and Jesse pushed away from the farmer’s cart in opposite directions, sprawling on the ground as they landed, bruised but alive out of the range of the deadly machine headed towards the pickup. Bo was just as quick to react, but he didn’t dive out of the way. Rather, he threw himself into the bed of the truck, covering his cousin Emmy-Beth with his already battered body. If Luke hit the truck, it would mean death for them both, but Bo wasn’t about to let his blinded cousin lie their without at least some small protection... even if his attempt to shelter her wouldn’t by any means stop the hurtling vehicle coming straight for them.

Once more, in the few seconds it took to approach at his increasing speed, Luke flexed his fingers on the wheel. Then, with a rebel yell taught him from the cradle, the dark-haired man hit the gas full throttle, jerking the wheel as he hit the recently vacated farm cart. The cart crumpled under the weight of the car, but it had been enough, barely enough, to send the Mustang flying upward under the practiced expertise of the driver at the wheel. Luke didn’t let himself think about his endangered relatives, especially blocking the memory of Bo flinging himself into the truck bed; he need every ounce of concentration to keep the car in its graceful arch, willing it to stay airborne as he attempted to clear his uncle’s truck.

In the truck bed, face pressed close to his cousin’s, eyes squeezed shut in furtive prayer that Luke’d make it, Bo could smell the under carriage of the Mustang, could feel the searing heat of the car as it passed within inches of them both. Then, it was over with the sound of a loud thumping and a squealing. Opening terrified blue eyes, Bo pushed himself hurriedly to his hands and knees, peering in the direction Luke had flown. That farm cart might not have provided much lift before collapsing, but it had been enough, barely, to allow his older cousin to clear the truck and land on the other side. Unable to resist, Bo let out a joyful yip, waving his arm in triumph behind his cousin’s back, amid sudden cheers and applause from the previously horrified onlookers. Bo pulled Emmy-Beth from the truck bed, despite her injuries, and left her standing there as he ran to check his Uncle Jesse nearby.

The relief was short lived as Elmer revved his engine and moved his red stockcar to cut off Luke’s return. This time, Luke was forced towards a line of cars, parked willy-nilly along the vast gravel-lined parking lot. There was no handy farm cart to enable another impressive jump, and Luke was forced towards the cars at deadly speed. Seeing his opening, knowing it, again, would take split-second timing, Luke hit a largish rock marking the boundary of the racing track. The Mustang surged onto two wheels, still heading towards the waiting cars as people screamed and dove out of the way. Still going at full tilt, Luke maneuvered the precarious vehicle between two trucks, scraping the top of the Mustang against one, but managing to keep it balanced until it made its way completely through the barrier.

A bit disoriented, unsure which way he was supposed to be going and from which direction Elmer might come at him, Luke slowed the racing car down, heading inadvertently away from the finish line. It didn’t matter, however, if he was winning or losing, as Elmer again came racing out of seemingly nowhere to cut Luke off. This time, there was no choice but to hit the brakes or wind up splattered across Elmer’s red car.

He knew it would wreak havoc on the transmission, but Luke couldn’t risk it. The man might rush him at any time. So, Luke did the only thing he could think of, aside from stopping and making himself a target. He slammed the car into reverse, hearing it grind and protest loudly. But the well-tuned machine obeyed, and sent Luke hurtling backwards, unknowingly crossing the finish line before the abused Mustang gave out and the engine cut.

Luke didn’t even wait for the machine to stop moving; he threw his self from the car as Elmer surged forward, trying to run him down. Another car, suddenly, hurtled into the action, speeding into Elmer’s path. Two men dove from either window as Elmer’s car slammed into the recognizable form of Enos’s stockcar. The three men hurriedly picked themselves up as Elmer threw himself out of his own now hopelessly destroyed vehicle.

Everyone expected the enraged Elmer to attack Luke, or at the least Enos or Cooter for their interference, but he stunned them all. With a scream of pure anger, the man hurled himself directly at the unsuspecting Emmy-Beth. Boss Hogg, standing near the young woman, surprised even himself as he pushed the woman across the road and out of the way, right into Luke’s arms. Luke, for his part, didn’t stop to think; he threw Emmy-Beth to the ground, covering her protectively with his body, waiting for the blows that were sure to come from the enraged Elmer.

Cooter screamed in equal rage, throwing himself at the attacking man. As his fist met the handsome man’s nose, he yelled, “Why you son of a...” the roar of the crowd covered what he was about to say. He only got a couple of hard slams in before he was being pulled from Elmer by the combined might of Enos and Roscoe.

Luke, realizing there would be no attack, slowly sat up, bringing the trembling, clutching, crying woman with him.

Before he could crawl away, Elmer found himself thrust hard back onto the ground, straddled by a very angry Daisy Duke. She had a wrench in her hand and her other hand at his throat. In a low, angry voice, the woman growled out, “Don’t even think about it, Sugar!”