Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I'm not making any money off of 'em, and I don't have any money to give ya if ya sue me. So there. Sit back and enjoy the ride.
The twin Plymouth Furies flew through the dips and ruts of Hazzard's backroads, fishtailing around turns in relentless pursuit of their prey. Two sets of sirens and lights pierced the crisp, still night air, like the baying of hounds hot on a scent .
Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane lived for adrenaline-filled hot pursuit. It was his drug of choice. This night, however, was different than most. His target was not an orange Dodge Charger. It was a Chevy and its occupant was firing at them.
The sheriff freed himself from his seatbelt and picked up his cb mic. He hailed his deputy. "Enos, ahm gonna try to get ahead of 'im again. I want you to nudge 'im from behind once I pull ahead. Then we'll see if we can box him in. You got that?"
"Yes, sir, sheriff," Enos replied.
"Oh, and take yer seatbelt off too. Ah don't know how much ammo this fella's got so you'd better be ready to do some duckin'." As Rosco leaned down to put the cb mic back, the windshield in front of him exploded in a spider web. "Jit jit!"
Out of sheer reflex, Rosco turned the wheel sharply to the right and then yanked the wheel back to the left, falling in line behind the Chevy once again. He stuck his head out the window, unable to see through the shattered windshield.
When he had steeled himself for his task, Rosco ducked his head back into the patrol car, yanked the wheel hard right, and pushed his foot to the floor. As the sheriff gunned past the Chevy, the driver slammed it sideways into the Fury. Undeterred, Rosco wrenched the wheel hard left to counter the might of the Chevy. He then pulled hard right again and slipped past to pull out in front.
"Enos! Ah'm in position!" Rosco yelled through the cb.
Enos closed the gap until he was on the Chevy's bumper. As he tried to maneuver to the side of the Chevy, the driver took evasive action and blocked him. Enos backed off and pulled right. He gunned the engine again, swerving into the back right bumper of the Chevy.
With the crunch and squeal of tearing metal, the Chevy slowly started to yaw to the left, pushed by the Fury. Seconds later, the driver lost complete control and the car spun out wildly.Almost in unison, Rosco and Enos slung their patrol cars around and boxed the Chevy in.
Rosco pulled his gun from his holster, scrambled out of the patrol car, and took refuge behind the solid engine block. Enos tried to do the same only to find that his door opened towards the Chevy. The driver was waiting for him. As Enos raised his weapon to defend himself, the driver quickly fired twice, hitting the deputy with both shots. Enos hit the ground with a sickening thud.
"Enos?" Rosco paused and waited for a response. Panic started to rise within him. "Enos?"
"Yer deputy won't answer ya, sheriff. He's dead. And you will be too, in a minute," the criminal threatened. He fired a shot that pinged off the hood to punctuate his point.
Despite the fear threatening to overtake him, Rosco popped up and squeezed off a shot towards the Chevy. His shot missed, as the criminal wasn't where Rosco expected him to be. He was busy by the other patrol car, taking Enos' gun and ammunition.
Rosco waited and listened intently for clues to the criminal's movements, peeking around his car as much as he dared. His heart pounded violently in his chest.
Several seconds later, Rosco heard the muffled sound of footsteps coming towards him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He calculated how far the man could be from his car, based on the sound. He took another deep breath and popped up to fire.
Rosco's left shoulder exploded in a spasm of fire and pain. He slumped to the ground, landing on his back. The man stared down the smoking barrel of his gun, just on the other side of the patrol car.
On the ground, Rosco fought for consciousness despite the all-consuming, searing pain in his shoulder. He struggled to breathe, as each new breath only brought renewed pain. His head tilted to the side and his gaze fell upon the still form of Enos through the space beneath the cars. "Oh, God," he cried as he shut his eyes.
"Ah, so yer a religious man, eh, sheriff?", the criminal said as he walked around the car to Rosco. "I'm glad to hear it, 'cause yer about to meet yer maker." The man raised the gun and aimed at Rosco. "Oh, and I thought you'd enjoy the irony of the fact that I'm gonna kill you with your own deputy's gun.
He cocked the hammer and fired.
Rosco awoke with such a start that he almost fell out of the booking room chair he had fallen asleep in. He quickly caught his balance and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He then slid a shaking hand down his sweat-soaked face. He took a deep shuddering breath. "That felt so real."
To be continued… cue ominous music