Author's Note: Boy, it's been awhile. I've been reading stories all along, but I haven't always had time to review, and certainly very little time to write. Now I'm back, trying desperately to feed the muse. I haven't watched a Dukes episode in nearly 3 weeks, and though I'm not quite suffering withdrawal (lol), I only hope that my characterization doesn't get too off base. Fair warning, the ending of this story was never set, so I will rely on reviews and suggestions a lot when it comes to plot. My apologies if there are mistakes or if the story isn't quite up to par. It takes awhile to get back on track with something like this. Anyway, I also am sending out a tissue warning for this first chapter. 'Nuff said.

Here it goes.

Chapter 1: In the Stillness of the Morning

Cooter Davenport whistled to himself as he bumped along Possum Creek Road. It was early morning, way too early to be doing anything but snoring in bed, in Cooter's opinion. But he had bills to pay, and towing beaten up vehicles was a big part of Cooter's vocation. He had gotten a call around 6 AM from a young fella from town who'd driven his parent's Sedan into a muddy ditch sometime during the night. Unfortunately for the boy, Cooter hadn't been born yesterday, and knew that the only reason the boy was so desperate to get the car out of the ditch so soon was because he hadn't had permission to use it in the first place. Cooter grilled him a bit, making the boy sweat, and eventually got the whole story out over the phone. There had been a dance out at the old Erickson farm last night, and since the boy's parents were out visiting a sick relative up in Atlanta, he decided to "borrow" the car to take out his girlfriend. However, on the way home a tire blew out, causing the Sedan to skid into a ditch, where it promptly got stuck in the mud left over from a week's worth of rain. His parents were due back by early afternoon, and the boy claimed he'd do anything, anything, if Cooter would help him out. Cooter, having once been quite a cain-raiser himself, promised to have the car back in prime condition and in the boy's driveway by ten…for a certain, nominal fee, of course. Smiling, he'd hung up the phone, satisfied that the boy had learned his lesson.

"Crime pays", Cooter'd said to himself, having charged the boy three times the regular towing rate. So, here he was, bouncing down a road of potholes, brown water from the puddles splashing along side of the truck.

It was a beautiful April morning, the first time the sun had been out in days, and Cooter was in a good mood, despite the annoyance of having a tow job so early. He contently whistled "Battle Hymn of the Republic" as the birds awoke with the sun and began their own songs. He saw what looked like a vehicle along the side of the road up ahead, and figured he'd found the Sedan. Slowing, he stopped whistling and squinted hard through the truck's dirty windshield. He didn't remember the boy telling him that the car had been flipped onto its hood.

As he came to stop in the middle of the road, he realized that he wasn't quite at the spot where the boy had claimed the car to be. Shrugging, he exited the cab of the truck and began ambling toward the wreck. He only had to take a few steps toward it before he realized that it was not a Sedan at all. He picked up the pace a bit, a small knot growing in his stomach.

At twenty feet away, Cooter stopped dead in his tracks. He'd seen many accidents in his time. Being a mechanic, he'd seen everything from fender-benders to horrible and fiery wrecks. He'd seen crunched metal, bent trees, and shattered glass. He'd seen blood, tears, and busted bones. At his age, Cooter thought he'd seen it all. But years of experience had ever prepared him for anything like this.

The car was almost unrecognizable, partly because it was flipped on its hood, and partly because it was covered with mud. The whole front end and left side of the thing was crushed, the metal painfully twisted around a large tree. Glass shards lay scattered everywhere. Everything in Cooter's experience told him that this was a bad accident.

It was the license plate that first caught his eye—he knew that license plate. Then the tires—tires he'd replaced just a week before. Then, he noticed little flecks of orange paint underneath the darkened mud. Finally, he stopped and stared at the sight before him as a whole. It was the General Lee, crashed and damaged like Cooter had seen only a few times before. At first this did not bother him much; he just wondered why the Duke boys hadn't called him and told him about the accident. They knew he'd come running, no matter what time of day. Anything for the General Lee. And anything for his buds. His wonder lasted only a moment, however, before he suddenly realized why the Duke boys hadn't called him. It was because the Duke boys were still inside.

All Cooter caught was a glimpse of a yellow shirt, and he was jolted out of his daze and ran over to the wrecked vehicle, ignoring his boots sinking in the ankle-deep mud.

"Bo? Luke?" He called in a frantic voice as he bent down to see inside the misshaped driver side window. To his utter shock and horror, both boys lay inside the wreck, limbs thrown about haphazardly. And they were still as stones.

"Bo?" Cooter called to the boy closest to him, voice shaking with fear. The blonde didn't even twitch. Trembling, Cooter reached his hand inside the car and placed two fingers against Bo's neck.

Nothing.

"Luke!" Cooter shouted to the other cousin who lay just as still on the passenger side. Quickly, he made his way around to that side of the car and knelt to check on the older Duke boy. He pulled away slowly, realizing with terror that neither boy had a pulse.

"Lord, help me," he prayed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Maybe he was wrong. After all, he was no doctor, what did he know about checking a pulse? But pulse or no pulse, Cooter realized that both boys needed medical attention, and soon.

Bolting over to the tow truck, he yanked the CB out of its holder and held it to his stuttering lips.

"B-breaker, breaker, this here's Crazy 'C'! Anybody out there got their ears on? This here's an emergency!" He called twice more, frustrated when he got no response.

Finally, the CB crackled with static.

"Hey Cooter, this here's your sheriff speaking, Roscoe P. Coltrane. Uh, what seems to be the trouble? Over."

"I done told ya what the problem is, Roscoe! There's a bad accident out here on Possum Creek Road, an' I'm gonna need an ambulance out here quick!"

Roscoe, who'd been dozing in his patrol car within view of one of his favorite speed traps, suddenly became alert with the news.

"Uh, that's a ten-four, Cooter. I'll call the ambulance and be out there faster'n you can make spit…ghew, ghew". Turning to his beloved hound, Flash, he smiled and started the car.

"Okay Flash, daddy's off to do some real police work now! Oh, I love it, I love it!" Little did he know that the crash would turn out to be more devastating than anyone had ever imagined.

Back at the crash site, Cooter paced back and forth beside the tow truck as he waited for help to arrive. Right after he'd talked to Roscoe on the CB, he'd called to Enos and told him to tell Jesse and Daisy that the boys had had an accident out on Possum Creek Road. It was all the information he dared to give.

He couldn't go back over to the wreck…couldn't handle it if Bo and Luke were really…no, he wouldn't think that way. Those boys had more lives than 5 cats.

He paused mid-pace, stopping to listen for sirens in the distance. He strained his ears but heard nothing but the light rustling of leaves in the trees high above. At that moment he realized how eerily still the morning had become. Not even the birds were chirping anymore. Cooter shivered, chills running up and down his spine.

"Come on, Roscoe, where are ya?" He muttered impatiently.

It seemed like it took hours, but it was really only about 20 minutes later when the ambulances finally came, escorted by Roscoe and Enos in their respective patrol cars.

"They're down here!" Cooter yelled, pointing the car in the ditch. As the paramedics rushed down to assess the situation, Cooter stepped aside to give them room.

"Cooter!" Enos called, running to where the mechanic stood. "I called Jesse an' Daisy. They're on their way."

Cooter couldn't help but cringe. They had no idea how bad it really was.

"How bad is it, Cooter?" was Enos' next question.

"I…I don't know, Enos…." the mechanic said, avoiding the deputy's searching gaze.

Roscoe wandered over next to them, concern evident in his eyes.

"I didn't know it was the Duke boys," he said dazedly. Minutes passed as they watched the paramedics gently pull the two boys' limp bodies from the wreck.

Tears filled Enos' eyes as they began doing CPR, and he had to look away. Roscoe, too, muttered something about "directing traffic" and went to stand on the road, even though no one had seen a car pass since they'd arrived on scene. Cooter, however, could not look away. His breath caught in his throat he watched the medics feverish work on his buddies, his brothers, his best friends. More minutes passed.

Finally, the medics removed the equipment from the boys' bodies and slowly stood up. The one who'd been working on Luke began walking over to the ambulance, head down.

"Hey, where's he goin'! What's goin' on!" Cooter demanded the other medic, grabbing him roughly by the arm.

"I'm sorry mister, but we can't do anything else but call the coroner."

The words hit Cooter like a cinder block.

"W-what are you sayin'?"

"I'm saying that they're gone," the medic answered patiently, pointing to where Bo and Luke lay. "There's nothing more we can do here."

As if on cue, Jesse and Daisy pulled up in the pickup. Cooter sent a pleading glance toward Enos, begging for help with his eyes.

Nodding with understanding, tears fresh in his own eyes, Enos quickly climbed back up to the road.

"Oh, Enos! What happened? Where are Bo and Luke?" She asked, headed for the ambulance.

"Just hold on a minute honey…I gotta talk to ya a minute," Enos said, grabbing her gently around the waist. She almost pushed past him until she saw the look on his face.

"Enos? What's goin' on?" She asked, fear gripping her heart.

Jesse, who'd been a bit slower getting out of the pickup, walked up to where Cooter stood on the road, hands shoved deep in pockets, head bowed.

"Alright, Cooter, what's happened? Where's my boys?" He demanded.

Cooter looked up slowly, tears streaking down his dirty cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jesse," he choked, barely able to get the words past his teeth. Unfazed, the old man pushed past him…until he saw the two black bags lying on the ground in the ditch. He stopped for a moment, eyes growing big, then lumbered down to the wreck.

He grabbed one of the medics, who was placing his instruments back in his bag.

"Hey, what's goin' on here? Where're my nephews?"

Two things happened simultaneously. One, Daisy let out an ear piercing scream that echoed off the mountains—Enos had just explained to her what had happened. And, at that same moment, the medic pointed down to the ground next to him—and Jesse saw that Bo and Luke were inside those black bags, very still and very pale.

"Daisy, wait!" Enos yelled as she broke free from his grasp and began stumbling down to the ditch. Luckily, Cooter caught her before she could see the boys.

"No! Let me go, Cooter! Let me go!" Her voice broke, and she folded into him, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Cooter wept as well, unable to stop the salty water from streaming down his face.

"I know, sweetheart, I know…shhhh, baby, I know," he kept repeating over and over, stroking her hair as he rocked her back and forth.

Enos, realizing his duty as an officer of the law, walked up to Jesse and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Uncle Jesse? Is…is there anythin' ya need?" The old man shook his head, then scared everyone by slowly sinking to his knees. Enos kept a strong hand on his shoulder, just in case, and motioned over one of the medics, who'd been watching the scene, not knowing what to do.

"Sir? Can you hear me, sir?" He said, looking into Jesse's eyes. Just then Daisy came over, dropping down beside him, burying her face in his overalls. That seemed to wake him from his shock.

"Y-yeah. I hear ya."

"Listen, sir, the coroner's here. We're gonna need some space here." Silently Jesse stood and backed away, still holding Daisy in his arms. Cooter and Enos stood on either side, eyes moist and noses red.

The coroner, an old man with a grim frown and a gray suit, knelt down next to each boy and did his examination. After writing on his clipboard a few minutes later, he turned to the medics.

"Time of death, 7:28AM."

"Oh, no…" Daisy cried, legs giving way beneath her. Enos caught her as she nearly fainted. Cooter placed on hand on Jesse shoulder, surprised when the old man reached up and placed his own calloused hand over it. Roscoe walked over then, himself misty-eyed, and stood next to Jesse.

"Uh…if there's anythin' I can do…." He couldn't finish. Jesse only nodded.

They watched in silent misery as the bags were zipped up over each boy's head. The medics loaded them into the back of the ambulance and prepared to leave. Just then, the coroner walked over to Jesse.

"You were related?" he asked, as if it wasn't obvious. Jesse nodded.

"How were you related to the deceased?" he asked, reading off his clipboard.

"They…were…my nephews…my boys," the old man replied, barely above a whisper.

"And you positively identified them?" The man continued, oblivious to grief around him.

"The man just said they was his nephews, what more do ya want?" Cooter snapped angrily.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm only doing my job," answered the coroner in an irritated tone.

"Go do it someplace else," Cooter retorted.

"I just need their names and ages," the man answered in the same tone.

"Uh, Mr. Farely, I can give ya all that information over here," Roscoe said, saving them all the grief. As the two men walked away, Jesse, Daisy, Cooter, and Enos, followed the ambulance up to the road and watched as it slowly drove away. And with it, a part of each of their hearts.

"Uncle Jesse, can I give y'all a ride home?" Enos asked quietly as the big white bus disappeared. "Cooter here can tow the pickup…right Cooter?" The mechanic nodded.

Enos led them over to his patrol car, keeping careful hold on Daisy, who was still sobbing. Numbly, the remaining members of the Duke family climbed inside of the car, holding onto each other tightly as the Enos shut the door behind them. He turned to Cooter.

"You gonna be okay, Cooter?" He asked.

"No I ain't, Enos," the mechanic answered softly. "Ain't nothin' ever gonna be okay again."

Balladeer: Now I don't know 'bout y'all, but this here story raises more questions than it answers. I wouldn't be dressin' in black just yet.

TBC

Hey, feed the muse, and you just might find out what happens faster!