--6--
"Luke, would you sit down please?"
Luke stopped mid-step and turned to Sammy. "Can't we do this on the way?" His tone was impatient. He'd been pacing the small hospital room since he had got dressed and ready to go. Even the deputy guarding him was starting to look a little weary of the young man's constant walking back and forth like a caged animal in a zoo.
"No. I need to take notes."
"You can take notes sittin' in the back with me." Luke insisted.
She smiled despite herself. "Travelling in a patrol car isn't on list of things to do. Besides, your cousin doesn't have a very good opinion of police driving skills so I doubt it'll be possible."
Luke chuckled. "Well that's the truth."
"So sit down and tell me about Monday," she told him, "where you went and who you delivered to."
"Ain't ya already gone through this with Bo?"
"Yes. But I need to hear your version." Sammy explained. "Everyone sees things differently and you might remember something he doesn't."
"It ain't like we ain't guilty."
She set her pad down a minute. "Luke, sometimes the law isn't about if you did it, or if you didn't do it. It's about the 'why' you did it and that can make a lot of difference to a judge and a jury."
Luke began pacing again. "Bo'll be there by now."
Sammy sighed. "Very likely." She picked up her pad again. "And the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can join him." She looked straight at him. "OK?"
The young man sighed, "OK…Uncle Jesse wanted us to take two cases over to Jeb Tyler, he lives the other side o' Chickasaw…"
He carried on pacing through his story.
---
"So while Luke was a-wearin' a hole in the floor o' Tri-county Hospital, and in Sammy's patience, Bo was settlin' into his new home an' ya'll don't need me ta tell ya, he was one plum scared Duke."
Bo sat down on the edge of the bottom bunk. He had offered Ricky what he hoped was a friendly smile as he walked in but the other man had just returned to his magazine as if Bo wasn't even there.
"Lunch is in an hour, kid." The guard told him. "Ricky here'll show the ropes."
The guard left and Bo lay back on the bed and stared up at the bulge in the springs above him. He hoped the guard wasn't being literal.
---
Luke winced as the deputy twisted his arms behind his back to cuff his wrists. The cuffs pinched his skin as they were snapped closed.
"That's Deputy Thackeray Hayes. He sure loves his job."
Luke was then frog-marched out the hospital and down the steps to the waiting patrol car. Hayes bent Luke's head and all but pushed him into the back seat. Luke's head ached at the sudden movement. He'd had a dull throb behind his eyes since he'd woken up, but he hadn't told the doctor. He was afraid they might keep him in for another night.
Hayes slid into the driver's seat and looked at Luke in the rear view mirror. "Ya better watch in there, boy." He said with a nasty smile. "Sprats like you an' yer cousin are ripe fer fryin'." Then he laughed.
Luke met him square in the eyes. "Be just like in the Marines."
---
"An' as Luke was on his way to double the Duke population o' the City of Atlanta jail, Bo was gettin' his first taste o' prison food, an' it sure weren't like Jesse's cookin'."
Bo carried his tray and followed Ricky into the food queues. The other prisoners crowded him, bumping him as he shuffled along, waiting his turn. Ricky just shrugged and tugged Bo's tray up.
"Stop lookin' like meat, kid."
"Um, meat?"
Ricky smiled and it wasn't a nice smile. "Yeah, dead meat." He chuckled. "You in with the vultures, remember that, so be best ta look like another vulture an' not like a carcass."
At the counters, Bo was given various globs of slop. He lost Ricky in the huddle around the water jug, after being pushed and shoved out of the way more times than he could count. When he finally got some water, he turned to look for Ricky and the sheer size of the food hall suddenly hit him. The ceilings were higher than Bo had ever seen and the huge room housed rows and rows of tables, packed tight with men. There were more people here than the entire population of Hazzard.
Bo gave up hope of ever spotting Ricky in the crowds and began walking to find a spot to sit. Halfway across a thug stuck out his boot and Bo went flying, his grey slop splattering to the floor. Bo landed in it with a thud.
The other prisoners jeered, turning in their seats or standing to watch the show. The thug got up. He was over six feet and built like a barn. Some of the prison slop had splattered over the thug's clothes and he stared down at himself with disgust. Then he looked down at Bo. His face was set into a grimace of hate and anger. He put out his boot, where a huge glob of yellow mush had landed.
"Clean it up, meat."
Bo got up. His jeans felt damp and sticky from the food stuck to them. .
"I said clean it up, meat."
Bo stood his ground, but didn't know what to do.
"CLEAN IT UP!" And he grabbed Bo by the neck and pushed him down to the floor. The hall erupted into whooping and jeering. "With yer tongue."
Bo hit the mucky floor with his chin, jarring his head badly. The thug pressed him down harder and the floor bit into Bo's cheek.
Then the pressure suddenly ceased and Bo saw his tormentor hit the floor beside him. There was a moment when their eyes locked and Bo felt a chill run through him.
Then Bo was hauled to his feet by a guard. His face was as hard as the thugs, and there was no sympathy in his eyes, only boredom and annoyance.
Another guard was dealing with Bo's tormentor. He looked at Bo. "Get a mop an' bucket."
Bo didn't argue.
And he didn't have lunch.
---
Luke changed into his prison issue clothes with military efficiency. He knew this wouldn't be the same as those terrible months in the training barracks, but he also knew that there were similarities and that knowledge would serve him well.
Luke had come to understand, the hard way, about the perils of being the underdog in a contained environment, and about being the top dog. He'd learned how to earn your place on the ladder and keep it. It had cost him dearly and he didn't much like the shadows that knowledge had left on his soul but they were there and sometimes, like now, they were even useful.
It hurt to think of Bo changed that way. But change he would if they sentenced to years in here.
Luke followed the guard to his cell. Inside, a man was sitting at the single table, writing. He didn't seem to notice their approach and Luke used the time to study his cell mate. He was thick set man in his late twenties with thickly muscled arms that were tattooed with birds of prey.
The guard banged on the open cell door. "Hey, Gator, got some meat for ya."
"I sure hope that ain't the name his momma gave him."
Gator looked round, twisting in his chair. He looked Luke up and down like a buyer inspecting bad merchandise.
"You gotta name?"
"Luke Duke."
Gator laughed. "Bad handle, meat."
Luke looked at his guard. "When do we get out in the yard?"
"'Bout half an hour, now." The guard told him. "Wouldn't be in no hurry though. Little fish like you."
"Now ya'll know that Luke ain't stupid an' it ain't exercise he's after. He's countin' on it bein' his chance to talk to Bo."
The guard turned to leave the cell. "Be nice, Gator."
The guard left the cell and Luke looked at the bunks, unsure of which was his.
"Bottom." Gator told him. "And when ya make ya own, ya make mine."
Luke had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but he was wise enough not to argue the point.
"An' Lukey Dukey?"
Luke turned.
"Stay outta my way."
---
Recreation time came slowly and Gator's non-existent patience with his new cell mate was stretched as Luke waited out those minutes. When the guards yelled out, Luke followed the mass of prisoners out into a huge yard with its massive walls and wire fences. He was bumped and jostled by the men as he walked. He almost fell several times when the bumps became full body shoves.
He made his way through the masses, scanning the crowds as he walked, thanking the Lord for Bo's bright mop of blonde hair. It would stand out like a beacon against all these drab prison colours. And then he felt a wash of dread as another thought came on the tail end of the first. Maybe that was not so good.
Luke walked around, keeping his back Sergeant straight. He had learned after a time in the Marines how to look untouchable. It was mostly attitude and body language and a certain indefinable something that you either found inside yourself or you didn't. It had taken and cost Luke a lot of bruises to find it. But find it he did. And once gained, it wasn't lost.
Time passed as he walked, far faster than it went by while he was waiting in the cell. He was starting to fear that he'd never find his cousin in all these men, or that Bo's wing was on a different exercise rota as his.
Then he stopped. He had caught a flash of blonde in the corner of his eye. He scanned the crowds in that direction and just as he was starting to believe he'd imagined it, his eyes found the familiar narrow frame of his youngest cousin.
Bo.
----------------------------------------
Sorry this took longer than normal, Gator kept wanting to come out my head as DCI Gene Hunt from "Life on Mars" and since that would have been too weird even for Hazzard, I had to keep re-writing his sentences. I think my brain was overheating on all this Dukes talk, but after a little holiday in my native tongue and some choice Mickey Webb torture, I should be OK now. ;o)