Awakened

Birthdays weren't a huge deal to the folks of Radiator Springs; but whenever one of the residents' birthday came around, everyone else made an effort to celebrate in some way. When Harley was born, the celebrations became much livelier. Her fourth birthday, for example, involved a lot of games with the residents and a good-sized cake from Flo. It was a day of laughter and fun for Harley and her family, and the little girl never knew her birthdays were also a time of anxiousness for the Radiator Springs residents. For with every birthday that passed for Harley, her father became reinvigorated in his attempts to convince Paula they needed to leave town and move somewhere "better." His last excuse was that, with the death of Paula's parents, Harley had too much exposure to her vehicular neighbors. John tried to tell Paula this might confuse Harley as she grew older, but Paula reminded him that Harley still had her entirely human parents to raise her. John often brought back an older argument: that the desert environment of Ornament Valley wasn't safe for Harley. Again, this was stomped out by Paula every time.

With Harley turning four, John found a new argumentative point: where she would go to school.

Paula's response to this almost made John drop the plate he was washing from shock.

"Homeschool?" John repeated. "You want to homeschool our daughter?"

"I see no reason why not." Paula shrugged, reading a book while she ate her dinner.

"Where are we going to get the materials?" John argued.

"Online." Paula replied. "Doc has a good-working computer. I can find what we need and I'll email a school district nearby."

"Wouldn't it be easier to send her to an actual school?" John protested. "What if she ends up not learning everything she needs to know?"

"She's already taking Italian language lessons from Luigi and Guido." Paula reminded him. "Honestly, she's such a bright kid. Adding on some homeschooling lessons won't be a problem."

"I still say she should be in an actual classroom." John said.

"John, she belongs here, just like the rest of us." Paula said firmly. "And the nearest school is too far away. I really don't want to trouble her with moving, and it'll break her heart if she has to leave everyone behind."

Thankfully, John was starting to pick up on the fact that Paula couldn't be swayed so easily, and he began lightening up. It would take solid, undeniable evidence to prove to her that moving away would be best for all of them. If Paula was anything, she was protective of her child. All John had to do now was figure out how to show Paula that Radiator Springs was a dangerous place for Harley. Tractor stampedes were too common, and other wild animals didn't exactly come close enough to town to be seen as a threat. Besides, whenever Harley and Paula went hiking or camping, they always had someone like Sheriff, Sarge, or Doc with them for protection's sake.

This calls for drastic measures. John decided one night, silently rising from bed and sneaking down to the kitchen. He grabbed the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart, waiting for the answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me, John."

"Well, well, well. Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Yeah. It's been a long time."

"Last I heard, you got hitched and got busy."

"You could say that."

A pause.

"All right, I'm guessing you didn't call at this hour just to talk. What's up?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"You're asking for a favor?"

"I'm calling in a solid. You owe me."

"Fair enough. What do you need?"

"Call in a couple of your boys. I have a job for you."

"Mama, can I go see Sheriff?" Harley asked. She and several of the other residents rested at Flo's café, chatting about the day's events (or lack thereof).

"Whatever for?" Paula asked.

"He said he was gonna show me where he did his…uh….." Harley tried to remember the word Sheriff used. "Stakeout! Yeah! Where he's a speed mousetrap."

A couple of the residents near her chuckled at Harley's description of Sheriff's post in his speed trap. Paula tousled the girl's hair. "I'm afraid not, Harley. It's much too dark out and it's almost your bedtime."

"But Sheriff said he'd show me where he works." Harley protested, pouting.

"How about this? Tomorrow, you can spend the entire day with him and learn how he does his job." Paula offered.

Harley still pouted, but said, "Okay."

About half an hour later, Paula took Harley home, dressed her in her pajamas, and tucked the girl into bed. She cracked open the window to let in the fresh air. It had been awfully hot today, and she didn't want Harley to overheat in the middle of the night. Paula kissed her daughter's head before she left, bidding Harley goodnight.

Harley cuddled with one of her dolls, ready to sleep. But, a couple hours later, she woke up and suddenly thought of something. It was still warm out; so warm she had to kick off her covers so she didn't get too hot in her long-sleeved pajamas. The warmth made her remember what Sarge taught her the last time they went hiking.

'It's important that you hydrate, especially in hot weather.' He had said. 'Drink plenty of water, or you might get dehydrated and could collapse.'

Now, Harley didn't exactly understand all of that, but she got the gist of it: drinking water was important for hot weather. It had been awfully hot today, and if it was still warm tonight, she wondered if Sheriff had enough water at his post.

I'll go bring some to him! Harley crawled out of bed and put her doll on her pillow, quietly opening her bedroom door and tiptoeing downstairs to the kitchen. She knew her parents wouldn't want her to walk around at night, but she had to make sure Sheriff was taken care of. He would've done the same for her, after all. So Harley grabbed her kiddie water bottle from the fridge, taking a sip from the straw to make sure it was cold, and pulled on her hiking boots before slipping out the door. She marched off down the road, unafraid by the darkness. The streetlights guided her, and she walked right down the main road and out of town. Sheriff had shown Harley his post once—when they had passed by it on their way home from camping—and she remembered that all she had to do was follow the main road. Leaving the streetlights and Radiator Springs behind, Harley let the moon light her path.

"I'm a-comin', Sheriff." Harley said in a sing-song voice.

Even when Radiator Springs had regular business, Sheriff sometimes slept on the job. Anyone who didn't know him would assume him a terrible police office, much less a sheriff. But the residents of Radiator Springs knew that Sheriff could jump into action at a moment's notice, and they never feared he would lose his touch. After the construction of the Interstate, Sheriff continued to go to his post out of habit. Besides, should someone come tearing through town, he'd have to be there to make sure nobody got hurt. Still, it took quite a bit of effort to not doze off, and his eyelids kept trying to flutter shut.

"Oh yeah." He murmured to himself, half-sleepily. "I told Harley I was gunna take her out here." He chuckled. "Memory ain't what it used to be." He paused, listening carefully. Maybe his memory was failing, but his hearing sure wasn't. He could hear engines running, two of them to be exact. Sheriff crouched down behind the sign, waiting. These engines didn't rev so furiously, so the cars weren't driving at a high speed, but Sheriff couldn't see any headlights. That meant these could be cars that didn't want their presence announced. Sheriff inched his way out from around the sign, wondering who could be coming. Something in his gut told him that these cars shouldn't be let any closer into town.

He exhaled and drove around the side into the road, turning on his headlights. "Hey! Somebody down there?"

Two figures emerged in the light of Sheriff's headlights: a navy blue truck and a black muscle car. Two human men jumped from the tailgate of the truck. Sheriff didn't like the look of them already.

The truck looked to the sign. "Radiator Springs just ahead, huh? You the sheriff?"

"Somethin' you need?" Sheriff asked in a rather demanding tone.

Suddenly, the muscle car shot forward, barely giving Sheriff enough time to duck out of the way. The muscle car clipped Sheriff's headlight, smashing it and causing the light to go out. The truck and humans soon joined in the fray, and Sheriff desperately tried to fight back. One of the human men had a baseball bat, which he proceeded to use to smash Sheriff's other headlight. The moonlight didn't offer a lot of help, but at least Sheriff could still see his attackers. The truck rammed into one of his back fenders and sent him in a spin, but Sheriff shot forward before the truck could do it again. Both of the human men had metal baseball bats, swinging them towards the police car. Sheriff felt one of them hit his roof, but he ignored the pain and spun around to knock the men aside. He ended up locking grills with the truck, their tires kicking back dirt while neither one of them gained ground. The muscle car took advantage of this and slammed into Sheriff's side, denting his side in. Sheriff winced in pain, but then reversed and forced the two cars to hit each other. For good measure, Sheriff gunned forward and slammed into the cars to force them back a few feet.

"You're pretty good for an old man." The muscle car sneered.

Sheriff only glared in response, revving his engine. The muscle car kicked up dirt as he shot forward, but Sheriff reversed out of the way. But as he did that, the truck came forward and rammed into his side. The muscle car came back quickly and rammed him from the other side. The impact and pressure caused Sheriff's sides to dent in, and he thrashed fiercely to break free. His axles started feeling sore, and he knew another hit like that would surely break them. He glared at his attackers, not willing to give up. The two cars revved their engines and the human men leveled their bats in their hands.

"Sheriff?"

All of them froze, and Sheriff's eyes widened in horror. They all whipped towards the source of the voice: little Harley, who stood there staring at the scene in shock.

Sheriff rammed into the truck while he was distracted. "Harley! Run!" Harley was confused, but she didn't dare disobey Sheriff. She turned and ran down the road. But the human men started to chase her. Sheriff's oil boiled. "No! Leave 'er alone!" But before he could go after the men, the muscle car slammed into him and pinned the police car against the Radiator Springs sign. The blow broke Sheriff's back axle and lifted the police car just enough for his tires to not have the traction to grip the dirt. One of the men grabbed Harley, who did what any four-year-old would do: kick and scream until the man could get a proper grip on her and cover her mouth. Sheriff desperately tried to get to her, but the muscle car had him completely pinned and he just didn't have the proper leverage to break free.

"What are we supposed to do now?" the man holding Harley demanded.

"We can't let her get back to town." The second man said. "She'll rat on us."

"What do you suggest?" the first man snapped. "That we kill her?"

"I'm not killing a kid, man." The muscle car snapped. "I don't need that blood on my tires."

"All of you shut up!" the truck snapped. "We can't kill her. She's John's little brat." Had Sheriff not been so worried about Harley, he would've been much more shocked to find out these men knew John. The truck stared at Harley for a minute before shifting his gaze to Sheriff. He hummed in thought. "Put her down."

The man holding Harley stared. "What?"

"Put. Her. Down." The truck repeated.

The man did as he was told, dropping Harley to the dirt. The four-year-old stood and glared at him. Then, she give him a mighty kick to the shin. The man shouted in pain, holding his throbbing shin while hopping on his good leg.

"You're mean!" Harley snapped, stomping her foot.

Sheriff cracked a smirk. That's our girl.

"Listen you little brat—" the truck started towards Harley, but the little girl suddenly picked up a rock and threw it at him. He ducked. Harley ran forward to hit him, but the truck tripped her and sent the little girl face-planting into the dirt. Before she could get up, the truck came around and pressed his tire against her back to pin her down.

"Don't touch her!" Sheriff shouted, resuming his efforts to break free from the muscle car.

The truck chuckled darkly. "What's the matter, old man? You care about this kid? You gonna kill us if we hurt her?" He pressed his tire harder against Harley, making her yelp in pain. The murderous glare in Sheriff's eyes was enough of an answer for the truck. The truck glanced down to Harley as she thrashed and struggled fiercely under his tire. "Then I'll make a deal with you: give up and stop fighting, and we'll let her go unharmed."

"Why should I trust you?" Sheriff growled.

"Hey, I'm not going to kill her." The truck said. "I wouldn't be caught dead killing a kid. But I'm not afraid to have a little fun with her. You could refuse my kind offer, but that means you'll watch her suffer before we kill you. Or you can accept my offer; and after she's done watching us smash you to bits, we'll let her go." Sheriff narrowed his eyes, and the truck pressed harder against Harley. The girl whimpered in pain, gasping for breath.

"No! Stop!" Sheriff pleaded.

The truck released the pressure, but kept Harley pinned. "Do we have a deal?"

"I'll do whatever ya want. Jus' leave her alone." Sheriff growled, both from pain and frustration.

"Good." The truck nodded. He looked to the human men. "You two hold onto her."

"Wait!" Sheriff suddenly said, grunting in pain when the muscle car pressed harder against him. "Let me talk ta her."

The truck raised an eye frame, but nodded. "Fine." He lifted his tire, letting Harley stand up. The girl kicked his tire before marching over to Sheriff. The muscle car backed off, letting Sheriff down. Now Sheriff knew for sure that one of his axles were broken, and he'd never be able to outrun these men to get Harley home safely.

"Sheriff?" Harley whispered, coming up and putting her hand on Sheriff's fender. "Sheriff, what's gonna happen ta us?"

Sheriff looked to Harley, and the terror and confusion in her eyes hurt much worse than his physical injuries. "It's gunna be okay, darlin'. But I need ya to do somethin' for me."

"Okay." Harley nodded.

"I want you ta close yer eyes. Don't open them fer any reason." Sheriff instructed. "In fact, go to sleep. Everythin' will be better in the mornin'. Okay?"

Harley nodded again. "Okay."

There was a lot more Sheriff wanted to say. These could be the last words he ever spoke to her. But above all else, he didn't want her to be afraid. So he just gave her a small nuzzle. One of the human men came forward and grabbed Harley, pulling her back and away from Sheriff. The muscle car didn't waste a second in resuming the assault, and Sheriff gritted his teeth in pain. But even when the muscle car and the truck rammed into him time and time again, even when the second human man kept whacking him with a baseball bat, Sheriff refused to let any cry or shout of pain escape his throat. He couldn't scare Harley any more than she already felt. The assault lasted for only a few minutes, but every blow sent excruciating pain throughout Sheriff's entire frame.

He forced his eyes open and found his windshield broken, but that's not what horrified him the most. Harley had opened her eyes, either from fear or curiosity, and she had a horrified look on her face that no four-year-old should ever wear. Before Sheriff could do anything else, the truck rammed into him one final time to knock him out.

"All right, that's enough." The truck ordered.

"I can still hear him breathing." The muscle car protested. "John said we couldn't leave him alive."

"He won't last the night." The truck assured. "We held up our end of the bargain. Now let's get out of here." He drove up to the human men so they could jump into his flatbed, and the muscle car followed him as they disappeared down the road, leaving Harley with Sheriff.

Harley couldn't fully comprehend what just happened. She knew Sheriff told her not to open her eyes; but when she heard all those loud noises, she knew something was wrong. Now, Sheriff lay in a heap before her, almost unrecognizable with his dents, scratched paint, and oil dripping from his mouth and undercarriage. He was sitting way too still to be sleeping.

"Sheriff?" Harley asked as she approached the police car. She touched his fender and gave him a nudge. "Sheriff? Wake up." Sheriff didn't stir. He was very, very still, like the creature Harley found once that her mother described as "a dead bat." Tears bubbled up in Harley's eyes and dripped from her cheeks. "Come on, Sheriff." She demanded, giving him a little push. "I wanna go home. I wanna go home right now." She gave him another little push, hugging his now rough and uneven fender. "I wanna go home. Take me home, please." She kept on crying, her body trembling. "Don't go, Sheriff. Please don't go."

A minute later, Sheriff suddenly coughed, making Harley jump. His eyes half-opened slowly, and he looked to Harley. "H-hey, darlin'."

Harley smiled broadly. "You're okay!"

Sheriff knew his condition was far from the truth. But he cracked a smile. "Yeah. I'm okay, kiddo."

Harley stared at him. "You're voice sounds funny." She said innocently. She looked around and found her water bottle, picking it up and holding it out for Sheriff. "I brought ya some water. Have some."

"Uh, I don't…" Sheriff wanted to refuse. Consuming anything right now made him want to throw up. But the concern in Harley's eyes stomped out that idea. "Sure, darlin'." Harley stepped up and poured some of the water into Sheriff's mouth. He forced himself to swallow, but a few seconds later he discretely coughed up more oil. But Harley was calm again. "C'mon, kiddo. Come up here." Sheriff weakly held out a tire, helping Harley climb up to his hood.

"It's kinda bumpy up here." Harley noted. "Ramone or Doc can fix ya."

"Yeah. You bet." Sheriff agreed. "Listen, you ought ta git some sleep. It's past yer bedtime."

"Do I hafta?" Harley whined a little.

"Yes, ya hafta." Sheriff coughed softly. "You jus' lay down and sleep. When ya wake up, you'll be back at home. Okay?"

Harley sighed. "Okie dokie." She curled up on Sheriff's hood, closing her eyes to try and sleep.

Sheriff knew Harley was going to be heartbroken tomorrow, but he had to at least get her home to lighten the blow. She didn't need to see him dead. She didn't deserve that. He tried to move, but moving on broken axles isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world. The prickly, stinging pain that shot through his frame almost made him black out again. But he tried again. More pain, and this time Sheriff's vision became blurry. He blinked a few times to clear it up again, and he realized sorrowfully that he would never make it back to town. Sheriff heard a sniffle, and he saw Harley crying again.

Sheriff shushed her. "Easy, darlin'. It's okay."

Harley didn't answer, rubbing Sheriff's hood with one hand. She seemed to sense his immense pain and his dwindling strength. "Make it better." She muttered, sounding like she didn't even register what she was saying. "Make it better. Make it better. Make it better." She continued to mutter this, almost unconsciously, and Sheriff's heart broke.

"Harley—"

Something caught Sheriff's eye, and he noticed a white light coming from Harley's hand. Suddenly, he felt a pull in his engine that he assumed was Death coming to claim him. But instead, he felt some of his dents popping back into place and his pain began leaving him. His windshield completely repaired itself, and he didn't cough up oil anymore. The oil spilling from his undercarriage slowed to a non-lethal dripping. Then, the light from Harley's hand disappeared, and she fell limp as she passed out. Though Sheriff still felt plenty of pain, he didn't feel like he was dying anymore. He stared at Harley, feeling a mix of shock, amazement, and confusion. But he knew he'd still need Doc's help, and no doubt Harley would need medical attention as well, and he tried to hurry to town. But he yelped quietly in pain when his still-broken axles refused to work for him.

"Dodge Ram it. You've gotta be kidding me." Sheriff growled. He froze when he heard tires on the road and an engine revving. Fear crept into him. Had those monsters come back to finish the job? But this engine was coming from the direction of town. Sheriff stared down the road as a set of headlights came closer and closer to him.

A familiar firetruck appeared.

"Red?" Sheriff gasped. "What're you doin' here? Actually, never mind. I need yer help. Harley an' I need ta see Doc ASAP."

Red nodded, driving around behind Sheriff and gently yet quickly pushing him down the road and towards town. Red had a feeling something was wrong when he woke up in the middle of the night, but this certainly wasn't what he expected. He was glad he followed his gut instinct, because he found tracks in the dirt when he did a quick round about town. Recognizing them as Harley's, he quickly drove down the road in hopes of finding her. Red didn't have a clue what happened to Sheriff and Harley, but he knew he had to get them home soon.

They finally arrived in town and Red pushed Sheriff towards Doc's clinic. Then the firetruck hurried to the door of Doc's home and banged on the wood. A few anxious moments later, a very tired and irritable Doc opened the door.

"Red?" Doc yawned. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He noticed Red feverishly motioning to one side, and he drove out a little more. His eyes widened. "Holy Chrysler!" He sped over to Sheriff and Harley, herding them into the clinic.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, Doc!" Sheriff snapped as Doc practically shoved him over to the lift. "Harley needs help." Doc looked to the girl, and he gently took her from Sheriff and put her on a cot in the corner. Sheriff stared at her worriedly. "Is she all right?"

"She's just unconscious." Doc said. "She's gonna sleep well tonight." He drove back towards Sheriff. "You, on the other tire, look worse for wear."

"I'm hellishly sore, but I'll live." Sheriff said gruffly.

"You don't know that." Doc snapped. "Red, can you keep an eye on Harley from where you are?"

Red nodded from his spot at the door.

"Doc, I need to tell ya somethin'." Sheriff said.

"Tell me later." Doc ordered, getting his tools out quickly.

"Doc."

"Would you just hold still? Even I don't know how much damage you got."

"No, Doc. Look, I almost died—"

"Which means you might not be out of the woods yet!"

"Would you shut up and listen to me?!"

"SSSSHHHHH!"

Doc and Sheriff jumped, and they looked to Red. The firetruck frowned at them and gestured to Harley, still fast asleep on the cot. Doc sighed, and he started working on at least an inventory of Sheriff's injuries. "All right. You wanted to tell me somethin'? What is it?"

Sheriff kept his voice down so Harley could rest. "I was attacked at my post, and next thing I know, Harley's there. The punks beat me close to death and left her behind as a witness, I guess."

"Don't be so dramatic." Doc muttered.

"Doc, I ain't jokin'." Sheriff's voice was deadly serious. "I was almost dead. I could feel it."

The tone Sheriff had in his voice made Doc tense. "So why aren't you dead?"

"That's what I wanted ta tell ya." Sheriff said. "Harley saved me."

"Sheriff, you can't expect a four-year-old—"

"I'm serious, Doc. I dunno how, but Harley was able ta heal me. She saved my life."

Doc paused in his work, staring at Sheriff. He looked to Harley; or, more specifically, he looked to her ankle. "She's awakened."

"What?" Sheriff asked.

"Harley's psyche human powers." Doc mused. "They must've awoken sooner than we thought."

"But she's jus' a kid." Sheriff protested. "An' psych-man healing affects the healer. You said she was fine."

"She is." Doc confirmed, grabbing a tool to start working on Sheriff's dents. "If anything, she's just really tired."

"But then how could she have done this?" Sheriff asked.

Doc sighed. "I don't know, Sheriff. I really don't know. It doesn't make any sense. But let's not look a gift horse in the mouth." He jumped a bit as he pulled one of the dents into place, but Harley still slept soundly. "Any idea who did this to ya?"

Sheriff glared hard. "John."

Doc paused in his work again. "What?"

"Those punks who attacked me. John sent them." Sheriff said. "I heard them talking about it. That's why they didn't hurt Harley."

"That…that can't….." Doc sighed. "He would really stoop that low."

"What'd you expect?" Sheriff practically snarled. "That he'd give up after all these years of trying to convince Paula they needed to leave? That he'd suddenly be a better man overnight? That he'd just stop?"

Doc glared at the ground, exhaling softly. "No. Of course not. People like him don't just stop hurting others." Doc suddenly moved to Harley's cot, gently pushing the cot out the door. He instructed Red to watch over her before he returned to Sheriff so he could keep working without the fear of waking Harley.

Sheriff sighed heavily, wincing a bit as Doc worked on the dents. "I hate him, Doc. I never thought I'd say somethin' like that, but I hate him. Our lives were better off without him. He never shoulda come here."

"I agree." Doc admitted. "But would Paula agree?"

"Paula still blames herself for what that monster did to her!" Sheriff hissed.

"Exactly." Doc said.

Sheriff knew nothing more could be said. No matter how much he wished it, John had come to Radiator Springs and he wasn't going to leave anytime soon. Though he made life a little bit harder for everyone, he was still their problem now.

The next morning, Doc practically ordered Sheriff to stay in the clinic so he could rest. That, and he didn't want anyone freaking out over the police car's current state. Guido took Harley home, slipping into the house and placing her on the couch. He left before Paula and John could wake up. About an hour later, Harley, Paula, and John joined everyone for breakfast at Flo's.

But as they sat down to eat, the residents noticed Harley was clearly upset about something. "You okay, sweetheart?" Flo asked.

"Yeah." Harley said, pushing her breakfast back and forth across her plate.

"Are ya sure, Sissy?" Mater asked, nuzzling her comfortingly.

Harley's shoulders trembled, and she sniffled. "I….I had a really bad dream."

Doc and Red tensed up, unseen by everyone else. "A bad dream?" Doc repeated.

Harley nodded. "I was with Sheriff. And then these really scary monsters came and they kept hurting us. And it was really, really scary and….." She wiped her eyes clear of tears before they could fall. "I didn't know if I was gonna wake up."

"That does sound scary." John said. "You sure it wasn't something you actually saw? Like, on TV or something?" Doc cast him a disapproving glare, unnoticed by John.

Harley shook her head. "If it was really real, then I went to see Sheriff last night. But Mama said I couldn't, and I wouldn't do somethin' I wasn't supposed to. It had to have been a bad dream. I woulda did what Mama told me." She started crying, upset over the supposed nightmare and the possibility that she actually disobeyed her mother.

"Come now, Harley. It's all right." Paula said soothingly, pulling her daughter into her lap. "Now listen to me. What do you think happened? Was last night a dream or did it really happen? Think about it."

Harley took a moment to do so. Everyone waited for her response patiently. Then, Harley rubbed the tears out of her eyes. "It was a dream."

"Then leave it at that." Doc encouraged. "A bad dream can't hurt you." Harley smiled and nodded, hugging her mother before returning to her breakfast. Doc watched her for a moment. No doubt her psyche is trying to block out the memory because of the trauma. Best we encourage her to believe that was all a dream for now.

"Where's Sheriff?" Harley asked some time later. "Don't he come eat breakfast with us?"

"Sheriff's feeling a little under the weather today, kiddo." Doc explained. Harley's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That just means he's a little sick."

"Can I help?" Harley asked sweetly.

Doc chuckled. "No need to worry about it, sweetheart." You did enough last night. "But if ya like, when he's out and feelin' better, you can give him a big hug."

"Yeah!" Harley nodded enthusiastically. "I give the best hugs!"

Doc called John into his office later that day, while everyone else went about their business. Sheriff rested in the main room of the clinic, and Doc warned him to stay out of the conversation or else he'd strap Sheriff to the lift. John came, but he looked less than excited to be there.

Doc was in absolutely no mood to beat around the bush. "How could you do something like this?"

John scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talkin' about putting your own daughter in danger for your own selfish desires." Doc snarled. "I'm talkin' about how you almost got my friend, someone I consider my family, killed."

"Still don't know what you're talking about." John shrugged.

Doc's engine revved in anger, and he was quite satisfied to see John jump back about a foot. "I've been putting up with you all this time because Paula loves you and I thought Harley needed her father in her life. But now I see I have made a mistake by letting you stay this long."

"So what are you going to do?" John taunted. "Throw me out of town? Because I'm not leaving here without Paula."

"I'll have Mater drag you out of town with his tow hook if I have to!" Doc snapped.

"Really?" John smirked sinisterly. "And how do you think Paula will react to that?"

Doc know John had him there. Paula's devotion to John was almost as unhealthy as John's obsession with his wife. But he wouldn't go down without a fight. "Don't think you'll be getting away with anything else, boy. I, like everyone else in this town, will do anything to protect Paula and Harley. Even if it means we have to protect them from you."

John didn't say anything for a long, tense moment. But Doc could see in his eyes that John fully understood this. Doc dismissed him, and John marched off. He didn't look towards anyone as he entered his house, and he looked all around to make sure nobody could eavesdrop on him. But nobody was around outside and Paula had gone to chat with Flo at the café. John picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Yeah?"

"You didn't complete the job."

"What? You mean that old cop is still alive?"

"I paid the extra money because you said that job could be done."

"Hey, we beat him good. There's no way he should've survived that. But I'll tell you what: I can do you a small favor to make up for it."

"I don't need a favor. I need C4."

"Buddy, I don't just give that stuff away. You willing to pay for that?"

"Gladly."

"What are you planning?"

"The final act."