SMOKE
"Vicodin?"
Uncle Jesse looked at Daisy, so surprised he stopped eating his dinner. He preferred to forget that name, 'cause that name remembered him his beloved Lavinia and her last days.
"It's a strong pain-killer," uncle Jesse looked down at his plate, moving the food with the fork, thoughtfully.
"He said he stayed in the Hospital for a while, but I don't know how much, because he was injured during his job, but I don't know what kind of injury," Daisy tried to resume to her family Enos' words, in their usual talking around the kitchen's table during dinner: "sharing" was one of the favorite word, at the farm, especially if it meant finding a way to help their friends.
"For sure a pretty bad injury, since he needs Vicodin for pain," Bo rested gently his fork in his plate, as he was losing his appetite, "poor Enos. Probably it happened when he stopped writing you. Nearly two months before his coming back."
Bo got it. In effect it was something Daisy already thought of: that abrupt stopping of Enos' letters could be the consequence of his injury and of his staying in Hospital, a really bad injury to "block" him for nearly two months. Daisy had a deep sigh, fighting back again that sense of guilty: during those two months she was angry to him, thinking he was so busy with his job to forget about her, whereas he was in Hospital. Enos' staying in Hospital explained the pause in his letters but not why the letters became shorter and shorter before that "forced" pause.
"I remember a friend of us, when we raced in NASCAR circuit: he had a bad car wreck during a race, both legs broken and a severe head trauma so he stayed in Hospital for a long time, and after he left the Hospital he needed Vicodin, a lot of Vicodin, for his pain," Bo kept on talking, moving the plate away from him, his appetite totally gone, his mind matching his friend injured during a race and Enos (injured he didn't know how).
"And maybe his weakness is because of Vicodin. Whatever happened to him, Enos should have more rest and not to force himself to do the things he usually did. He can't work all day long every day, with no pause, and I'm glad Rosco understood it," Luke looked carefully at Daisy, "and since he's using Vicodin, I hope he's not goin' to drink beer any more. It's dangerous."
"And not only for him, but also dangerous for us. Look at my nose," Bo tried to draw out the clear tension and worrisome in the kitchen.
"I don't think Enos is goin' to drink alcohol again. I don't think alcohol is a problem with him. I think the problem is why he got drunk, that evening. He told me he forgot about L.A. and he's goin' to be finer and finer, but I feel that whatever happened to him it affected not only his body but also his mind." After leaving Enos' place, only few hours before, Daisy felt relieved because of his laughing and joking with her, but along the road to the farm, in her jeep, Daisy couldn't help to think again to a lot of dreadful scenarios about Enos' injury: she wanted to believe in Enos' words ("I'm alive, I'm fine and I'm goin' to be finer and finer, I sleep, I work, I eat, I drink. I'm OK! So, PLEASE, stop being obsessed by it. I've forgot it, I've forgot what happened and I want only to live the present time"), she wanted to believe in those words so badly, but she felt something was wrong with him. His stubbornness in hiding what happened to him in L.A. scared her.
"Anyway, we're goin' to keep an eye on him. So, don't worry, Dais. You're not alone in your taking care of Enos."
Daisy nodded and smiled to her older cousin, grateful of her family comprehension and help.
Left knee. It was the turn of his left knee: the pain was pulsating and radiated along his leg, making him limp.
Enos swallowed a pill of Vicodin and he lied on his bed, waiting for its effect.
Since he left the Hospital, he was reducing the use of Vicodin: first, 'cause of pain was going better and better (or maybe he was becoming used to pain, learning to endure it), second, 'cause he didn't want to get used to Vicodin and he didn't like its collateral effects, drowsiness and shortness of breath, two things affecting his ability to do his job (or maybe drowsiness and shortness of breath weren't only Vicodin's side effects).
Anyway, that evening he couldn't avoid the use of Vicodin; it was the turn of his left knee, as it was, from time to time, the turn of his chest, head, belly, … everything, no part of his body spared from that migrating and excruciating pain.
He undressed and he crawled under the blanket, waiting for Vicodin's effect and facing that pain, heavy blows on his knee, every blow a shiver and cold sweat along his spine.
Burying his face against the pillow, he smelled Daisy's scent, and he finally fell asleep, he didn't know if because of Vicodin, because of exhaustion, or thanks of the sign of Daisy's presence in his apartment along that afternoon.
"This is Deputy Strate in hot pursuit of a robbed car, and I need help. I'm in Spruce Tree Lane."
In the General, the three cousins knew what they had to do, a perfect occasion to keep an eye on Enos, their agreement since the previous evening.
"Enos, we're nearby, we're coming," Bo answered Enos' call as Luke sped up, the General jumping a river and shortening the distance from Spruce Tree Lane, so that the orange car soon reached the patrol car in its chase of the robbed car.
From their position, behind Enos' patrol car, Dukes could see a Cedar speeding in order to escape from Enos, S-shaped bend after S-shaped band, dust rising behind the cars.
"Enos seems perfectly able to chase the robber. He's driving pretty well," Daisy tried to relax, "he doesn't want to give up." It was good. Enos was her old Enos.
But not good the gun appearing outside the Cedar's window and shooting against the patrol car. And less good the tire bursting as the patrol car missed a curve, pursuing its run in the air and falling into the pond below.
Not a strange scene in Hazzard.
As usual the General stopped, and Dukes looked at the sinking police car, waiting for Enos coming out (as many other times, waiting for Enos or Cletus or Rosco surfacing from the water).
As usual Enos came out from the car's window, but not usual his moves, slow and confused, uncharacteristic for a good swimmer as Enos: clumsy but for sure a good swimmer.
"Bo, Luke, hurry up! He's drowning!", Daisy's voice resounded inside the orange car as Bo and Luke rushed to the pond.
Walking along the bank, unable to remain still, Daisy stared at Bo and Luke reaching Enos and bringing him to the bank: was there blood in the water? Was Enos conscious?
His arms on Bo and Luke's shoulders, Enos walked outside the water, coughing and limping.
When did he start to limp? Daisy focused on Enos' left leg, looking for any sign of wound: did the robbers hit Enos' leg? Her eyes lingered all over his body, looking for blood, her heart beating furiously in her chest as she thought he was injured because of the shooting.
"Enos, sugar," she approached him as her cousins gently let him kneeling down and lying on his back, his breath heavy and his eyes closed.
"Shortness of breath and weakness": Rosco's words, and now she was looking at a show of those words.
"Enos," she knelt by his side, Bo and Luke near her, and she touched his shoulder, as Enos slowly opened his eyes, looking at them as they were strangers.
"PLEASE!", he tried to crawl away from them, "STOP!", his eyes lost somewhere away from there.
"Enos," Daisy gently squeezed his shoulder to stop him and to calm him down, but Luke grabbed her arm, moving it away from Enos.
"Wait, Daisy, wait," Luke's voice a whisper, his being older than Bo and Daisy and his staying in the Marines telling him it was better not to touch Enos in order to avoid a reaction like the one he had the evening he got drunk. Now Enos wasn't drunk, but he was clearly in a sort of trance.
"Enos, buddy, I'm Luke, don't worry," the brown haired Duke's voice calm and sweet, and Enos' eyes finally focused on him, recognizing him and recognizing Bo and Daisy too.
"Luke! I… I'm sorry, sorry Luke," Enos closed his eyes and he remained still, his wet uniform adhering to his body like a cold grasp despite the sunny and warm day, September day, "I think I should call Cooter to recover my car. Possum on gum bush, what a chase," his attempt to switch the talk to the present time and to the chase.
Daisy looked at Bo and Luke, and they looked at her, nodding.
"OK, Bo, come to call Cooter," and Luke walked to the General with Bo, leaving Daisy alone with Enos.
"Enos, what happened to you? Please, I'm… worried… and scared."
He opened his eyes and he looked at her, sitting up, "Daisy, please. I don't want to talk about it. It's the past. I appreciate you're worrying for me and you're taking care of me, BUT I don't want to see you so worried. Trust me, I'm fine… it's only that… this crash's confused me. Maybe I'm still a bit weak," his eyes fixed on the car in the water.
Daisy wondered if the cause of his injury in L.A. was a terrific crash, and maybe this new crash, even if without consequences, woke in him the memory of the previous one. But she couldn't understand the meaning of his words, "please" and "stop", when she approached him.
"Cooter's coming," Bo walked near them.
"Thanks," Enos tried to stand up, with a moan, "I think I need an help to walk to the General."
Disappointed, Daisy looked at Enos, his arms on Bo and Luke's shoulders, limping between them, "I remember a friend of us, when we raced in NASCAR circuit: he had a bad car wreck during a race, both legs broken and a severe head trauma so he stayed in Hospital for a long time, and after he left the Hospital he needed Vicodin, a lot of Vicodin, for his pain," Bo's words resounding in her mind as she wondered, again, if Enos had a crash in L.A., maybe one of his colleague driving the car (Were "please" and "stop" his last words to his colleague before the crash?): guess after guess Daisy was more and more confused and worried.
Beside, what would have happened to Enos if her cousins hadn't been there, that day? He would have drowned, for sure.
She walked behind Enos and her cousins, shaking her head and folding her arms.
LOS ANGELES - FLASHBACK
On my honor,
I will never betray my badge,
my integrity, my character,
or the public trust.
I will always have
the courage to hold myself
and others accountable for our actions.
I will always uphold the constitution
my community and the agency I serve.
Hate around him: they hated him just 'cause he wore a uniform, just 'cause he was a cop. He's spent his life doing his duty, no matter what, respecting that uniform, just to be hated because of that uniform and his doing his duty.
Just because of that uniform.
Betrayed uniform.
Enos walked to the barricades, his knee and elbow pads slowing down his movements, sweat dripping under his helmet and his protective suit in that hot July, even more hot because of smoke from tires' burning, a pungent and nauseating smell surrounding him.
When a stone hit his helmet he lost his balance because of that violent hit and because of his heavy equipment.
He fell on his knees as some tall men reached him, dragging him away from the crowd.