HER FRECKLES IN THE SUNLIGHT

ATLANTA MEDICAL CENTER

Nurse Emily O'Neill stirred. New day-shift in the I.C.U., and she was still tired because of the previous shifts: she just wanted to have a long and peaceful holiday.

She looked at the stretcher entering the I.C.U. and she sighed.

"What's goin' on?" Emily walked to the nurses pushing the stretcher in.

"Male, 30 years old, more or less," a young nurse answered her question.

Emily rolled her eyes: "more or less," what did "more or less" mean? She glanced at the young nurse and she shook her head: youngsters, they didn't know the importance of precision.

Pretending not to notice her older colleague's reproaching look, Anne Greenwald kept on talking, "Early in the morning he arrived in our E.R. in critical condition: severe head injury and penetrating abdominal trauma," she glanced at Emily, another reproaching look from her, "… gunshot wound, to be more precise."

Emily O'Neill nodded and Anne Greenwald sighed in relief, keeping on her report.

Emily nodded again, now satisfied of the younger colleague; she carefully listened to the procedures and operation the man underwent, and she carefully listed everything in her nursing record.

"OK, thanks Anne," Emily approached the stretcher and helped her colleagues to transfer that 'male, 30 years old, more or less' from the stretcher to the I.C.U.'s bed, carefully because of all the tubes and infusions. She checked his endotracheal tube, central venous access catheter, various draining tubes, and she connected him to the monitor.

"Ok, bye Emily," Anne stretched her arms above her head, trying to relax her back's muscles: that man was really heavy, and she felt like if her back was breaking.

"Hey, wait, but…" Emily scanned the medical and nursing reports of E.R. and operating room.

Anne nodded, "Yeah."

Emily O'Neill sighed, her eyes on the reports.

132, #356789 - John Doe - male, white, likely between the age of 25 and 35, brown hair and hazel eyes – Height 6'2" – Weight 200. Only mark: old surgical scar for appendicitis.

"He had no wallet with him, so no way to identify him," Anne shrugged, "John Doe."

Emily O'Neill closed her eyes and had a deep breathe: John Doe meant just a very bad and tiring time in the I.C.U.

HAZZARD

"Yeah, it's Enos' car, and it's blood, no doubt 'bout it," Luke walked around Enos' car, trying to catch any other possible sign, then he glanced at Silas, "When did you find it?"

The man touched his long white beard, thoughtfully, "Early this morning. It was strange to have the car here, nobody nearby. When I came closer, I noticed the door open, and blood on it. I recognized Enos' ol' car, though I wasn't so sure 'bout it, and I called Rosco."

Rosco nodded at Silas' words, showing a wallet in his hands, "It's Enos' wallet, and it was inside the car".

"So, do you think it's Enos' blood?" Daisy forced her voice out her dry throat, a hoarse and scared voice, "Maybe… Maybe the car hit an animal, and…" she shook her head. Her idea was stupid, and she knew it: if Enos' car had simply hit an animal, Enos would have driven back to the town 'cause the car wasn't damaged to the point to be useless, or he would have called for help. Her idea was stupid but she couldn't help but grabbing any other possible idea rejecting the basic idea that the blood on the car' door was Enos' blood.

"Look," Bo knelt down, "here, these signs in the dust. I think…" he looked up at Luke, avoiding Daisy's eyes, "I think it's blood, drops of blood."

Luke knelt down by his younger cousin's side, staring at the dark liquid marking the road's dust, "Yeah, it could be blood."

The two cousins followed those drops until they stopped.

"Here, the drops stop…" Luke shook his head and scratched his hair, "…tires' marks," he stood up from his crouched position, "Someone probably pushed Enos in a different car after injuring him."

Bo stayed in his crouched position, staring at the blood and tires' marks in the dust, "Yeah, it's the most probable thing, though…" he shook his head in disappointment, "… maybe Enos simply had a car accident and someone helped him, bringing him to the Hospital." Like Daisy, he was trying to grab a calming hypothesis.

"Yeah, maybe. But why did Enos leave the Boarding House in a hurry, in civil clothes and with his personal car?" Luke words cold Bo's hope down, "I think someone called Enos, and Enos reached him here. Then, something happened: probably someone hit Enos on purpose after calling him here," Luke shook his head in discomfort, "I'd like to find another explanation, but… I can't."

Daisy stared at the stain on Enos' car, a rounded dark red stain with some smears parting from it; she visualized Enos' bloody hand as he tried to stand up before to fall down, being the rounded stain his palm and the smears his fingers tracing his falling down. Overwhelmed by that terrific vision, Daisy burst out crying.

ATLANTA MEDICAL CENTER

"Maybe he's a criminal. Gunshot wound, uh? Maybe he's part of a gang. There are too much gangs in Atlanta, lately."

Nurse Emily O'Neill moved her eyes from her nursing reports to her colleague Dolly, "I don't think it's a criminal, Dolly. Maybe I'm wrong, but he doesn't look like a criminal. Too much… clean: no tattoos and no scars of previous gunshots or stabbings; also his hairstyle is too much clean for a gang's member. Anyway, some cops came this morning to get his fingerprints, so, if he's a recorded criminal, we'll know it. No answers from his fingerprints, anyway, otherwise we'd see some cops guarding him, right now."

"Ok, maybe he isn't a recorded criminal but anyway a criminal. I still think he's a member of a gang."

Emily shook her head, annoyed by her colleague's imaginative and offensive suppositions, "He isn't a member of a gang. He's been brought here in Atlanta because of his critical condition, but he hasn't been injured in Atlanta. He was found in…," she looked up at the ceiling trying to remember, "Rockdale County? I don't remember."

"An escaping criminal," Dolly folded her arms, "but his rival gang found him."

Emily stood up and walked away, "You know, I'm annoyed. Maybe he's just a poor guy victim of an armed robbery, and it's why he had no wallet and ID card with him. And probably his family is looking for him, in despair."

Dolly felt the rage in Emily's voice and looked down at the floor, "Sorry… I didn't want to…" She stopped, unsure if openly apologize: everybody knew Emily's son died when he was 26 years old, killed during an armed robbery in New York, where he lived, while he was going back home after working in a pub, late at night, and Emily had to recognized his corpse (marked as John Doe 'cause he had no wallet with him) in the coroner's refrigerated room, some days after his death. Dolly had a deep sigh, "Sorry, you're right. I've been insensitive and disrespectful to that man. I hope his family is going to find him."

Emily smiled sadly, "OK, stop arguing, now," she stared at the man lying unconscious and she carefully took a blood sample for examination from the central venous access catheter, "Doc Hunt said he's going to recover. He nearly died but he's going to survive, though Doc doesn't know when he is going to wake up, maybe tomorrow or maybe next week… or maybe… we can't know it. If his family won't find him, or if cops won't find his family, well, he'll tell us his name when he'll wake up. For his sake, he's still alive, he isn't a corpse unable to talk."

Dolly nodded, "Yeah. I'm curious to know his name and where he comes from: in effect, you're right, he doesn't look like a criminal, and he's also cute. I wonder if he has a girlfriend."

Emily rolled her eyes, smiling "Go to work, Dolly, PLEASE!" She glanced at the dark haired man, "Are you dreaming of your family, John Doe?"

"Hey Enos!"

Enos turned to the clear voice, the voice he loved so much: Daisy Duke was standing in front of him, and, as many times before, he held his breathe.

She was beautiful.

His eyes slid along her long legs, her short shorts, her tight and low-necked blue shirt, and her face.

Her face: in the sunlight her green hazel eyes were turning into a blue-green shade (he was amazed by her eyes' shade changing in the light), some freckles were visible on her candid and perfect skin, and her brown hair showed a blonde shade.

And her smile: so sweet and open.

He tried to walk to her but he fell face down.

HAZZARD

Sitting at the kitchen's table for dinner, the Dukes were silently praying for Enos, their hands joined in front of their face, their elbows on the table, their head down and their eyes closed.

"Amen."

Uncle Jesse's voice broke the deep silence.

They didn't look at each other but they looked down at their dishes, unable to eat.

"I can't eat, I'm sorry, I'm too much distressed," Bo stood up and walked in the kitchen as a lion in cage, "We tried to follow those tires marks, but…" he shook his head admitting their discomfiture.

Luke had a deep breathe and folded thoughtfully his arms, "Rosco is calling other Counties' Sheriffs to warn them 'bout Enos' missing."

"Or maybe Enos is still in Hazzard, kidnapped or…" Bo stopped, scared by his own words.

Daisy stood up and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door and sinking into her bed; Bo's words and the image of Enos' blood in her mind, she cried hopelessly, her face buried against the pillow.