Tired and hurting, Johnny stared at the dead radio sitting in his lap. He couldn’t think straight. He just wanted to go home and go to bed. He was tired of sitting in his pickup. He was tired of the never-ending headache, and he was tired of feeling tired. He just wanted to lie back, close his eyes, and take a nice long nap.

Just when defeat seemed to gain a firm hold of his spirit, that ol’ Gage stubbornness kicked into high gear. With renewed tenacity, Johnny fumbled with the controls to the radio, determined to make the blasted thing work. He flipped it over and fiddled with the wires on the back, hoping the cure would be that simple. He held the mic close to his chest, offered a quick prayer, and turned the switch to on.

Ah...Static...White noise...at least it works...I hope...

Ever so carefully, Johnny turned the radio back into an upright position. He paused a moment to catch his breath. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how fast his heart had been racing in nervous anticipation.

Centering all of his concentration on the radio in front of him, he depressed the button again and listened.

Johnny adjusted the squelch in hopes that voices, any voices, would sing out over the airwaves...

"Oh, c’mon!" Johnny scolded the radio. "There’s gotta be someone out there!"

He brought the mic up to his mouth and depressed the button.

"Uh..." He fought to remember the proper lingo of the CB. "Break 1-9."

He released the button and listened – still nothing...

Volume...there’s a volume button somewhere...

The white noise of the radio did nothing to help the pain in his head, but he was willing to bear anything if he could get a message out.

"There it is..." Johnny turned the volume up.

The static bore through his brain like a dull knife, but he depressed the button on the mic again and repeated, "Break 1-9...is anyone out there?"

When no one answered his last call, he turned the radio off to stop the pounding noise from thrashing through his head. He was hurting, thirsty, tired and discouraged. He laid his head against the frame of the door, too tired to think...too tired to care anymore...

The mic slid out of his hands as his grip relaxed.

Roy looked up into the greasy face of a slightly built man sporting a toothy smile.

"Need some help there, young fella?" Morey asked.

"I was just checking my car." Roy brushed the dust off his hands and knees as he rose to his feet. "I think I hit one of those ruts a little hard when I pulled in."

"Yeah, know what ya’ mean. Some of them ruts are so big you could drive right in and never be seen again!" Morey gave a laugh, but to Roy,the idea of disappearing lacked humor.

"Yeah...I know what you mean. Um, as long as I’m here, I guess I could use some gas," Roy said, "and do you have a pay phone I could use?"

"Right on in the shop, near the door." Morey pointed to the open garage door. "Fill ‘er up?"

"Yes, please!" Roy called over his shoulder.

By the time Roy returned from making his call to Joanne, Morey had finished filling his tank.

"Anything else I can do for ya’?" Morey asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for a friend of mine who might have passed through here this morning," Roy said. He dug out enough money to pay his gas bill and handed it over to the small greasy man.

"Don’t think I know any friends of yours," Morey said matter-of-factly. "You’re not from around here, are ya’?"

"No. No, I’m not," Roy confirmed. "But I’m hoping my friend might have come this way for gas or something...."

"Well?" Morey stood waiting, thumbing the bills in his hand. "What’s this friend of yours look like?"

"He’s about my height, slender, dark hair, dark eyes..." Roy thought a minute. "Wait a minute!" He pulled his wallet back out of his pocket and rifled through it until he found what he was looking for – a photograph of himself and Johnny that Joanne had insisted on taking their first day of work at 51s. He had thought it silly at the time, but was now grateful for his wife’s insistence. "He was supposed to...he had an appointment this morning and never showed up for it. If he had car trouble, he might have stopped somewhere to get it fixed."

Morey took the photo from Roy and held it at arm’s length.

"Yup!"

"Yup?" Roy asked.

"Yup! He was here all right," Morey confirmed.

Roy couldn’t believe his ears. This was the first sign that Johnny had actually traveled this road.

"He was HERE?" Roy asked. "When? Was he all right? Did he have car trouble? Which way did he go?"

"Whoa, there!" A deep laugh escaped from the wiry thin mechanic. "You must really be looking for this fella! He owe you money or something?"

"No, it’s just that...I’m sorry but I’ve been looking for him half the day..." Roy explained. "Look, if you can just tell me when he was here or if he said anything."

"Well, let me think...Mrs. Wilson came in first thing this morning...had a low tire and all, ya’ know...if that ol’ woman wasn’t so tight, she’d just buy a new one, but does she? No... she comes in here every now and again and makes me patch that ol’ ball of rubber..." Morey shook his head, and Roy’s blood pressure rose. "Then...let me think...Mr. Schnitzel come by to see if his part come in yet, which it wouldn’t, since I didn’t get the danged thing ordered till Thursday..."

"Look," Roy interrupted, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could. "I just want to know when my friend was here..."

"I’m gettin’ to that! Just hold your horses! You young people are in too much of a hurry today, that’s the problem with the world today...just in too much of a hurry...sort of like that truck driver this morning...in too much of a hurry..."

When Roy threatened to speak again, Morey raised his hand to silence him.

"THAT’S when your friend was here..." Morey smiled in triumphant.

"What?"

"I said...that’s when your friend was here..."

Roy rubbed his forehead, fending off the headache he felt coming on from this inane conversation. "And when exactly would that have been?"

"I told ya’!" Morey said. "After Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Schnitzel, and the truck driver...10:15."

"10:15. You’re sure?" Roy wondered how this grease monkey could be so exact with convoluted reasoning like that.

"Yup."

"Did he say anything? Did he have car trouble?" Roy asked.

"Nope, just wanted some directions to that clinic in the next town."

"Thank you." Roy took the picture that Morey handed back to him and swung his car door open.

10:15. That was hours ago. Where did you go when you left here, Johnny?

In the midst of his thoughts, Roy became aware of Morey talking to him. "Excuse me?"

"I said...that truck driver sure didn’t take a shine to him..." Morey repeated.

"Truck driver?"

"Yup. Came in after Mrs. Wilson and Mr. Schnitzel. Didn’t take much of a shine to your friend, though. Didn’t take much of a shine to me either, come to think of it...probably don’t take much of a shine to anyone...real mean type, if ya’ know what I mean..."

Roy’s interest was piqued. This didn’t sound good. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, nothin’ happened, exactly...not here anyhow...’cept they knew each other already from somewhere down the road...something about an accident..."

"They had an accident?"

"No, no... almost...that’s all I know...just that the trucker was real mean like and surely didn’t take a shine to your friend..."

"Did they leave at the same time?"

"Nope...your friend took off, then I took care of the trucker, then he took off...that’s all I know...that and..."

"Yeah, I know, he didn’t take a shine to my friend..." Roy finished for him.

"Yup!"

Roy looked at his watch. He’d spent far more time at this one stop than he had planned. At least he knew that he was on the right track, that Johnny had stopped at this same station, and... that some real mean-like trucker didn’t take a shine to him.

Thanking the mechanic for his help, Roy started the engine and dropped the gearshift into first. Small stones and loose dirt kicked up behind the small car as it headed back out onto the main road.

Every bone and muscle screamed out as Johnny rolled his neck to relieve the tension. He’d fallen asleep again, or passed out – he wasn’t sure. He flexed the fingers in his left hand to keep them from stiffening, a move he instantly regretted. His forearm began to throb in rhythm to the ache in his leg.

The shadows that cast their patterned designs through the spider-webbed windshield had shifted. The CB was still perched on his lap, but the mic was no longer in his hand. Grasping at the cord in a cold panic, he yanked at the black cable until the mic flipped back into his hands.

"Get a hold of yourself, Junior," he said with a heavy sigh. "You’re not going to get anywhere feeling sorry for yourself or freakin’ out."

Johnny embraced the mic for the treasure it was and reached for the power switch on the CB.

Either the headache was lessening, or Johnny didn’t care anymore. At any rate, the grating sound of the static barely registered with him. The increasing fog that took over his brain clouded his thoughts. He brought the mic up to his mouth and depressed the button.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51."

Again, the static...Johnny turned a knob that he hoped would lower the volume.

"Rampart – Squad 51."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*This is Cooter comin’ at ya’. C’mon back. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Johnny jumped at the voice coming from the black box.

"Doc?"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/* Ya’ got Cooter on the horn, son...what’s your handle? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Handle? Johnny couldn’t think."...my personal favorite... Junior...dozens more!"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*C’mon back! Ya’ got Cooter on the other end... **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"Junior...my name is Junior." Johnny smiled. There was life out there after all.

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Well, Junior, howdy do? You know this is the emergency channel though? If this isn’t an emergency, you need to clear this channel and find your friend on one of the other ones. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"Emergency?"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*That’s what I said, son. Now clear the channel. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"I’m lost..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Well, that might be an emergency in your book, Junior, but you might find better luck on 19 for directions. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"19?"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Channel 19, Junior. Pop on over there, you’ll find someone to help ya’.**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"I...I can’t...My radio isn’t working right...I...I’m lost..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Okay, Junior, looks like you got me then. Where you at? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Johnny gave a short laugh. If he knew where he was, he wouldn’t be lost. He blinked his eyes and shook his head to ward off the sudden wave of dizziness that threatened to wash over him.

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Still there, Junior? I said I’d help ya’...can ya’ give me your 20?**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Johnny depressed the button while forcing the rising nausea to stay at bay. "Yeah...yeah, I’m still here...I don’t know where I am..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Can ya’ give me an idea, Son?...What’s around ya’? I know these parts pretty well. Give me a description, I’ll tell ya’ where you’re at...**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Johnny looked to his left and saw the tree planted next to his truck.

"There’s nothin’ but trees," Johnny told Cooter. There was a long pause and Johnny’s earlier panic threatened to resurface. "Are you still there?"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, Junior. That’s all you see? Trees? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"Well, yeah, there’s one big one..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Well, ya’ gotta be close to my base or I wouldn’t be picking ya’ up...you pass Maxine’s Diner yet? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Johnny dug deep into his memory banks for any recollection of a place called Maxine’s. No name like Maxine’s came to mind.

"No, I don’t think so..."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Alrighty then, you gotta be down the road from me one way or the other. Turn your vehicle so’s it’s pointin’ uphill and just follow your nose. Maxine’s is at the top of the ridge. Can’t miss it. Got a big ol’ sign out front. Find me and I’ll treat ya’ to a piece of my wife’s apple pie!**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Cooter waited for a reply but Junior didn’t answer.

"C’mon back, Junior, you copy?" Cooter hailed the lost traveler one more time.

"Hmmm... guess he’s not too wild about your apple pie, Maxie!" Cooter teased his wife. The red-haired woman slapped her husband on the rear end as she walked by.

"NO one can resist my pie, you old coot, you," Maxie refuted. "You just didn’t do a good enough job of selling him on it!"

Cooter pushed the mic to his base station back into place and smiled at his bride of twenty years. She was still a good-looking woman, prettier than the day he’d married her. Maxie ignored her husband’s lusty smile and waited on the trucker standing by the cash register.

"See ya’, Coot! Catch ya’ next weekend!" the trucker yelled on his way out the door.

Maxine’s was the name on the diner, though it was the two of them that kept the place running and the customers coming. Truckers had been frequenting their little diner over the years for the good food and better company. They were appreciative for the most part, though there was the odd occasion when a particularly obnoxious driver stumbled upon their humble little establishment.

Roy drove the stretch of road hoping to find his partner’s pickup parked along the side of the road with each corner he rounded. Disappointment followed every curve when no truck came into view. Another check of his watch brought a frown to his face. The afternoon was slipping away. If he didn’t find Johnny before it got dark...

Roy dismissed the notion.

A sign to the right warned of a hairpin curve and he slowed his speed to anticipate the turn. All these sharp turns annoyed Roy. Every bend in the road that forced him to reduce his speed just prolonged his search.

"Can’t volunteer your time in an easier place to get to, can you, Johnny?"

A few miles down the road, Roy spied a diner on his right. As tempted as he was to pass by and head straight for the clinic, he knew he had to stop. He had learned his lesson after that last gas station. When he pulled into the parking lot, he was relieved to see a blacktopped surface.

The smell of fried foods hit Roy in the face before he ever entered the front door. Once inside, the clouds of smoke circling over the heads of the diners mixed with the greasy flavor in the air, filling Roy with an overwhelming desire to ventilate the site.

He walked up to the empty counter and tapped his fingers nervously on the stained Formica. The clock on the wall prompted him to check his watch again out of habit.

"What’ll it be?" An attractive red-haired woman sashayed through the kitchen door, wiping her hands on her apron. "Can I start you out with coffee?"

"No, thanks," Roy answered. "I’m looking for someone."

"This isn’t that kind of a place, Mister," the woman teased. Immediately sensing that Roy wasn’t up to a friendly bout of chitchat, she apologized. "I’m sorry, I’m Maxie...you know...as in Maxine’s?"

"Sorry..." Roy took his turn in apology. "My name is Roy DeSoto. I’m a fireman/paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department. A friend of mine, my partner, was heading up to White Mountain Clinic for a CPR class and I was wondering if he might have passed through here. Slender, dark hair, about my height. His name is John Gage."

"Oh, Hon, we get so many folks coming in and out of here. Can you be a little more specific?" Maxie asked.

Roy dug the photo from his pocket and handed it to Maxie. "He would have been driving a white pickup."

"Cute," Maxie observed, "but I don’t recall seeing your friend, and I think I would have remembered this one."

One more wasted stop, Roy thought glumly.

"Hang on a minute," Maxie said, waving her hand in the air and the photo with it. "COOTER! Get over here a minute, will you?"

"In a sec, Woman!" The balding man waved his arm behind him in acknowledgement.

Maxie turned back to Roy.

"You might have better luck with my husband," she explained. "He’s the one who’s out here schmoozing the customers while I’m cooking up their meals. He’ll be with you in a minute. Meanwhile, can I interest you in a cup of the best coffee on the mountaintop?"

"No, thanks," Roy smiled in appreciation. Any other time he might have enjoyed the atmosphere of this family run establishment, but not today.

"COOT!" Maxie yelled a second time.

Her second outcry did the trick. Cooter waved to the men he’d been talking to, but not before leaning over to whisper something which brought a round of laughter.

"What do you need, Precious?" Cooter slipped his arm around his wife’s tiny waist and gave her a squeeze. Roy wasn’t sure, but he could swear that Maxie blushed at the term of endearment.

"Don’t mind him." Maxie smiled at Roy while throwing her husband’s arm from her waist. "He’s nothing but a dirty ol’ man! Coot, this is Roy..."

"DeSoto," Roy filled in for her.

"DeSoto," she repeated after him. "He’s looking for a friend of his who might have stopped in today. Drove a white pickup truck. I told him you were the man to talk to." Maxie handed the photo over to her husband.

Cooter examined the photo and shook his head. "Sorry, can’t say’s I’ve seen him. You sure he was in today?"

"No, I’m not sure," Roy sighed. "I was just hoping he might have stopped in."

"Sorry we couldn’t be of help," Cooter said as he handed the photo back to Roy.

"Well, thanks for your time," Roy said.

"Offer of coffee’s still good...on the house, in fact," Maxie proposed. She eyed the man standing in front of her and felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach. He reminded her of a small boy who’d just lost his best friend. "To go?"

"That’d be great, thanks..." Roy surrendered. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to get away without a taste of Maxine’s coffee. Besides, he had to formulate a plan. He was getting nowhere fast with his present plan of action. "Do you have a payphone I could use?"

Maxie set a coffee cup on the counter and pointed to the far wall. Roy headed to the phone to break the news to his wife that he still hadn’t found Johnny, hoping that she would have some good news on her end.

One collect call later and he was no nearer to finding his partner. Joanne had checked with the clinic just before Roy called – Johnny was still a no-show. When he returned to the counter, the steaming cup of black coffee sat waiting for him. He picked up the cup and slipped the picture back into his pocket.

"C’mon, Junior...where the heck are you?" Roy thought to himself, not realizing he was speaking out loud.

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" Maxie’s unexpected intrusion into his thoughts caught Roy off guard.

"Did you say ‘Junior’?" Maxie asked.

"Oh, yeah," Roy said with some embarrassment. "My partner...it’s just a nickname."

"COOTER! Get back over here!"

Roy’s nerves jumped at Maxie’s abrupt order. Cooter wasted no time in getting back to his wife this time.

"Coot, his partner’s nickname is Junior," Maxie stated.

A look of revelation crossed Cooter’s face. "We need to talk, Son..."

Cooter motioned to Roy to sit on a barstool. He swung his leg over the stool next to Roy’s and began to weave his tale about the transmission that he’d received on his base station earlier that day. Roy listened with dispassionate interest at first, wondering why this man thought he would be interested in local chatter over CB waves.

"He never answered when I offered a piece of my wife’s apple pie, so I just figured he found his way and just wanted to get a move on," Cooter explained. "No one turns down my wife’s pie...Anyway, when I asked him what his handle was, he said it was Junior..."

Finally, the point of the story was clear. Roy’s heart leapt to his throat.

"Junior?" Roy’s voice mirrored the excitement he felt. "He said his handle was Junior?"

"Come to think of it, no... he said his name was Junior." The bizarre events of the day began to fall into place for Cooter. "He acted like he’d never been on a radio before, broadcasting off of Channel 9, of all places. That’s reserved for emergencies only. Anyone with a CB knows that, or should...Asked for Doc, and then someone named Rampant, or something like that."

"Rampart?" Roy’s voice barely registered.

"That’s it! Yeah, Rampart! Didn’t give it much thought at the time, but considering what happened this morning...your friend might be in some kind of trouble, Mister."

Roy gulped. He was almost afraid to ask. "What happened this morning?"

Cooter paused to take a sip from the mug that Maxie set down for him.

"This big ol’ brute comes in about mid-morning. Biggest, ugliest cuss I’ve ever had the displeasure of," Cooter said. "Starts bragging ‘bout how he ran roughshod over some poor kid."

Roy felt the blood drain from his face, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by his host.

"Better take another sip of that coffee, Son, it gets worse."

Roy took Cooter’s suggestion and waited for the diner owner to go on with his story.

"Now, mind you," Cooter continued, "no one believed this Brutus. His kind gets off on spinning yarns of terror and bullying folks. We see ‘em in here every now and then. We learned a long time ago, it’s best to just let them have their say and get them on their way."

"What did you mean by it ‘gets worse’?" Roy’s right fist began to flex again.

"Well, this Brutus fellow, he starts telling how this hotshot kid nearly ran him off the road quite a ways back and then runs into him again at some small gas station just a bit later. Seems they had some words, which ticked off Brutus even more, so he speeds up to catch up to this kid. Found him a ways down the road and...well, this Brutus guy says he ran the kid off the road...took real pleasure in telling how this white pickup..."

"Pickup?" Roy knew it. He knew it had to have been Johnny the minute Cooter started talking.

"Pickup..." Cooter confirmed. "Looky here, it might not even be your friend. It could all be one big coincidence..."

"No...no, it’s Johnny..." Roy assured Cooter. "I talked to the mechanic at that station. Johnny was there..."

"Sure wish we’d taken him seriously now, but we’ve seen his type before – big, mean and full of it. Guys like that talk just to hear themselves talk, if ya’ know what I mean," Cooter said.

Roy wasn’t sure how to react to all of this. At least he finally had some concrete information, but he was angry that the locals around here hadn’t taken a story like that seriously.

Cooter scrutinized the young man sitting in front of him. "Now, I can tell what you’re thinkin’."

"You can, can you?" Roy’s tone had developed a definite edge.

"Maxie, that’s the wife, and I did take his story seriously...at first..." Cooter never flinched as he met Roy’s gaze. "I was headin’ out the door to check his story out, but just then some of the boys came in. I asked them if they’d seen anything, you know, out of the ordinary – they hadn’t."

Roy stood to leave, but Cooter stopped him.

"Sit tight," the diner owner ordered, "I’ll be right back."

Roy remained standing as he watched Cooter disappear behind the counter and through the kitchen door. He didn’t have time to waste and couldn’t imagine why this man wanted him to wait. Checking his watch for the umpteenth time that day, he turned to leave.

"Now hang on a minute, Fella!" Cooter reappeared with keys dangling from his hand. "City folk..." he muttered under his breath. "Always in a hurry..."

"Look," Roy started to say, but Cooter breezed right past him and approached the same group of men he’d been talking with earlier. Roy looked on with curiosity as they carried on a rather animated conversation. A couple of minutes later, the entire group followed Cooter over to where Roy was standing.

"Thought we might need some help," Cooter said smiling broadly. Pointing to the bearded man on his left, he started introductions. "This here’s Billy Ray, Billy Joe – BJ, for short, Billy Bob, and just Plain Ol’ Bill on the end here. Plain Ol’ Bill and Billy Ray were in here when Brutus was telling his story. They want to help ya’ out. Guys like that give truckers a bad name and we don’t want nothin’ to do with that."

Roy was dumbstruck. He never expected help in his search, but he was willing to accept it from anyone just about now.

"I don’t know what to say," Roy said truthfully. "Thanks..."

Cooter took charge of the search party, directing BJ and Billy Bob to head off to the north in their trucks. Billy Ray and Plain Ol’ Bill would join Cooter and Roy in the easterly direction.

"You’re coming with me," Cooter informed Roy.

Roy pointed outside to the parking lot. "I’ve got my car out..."

"You’ll never see a truck off the road sittin’ so close to the ground in that little thing of yours," Cooter said.

Roy knew he had a point. With Cooter driving, he could concentrate his efforts on the terrain.

"Alright then," Roy conceded.

"C’mon now." Cooter smiled at the obvious friendship between this man and the one he had yet to meet. "My truck’s out back. We best get a move on. We’ve got to help those guys drop their trailers first. No need to be hauling them all over the countryside."

Roy followed Cooter through the kitchen door, but ran into the back of the man when he stopped in his tracks. Cooter turned around and shouted to his wife.

"Maxie! Get yourself on that radio and start transmitting. See if you can’t get that boy to answer you!"

Without stopping to see that his wife heard his directive, Cooter led Roy though the back door of the diner and out to his waiting truck.

Roy sat high in the shotgun seat of Cooter’s old truck, surveying both sides of the road with a watchful eye. His eyes darted back and forth as Cooter drove the nearly deserted stretch of road. "You might do best to keep an eye on just one side of the road, ya’ know..." Cooter informed the anxious man.

"But what if..."

"We’re not goin’ that far down this stretch anyway. My base wouldn’t be picking him up if he was too far away. We’ll head down about five, maybe ten miles, then backtrack. Jus’ keep your eyes peeled for signs of a car going off the road," Cooter instructed.

"Truck..." Roy said in a hushed voice.

"Truck," Cooter acknowledged. He glanced at the man sitting next to him and admired his determination in finding his friend. Only a good man could instill that depth of loyalty.

As hard as it was for him, Roy did as he was instructed and watched his side of the road. Cooter kept his speed down so that Roy wouldn’t miss anything. They couldn’t afford to waste another minute. They needed to find Johnny before the sun slipped behind the mountains.

"You’re probably wonderin’ why I’ve got this old truck yet," Cooter said in a casual tone.

"What?" Roy asked. He wasn’t especially interested in carrying on a conversation just now.

"Well, I drove for years before me and Maxie opened up the diner," Cooter proceeded. "Guess I just didn’t have the heart to give up the ol’ girl."

"Uh-huh." Roy only half listened.

"I still take her out every once in a while, ya’ know, just to keep her in shape," Cooter said. He patted the dash as a boy would pat his faithful pet.

"Can she go any faster?" Roy asked impatiently.

"Go too fast and we might miss something," Cooter pointed out the obvious.

Roy knew he was right but it didn’t help his growing restlessness. The CB squawked Cooter’s name and he grabbed the mic.

"C’mon back."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*This is Digger, Coot...find ‘im yet? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"That’s a negative, Dig. Not a sign. How far down are you?" Cooter answered and then turned to Roy. "That’s Billy Bob."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/* Well, BJ and I are nearly down to ol’ Spencer’s place. We’ll go as far as Hazelton’s then turn ‘round and head back. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

"Keep your eyes open and your ears on, Dig...Plainer, you copy that?"

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*Copy, Coot...we’re on your tail...just keep leading the way. **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/*

Cooter hung the mic back up and looked at Roy. "We’ll find him. Don’t you worry ‘bout that. These boys are the best. Plainer...Plain Ol’ Bill...he used to fly for the military...search and rescue...nothin’ gets by him."

"I hope not..." Roy sighed.

White noise...no, static...whatever...stop...just make it stop, Roy...

The incessant pitch of the radio weaved though Johnny’s head, rousing him. Without bothering to open his eyes, he fumbled with the CB controls to make the noise stop. His fingers settled on a knob and he turned it.

Instead of silencing the steady, earsplitting tone, the volume knob increased the sound to full intensity. Putting both hands to his forehead, Johnny pressed against his skull. He could feel the rhythmic beat of his pulse as it reverberated against the palms of his hands. The pressure gave some relief; the constant noise continued to jar his senses.

He freed one hand and opened one eye to find the power switch on the radio. Straining to see straight, he felt for another knob. Hoping he’d found the right switch, he turned it.

The channel selector indicator flipped numbers with each click – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17...

Johnny couldn’t understand why the noise didn’t stop...this white noise that seemed determined to batter his head with its incessant, overbearing buzz.

In a desperate attempt to distance himself from the major source of his headache, Johnny flung the radio off of his lap. The CB landed in its original spot – on the floor of the cab – crackling away.

Too worn to attempt another retrieval...too weary to care...Johnny let his arms drop in his lap and dropped his chin on his chest as he slumped against the door.

Cooter pulled his cab into a turnout lane on the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" Roy asked. He hadn’t seen anything but was hopeful that his driver might have caught something on the other side of the road.

"Well, we’ve gone a full ten miles," Cooter noted. "No way I’d a’picked up your friend’s radio signal from this far out." Cooter stuck his arm out his side window and waved at the truck behind him. One blast on the horn behind them indicated that Plainer understood the action. "Now we go back up the hill."

Cooter and Billy Ray took turns maneuvering their trucks on the narrow road until they were headed in the opposite direction. Both engines roared as they dropped into first gear and headed up the steep grade. Roy hung his head out the window as his eyes scoured the brush for signs of Johnny’s white pickup down the steep embankment. The opposite side of the road didn’t drop-off nearly as steep as this side did.

If you went off on this side of the road, Johnny, I hope you landed on something soft, Roy thought to himself.

They drove slowly, as before. Roy was growing familiar with this road by now and knew that they were fast approaching the last turn before the straightaway that led to the diner. The hairpin curve lie just ahead and Roy began to fear they were on the wrong trail. As Cooter slowed for the turn, Roy thought he saw something. He concentrated his efforts on a small area on the side of the road. It wasn’t until they had passed the spot that he knew for sure.

"STOP!"

Roy’s shout sang out in unison with the air horn blast that came from behind. Cooter hit the air brakes and the truck jerked to a stop. Roy had his door open before the truck came to a complete stop and his feet hit the ground with a resounding thud as he jumped from the cab. He ran back down the road to the spot in question, hoping he hadn’t been seeing things that weren’t there.

"Here!" he yelled to Cooter and the other drivers.

Cooter, Billy Ray and Plain Ol’ Bob raced over to where Roy was standing. Tire tracks dug into the shoulder of the road. Small saplings, bent and broken, twisted in the light mountain breeze.

"This has to be it!" Roy sighed with relief for the first time that day.

"Well, let’s check it out then." Cooter didn’t have to tell Roy twice.

"Hey, Maxie! Where’d that old man of yours go?"

Maxie looked over the pile of dishes in her arms to see another one of her regular customers come through the door.

"He’s out helping some fella find a friend of his," Maxie said. "Get your own coffee if you want any." It was not unusual to see Maxie handling the diner by herself. Cooter often volunteered his time and truck to help friends and strangers alike.

"Maxie!"

"Get it yourself!" she yelled from the kitchen.

"MAXIE!"

"Oh for heaven’s sake, what do you want?" Maxie bolted through the kitchen doors. Her face turned as red as her hair when she realized that it was a different customer wanting to pay for his meal.

"Sorry, Mel," Maxie apologized.

"No problem, but um..."

"Spit it out, you old cuss," Maxie laughed. "And don’t you even try to tell me you didn’t like the food. You all but licked your plate clean."

Mel patted his bulging belly in testament to that fact. "No, you know better than that, pretty lady, but, ah, aren’t you supposed to be on that radio?"

"What do you mean?" Maxie asked.

"I mean, Cooter yelled at you to get on the horn just before he took off with that city fellow. Wanted you to try to get that kid back on the radio."

"Oh, that old man! Just like him to tell me something like that when I’m on the other side of the diner," Maxie said. "Just put your money in the cash register, Mel, and make your own change. It’s not like you haven’t done that a million times before!"

She wiped her hands on her apron and grabbed the standing microphone.

"Base Station calling Junior, c’mon back...Calling Junior, come in, Junior, you got Cooter’s Max on the horn, got your ears on?"

Maxie let up on the mic and listened – nothing. She closed her eyes, counted to ten and repeated her call. Several more attempts yielded no results. Maxie glanced up at the clock. She was just about ready to give up and admit defeat.

"Anything yet?" Mel hadn’t left, and a small crowd had gathered around the counter.

"Try again, Max!" one of the onlookers encouraged.

With her audience spurring her on, Maxie returned to the mic. Suddenly, an idea came to her.

The thick brush made it almost impossible for the men to see where, or if, a vehicle had gone off the road. Many of the broken saplings had snapped back into position, masking the trail. If they hadn’t been looking for signs of an accident, they would never have known that anything unusual had taken place.

"Hang on a minute!" Cooter yelled.

Roy watched Cooter run back to his truck. All he wanted to do was to dive headlong into the brush, but he knew they stood a better chance if they combed the hillside together.

Cooter climbed into his cab, grabbed the mic to his CB, and hailed his trucker friends further down the road. If this turned out to be the right place, he knew they could use all the hands they could find. Before he headed back to where Roy and the others waited, he opened up a small side compartment where he kept his tools.

"Thought we might be needing this...just in case, ya’ know..." he smiled and held up a small crowbar.

"Good thinking." Roy smiled in return, then turned to the search party. "Okay, we need to space ourselves. There’s a chance that Johnny might have made his way out of the truck after he and Cooter talked on the radio. Move carefully. The brush is thick. We don’t want to miss anything..."

The four men positioned themselves and began their descent through the wild brush. Sweeping the long grasses and bristly shrubs with their arms, they weaved their way down the steep incline. Branches with razor-like leaves stung their bare arms at the intrusion into their untamed world. The going was slow, which aggravated Roy.

In the quiet of the forest, the rumble of trucks sounded from the road above. The rest of their search party had arrived. Roy realized that they should have waited for the others, but in his desire to find Johnny, he wasn’t willing to waste those precious minutes.

"I’ll head back up and tell them what we’re doin’!" Billy Ray volunteered from his place in line. The rustling of branches grew fainter as Billy Ray wasted no time in hurrying back to the road.

With each step that Roy took, he expected – no, hoped – to find Johnny sitting under the cooling shade of one of the big trees nearby, just waiting for help to arrive. When that didn’t happen, his apprehension grew.

"JOHNNY!" Roy called out. "Can you hear me? Johnny!" Every few minutes, the group stopped to listen. There was no answer. "Johnny!" Roy continued to shout out his partner’s name.

Suddenly, Cooter stopped and held up his hand. "Listen."

"Do you hear something?" Roy asked. His heart leapt to his throat as he strained to hear any signs of his partner.

"Shhhhh..." Cooter shook his hand at Roy. "Just listen..."

The only discernible noise came from the men further up the embankment as they worked their way down to the trio.

"Hush up, you guys!" Cooter yelled behind him. "Listen!"

The earth stood still as the group of men melded into the wilds of the mountainside. Roy closed his eyes and focused on any sound unnatural to the terrain.

A light hum drifted through the trees – a steady, man-made hum. A gratifying grin slowly spread across Cooter’s face.

"You know what that is, don’t you?" Without waiting for a reply, Cooter answered his own question. "That’s white noise, boys...music to an old trucker’s ears."

"Johnny’s CB!" Roy shouted.

"Got that right!" Cooter was still grinning.

"It’s coming from over there," Roy pointed to the left. He brushed aside the limbs impeding his progress and forged his way through the uncompromising turf.

The closer they got to the hum, the stronger the signal became, until a new sound radiated through the trees.

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/**...do you copy? Come in, Junior. You got Cooter’s Max here...do you copy? **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/**

"And that, gentlemen...is the voice of an angel!" Cooter hollered with pride.

Angel, indeed... For Johnny’s sake, Roy hoped that his partner had an angel sitting on his shoulders.

"I SEE IT!" Roy yelled. Ignoring the sharp barbs that threatened to cut at his arms, he quickened his pace until the gleam of a white pickup played through the brush. He hurdled over a fallen log and crashed through the thicket until his hands planted themselves on the rear side panel of Johnny’s battered pickup.

"JOHNNY!" Roy yelled again. He pushed broken branches aside and made his way to the driver’s door. The large tree blocked access to the driver’s side of the pickup so Roy climbed into the bed of the truck and scrambled over to the passenger side. He glanced through the partially opened window to see his partner slumped against the door, lifeless.

"Johnny! Johnny, you all right?" The lump in Roy’s throat grew. There was no movement inside the truck – no sound, except for the CB calling out to ‘Junior’. Roy tugged and pulled at the stubborn door but it refused to budge.

"Here, try this." Cooter came up from behind Roy and offered him the crowbar. Roy inserted the end of the bar between the frame and the door and pushed until it gave way. With Cooter’s help, he forced the creaking door open.

Roy wasted no time in climbing over the seat and placed one hand on Johnny’s neck. A long sigh escaped Roy’s lips when a strong pulse beat under his touch.

"He’s alive!" Roy shouted to no one in particular.

While Roy concentrated his efforts on his partner, Cooter reached inside and grabbed the mic to Johnny’s CB, noting that the truck’s CB was no longer on channel nine.

Smart woman...Cooter thought with infinite pride. He knew that Maxie must have been channel hopping in hopes of running across their lost traveler. "We got ‘im, Precious," Cooter told his wife on the other end. He instructed his wife to call for the ambulance out of White Mountain and gave her their location. Cooter turned the CB off, silencing its lifesaving hum.

"Johnny...Johnny, can you hear me?" Roy asked. He moved Johnny’s head back with great care and examined the lump on the left side of his skull. "Open your eyes, Junior..."

At the mention of ‘Junior’, Johnny stirred.

"That’s right. Open your eyes, Junior."

"Roy?" Johnny whispered.

"That’s right, Johnny. It’s Roy...now open your eyes!" Roy demanded.

Johnny obeyed his partner and cracked one eye open.

"That’s better," Roy smiled. "Now, how would you like to get out of here?"

"I’d like that," Johnny said in a weak voice, "but I’m lost."

"Not anymore you’re not, Junior, not anymore," Roy assured him. He sat back on his haunches, still cradling Johnny’s head in his hands.

Cooter leaned inside the truck while the rest of the men gathered outside the pickup, ready to help.

"What do you need, Son?" Cooter asked.

Roy thought for a moment. There were no medical supplies at hand...no trauma equipment...no drugs. He needed a C-collar and a backboard. Wincing at the sight of the metal wrapped around Johnny’s leg, he knew he needed extraction equipment as well, and probably a leg splint. Getting Johnny out would require the help of every man available.

"Well, first I need to stabilize his neck," Roy told Cooter. "I need something to wrap around his neck, to prevent him from moving it when we get him out."

Cooter reached down and picked up Johnny’s jacket from the floor of the truck. "Will this do?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it will," Roy said. "Roll it up lengthwise, as tight and flat as you can get it."

Cooter rolled the jacket into a tight strip and handed it to Roy.

"Like this?" Cooter asked, holding up his handiwork.

"Yeah, that’s perfect, Cooter." Roy thanked the man and took the jacket from him. He wrapped the makeshift collar around Johnny’s neck and tucked in the end behind his head.

"He gonna be all right?" Cooter asked.

"He will be as soon as we get him out of here," Roy said. With the collar stabilizing Johnny’s neck, Roy did a quick survey of his other injuries, noting the bandage on his left forearm. Good man. "Hey, Partner, you still with us?" Roy asked the too quiet Johnny.

"Yeah, I’m still here," Johnny muttered. "I’m thirsty." His mouth felt dry and parched after his involuntary imprisonment during the course of the day.

"I can fix that!" Billy Ray piped up. "Got a water jug in my truck."

"Wait a minute!" Roy stopped Billy Ray before he took off. "We’ll need some other supplies if you can find them."

"Sure thing, Man," Cooter spoke for the group. "What do you need?’

"We’ll need something to free his leg," Roy said, "and a leg splint...I don’t know if it’s broken, but we can’t take the chance that’s it’s not. We need something like a backboard to carry him up the hill." Roy hoped for a miracle...wished for the squad.

"Got it!" Cooter said. He turned and barked instructions to the other men and stayed behind in case Roy needed any assistance.

"I’m a mess, aren’t I?" Johnny managed a small smile.

"No more than usual," Roy grinned. He was glad to see that Johnny hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

"Just hang in there, Junior!" Cooter encouraged.

Johnny tried to turn his head to see whom the voice belonged to, but the jacket around his neck prevented him from doing so.

"Who...who’s here?" Johnny looked to Roy for an answer.

"Hey, Junior, it’s me, Cooter."

"Cooter?" Johnny knew the name but couldn’t quite place it. Only one thing that came to mind, and even he wasn’t sure why. "I didn’t get my pie..."

Pie? Roy tensed up. He feared the head trauma was worse than he first thought. He turned to Cooter with worry painted across his face, but Cooter was all smiles.

"Don’t you worry ‘bout that, Junior!" Cooter said. "Maxie will have the biggest, juiciest piece of pie waitin’ for ya’ whenever you’re ready for it!"

The muscles in Roy’s body relaxed. He still didn’t understand the pie reference but Cooter seemed to know what Johnny was talking about, and that was good enough for him.

Several minutes later, a flurry of action swirled around Johnny’s truck as the other men appeared with the needed equipment. Not waiting for instructions, these men knew their job.

Plain Ol’ Bill handed Roy a blanket with which to cover himself and Johnny from flying glass. With the blanket safely in place, Billy Bob shielded his eyes with one arm as he slammed the small sledge against the glass. The blunt force of the blow broke through the cracked windshield with one whack. Two more forceful slams rained down on the windshield, creating an opening large enough to slip the chains through it.

Roy wasn’t sure how they did it, but Billy Ray and BJ managed to rig the chains and jack to simulate the Jaws of Life. The twisted metal protested with creaking groans as the might of five determined men forced it into submission. Roy kept Johnny covered with the blanket as a precautionary measure while he monitored his progress.

"We got it!" Roy shouted out. Johnny groaned as Roy gently slid his leg from its confined space. "I need help in here!"

Cooter and Billy Ray hustled back to the passenger side of the truck to assist.

"We need to keep his neck and back straight," Roy instructed the two men. He leaned his back against the dash to allow room for the other men to reach into the cab. Cooter slipped inside and placed his hands behind Johnny’s head. "You gotta help them as much as you can, Johnny."

Johnny answered with another groan.

"I know it hurts," Roy said, "but it’s the only way." Roy knelt on the floor of the cab with one knee while propping his other leg against the seat. He offered encouragement to Johnny as he held his leg straight while Cooter and Billy Ray slowly slid Johnny across the bench seat.

Billy Bob and BJ met them outside the pickup and positioned themselves on either side to help lift the injured man. Plain Ol’ Bill took Roy’s place at Johnny’s leg as Roy hopped out of the truck. They laid Johnny on the flat mattress that they had confiscated from Billy Ray’s sleeper.

Roy marveled at these men – at their kindness and ingenuity. He knelt down by Johnny’s head and took his pulse and respirations. The squinty smile that met his touch rewarded Roy for his efforts

"Took you long enough to get here," Johnny grinned through the pain.

"You forgot to leave directions," Roy lightly teased back. He quickly splinted Johnny’s leg with the floor mat provided by the truckers and secured it with duct tape.

With three men on either side of the mattress, they began their trek back up the mountainside. It was a long, slow trip. Quiet moans escaped from their patient with each slip of the foot and readjustment in position. To Johnny, just when it seemed he couldn’t take any more jostling, they reached the top. The six men set the mattress down on the side of the road and waited.

Roy began to wonder when help would arrive when sirens blared from a distance. Minutes later, an ambulance pulled up to the volunteer search and rescue team.

The EMTs on board admired the creative leg splint and C-collar as Roy introduced himself and apprised them of Johnny’s condition. They transferred Johnny onto their gurney and loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

Roy started to climb into the ambulance with Johnny but stopped and turned to the helpful strangers who had volunteered their time.

"I..." he hesitated. Mere thanks seemed adequate.

"No thanks needed," Cooter assured him. "Just git goin’. I’ll see to it that your car’s taken up to the clinic."

Roy nodded his thanks, and climbed into the back, closing the door behind him.

Cooter, Billy Ray, Billy Bob, BJ and Plain Ol’ Bill watched as the ambulance sped away with the two strangers from the big city. They headed back down the hill to retrieve their tools and equipment, loaded their things into their trucks and went their separate ways.

Johnny’s mass of thick hair whipped about in the wind as Roy’s car traveled the stretch of mountain road. It had been a week since the accident and Johnny had triumphed over his close call with his usual resolve. He had fooled everyone – except Roy.

"Penny for your thoughts," Roy said without taking his eyes off the road.

A short laugh escaped Johnny’s lips. "Now that sounds like something Joanne would say."

"You okay?" Roy ignored the fact that Johnny had conveniently evaded the question.

"Yeah."

"You were one lucky man, you know that?" Roy said.

"Yeah, I know," Johnny answered quietly. He turned to Roy and forced a smile, mindlessly brushing the hair from his face. "Lucky for me I had that CB, I guess. Proved my point though, huh?"

"Yeah..." Roy said. "You did that all right...the hard way."

Johnny smiled as he glanced down at the new CB mounted under Roy’s dash. The volume was set on low but he could still hear the steady, comforting hum of the white noise.

"Chet feels really bad about those cracks he’d made about your radio, you know," Roy said.

"Yeah, I know he did."

"So...you ever going to tell him you’re not mad?" Roy had been witness to Chet’s attempts at repentance for the past week and was beginning to feel sorry for the man.

"Yeah, eventually." Johnny’s lips carved out a sly smile.

Roy took his eyes off the road long enough to see the look of deviant delight in his partner’s expression. "You’re cruel, too, you know that?"

"Yeah!" Johnny laughed along with his partner. "I know that, too! Can ya’ blame me though? I mean, it’s kind of fun watching him knock himself out."

"What about Janice?" Roy asked. "You two get things squared away?"

"Yeah, sort of..."

"Sort of? Does that mean you’re not seeing her?"

"Nah, I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "She still feels guilty about asking me to teach that class, and...well, everything... I keep telling her that it wasn’t her fault, but I don’t think she believes it. That’s just no way to start a relationship, Roy."

Roy smiled. His partner – the expert on relationships – never stayed in a relationship long enough to call it that in the first place.

"Sure you want to do this?" Roy asked as they came closer to their destination.

"Yeah, I’m sure." Johnny nodded his head with conviction although he didn’t feel as confident as he wanted Roy to believe.

The infamous hairpin curve lay just ahead. Every muscle that Johnny owned tensed as they neared the scene of the accident. Roy was torn. Maybe they should have found an alternate route. Then again, he didn’t want this particular site to represent a misplaced sense of power over Johnny’s psychological recovery. When Roy’s car eased uneventfully around the curve, both men visibly relaxed. A comfortable silence settled between the two. Their mission was nearly complete.

A few miles down the road, Roy pulled into a parking lot and found a spot near the front door. He jumped out and grabbed a pair of crutches from the back of the car. Johnny took the crutches and steadied himself. He hobbled his way into the diner as Roy held the door open for him. They had barely stepped inside when a chorus of deep voices sang out to greet him.

"JUNIOR!"

The warm welcome brought a genuine smile to Johnny’s face. He leaned on one crutch and rubbed his belly with his free hand.

"I’m here for my pie!" he announced.

Roy hung back in the role of observer and watched as a group of truckers gathered around his partner as if he were some big-time celebrity. Johnny was in his element, especially when a couple of pretty, young ladies joined the fray. Roy recognized most of the truckers as the Good Samaritans who had come to their aid a week earlier. As for the young women, Roy surmised that they had heard Johnny’s story and wanted to see for themselves the young man who had dominated everyone’s conversation for the past week.

"Roy! Glad you could make it!" Cooter made his way over to Roy and extended a hand in greeting. "Looks like our Junior is healing up right nicely."

"Well, I think he’s feeling a whole lot better right now..." Roy said with a smile.

"That he is..." Cooter laughed at the obvious observation. "They ever catch that guy?"

"Not yet," Roy answered.

"Too bad..." Cooter shook his head. "Wish we’d gotten a better look at his truck. Don’t you worry though. They’ll get ‘im. We told ‘em everything we knew about the guy."

"Well, I’m not so sure..." Roy sighed. "The bad news is, the police aren’t sure they’ll be able to find him at all without a license number or description of the truck. They think he was just passing...probably an independent trucker."

Even Johnny hadn’t been able to give the police many details on the truck itself. Roy didn’t like the idea that this madman was still on the loose, perhaps terrorizing other innocent drivers. More to the point, Roy hated that this guy had left his partner for dead on the side of that mountain and was going to get away scott-free with his dirty deed.

"Alright now, boys and girls, let’s give the man some air here!" Cooter shooed the well wishers away and pulled a chair out for Johnny at a table near the door. "You sit yourself right here, Junior, and Maxie will be out in a sec for your order."

"Thanks," Johnny said with an appreciative smile, "don’t mind if I do." He eased himself into the waiting chair and leaned his crutches against the wall behind him. Cooter grabbed a chair next to him and motioned to Roy to sit on Johnny’s other side.

"Now, who do we have here?" Maxie came up to Johnny and wrapped her arms around his neck for a big hug. "We’re so glad you’re all right..."

"Well, thanks." Johnny normally loved being the center attraction, but was starting to become a bit embarrassed with all the attention. "And you must be Cooter’s daughter..." He winked at the woman by his side, hoping to turn the tables.

Cooter feigned a coughing fit from his side of his table.

"Oh, hush!" Maxie dismissed Cooter with a wave of her hand. She leaned in close to Johnny and whispered loud enough for all three men to hear. "If I was, Hon, you’d be in big trouble...Now, what’ll it be, Sugar?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I really would like a piece of that pie!" Johnny admitted.

"Pie it is!" Maxie smiled and scooted off to the kitchen. Minutes later she returned, juggling three plates of her homemade apple pie in both arms. She set the plates in front of the three men and dashed back to the cash register to help a customer.

"Mmmm..." Johnny moaned in ecstasy. "This is the best pie I’ve ever had."

"Told ya’!" Cooter smiled as he stabbed at another forkful. "No one bakes a pie like my Maxie!"

"Roy, you should get this recipe for Joanne!" Johnny mumbled through a mouthful of pie. "It’s incredible!"

"Oh no!" Roy shook his head. "I’m not doing that again!"

"Chicken," Johnny chided good-naturedly.

"Yup!"

When they had finished with their pie, they pushed their empty plates to the middle of the table and leaned back in their chairs.

"That was the best pie I’ve ever eaten!" Johnny smiled, slapping his stomach in blissful satisfaction.

Cooter smiled in appreciation of the compliment of his wife’s cooking, then turned to Johnny with a serious look planted on his face. "Well, no sense in puttin’ it off, I got good news and bad news for ya’."

Johnny’s expression changed to match the solemn cast on Cooter’s face. He wasn’t sure he was ready for more bad news but was curious as to what Cooter meant. "What’s that?"

"Well, the good news is, we got your truck pulled out..." When Johnny didn’t respond, Cooter continued. "The bad news is, there’s not much to salvage."

"Is that all?" Johnny’s face relaxed.

"Is that all?" Roy repeated. "Johnny, he just said your truck was totaled."

"Doesn’t matter..." Johnny shrugged his shoulders matter-of-factly.

"Doesn’t matter..." Roy mimicked Johnny’s words in disbelief.

"You know, Roy, I think you’ve been hangin’ around Chet too long. You’re starting to repeat yourself!" Johnny’s smile grew with the growing confusion on his partner’s face. "That truck was on its way out anyway."

"I thought you were still saving up your money to get what you really wanted," Roy pointed out.

"Nah, that was just for Chet’s benefit," Johnny said with a twinkle in his eye. "I’ve got plenty for a down payment. Besides, I’ve had my eye on this Land Rover...."

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Guest Dispatchers            Stories by Dianne Bay