BULLSEYE

Trench Coats and Guns

I was kept busy that evening, derived with my thoughts of Doc and the way he acted around me. Flo came to visit, Sally in tow. Then came Mater and hell followed him. Sent me flying into all four corners of the little town of Route 66 to find merrily nothing at all. A ghost chase for something that he had only seen in the rear of his rusty wagon. By the time I had gotten home, I was riddled with weariness. Exhaustion that fixed upon me like a monster, jaws wide and grinning. I retired to bed. Turning in with the only sound I could hear in my apartment the short, bang, thud, of my withered heart.

Alas, in the morning I woke up to something that was not at all to my liking. The first trace of it was the short and dainty footsteps clad into the dirt. The second were the low mellow voices. And the third...

The third were the sirens. So loud, so ear-piercing loud. They were not so subtle nor concise as the rest. On the contrary, they made the earth shake.

Damn it and blacken their heads, I swore.

My eyes were bleary and my head spinning. Reluctantly, I drew myself out of bed. Standing on my feet I thought to regain my balance. Grabbing my gun that I had placed on my bed-side table, I slung a black trench coat over my shoulders and charged outside. Slamming the door behind me.

The air outside was still cold and misty. The sun having yet to rise above the snowy peaks of the mountains. The wind pushed my hair slick against my head. I scanned the area, eyes like slits of merciless wrath.

No-one, no-one disturbed my sleep.

It took merely an instant for my longing eyes to fall along the troop. They were right outside my door, right on the corner of the desolate street. There clumsiness almost making a man feel sorry for the merciless creatures. And yet pity was not a burden that I was to unfortunate to don. Instead I merely prowled over to where they stood. Like ants to piece of rotting bread. There leather jackets and fashionably donned clothes gleamed in the morning sun. Gadgets of many shapes and sizes adorned their clothing.

Part of the press, of course, some disembodied ghost of long acclaimed media. That was not at all to my surprise, alas something else was. Something made my eyes flare with a certain fire and my heart ran circles around me. Beating hard against the cage of my ribs.

In the middle of the circle, flanked by people on other side was Doc. Still donning that accursed racing jacket. Looking as though he had been caught in the midst of a morning run, his hair ran unruly and dry. Ear buds fallen from his ears, hung around his neck. He looked frantically around, his eyes strained. Transferring his weight from foot to foot. Looking as though he was searching for anyway, anywhere, that he could escape this flock of mindless birds. Finding none.

With that I loaded my gun, the click of it making my jaw clench. Hand on the trigger, I pushed my way towards the men. Nudging one with a bony shoulder, he turned to glare at me.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He hissed. Spit oozing between the cracks in the cobbled ground. The man turned to me, his breath battering against my skin.

"This," he cursed my intrusion, "This is the renowned Doc Hudson. We're trying to get an exclusive interview on why he won't return to racing. I'm afraid, sir, that this really has nothing to do with you," he spat. And my sheriff badge began to wear heavily against my chest. There were multiple questions that flared through my brain, a few concerning why Mr. Fabulous might be standing here surrounded by paparazzi. I did not listen to them. There was only one question that was worthy of answering now.

I shook my head.

"This," I snarled, "Is my town. And nobody, nobody, deserves to be treated like this here in Route 66," I howled. And then just to add meaning to my words, I pointed my gun towards the sky. Almost unknowingly, I fired a warning shot. At that the crew began to sprawl away, they fled without a further look at Doc. Making their exit like a sea of evil.

A hand met my shoulder then, a hand soft and warm. Startled, I turned around. Dropping my gun down to hang at my side. Sally stood in front of me then. Strawberry blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. Donning her telltale blue suit.

"Nice job," Sally murmured. Slowly draping her hand off my shoulder.

"Your a good man you know, most people would've just watched that happen. Doc would be grateful," she praised. Unnerved I shrugged.

"You would've done better," I responded. Flicking my gun back into the hold I had made for it on the inside of my trench coat. Sally shook her head, in pure denial of my honourable opinion.

"I'm just the lawyer remember, your the sheriff. You can't expect me to be so good at everything," she stated wickedly. Winking at Sarge, light catching upon her blonde hair. Making the highlights shine in it's dull sheen.

"Still, in saying that, you have to get better at catching the criminals. All I have is paperwork, I want something real," she complained. Her voice sagging mournfully at the word real. I tried to force back a wiry smile but it came anyway. My cheeks beamed.

"Of course you do Sal," I acknowledged, "Of course you do," At that moment Flo came out from beside Sally. A fire flashing in her eyes. The both of them invited me to go and sit with them, and I was not in the mind to refuse.

I followed them onto that bench, perching my scrawny body between them. Listening dazedly to their conversation, adding in my opinion when I thought it necessary. Laughing at the given times, which was, thanks to Flo, a lot of laughter. Alas, my eyes still scanned the crowd. The men had still not cleared away, still in the motion of packing away all the equipment that they had adorned the streets with. My restless eyes searched for Doc but I could not see him. The only trace of him that flickered in front of my eyes was the pointed edge of his navy coat.

Alas, soon even that was gone. I was left like a beggar in the snow, searching hopelessly for the man. The game began to feel dull to me, a boring game that had no end. After minutes, I turned to give Flo and Sally my full intention. As they deserved.

Laughing with them and hearing their voices lull my weight, I tried not to think about Mr. Fabulous. The strange man who kept on entering my mind, unannounced and unheeded.