The boys were happy to make it out of Mount Airy with their hides intact, and even happier to make it with all of their guns still in the truck. When they were safely out of town and in the middle of nowhere, they stopped, and Woodrow and Chuck climbed out of the truck bed and through the passenger side door. It was getting late and they were all dead tired, so they fell asleep on the side of the road sitting up in their seats.

  In the morning, they were woken up by a knock on the window and a skinny young man with blond hair peeping in at them.

  “Is that the mechanic’s boy?” Woodrow asked while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Chuck rolled the window down and pointed his pistol at the boy’s head.

  “Please don’t shoot me,” Goober said meekly and held his hands up. His dirty blue shirt had specks of blood all over the left side.

  “You should turn around and go home, boy, if you know what’s good for you,” Chuck said.

  Woodrow looked out of the back window. There was nobody with the boy, and nobody else coming this way from the town.

  “Chuck, this boy ain’t a threat to us. Put the gun down.”

  “That’s what you said about the whole damn town,” Chuck replied. “I think I’ll put my gun where I damn well please, thank you.” He waved the gun in front of Goober’s chest. “Now, you better tell me what you’re doin’ here before I put one in you. I ain’t never killed a child before, but I’m open to trying new things.”

  Goober looked away. “I want to come with you,” he mumbled.

  “What?!” Chuck asked.

  “I want to come with you,” he repeated, clearer this time around. “Wherever y’all are going, it’s gotta be better than where I’m comin’ from.”

  “We’re on our way to meet up with a bunch of big cats and hunt down a wind-whippin’ Sasquatch. Do you really wanna hang with us?” Woodrow tried to look as insane as he could, opening his eyes so wide that they looked like they might fall out of his head. Goober looked at him quizzically.

  “Yeah, that sounds pretty cool actually,” he said. “Better ‘n Mayberry at least. That place was a mess before. Now that y’all ran down half the town and they think Andy’s kin is out there, it’s gonna be crazier than Briscoe Darlin’ after a mug of hooch.”

  “…What?” Woodrow replied. Chuck grimaced from being reminded of his new title.

  “Just ‘cause I’m kinda tall and he got the same last name…” he started.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Wait, your last name really is Griffith?” Goober asked. “Like, you didn’t give yourself that name? We all say our last name’s Griffith back in Mayberry, but you were really born with it? Maybe you are Andy’s kin.” He looked at Chuck like he was waiting for angel wings to sprout from his back. Chuck moved the gun up to the boy’s head.

  “Bill Jones, you think we should bring him along?” Chuck asked. “Or should I put him down right here?”

  “We can take him to the next town over and drop him off,” Bill Jones replied. “No need to shoot the boy. Woodrow already told you he ain’t a threat to us. Come on, just look at him.”

  Chuck’s eyes narrowed looking at the boy, but he put the safety back on the gun and slipped it back into his pants.

  “Alright, but he’s sittin’ up here with y’all. I’ll be in the back with all the guns.”

  “Now Chuck, do whatever you feel you need to do to not be afraid of this ten-year-old boy,” Woodrow said. “Come on, get on in.”

  “I’m thirteen, actually,” Goober said as Chuck slipped out of the truck and he slipped in next to Woodrow. Puberty had not quite hit the boy yet, only barely grazed him. His skin was still smooth and his cheeks were fuller than seemed natural for someone so slender. His blond hair was thin and rose up in short spikes from his head. When he got into the truck, Woodrow was hit with the smell of sweat and blood.

  “You run all the way here from Mount Airy?” he asked as Bill Jones pulled back onto the road. “We gotta be at least an hour away.”

  “Sure did,” Goober said. “Took me half the night, but I knew I’d run into y’all eventually.”

  “Well, you’re not gonna be with us long. Soon as we get to a town that ain’t made of plywood, we’re droppin’ you off at a police department.”

  “Y’all are really gonna leave me in the hands of the Emperor?” Goober asked.

  “Alright, we’ll drop you off on the side of the road then,” Woodrow replied. “Point is, we can’t keep you.”

  “Why?”

  “There ain’t enough seats, for one.” Chuck glared at the boy through the back windshield and held up one of Woodrow’s giant revolvers menacingly.

  Woodrow banged on the window. “Put that back before you split the damn truck in half!” he shouted.

  Chuck laughed and put the gun down. “It ain’t loaded, damn,” he said, barely audible over the outside wind.

  “Maybe we can keep the boy and leave Chuck on the side of the road,” Bill Jones suggested.

  “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Woodrow said. “But I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to do to a town that didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

  “Fine, fine,” Bill Jones waved his hand dismissively. “Boy probably can’t even shoot anyway.”

  “Get me a good stick and some twine and I sure can,” Goober said. “Been bowhuntin’ all my life.”

  “All ten years of it?” Woodrow raised an eyebrow and gave the boy a shit-eating grin.

  “I-am-thir-teen,” Goober enunciated every syllable. “I just told you that. You feelin’ alright, grandpa?”

  Bill Jones guffawed from the driver’s seat.

  “How about this?” Woodrow started. “We’ll get you a bow in the next town. You show us you can use it, and maybe we’ll bring you along.”

  “No!” Chuck said from the truck bed.

  “Works for me,” Bill Jones said. “If he can feed himself and take care of himself, I don’t mind if he comes along.”

  “No!” Chuck repeated. “We ain’t gonna have no damn kids with us on our huntin’ trip!”

  “I’ll do it,” Goober said.

  Bill Jones went into to a Prick’s Sporting Goods and bought the boy a brand new compound bow and a set of aluminum arrows. Goober was astonished when it was placed into his hands.

  “Well? You gonna show us you can shoot or what?” Bill Jones asked.

  “What do you want me to do?” Goober replied.

  “There’s a whole mess of Hexenwolves around these parts. Kill us one and you can come with us.”