Photo by John McColgan

All usual disclaimers apply; I don't own the rights, I don't get money and this is for entertainment only. Please excuse any errors; they are entirely mine.

This is my response to a story challenge from Judith.

I dedicate this story to The Usual Suspects; I never would have been able to finish it without your support. Thanks ladies!

Chapter 1

The man rolled his eyes as he listened to the piped-in music on the overhead public address system. It was an instrumental version of a "Run Through the Jungle" by Credence Clearwater Revival. It was bordering on blaspheme to do that to such a great song. His very own theme song, he glared at himself in the mirror as he listened to the song being butchered on the tinny sounding PA. How could they do that and get away with it?

The man shook his head and forced the anger away; he then looked in the mirror and smiled as he adjusted his shirt. The shirt was a little too small. He looked himself in his reflected eye and shrugged. It would do. He carefully combed his hair, checked his teeth and his gun. Everything was in order. He looked at his watch, then nodded to himself, turned on his heel and left the men's room. It was time to go.

"Call it." The silver coin flipped into the air.

"Heads."

The coin fell to the floor, rolled around and fell to one side, head side up.

The brunet detective sighed, "Too bad. Darn, I lost. You win Hutch, you lucky dog," A big grin flashed across his face as he reached down to retrieve his coin.

The blond shook his head as he leaned down to pick up his small satchel. He then leaned a little further over and snatched the coin off the floor just before his friend reached it. He looked at the coin and glanced at his friend. The curly head popped up and dark blue eyes connected with light blue eyes. And that's when he knew. Hutch raised the coin up and over his head to keep it away from his partner.

"That's mine! Gimme that--" Starsky hopped up and down trying to grab the blond's hand and retrieve his coin.

Hutch raised his hand a little higher over his head, using his two inches of extra height to keep the coin away from his friend. He flipped the coin over "Two heads" He slid a how-could-you look at the brunet.

"Heh, heh... umm..." Starsky ran a nervous hand through his curls and broke off eye contact.

"This is a first... you at a loss for words. I wish I had a camera to record this moment." The blond shook his head. "Why the coin Starsk? If you didn't want to go, why didn't you just say so?" He tried to keep the hurt expression off of his face. "I know you don't like to fly, you could have just said so..."

"It didn't seem fair." The brunet looked away for a moment, then met up with the light blue eyes again.

"Oh, and using a trick coin is fair?" Hutch arched an eyebrow up.

"Well, if you hadn't taken it--" Starsky started to complain.

Hutch cut him off "--I wouldn't have known any better. It's still at trick" disappointment tinged the blond's voice.

"Okay, I'll go." The brunet sighed and dropped his head, there were worse things then flying. Like burning to death, or being eaten alive by some animal, or eating broccoli.

"Oh no, you wanted it your way. You got your way. I hope you're happy now" the blond turned on his heel, pocketed the coin, picked up his satchel and headed out to the tarmac to board the small four-seat plane.

Starsky watched as the blond walked out the side door to meet with the FBI agent that was also going on that flight. He continued to watch as the agent, that he and Hutch had met earlier, shook Hutch's hand and they boarded the small plane with yet another man. Was that guy the real witness? Or was he the decoy?

Starsky mentally went over the mission once more. The witness, Mallard, was to testify before a grand jury about what he knew of the inner workings of the Manahan crime syndicate. The crime boss, 'Merciless' Mark Manahan wanted Drake 'Duck Boy' Mallard dead before he could testify.

Manahan was paying a hit man or more likely, several, to see that Mallard didn't make it to the courthouse alive. He wanted Drake to be a 'dead duck' by his court date. Starsky snickered to himself about the pun, and then sobered.

The plan to get Mallard to the courthouse alive was simple, yet complex. Three of Bay City's finest were to be partnered with three FBI agents. All three pairs and their witnesses had met at this airport before heading out to Bay City. They had each split up and each pair would be traveling by three different modes of transportation and all would be dressed as civilians.

Each of the pairs was to take their witness to the Bay City courthouse. Two of the pairs would be escorting a decoy. One pair would have the real witness. None of the three teams would know who had the real Mallard. This was due to the reconstructive surgery that Mallard undergone to protect his identity.

Every one of the six people in this operation had been thoroughly checked out. Facts and identifications had been checked and re-checked. There was little room for error. It was as good as it could get. Starsky watched as the small four-seat plane taxied down the runway and lifted off. It was then that he realized that he hadn't said goodbye to Hutch.

Hutch made himself as comfortable as he could in the cramped confines of the plane. Starsky was going to regret this. He was going to have to drive several hundred miles to get back to Bay City by car. It would only be a little short trip of about an hour or so by plane and then the drive to the courthouse. It was going to take Starsky hours to get back.

The bad guys would have one hell of a time trying to figure out which one of the three teams had the real Mallard. There was no chance of anything happening to them once they were in the air. He only had to worry about the take off and then his only worries would be the landing at the airport and the drive to the courthouse. Those were the times when they would be most vulnerable to attack.

Hutch fastened his seat belt and leaned back in his seat. Soon the plane would be in the air, and then he could relax until they landed. He looked around the small plane and nodded at the FBI agent Hank Ruth and watched the passenger fasten his seatbelt. Was this guy the real Mallard? The man gave him a nervous grin and looked away, out the window.

Hutch shrugged and looked out his window, watching for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes swept the surroundings, checking and rechecking the area. He could hear the engines speed up and felt the plane move. He could hear the pilot request permission to take off, though it was difficult to hear with the sound of the plane's engine droning ever louder. He felt the g-force as the plane hurtled forward, pressing him into the seat and seconds later, they were airborne.

He smiled to himself. His part in this job would be done long before Starsky even got halfway done with his. Once this 'package' was delivered, he was going to take his new girlfriend, Cheryl Cox out in Starsky's car. It would serve him right. Starsk would come home to find his much beloved striped tomato gone. That would be payback enough for that stupid coin trick.

Hutch didn't understand why Cheryl liked the Torino, but she did, and since his friend was going to be driving an unmarked squad for hours on end... what harm could it do? A little payback for that dirty little trick he had tried to pull. Besides, it was tough to impress ladies with the beat up LTD. Although, it did give him an insight into the personalities of the women he dated. Cheryl was into flashy things. She was shallow and was good for dating material only.

Gillian, on the other hand, had loved the LTD. He remembered what she had said about his car... something about it not being the outside that mattered, but the heart and the inner workings and how much you loved it was all that really counted. He swallowed hard. God, how he missed her.

Hutch shook himself out of his reverie; he had a job to do. It felt so strange to be on assignment without Starsky by his side. But, it was temporary and it would be over in a few short hours. The witness would be taken to the courthouse and their job would be done for today. He put his head on the cushion and closed his eyes. He needed to rest up for his date later today.

Starsky climbed into the unmarked squad car with his... yuck... FBI agent and the witness, the real one or the fake one, it didn't matter to him. He would see that the man arrived safely at the courthouse. The last team would be taking a train to the Bay City Terminal and proceed the rest of the way to the courthouse by cab.

He had quickly re-checked the car over for bombs and anything else that might have been done to it... the brake lines were fine, the gas tank was full. He checked the area one more time and waved the agent and their witness/passenger over to him. They all got in and Starsky pulled away from the curb. They had a long drive ahead of them.

He would feel much more comfortable if Hutch were here. Hutch. He had some apologizing to do the next time he saw his partner. It had been a childish trick to pull, but he had been momentarily overcome with fear. Not fear of flying. He wasn't afraid of that. Nope. It was the possibility of falling out of the sky that scared him. Still, it wasn't a very good reason to trick Hutch.

He'd have to come up with something good to say to Hutch in way of an apology. This long drive would give him plenty of time to think of just the right thing to say.

The sound of the small plane's engine changed, bringing Hutch out of his light doze. He looked about sleepily "What's going on?" he yawned and shook the grogginess out of his head.

The FBI agent, Hank Ruth answered him "Engine trouble... Can't you land this thing?" He hollered the second part at the pilot.

"What do you think I'm doing? Make yourselves useful and look for a clearing, I don't think we're gonna make it to an airport." The pilot looked franticly about as he called out his trouble and general location over the radio.

Hutch looked out of the window and saw trees: a huge forest was below them. The small plane's engine cut out for a second and cut back in, only to repeat the process. His heart made a break for it and headed directly for his throat. He tried swallowing it back into position as he and the others searched for a place to land.

The agent hollered "There! At three o'clock!" he stabbed at the window with a finger, pointing at the spot.

"I see it! Buckle up boys! This is gonna get bumpy! I'm gonna have to do a 'slip' to land in that postage stamp of a clearing... make sure your seat belts are fastened and put your heads between your knees, put your hands over your heads and lock 'em!" The pilot grunted with exertion as he fought the controls.

Hutch followed the directions and he tightened his interlaced fingers behind his head. "Is there anything else we can do?" he yelled over the noise and he heard the engine cough. That couldn't be good.

"PRAY!" The pilot barked.

The three passengers went silent and the only sounds were of the pilot making his frantic SOS calls over the whine of the engine.

Hutch could feel the sweat form in his arms pits, back and on his forehead. Looks like you were right Starsky; maybe you had a good reason to be afraid. I shoulda never have been angry with you. I know how scared you are of heights. If I make it outta here... correction, when I make it... I'll find a way to make it up to you buddy, count on it his thoughts were interrupted by the pilot.

"This is it! We're going in! Brace! Brace! Brace!" The pilot shouted.

At that moment, the engine cut out once more and without the engine, Hutch could hear the FBI agent muttering prayers and the witness softly sniffling. He could also hear the pilot alternately cursing at, and begging with, the small plane.

"Come on! Come on baby, you can do it, you piece of crap! COME ON! Just a little more... baby..." the pilot grunted loudly as he fought for control. "SHIT! Too soon! Dammit!"

Hutch heard the sound of branches hitting the fuselage; he could also feel the vibrations of the minor impacts that the tree branches made on the fuselage under his feet. Not good! He felt one last hard bump and then he felt nothing at all.

Starsky rolled down his window. Someone in the car had a bad case of gas and it wasn't him. Maybe he should have been on that plane. Then again, he could open the window to let the smell out of the car. Would he have been able to do that in a plane? Not on a large plane, he knew that much. Perhaps on a small plane he could have.

God, I am sooo bored! One of those two has bad gas, the Fed is asleep and the witness won't talk to me. Maybe he's really the one... Starsky checked the man out in the rearview mirror. Could you be Mallard? The witness made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and was the first to break the contact off.

Starsky looked back at the road ahead of him and then checked his watch. Good God! Has it only been forty-five minutes? This trip was gonna take forever. Hutch would be done with his trip hours before he would be done with his. The sound of more body gas being released from one of his two passengers made him cringe. Hutch was so lucky; he didn't have this to contend with.

I really wish I could trade places with ya Hutch, I really do... anything would be better than this. He heard the sound of more body gas released Hutch... buddy... you are sooo lucky!

Chapter 2

First there were words. Words that softly intruded upon his slumber, they were whispered and easy to ignore, at first. Then they grew more heated and louder. Hutch didn't want to listen. He just wanted to sleep. Sleep and not feel anything, like before. The words kept intruding, they ping-ponged from somewhere in front of him, from one man to another.

"Well, that's it; it won't fly again without a lot of repair work."

"No shit? Whatever made you think that?"

"I don't know, perhaps the damaged wing and smashed landing gear had something to do with it! You're suppose to be the--"

"Hey! Shut up! Not so loud!" one voice cautioned the other.

"Don't tell me what to do! You sorry--"

"I said SHUT UP," Hissed one of the two voices that had begun to rouse Hutch from his peaceful, pain-free black cocoon of sleep.

"Why should I?"

"Because I think he's waking up."

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

"I just did, listen up Jack--"

"Shhhh, he'll hear you," Returned a heated whisper from the second person.

"Jackass, that's all I was going to say, you are a jackass."

"Uh-huh, sure, I'll bet that's what you were going to say, I'm gonna see if there's anything else that I can salvage from the plane."

Hutch listened as the pair of voices as they fell to a murmur. Perhaps they had moved a little further from him to continue their conversation. He awoke slowly. His head hurt. It hurt so much he was pretty sure even his eyelashes ached. It was a fact that every hair on his head throbbed with pain. He didn't think that was possible, but the proof was in the roots of his hair. A groan escaped past his clenched teeth.

"Hey, I think you're coming around some more."

The voice came from somewhere close. Hutch tried opening his eyes and managed to pry one open just enough to be blinded by light. Another groan escaped him and he turned his head a bit, which put his head into shadow. He then heard someone move close and heard grass squeak under someone's foot as they approached.

"Detective? Are you with us?" The sound was closer now.

The owner of the voice gently shook his arm. "Detective?" Hutch was pretty sure his teeth were beginning to ache. And why not? Now everything from his neck up hurt. Nothing like having everything hurt in unison.

"Detective Hutchinson... c'mon now, wake up" The hand shook his arm a little harder "That's enough for one day... you need to wake up now" there were a few pats to his face "Come on... that's enough sleep for one day... up and at 'em detective!"

Hutch bit off another groan as he was helped to sit up. He pried open his aching eyelids and saw it was the FBI agent that was helping him. "What happened?" he shook his fuzzy head to clear the cobwebs and instantly regretted it. The forest spun madly around him and he had the intense urge to vomit. He wrapped his arms around his stomach.

"Plane crash, the pilot had to make an emergency landing" The agent helped him sit up enough to lean against a tree trunk.

"Is everyone okay?" Hutch looked about groggily, taking in his surroundings. He put his hands to his head to keep it from rolling off of his shoulders. He had to close his eyes as the guy with the jackhammer in his head tried to wack them clean out of their sockets.

The fed shook his head and his expression saddened, "Unfortunately, no, Mallard is dead... The pilot and I are gonna bury him in a few minutes."

"Dead? Dammit! How did that happen?" Hutch's sense of failure was great even though he knew that he had not had anything to do with it. It had been an accident after all.

"I just told you, we were in a plane crash... I guess his neck snapped upon impact, it was enough to knock you out... does anything besides your head hurt?" Gray eyes peered into his.

"My stomach, but I think it's because my head hurts so bad. Wonder what I hit it on?" Hutch gingerly rubbed at the lump on the back of his head.

"Concussion... yeah, that would account for the nausea. Anything else hurt?" The agent put out a hand to assist the detective in rising.

Hutch grabbed the proffered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. "Give me a minute" he held onto the fed's arm to steady himself, his other hand went to his head in an attempt to keep it from falling from his neck. He was very tempted to let it. If it weren't attached, it wouldn't hurt so much. He took a couple of deep fortifying breaths.

"You alright now?" The agent gave him a concerned look.

"I will be. So, what's the plan?" Hutch looked about the small clearing, surveying the scene of the crash. He could see the pilot digging around in the fuselage and throwing the occasional item from the plane and onto the ground. He slowly let go of the Fed's arm. His legs were shaky and seemed to be made of Jell-O.

"Plan?" The agent scratched his head and looked at him.

Hutch threw a disbelieving look at the agent "Uh, yeah... you know, as in 'rescue'... How long do you think it'll be before they get here? Hey, how long was I out anyway?" his stomach did a lazy spin to the left as he awaited the answer. He could feel his face turn green and the back of his tongue burned with stomach bile and the taste of it made his upper lip curl. His legs wavered beneath him.

"You don't look so good... maybe you should sit back down" The Fed grabbed the detective's elbow to steady him.

"Nah, I'll be fine... I think. You didn't answer my questions... How long was I out?" Hutch wobbled little and then locked his knees to keep them from buckling.

The Fed looked at his watch "about an hour, that's a long time. I think you should sit back down, you really don't look so good."

Hutch's stomach heaved; "I don't feel so good" His stomach cramped and then heaved once more, hard. He leaned over and vomited, hard. His vision went black and his legs gave way.

Starsky checked his rearview mirror, then his side mirrors. Dammit. He was pretty sure they were being followed. He shot a glance at the sleeping Fed. He heard the squeak as more gas was released. Good thing I don't smoke. If anyone were to light a match right now, this whole car would explode. Starsky held his breath as long as he could before reluctantly inhaling. Ugh, just as bad as I thought it would be, good god man, what have you been eating? On second thought, I don't wanna know...

Starsky heard a snicker from the back seat. He checked the rearview and the passenger met his eyes in the mirror. They both snickered. Then they both heard another long squeak. And they burst out into juvenile guffaws.

The passenger smirked "Huh, I think that one had skin on it."

Starsky burst out laughing and the passenger joined him. Starsky was laughing so hard that it was difficult to drive. He had to control his mirth or they would end up in the ditch.

The Fed woke up "wha's so funny?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned loudly. He sniffed the air "Whew! Who cut one?" He shot Starsky and the passenger a disgusted look.

Starsky and the passenger burst out laughing again.

Starsky wiped the tears from his eyes "Uh, no one cut 'one' There was a lot more then just one, trust me. Besides 'he who smelt it, dealt it'" He arched an eyebrow at the Fed.

"No kidding" The passenger quipped. "Really, no kidding" he waved his hand in front of his nose to disburse the smell.

"Oh grow up boys, really" the Fed shook his head in exasperation "We've got a job to do and you two are yuckin' it up, try to be serious... at least act like you're grown-ups."

Starsky scowled at the fed "Hey, I'm not the one who's sleepin' on the job here! Mr. FBI, or should I call you 'Mr. Squeaky Cheeks'?" The passenger burst out into laugher again, Starsky grinned at him in the rearview and watched as the man fell over in the seat he was laughing so hard.

"Really, that is so juvenile; it would behoove you to act like an adult... How I got assigned to you is a mystery to me" The Fed sniffed "And my name is Carl, Carl Toots, not 'Squeaky Cheeks'" he sneered.

Starsky snickered again "Toots, Squeaky Cheeks, s'all the same ta me..." he broke off the sentence as he checked his mirror. "Hey Drake, stay down back there, I think we've got company."

Carl peered nonchalantly around "Got it, green four-door Dodge?" he arched his eyebrow at the detective as if to say 'see, I do know how to do my job'.

"Yep" Starsky mentally altered his opinion of the Fed. He was pretty good to have spotted their tail so quickly after having just woken up... too quickly perhaps? Starsky would just have to trust him, for now.

The curly haired detective again checked his mirrors to see where the tail was. Whoever was driving the Dodge was good. He stayed a few cars back and followed without appearing to follow, but then again, this was a highway; they had no choice but to follow. He sped up and changed lanes. Their tail followed suit at a distance. Yep, it was tail alright.

Starsky scanned ahead and noticed several semi trucks and headed for them. It he could plan it just right, he could have himself a rolling roadblock and use the big rigs as a shield to separate him from their tail. He wished he had a CB radio so he could talk to the truckers and maybe get a little help. He would just have to hope that things would work out.

They did have a police radio in the car, but they were under strict orders to use it only if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't become necessary. Starsky pushed the accelerator down a little further, incrementally increasing his speed. He didn't want this to become an all-out car chase. He just needed to get just a little distance between them and their pursuers... If things went well.

"What are you up to?" The agent's inquiry momentarily broke Starsky's concentration.

If Hutch were in the car, he would know just what the brunet had in mind. He might bitch about it, but he would know. Now Starsky had to explain or make the Fed and the passenger nervous. He did not need either of them anymore nervous then they all ready were. "See those big rigs up ahead?"

"Yesss" The agent drew the word out and gave the detective questioning glance.

"They don't know it, but they are gonna be our cover. I plan on usin' 'em to loose our new friends in the green Dodge back there. Get the road map out of the glove compartment. We may have to take a detour if I can't shake 'em this way."

"Detour? I don't know about that, we are supposed to stick to the planned route" The Fed obediently dug in the glove compartment, searching for a map.

"Plans change and just maybe they know what route we're gonna take. If we're gonna make it to the courthouse, we may have ta get there by a different way. It shouldn't matter how we get there, just as long as we do."

"Alive might be helpful," The agent said drolly.

The passenger muttered from the backseat "And no holes or broken bones in me would be nice as well."

"Nice to know you both have confidence in me" Starsky grumbled.

"Hey, can I sit up yet?" The passenger whined.

"NO!" Both Starsky and the agent shouted.

"Well, at least we can agree upon something" Starsky slid a glance at the agent.

"Your captain said that you were one of the best driver's in the department."

"You spoke to my captain?" Starsky stole another glance at the agent and then checked his mirrors for the green car. He couldn't afford to get distracted at this point.

"I do my homework" came the smug reply.

Starsky grunted in response. He needed to focus on the situation and not so much on the conversation. He increased his speed to gain on the big rigs ahead. He would have to tread his way through them and not anger the truckers at the same time. At least not right away, he was hoping the men in the green Dodge would do that.

He made his way to the first in the line of trucks, a flatbed hauling lumber. He eased the car into the line up. Just a few more maneuvers and he would be in the clear. He checked his mirror for the tail. Still there, though he really didn't think that he could have shaken them so soon anyway.

He slipped in front of the flatbed. So far, so good. "Watch my right side, let me know if I'm clear or not" He wouldn't have to tell Hutch, but his partner wasn't here. The next few minutes were going to be tricky. He checked his mirrors again and found the green car had moved up, apparently having figured out what he had in mind.

Starsky sped up and pulled to the left, in front of a Mac truck pulling a cattle trailer. The Mac slowed a bit and Starsky slipped in front of it. A Peterbuilt pulling a reefer trailer was next to be passed. He checked his mirrors again; the green car was edging up. He had to be very careful now, if he upset the truckers, they might close ranks and trap him instead of the green Dodge.

They began to climb a hill and Starsky noticed one of the trucks had its left side blinkers on and he then knew how to gain points with the truckers. It might slow him down, initially, but it should pay off. He hoped. He flashed his headlights and hung back. Sure enough, the Kenworth driver pulled in front of him.

"You let him get in front of you! What the hell did you do that for?" The agent snapped "We're gonna get sandwiched in here, they'll catch up!"

"You'll see" At least, I hope you'll see... In the mirror, he could see the green car had just cut off one of the trucks. Starsky smiled. Now, just a little cooperation from the truckers and they should be in the clear.

The green car moved up some more. As they gained the top of the incline, the Kenworth turned his right side blinkers and soon pulled into the right lane. Starsky sped up and pulled along side of the Kenworth. He made eye contact with the driver, who in turn touched the brim of his baseball cap and gave a slight nod. Starsky nodded back and then hooked a thumb back in the direction of the green car. He saw the trucker check behind him and once more he nodded. Starsky waved and pulled ahead.

"What the hell is going on?" The Fed looked from the truck driver to Starsky and back again.

"As I said, you'll see" As expected, the big rigs before them started to open up and make room for Starsky. As he wove his way through the convoy, he noticed that the green car get sandwiched between the trucks. They would keep him there until they tired of the game.

The Fed looked back at the trucks. The green car could not be seen. "What did you just do back there?"

"I was polite."

"Polite? I don't get it... what did you do to get them to do that for you?" The agent scratched his head, totally confused.

"I was polite. I didn't cut them off; I made room for the Kenworth when he asked for it. In turn, they made room for me. Who ever is driving the green car doesn't know the rule" Starsky said smugly and increased his speed a fraction.

He didn't want to go too fast. Getting pulled over for speeding by the State Highway Patrol was not in the plan. It would slow them down and it would take time to explain what the problem was. He didn't have any worries about getting off, but it would take valuable time and he did not want to have the bad guys catching up with them.

"Rule? What rule?"

"Be nice to truckers and they'll be nice to you. It's really never a good idea to piss off someone who is driving such a large vehicle. They can squash you like a bug. Some of them are pulling over fifty thousand pounds of whatever. One wrong move and splat! You're street pizza."

"Can I sit up now?" The passenger asked.

"Sure" Starsky went back to scanning the road ahead. "Check the map. We need to get on a different road before they get themselves out of the mess that they're in. The truckers won't hold them off for long."

"Why not stay on this one?" The agent gave him a sidelong look.

Starsky raised an eyebrow at the Fed "Because they know where we are now. We have to change routes and keep them guessing, now, where is the next exit ramp?"

"Are we gonna stop anytime soon? I gotta take a leak" The passenger interrupted them with a whine.

"Thanks for sharing" Starsky rolled his eyes "I'll see what I can do, maybe I can talk to those men following us and see if they won't give us a few minutes of privacy so you can take your wiz in private."

"Well, I can hold it for a little while, I guess" The passenger crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, you're going to have to" The agent broke in.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Starsky shot him a quick look.

"We just got our tail back" the Fed was looking out of the rear window.

"Dammit! I thought we'd have a little more time than that" Starsky hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and started to scan the highway for the green car.

"Here's some more bad news" The agent opened up his coat and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster.

Starsky sighed heavily "Now what?" he followed suit and pulled his gun from his holster and set it in his lap.

"Looks like there're two vehicles now."

"Terrific."

Chapter 3

Bay City, Superior Courthouse

"That was amazing... truly amazing. I just can't get over how you did that... Simply amazing!" Federal agent Carl Toots slapped Bay City Detective David Starsky on the back. He looked at his watch. "You made record time and we got here in one piece" The young Fed just couldn't get over their amazing escape from the hired assassins and the car chase that culminated with delivering Drake Mallard safely to the courthouse.

Starsky shrugged and smiled at the younger man. "S'all in the wrist, Cheeks, s'all in the wrist" He blew a breath onto his fingernails and stated in a haughty tone as he rubbed his curled fingers against his shirt to polish his fingernails on it "Piece of cake really... nothing to it!" he grinned at the agent.

The newly nicknamed Carl "Cheeks" Toots, grinned back "If I hadn't been along for the ride, I would have never believed it" The fed shook his head again. "Not in a million years. But you did it! That was an astonishing piece of driving, Mario Andretti would be proud" he gushed "Wait'll I tell the guys at the Bureau, they will just flip!" Agent Toots exited to spread the news of his adventure and to write his report.

Starsky peered out the window of one of the courthouse conference rooms and looked at the long line of police vehicles. Some Bay City and some were California Highway Patrol. He blew out a breath, curving his lower lip so the air he expelled ruffled his curly bangs. It was going to be one hell of a report to type up. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do as well. So much for keeping a low profile, he shrugged again; he hadn't had a whole lot of choices when it came down to it. Dobey would be furious.

Starsky took a deep breath. It had been one hell of an exciting drive, but he was not looking forward to seeing Dobey again. The man was going to be livid. But, at least the four bad guys had been apprehended.

Three of them were in the hospital for various injuries, two of them were in one of the pursuing cars when Starsky had executed a 'fishtail' maneuver on them when the driver had pulled in front of him to cut him off and stop him so that they could get to Drake, the bad guys' car had flipped over... He couldn't wait to tell Hutch all about it.

"Starsky?" Dobey's voice was quiet as he stood in the doorway of the conference room.

Starsky cringed a little, then turned and prepared himself for the dressing down he was about to receive from Dobey for his part in the car chase. "Look Cap'n, I can explain... It all started when we were bringing the witness in, when this green Dodge starts tailin' us... I see this truck convoy up ahead--" He began to pace the length of the room.

"Starsky--" Dobey stepped into the room.

The curly haired detective rounded the end of the conference table "So I threaded my way through the convoy, but the car they gave me to drive is a dog, a real heap of crap, Cap'n, it just didn't have the power of the Torino--" He paced back towards Dobey who had now entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"Starsky" Dobey watched his detective and wondered how Starsky was going to take bad news. He heaved a sigh and moved further into the room.

Starsky again walked down the length of the room "So they catch up to us again and they bring some friends along to join the party... then they started shooting at us--" Starsky began to pace faster as the excitement of the chase began to once again course through his veins. "So Agent Toots hollers 'Duck!' to Drake, who flops down in the backseat--"

"STARSKY" Dobey hollered, trying to gain his detective's full attention.

The curly headed detective shot a quick glance at his captain "Ya know, I wish they woulda told me that the windows in the car I was driving were bullet proof, that coulda saved me a lotta trouble, anyway--" he rapidly paced away again.

"David"

The softly spoken use of his given name brought Starsky to an immediate halt and he turned towards his boss "Cap?" his brows knitted in question.

"That report can wait son" Dobey made his way across the conference room and sat down in one of the chairs. "Have a seat" he gestured at the chair next to him.

Starsky felt apprehension slide its cold fingers down his spine. "What is it? Drake only fainted, right?" He could just imagine having the guy keel over dead after the excitement from the car chase and gun fight. He would never hear the end of it from anyone, not the Feds, not Dobey... Hutch however would be tickled about it, the blond's sense of humor could run on the dark side sometimes.

"Drake is fine or soon will be... Starsky, it's about Hutch" The big man cleared his throat and then mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

"What about him?" Starsky remained standing and leaned forward, placing his hands on the back of the chair, using the back of it to steady himself. His fingers dug into the leather chair covering.

Dobey again mopped his brow "The plane went off the radar hours ago. There was no mayday, the plane just... disappeared." The last few words were whispered.

"Disappeared? What do you mean by that?" Starsky's fingers whitened and quivered under the force of the grip he was unconsciously exerting on them. The leather squeaked under them.

"Just that. It disappeared... no sign of it anywhere" Dobey scratched the back of his head as he wondered how he was going to tell Starsky the next part.

"There's something you're not telling me Captain... what is it?" Starsky raised his eyes to meet Dobey's. He locked on them with laser intensity.

"The body of the pilot was found."

"Wait... so the plane DID crash... But you said that there was no sign of it--" Starsky straightened up; the tension of the moment was forcing every muscle in his body to knot up.

"No, the pilot's body was found in a dumpster at the airport" Dobey cast his eyes down to the table top and studied the wood grain for a long moment before reconnecting with his detective's.

Deep blue eyes searched dark brown ones for the answer "So someone else was flying the plane... a hit man..." Ice cold fear clenched at his stomach. "They could be anywhere" the last part was whispered.

"Yes, however an APB has been put out for the plane. But..." Dobey shrugged helplessly, "until someone calls it in... we don't really have anything to go on."

"What about the FBI agent that was with Hutch and the Mallard decoy? Now that I know I was transporting the Real Mallard... Wouldn't all three of them have been able to...? I don't know; team up and stop the pilot somehow?" Starsky released the back of the chair and began to pace once more.

"We just don't know what happened Starsky... there have been no reports, not on any crashes and no unplanned landings have been reported, not yet anyway. We're doing all we can right now" Dobey let out another heavy sigh as he leaned back in the chair, his eyes trained on the pacing man.

"It ain't enough!" Starsky headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dobey got to his feet to intercept his detective.

"Back to where this all started" Starsky dodged around him, dashed out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Starsky headed out of the courthouse and got back in the car he had driven here. The Torino was at his apartment and he didn't want to go back there. His partner was missing. He couldn't wait for information. He would go back to the airport and begin his search there. If he had to charter a small plane and follow the route that Hutch's pilot had taken, so be it. It was his fault that Hutch was even on that flight to begin with. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his partner.

Nothing

Somewhere in the wilderness

Hutch again awoke to the sound of muffled voices. His head throbbed mercilessly and his stomach twisted with nausea. He should be feeling better then he was. But he wasn't. He felt a groan work its way up his throat. He clenched his teeth and prevented it from escaping. Something wasn't right. He couldn't put a finger on it, but his intuition was telling him to play possum. He listened to it and to the muffled voices.

"So, tell me why we haven't killed him yet?" it was the agent's voice.

"Two reasons, first, I wasn't paid to kill him and second, do you want to carry all of this stuff yourself? I know I sure as hell don't."

The pilot's voice was familiar. But Hutch couldn't quite place it. He kept his breathing slow and regular to hide the fact he was conscious. He listened intently to the conversation as it continued.

"How're we going to get him to carry the stuff?" It was the agent again.

"We ask. I'll hang back, lead the way... I'll do anything that I can do to hide from him who I am, at least for now."

"And if he finds out who you are, we kill him?"

"Not right away... I told you, I wasn't paid to kill him. I was paid to kill Drake. He's dead--"

"IF that was Drake" The agent broke in.

"You told me it was... you said that this Drake was most likely the real one. The other two had to be the decoys, that's what you told me. You said that it didn't make any sense for them to send the real one by car or train--" The pilot was cut off by the agent.

"I was counting on it. I don't know for sure. Why would they send him by car? Or train? Too many other people around, too many chances for him to be killed, this one HAD to be the right one. Besides, Manahan had other squads out to make sure of killing all of the decoys. Drake is dead; or soon will be" The agent sounded positive.

"Yes, but the one who kills the real Drake gets that big bonus. I need that money."

"What? And you think I don't? I have to leave the U.S. after we get out of these woods... which is your fault this happened by the way" The agent snapped "This is going to slow things down, a lot. We should have been at that landing strip an hour ago, now we have to hike out of here."

"It's not my fault that we got hit with a downdraft. I was trying to make it look like we were really going down; I had to make it look good." The pilot sounded a little defensive.

"Well, it worked! It looks like a real plane crash now. The smashed landing gear, damaged wing, yep... real convincing! You were just going to fake a problem, land, kill Drake and the cop... and fly back out of here. The bodies would never be found and no one would be the wiser. But, it didn't work out that way... did it?" The agent hissed "And to top this mess off, you let the cop live instead of killing him! I still don't understand why?"

"It couldn't be helped; the downdraft pushed us into the treetops, damaging the wing and the landing gear. We are stuck with hiking out of here. We'll use him as a pack mule."

So, it was all a ruse, shit! Hutch could hear the pilot walk closer to him. He maintained his even breaths. He had to fool them into believing he was still out. He had to hear the rest of their plans for him. He sensed the pilot walk right up to his side and stand there, the man was probably looking down at him, and he could almost feel the man's eyes scanning him.

Keep your breaths even, Ken... just keep it even Hutch coached himself; he knew his life depended on it. He could barely contain his sigh of relief when he heard the pilot walk away. He knew that voice. He knew that man... his foggy brain wasn't going to give him the answer just yet though, dammit!

"We are in a very remote area. It's gonna take us a few days to hike out of here and that's if all goes well. Do we even have any supplies?" The agent spoke again.

"I'm not stupid. I planned for the possibly of a real accident happening, I figured it into the equation. I knew it could happen, given the mountain winds and the small landing area. I'm always prepared," The pilot sounded smug.

The agent snorted, "You're a regular boy scout, aren't you? Well, that's something anyway."

Hutch heard one of the men walk away and he was aware that he would have to pretend to wake up soon. He would play their game for a while and try to escape them at some point in time. He was very glad he knew how to survive in the forest. He was doubly glad it was summer. He was not dressed for an extended stay in the woods.

"Hey, detective... wakey, wakey..." It was the agent's voice.

Hutch heard the man approach and heard the crackle of the grass as the man knelt down next to him. He felt the agent shake his arm. He waited until the man gave him a harder shake.

Hutch let out a grunt of pain. The grunt wasn't faked, it had been wanting out of him for several minutes now. "Owwwshhitt..." He slowly sat up, giving himself plenty of time to acclimate himself to his new upright position. He buried his face in his hands, palms pushing into his eyeballs in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Are you back among the living detective?" The agent said, not unkindly.

If the blond had not heard the conversation that had just taken place, he would have thought that the concern of the agent was real. But he knew better now. "I feel like something the cat drug in" he gave the man a weak smile.

"Huh, you look it too. You need a hand up?" the agent put a steadying hand on the blond's arm.

"No, I think I can make it on my own this time" Hutch eased to his feet, using a tree as support. His stomach clenched, but that was all. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head and cautiously opened his eyes. His eyeballs decided to stay in their sockets, though his head still felt like someone was using it as a drum.

When the pain eased off a little, Hutch carefully opened his eyes and looked about the area. He looked at the small plane that was about twenty feet away from him. It wouldn't be flying anytime soon. So, they hadn't been lying about that anyway. "Wow! The guy who landed that plane is one hell of a pilot."

The agent grunted, "Yeah, sure is... then again any landing you can walk away from is a good one."

"Yeah, except one of us didn't walk away... I remember you saying something about Mallard breaking his neck... what a shame. God, I hope they find us soon... my head is killing me" Hutch pretended to be in a little more pain than he really was. He wanted to lull them into a false sense of security. If they thought he was weaker then he really was, it should make it a little easer to get away from these two. The operative word being 'should', he wasn't going to count on that one hundred percent though.

"Umm, about the 'finding' us... the pilot says that there is something wrong with the radio... he doesn't think that the mayday messages got out. We're going to have to hike out of here; do you think you can make it?"

The agent sounded so concerned about him, it made Hutch want to wretch. "Yeah, if we take it kinda slow... I should be able to keep up with you" the longer it took for them to walk out of the woods, the more time he had to try to escape and it gave the searchers more time to find the plane. They would be looking for it.

The thing that troubled him was that he had fallen asleep during the flight. He had no clue where they were. They could have flown miles off of course, they probably had, it made sense. That realization sunk deep into his belly and stayed there like a burrito from one of Starsky's favorite (crummy) Mexican food stands. He was going to have to get away from these two all by himself.

Hutch carefully looked around "Hey, where's our pilot? I'd like to shake his hand, man, that was some flying to get us on the ground in one piece."

"He's around here somewhere... hey; do you think you can carry this?" The agent lifted up a large backpack.

Hutch eyeballed the over-stuffed pack. He didn't want to refuse to carry it. They planned to keep him alive long enough to get them out of the woods. If he refused, they might just decide to kill him now. "Let me check it out" he took the pack from the agent and nearly dropped it "Whoa! That's heavy! Is everyone going to carry this much?"

The agent chuckled "Yeah, something like that. Stay right here, okay? I've gotta see where our pilot got off to... don't want a bear or something to get him."

"I hear ya pal, it's bad enough that Mallard died, can't have that happening to anyone else" Hutch sat back down as he watched agent Hank Ruth walk off. He had to know who the pilot was... he knew that voice. He wracked his brain for the answer.

He methodically forced his slightly scrambled brains to concentrate on the question. Who did he know that was a skilled pilot? Who only killed people that he was paid to kill? Who might be called 'Jack'?

"Oh shit" the answer dropped on him like a boulder from the blue, there was only one man who fit those entire criteria...

John Colby.

Chapter 4

John Colby looked through the brush on the other side of the plane to Ken Hutchinson, his one-time friend. He had used his friendship and their loyalty against his two former friends in order to obtain his goal. Starsky and Hutchinson had testified against him and he had been sent to prison. But they, like he, had only been doing their job. He understood. He didn't like it, but he understood.

Until that day on the beach, he had succeeded in every assignation assignment that he had ever been given. He was clean, he was efficient, he enjoyed what he did and he was very, very good at his chosen profession. With that one exception, the only time he had ever failed.

This was his chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the mob. It had taken over a year to escape from prison and the only way he could accomplish that had been with the help from the Manahan syndicate. He now owed Manahan a favor. And he meant to pay it back, the sooner, the better, for he hated owing anyone anything.

Colby ground his teeth together. He had been convicted and thrown into San Quentin, just like he was some common criminal, but he wasn't, and it didn't the other inmates long to figure that out. They also found out that messing with him was a good way to end up dead. Though no one could prove it was him that had done it or how he had managed to make a few kills in the big house. He made his point and was left alone.

Manahan had contacted him while he was in San Quentin and requested the elimination of two minor squealers who had pled down their cases for easier time. He did as requested and by doing so; he had partially redeemed himself in the eyes of syndicate.

When Manahan's inside FBI man, Hank Ruth, had told him of the plan for the decoys and the three modes of transport that would be used to get Mallard to the courthouse to testify, Colby had accepted the job... he didn't really have a choice, but it didn't matter, he was finally going to get back to the thing he did best, killing people.

His father had always told him that a man should do what they're good at. It just so happened that he was good at hunting people down and killing them. And people actually paid him to do that. It was really quite funny, when you thought about it. Most people were stuck in their boring lives, doing boring jobs and hating every moment of it. Not him. His life was a joy; he was good at what he did, liked what he did and got paid for it. Most people were just not that lucky.

But that had all ended that windy day down on the beach. Colby returned his attention to Hutch. He remembered the fight that he had there on the beach with his blond friend. He had lost; it galled him. That job had been business. But that had all changed now. For now it was personal.

When he had learned that Starsky and Hutchinson were both on this assignment, he had been thrilled. He was finally going to get his chance at revenge and he was going to extract it a little bit at a time to make up for the time he had spent in prison. A smile played across his lips as he watched Hutch look around the meadow that he had landed them in.

He thought back to the days at the academy when the three of them had been called "The Corsican Brothers" He snorted. What a crock. It had always been Starsky and Hutch; they didn't really need anyone else. They had liked him well enough to include him in their activities, but that was all it was. That was all it had ever been.

That was one very small reason he had left the academy, that and he had learned what he had needed to learn from the academy. He had already known what he wanted to do with his life and it had nothing to do with upholding the law and everything to do with understanding police procedures. It would make his chosen line of work a just a little easier. A sound interrupted his line of thought and he turned and watched FBI Agent Hank Ruth approach.

"I don't think this is going to work. We should just kill him now, there's no way he with accept you not being around, he'll know something is up. You can't fool him." Agent Ruth watched the detective stand up and lean against a tree, holding one hand to his head as if he were trying to keep it on his shoulders.

"I did before. Hell, I even had them find me my target for me" Colby replied evenly.

"And it backfired. I still say we kill him now. He will not be easy to control. From what his profile said, among other things, that he's pretty good at camping and living off the land. Other campers might see him or he could escape. We can't allow that to happen." The Fed kept one eye on the cop and the other on Colby, not trusting either of them.

"What other campers? I choose this place specifically for its remoteness" Colby needed to keep the Fed on his side, at least for now. "Look, I've thought about it and I've changed my mind. You're right; Hutchinson won't buy into my making myself scarce, at least not for long. He'll know something's up. And as for anyone seeing us, I wouldn't bet on it. It's only you, me and him out here."

"It had better be" Hank hissed angrily.

"I don't think he'll be escaping. I have a plan" Colby began to walk around the plane towards Hutch.

Hank kept pace with the hit man, keeping his eyes on the man's face to gauge his intent. It was difficult; Colby wasn't easy to read, "It had better be good."

"Oh, it is."

The Fed barely controlled his shudder as he watched a smile slither across the hit man's face.

Starsky had climbed back into the now beat up Ford car that he had driven to the courthouse and grabbed the mic. "Dispatch, patch me through to Huggy Bear" He sat in the driver's seat and turned the ignition, the car was moving by the time the dispatcher responded.

Forty-five minutes later he pulled into the Bay City Airport. He drove the car across the tarmac to one of the older hangers on the far end of the airport. Starsky exited the smoking, dying car and looked at it for a second before heading into hanger twenty-seven.

"Baron! Yo! Black Baron! Where are you?" Starsky trotted into the hanger, scanning the area as he went, looking for the person he needed to see. He peered under and around several airplanes as he went deeper in the hanger bay. "Baron!"

"Over here, Mr. Starsky!" The large black man stepped out from behind his beat-up old plane. Grease stains spotted his clothing and a greasy patch ran across his forehead. "Huggy said it was urgent" he wiped his hands on a rag that he pulled from his pocket.

"It is. Hutch's plane disappeared" Starsky had that sick feeling in his stomach as he said it. It had been nearly four hours since this nightmare had begun. He glanced at his watch; make that nearly five hours now. He looked up and eyed the Baron.

"Crashed?" A single black brow rose as he eyed the detective. Externally, his demeanor was upbeat and usually excessively jovial. But a plane crash was every pilots fear.

"Don't know. All I know is it's gone. No one has a clue where to look. I figure you might have some ideas. So, ya got any?" He watched the Baron closely to judge him. It wasn't personal, but with Hutch's life possibly on the line, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Huh, I'm a pilot so that means that I know how to find a missing plane... right. What about all those FBI guys that you where with? Don't they know anything?" The Baron tossed the greasy rag in the general direction of his plane.

"How did you know that?" The detective's full attention was brought to bear on the Baron. He trusted this man, the battle at that desert castle had more then proven this man to Starsky, but he still need to know how the Baron had found out about the plan to get Mallard to the courthouse.

The Baron moved over to a bench and sat down "It's been on the streets for days. I'm surprised that you're just finding out now. I thought you two always had your ears to the streets," He shrugged "guess not. So, what do you need from me?"

"Fly me to the airport that Hutch and I left from. They'll have flight information and should be able to tell us when they lost track of the plane and hopefully where the last transmission came from. That should narrow things down a bit" The curly haired detective leaned against the bench. "I hope"

"That would narrow things down a bit. Let me finalize a few things and we can take off" the Baron stood up and headed to the hanger's phone to call the control tower.

"Wait, don't you have to file a flight plan or something?" As much as he wanted to get to Hutch, Starsky wanted to put off flying for as long as he could. The last time he had flown with the Baron had been quite scary and he was not eager to repeat it just this instant.

"I've already did that, right after Huggy called me. I just need to find out when we can take off. It shouldn't be long," The Baron laughed as he watch the detective pale. God he loved to fly and any excuse was a good one. He continued to chuckle as he picked up the phone "Hey, this is the Baron... yeah, I own N63230... stop laughing... she'll make it off the ground--"

Starsky cringed and quit listening, turning his attention out the bay door to the outside. The sky was blue and the sun was shining. At least the weather was good for flying. The Baron would be flying at about two thousand feet or so. He gulped. Way too high for comfort.

But he didn't have a choice. To get to the other airport fast, they had to fly. If Hutch was hurt, every minute wasted meant the longer he might have to suffer... Starsky cut off that thought. No sense in thinking that way, it would only cloud things for him and he needed a very clear head. He changed his line of thought. If anyone could get themselves out of that kind of mess, it was Hutch.

"Mr. Starsky, are you ready?" The Baron hung up the receiver.

"As I'll ever be" Starsky muttered, then louder "Yep, let's go" he headed for the rickety old plane. A cold sweat broke out over his body and he heart began to beat faster. He knew that soon he was going to be thousands of feet in the air, with nothing but some flimsy metal under his feet. He hid his apprehension as best he could.

"Hey, Mr. Starsky, why aren't the cops and feds looking?" The Baron walked past the detective on his way to the plane. He walked around it, giving it a brief once over before preparing to take off.

"They are, but I just can't sit around waiting for them to find anything. I have to look... I have to find Hutch. It's my fault he was on that flight in the first place," He did not elaborate.

The Baron merely 'tisked' then chuckled as he climbed into the plane and waited for the detective to follow suit. In short order, the Baron taxied out onto the tarmac and waited for clearance to take off. When clearance was given, he taxied down the runway.

Starsky's fingers dug into the seat and quivered with the grip he was exerting on them. But they had none of the problems they had had when Terry Nash was with them.

The Baron explained that there were two fewer people on the plane, so the load was lighter. The Baron kept it to himself that he just plain loved to mess with the people that he flew with. It was great fun to watch them shiver and shake and doubt his talent as a pilot. This flight would be no different.

After another harrowing flight with the Baron, Starsky was ready to sign off of flying for the rest of his life. Some people said it got easier with each flight. Some people were crazy too, like the Baron. A hell of a fighter and a great man to have on you team, but as a pilot, he left a great deal to be desired. It had been all Starsky could do NOT to kiss the ground when they landed.

"What did you find out?" he asked the Baron as the man exited the pilots' lounge.

"Well, from what I can figure," The Baron pulled out and map and placed it on an available table and he pointed to a spot on the map. "This is the fight path" He used a thumbtack, a piece of string and a pen and drew a quarter circle on the map.

Starsky nodded "Okay, got it."

"The signal was lost somewhere around here," The Baron pointed at the line he had just drawn, following the small arch with his finger.

"That doesn't look too bad" Starsky perused the map.

"And we have this area to search" The Baron moved his finger to encompass nearly the whole map.

"That's bad."

"Well Mr. Starsky, any ideas on how to narrow it down?" the Baron pulled up a chair and sat down to study the map some more. His last outing with Mr. Starsky and Mr. Hutchinson had been most entertaining. He hoped this time would be as well. He had one hell of a story to tell his grandkids, two great stories would be even better. That's if he ever got married and had kids. That was one adventure he had yet to undertake. He laughed again. Huggy was right. Mr. Starsky and Mr. Hutchinson always seemed to have interesting things happening to them.

Starsky reached a foot out behind him and snagged a chair leg with his toes and he pulled it up to the table, sitting down when the chair was close enough. "Well, for starters, we don't need to search where the others are looking, that's for sure."

"Yes sir" the Baron agreed amiably.

Starsky smiled briefly at the Baron. Some military habits were hard to break. He still would stand at 'parade rest' on occasion (usually while standing in front of Dobey; or a handful of others that he respected). And if Hutch occasionally got to being too bossy, Starsky would salute him, just to remind the blond he didn't like being bossed around any better then Hutch did. That never failed in getting the blond to snort and roll his eyes.

Starsky stared at the map c'mon Hutch, where are you? I gotta find you and apologize for that stupid coin thing. Just a little hint buddy, that's all I need

Somewhere deep in the woods...

Hutch pushed himself away from the tree he had been leaning against for support. He had to move or he might stiffen up and he had to know how badly he was hurt. If he couldn't keep up, the Fed and Colby might just change their minds and kill him now.

The woods stopped spinning several minutes ago, so that was good. His mouth was dry and he carefully knelt down and looked in the backpack for water. He found a bottle and drank some slowly, knowing if he drank it too quickly he could start to vomit again. He had already done that and he knew he could dehydrate quickly if he didn't keep it under control.

Hutch was well aware that his survival would count on keeping himself rested, hydrated, warm and fed. With these two killers, those four things were very likely to be difficult to do. He spared a look at the plane. He could see the men standing on the other side of it, apparently talking.

He shook his head. Bad idea, for his headache renewed its attack on him. He ignored it as best he could, for he had to thing of a way to get out of this predicament. It was unlikely that Colby would keep to his plan of staying away from Hutch. He didn't know what Colby was thinking when he said that. Christ, there were only three of them and Hutch knew that John would see clear through any 'I don't remember you act' that he might try. They had known each other too well back at the academy. Hutch sighed; he would just have to cooperate with these two until he could get away from them.

He stood back up and kicked the ground in his frustration and noticed for the first time how dry the grass was. He reached up and broke off a small branch and looked at it. It too was quite dry. He'd have to warn them about building any fires in this place. It was a tinderbox, just waiting to burn.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the men approaching. This could not be good. Colby was showing his face already, it meant he had changed his plans already. Definitely not a good sign.

"Here" Starsky stabbed at a spot on the map with his finger.

The Baron scrutinized the map and scratched his head "Why there?"

"Because if figures" Starsky was resigned.

The Baron raised an eyebrow and shot him a questioning look "And just how does it figure?"

"This whole thing started because I don't like to fly" Starsky stood up and paced away from the little table. He paced back "That's how Hutch ended up on that plane in the first place... anyway, I don't like camping, so it figures that I would end up in the woods looking for him" Starsky patted the Baron's arm then made his way towards the tarmac.

The Black Baron threw back his head and laughed. He grabbed the map and followed the detective. Yep, it was going to be an adventure all right.

Chapter 5

Colby strode purposefully toward Hutch. To become a successful hit man, he had learned to be adaptable. Things could and often did change quickly; he found opportunities and used them. He always prepared as best he could for each hunt and this time was no different. He had always been a good actor. He had to be, in his line of work. He was a chameleon, changeable, adaptable.

He watched Hutch watch him approach and saw the blond stiffen slightly, their eyes locked. Hutch's eyes were angry; the light blue of them spat a propane-blue flame at him. Good. An angry Hutch was somewhat reckless and with no Starsky around to interrupt or pull the blond back... this reunion should prove to be quite interesting. He maintained his bland exterior as he approached Hutch.

Colby eyed Hutch and they squared off, unconsciously squaring their shoulders and straightening their posture as they sized each other up.

"Hutch"

"John"

"It's been a while" Colby's eyes took in his former friend's face. So blond, so perfect, such a superior attitude and so in need of being taken down several pegs. He had always resented Hutch for that, though he had never shown it. Starsky, he could take or leave. It didn't matter so much. But Hutch had beaten him in a fight. Beat him at his own game there on that beach. It galled him to no end.

Hutch looked him in the eye for several seconds before answering "Not nearly long enough, John. I thought you said that you wouldn't make it. That they would have a contract put out on you and you would be dead in six months. Looks like you lied. Again" the blond shook his head. After all this time, it still bothered him that he and Starsky had been friends with this man and he had used them. Used their friendship to his advantage, how could they have been so fooled by him?

"Why are you so upset by that Hutch? Huh?" Colby laughed.

"I can't believe that you would do such a thing. You had a great future ahead of you and you threw it all away."

"That rather depends on what I wanted for a future. I had what I wanted. Until you and Starsky messed all up. But then you always did tend to think the best of your friends. Poor Hutch, always trying to save the world, well Mr. Boy Scout, are you gonna try to save me too?" he snorted.

Hutch shot him a look "What if I am?"

"Then I'd have to ask, what's in it for you? What's your angle Hutch? Huh? I know you've got one. Everybody does... oh, that's right... you're perfect. You play by the rules. You play fairly."

"And the problem with that is... what?" A single blond brow rose in question.

"There is no problem. I think I know how we can do this. What do you say we have a rematch... here and now... just you and me."

"Hey! We don't have time for this... it's late and we have a long way to walk, let's just kill him and go" Hank Ruth had had enough of these two posturing at each other "This is pointless!"

"Shut up Hank, it's not pointless, it's personal" Colby's eyes never left his adversary's.

"Don't worry Hank, this won't take long" Hutch slowly stretched and twisted his torso and limbs, trying to limber up a tad before the fight; he didn't need any pulled muscles to add to his discomfort "You wanted to know my angle, what's yours John? Huh?"

"Simple, I win; you act as pack mule and hump our gear out of these woods."

"And if I win?" Hutch played along, stalling for time.

"I let you go, I can't spare you any food or water, but you being the Boy Scout that you are, I'm sure you can manage, somehow" He gave an indifferent shrug.

"You can't do that, you can't just let him go--" Hank interrupted.

Colby whipped out a gun and pointed at Hank, though his eyes were still locked on Hutch "Stay out of this" he thumbed the hammer back, the barrel was unerringly pointed directly between the agent's eyes.

Hank threw up his hands and backed away "Fine, whatever, knock yourselves out, really, I mean it, knock your selves out" He went back to the plane and sat on a wheel to watch the fight.

"A gun John? I thought knives were more your style."

"Whatever I can get my hands on is my style" Colby's words were smug as he lowered the weapon.

"S'not really a fair fight now John, you have a gun... and I can only assume you also have my gun" the blond had realized only a few minutes ago that his Magnum was missing from his holster. The comforting, familiar weight was gone, leaving him with a strange, empty feeling. It took a second to realize that he felt vulnerable without the nearly three pounds of metal strapped under his armpit.

"Well, I couldn't let you keep it, now could I? I think I'll add it to my collection... oh, that's right... I don't have a collection anymore. The police confiscated it. That's all right. Your gun will be the first piece in my new collection."

"Not for long" Hutch gritted and shucked his jacket and holster, tossing them to the foot of the tree behind him.

Colby followed suit and placed his gun and Hutch's (which he had had shoved into his pants) on top of his folded coat, he placed them near the plane. He took up a defensive three-quarter stance and brought his fists up, balancing on the balls of his feet as he did so, now he was ready to move in any direction.

Hutch took up a similar stance "I beat you last time John, I'll beat you again" he taunted.

Colby smiled and feigned a roundhouse kick, trying to draw Hutch in.

The blond leaned away a little and then stepped forward to grab Colby's leg so he could flip his opponent. Colby stepped in and narrowly missed Hutch's face with a jab at his jaw line. Hutch blocked the punch with his forearm, snapping his wrist about to catch John's wrist in his hand.

Colby executed a front kick at Hutch's kneecap as the blond jerked him forward, effectively lessening the distance of the kick, thereby reducing its power and changing the angle so that it stuck his shin instead of damaging his knee joint.

Maintaining his grip on Colby's arm, Hutch pulled forward with one hand and planted an elbow strike to his opponent's midsection, doubling him over. Hutch, still keeping his grip on Colby's arm, reached up and grabbed his head with his free hand while turning and dropping his own weight to pull Colby over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground.

Colby rolled with the throw and grabbed hold of the blond's arm as he went, simultaneously kicking out, swiping Hutch's feet out from under him. Hutch went down with a bone jarring thump. Colby leapt to his feet and kicked him in the ribs.

Hutch rolled with the blow and then to his feet, briefly grabbing his now sore ribs. Colby moved in rapidly and struck out with his right foot in a sidekick that was aimed at the blond's chin.

Hutch angled back away from the blow as he in turn kicked Colby's other leg out from under him, knocking him back to the ground. Hutch pounced on him and tried to wrestle Colby onto his chest as, out of habit he reached back to grab his handcuffs from the small pouch located on the back of his belt. Thankfully, they were there. Hutch gritted his teeth against the pain of his headache and sore ribs. A few seconds more and he would be down to just one opponent. He briefly wondered how he was going to get the agent under control, seeing as the man was currently several yards away and packing a gun.

The heartbeat of distraction was all that Colby needed. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the small aerosol canister and directed the nozzle at the blond's face and pushed down with his finger. A satisfying hiss was emitted from the can.

Hutch startled at the hiss and reactively pushed away from the sound. His nose and throat burned a little from the spray that he accidentally inhaled. But it was nothing compared to the biting, gnawing pain that seared his eyes. It was as if someone had simultaneously stabbed hot pokers into his eyes.

"Aaah!" a reflexive scream was ripped from him as he dropped to his knees from the pain. He shoved the palms of his hands in to the red-hot charcoal briquettes where his eyeballs had been. His eyes flooded with tears as his body tried in vain to flush the irritating chemicals from his eyes. The burning somehow intensified as the tears flowed. Hutch fell to his side, writhing in pain. He gritted his teeth to prevent any further sounds from coming out. He was not about the give John the satisfaction. Water, he needed water to wash out his eyes.

Colby stood up and nonchalantly brushed dirt and debris off of himself as he watched his adversary start to blindly crawl towards the tree and the backpack located there. John walked over and removed the backpack. "Ah-ah-ah, can't have that just yet Hutch. Those chemicals need to stay in your eyes for just a few minutes more. They're much more effective that way."

Hutch panted through the pain "You just couldn't fight fair could you?" he spat the words as he continued to grind his hands into his fiery eye sockets. It didn't help much, but at this point anything seemed like an improvement.

"I said I would fight. I never said I would fight fair, you should have known that by now. I play to win and I did. That's all that matters in the end. The pain will lessen shortly. As soon as you can stand, we'll be loading you up, mule" Colby smirked as he made his way to the Fed's side.

"I'm not carrying your shit for you!" another wave of pain silenced Hutch's words.

Hank shook his head at the scene "We're taking too long. I hate being in the woods." He smacked at a bug that crawled on his arm.

"Well, would you rather carry the equipment yourself?"

"No"

"I didn't think so" Colby snorted as he collected his gun and Hutch's.

"What was that crap you sprayed on him?"

"Just a little compound that a doctor I met in San Quentin mixed up. Seems he has a grudge against Starsky and Hutch too. He told me that they had messed up this sweet deal that he had at Cabrillo State Mental hospital, anyway, when he found out that I had a beef with them, he gave this to me and asked me if I ever got a chance, I was to use it on at least one of them."

"What does it do?"

"Blinds you."

"Is it permanent?" The agent was beginning to like this idea more.

"Does it matter?" Colby laughed.

"No, not to me it doesn't. Hey, can I see that for a second?" Hank held out his hand.

Colby handed the little canister over.

Hank rolled it around the palm of his hand for a second and moved as if to give it back, dropping it in the process. Colby bent down to pick it up and Hank pulled out his gun and shot the small can. Colby pushed back to evade the bullet and landed on his butt.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Colby snapped.

"I didn't want you using that shit on me" Hank blew the smoke off the barrel of his gun.

Colby laughed, "No chance of that now; is there?" he rose and began brushing himself off again.

"Nope" Hank holstered his gun.

Hutch sat up as the pain receded somewhat. His eyes were still tearing up. There was nothing he could do to control that, it was his body's natural defense. The tears seemed to make the pain worse instead of better. He forced his hands away from his eyes and looked out through the tears. Everything was black. He brushed the tears away and tried again. Black was the only color he could see.

Blind

He was blind. He had thought he had heard John say something about that a few minutes ago, but he had been too mired in agony to hear much of anything. Was it permanent? Or temporary? A wave of fear lapped at his feet. Being trapped in darkness tapped into a very primal fear. He was helpless. Escape would have been difficult before and now it would be close to impossible.

He knew he could try to escape at night and try to find a place to hide and hope like hell he didn't walk off a cliff or run into a bear, or a snake, or mountain lion... Hutch swallowed hard. It was frightening to know that it just might be safer for him to stay with two killers, at least for now. They needed him, well wanted him to carry their stuff. When his usefulness was over, they would kill him.

What was that saying? 'In the city of the blind, the sighted man rules' or it was something like that. A shiver worked its way up his spine. He controlled it as best as he could. It would not do for them to see just how badly this was affecting him. He was going to be ruled by not one, but two sighted men. However, there didn't seem to be any love lost between Colby and Ruth. Maybe he could figure out a way to use that against them, somehow.

The sound of someone approaching pulled him from his reverie. The person grabbed him by the collar and lifted him to his feet.

"Enough of this lollygagging around. We gotta get a move on before dark."

Hutch identified Hank Ruth's voice. "What was that shot I heard earlier for?"

"None of your business."

"Couldn't you just tell me?"

"No"

"Why not? What could it hurt?"

Hutch was pushed hard from behind and staggered to stay on his feet.

"It could hurt you if you keep asking, so shut up. And just so you know, I am against letting you live. So don't try to play any mind games with me, all right cop? I am an FBI agent. I have had extensive training in all the games people play."

"If you are so proud of being an FBI agent, why are you working for Manahan?"

"One more word out of you cop and I will gag you, got it? Put your arm out, mule. It's time to load you up so we can get the hell out of here."

Hutch complied. He needed time to think anyway. His eyes burned less now, but his world remained black. The backpack was heavier then he would have liked but there was nothing he could do about it. He normally would carry between twenty-five and thirty-five pounds. This felt closer to fifty. That might not seem like much, but it was and the weight would be made more difficult to carry if the terrain was hilly. One small plus was that is was a proper backpack with a frame and straps. The load was balanced correctly as well. It would still be work to carry it after a few miles. He wondered how far they would travel today. There were a few hours of daylight remaining. Hutch adjusted the shoulder and waist straps while he waited for his marching orders. He didn't have to wait long.

"Let's keep him in between us."

"All right, you lead Colby."

"Sure, just remember Hank, only Hutch and I know anything about surviving in the woods and he's blind" John chuckled.

If Hank Ruth replied, Hutch didn't hear it, a firm push from behind was his only cue to begin walking.

Starsky looked at the massive green expanse below him. The forest went on forever. The Baron was flying as slowly as he could, keeping just above stalling speed. But the scenery below speed by. Spotting the downed plane... if it were here, would be next to impossible. The density of the trees reminded him of the jungles of Nam and for a moment, he could almost smell napalm in the air. Daylight was fading.

"Mr. Starsky, we're gonna have to try again tomorrow. I'm running low on fuel and this plane, she don't do so well at night, I don't have all the gauges working proper, so she's pretty much a VFR plane." The Baron added that VFR was Visual Flight Rules. Basically meaning that he could only fly the plane if he could see where he was going.

"Just one more grid, Baron" Starsky hollered over the drone of the engine, just a little more time... a few more seconds, he would see Hutch's plane in the dense woods below, some how.

"Sorry Mr. Starsky, the fuel is low as well. We'll land and pick it back up at first light."

"But--"

"I am sorry Mr. Starsky, I really am, but I'm the captain of this here airship and what I say goes. Mark this spot on that map I gave you and we'll head back."

Starsky reluctantly complied. As the Baron executed a sharp turn, Starsky looked down at the trees, far, far below him "Hang on Hutch, I'm comin' for ya buddy, just hang on."

Hutch stopped when he heard the drone of an airplane somewhere far above him. And though he could not see, he looked up anyway. And for just a moment he wanted to wave his arms and shout that he was here. He sighed and stifled the desire. It was pointless. The plane was moving too fast and from the sound of it, was already well beyond being able to see the little group and judging from the muffled sound, trees were overhead, blocking any possible glimpse of them that the pilot might have had.

"Get moving" the words were accompanied with a push and once more Hutch began to walk.

Chapter 6

Hutch fell again. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. It didn't matter how careful he was, or how high he picked up his feet, he kept tripping over things and falling. The path was winding and as deep in the wilderness as they were; there were no groomed trails for them to walk on. Colby must have them on a deer trail or something similar.

The weight of the backpack seemed to be increasing. Hutch lifted himself up on his arms and made it slowly to his knees. Moving slowly through the motions of getting back on to his feet without assistance, he felt rather like a turtle must, when flipped on its back. No one helped him to his feet (not that he had expected them to) and after the first five times or so of tripping and falling, his captors stopped laughing at him.

His exhaustion, the weight of the backpack and his blindness conspired against him, dragged at him, wanting him to stay on the ground. He staggered back to his feet and tried again to keep lifting his feet high to avoid any trip hazards, to no avail. He was so tired. He head pounded and his mouth was dry. He reached for the canteen that was in his pack, only to have Agent Ruth pull it from his grasp before he could get the lid off.

"Uh-uh, that's not for you" The agent then noisily drank from the canteen, making gulping sounds followed by "Ahhh that hits the spot."

Hutch felt a muscle in his cheek flex in tightly restrained anger and reminded himself that Hank was just trying to anger him so as to give the agent an excuse to kill him. The agent wanted him dead and was apparently not above a little torture before killing him and apparently a slow death via dehydration would be quiet acceptable to the man. Not only was his mouth dry, it seemed everything around this area was dry, the grass, the trees. Even the air around him was dry. He licked his lips, they were dry as well.

"Can we stop now? I'm beat" Hank leaned against a tree, as he shouldered the canteen by its strap.

"I thought you wanted out of these woods, Ruth" Colby replied as he stared at the agent.

"I do. But it's getting dark and I don't want to wander off a cliff or into a bear or something. Though, if we did come across a bear we could just throw it Hutchinson" Ruth grinned evilly.

"Yeah, that would be a really smart move. I've got all of the supplies" Hutch returned with barely restrained sarcasm, he might not have seen the grin, but he could hear it in the agent's voice.

"Not all of them. I don't leave anything to chance, if I can help it. You should know that by now Hutch" Colby's tone was even, unruffled.

"I don't think I ever knew you John" The blond turned towards the sound of Colby's voice, wishing he could see his former friend's face. Colby was hard enough to read when Hutch could see his face, but now... it was impossible. The only thing he could be sure of was that John or Hank would kill him before they left the woods.

Colby watched the subtle changes in Hutch's expression, the blond was concerned, just as he should be "See, that's the thing isn't it? That is what makes me so good at my job. No one really knows me, no one ever did. And I like it that way."

Colby eyed Hutch as the blond leaned against a tree for support. Pain and exhaustion were clear on his former friend's face. Hutch just didn't seem to get past the fact that he, Colby, simply didn't feel anything for any one. He never had. But, being a good actor, he was very good at pretending that he did. His crowning triumph had been fooling Starsky and Hutch into helping him find his last mark.

They had so easily bought his lies, the gullible fools. If they had just looked at his legs, really looked, they would have noticed that there were no scars on either of them. Not even one little one. If he had really have needed two years to get his leg back in shape, there would have been some visible damage on at least one of them. Some detectives they were.

Unfortunately, he had let Hutchinson live instead of killing him when he had the chance back in that parking lot. Hutch had been down for the count. A simple stab to the spine would have brought a swift end to the blond. But he knew that if he done that, then Starsky would have trailed him to the ends of the earth. The brunet would have been relentless in his search to find Hutch's killer. It would have made continuing in his line of work much more difficult.

Now he wanted revenge and it was unlikely that Starsky would ever figure out who killed his partner. No one knew he had escaped from prison, thanks to Manahan. No one knew it was him flying the FBI's decoy plane. It was also unlikely that the blond's body would ever be found way out here. This area was hell and gone from their original flight path. Any searching would most likely be done hundreds of miles from here. Unless someone found the plane... however, with minimal tree damage, the dense foliage, and some luck, it could be years before anyone found the plane. He and Agent Ruth had taken the time to cover it with branches to further hide it.

He watched as Hutch slid down to sit at the base of the tree that he had been leaning against. He would kill the blond in a day or so. He didn't want to get too close to civilization to murder his former friend. The body might be found in the more frequented part of the woods.

Colby wondered briefly if he should experiment with a different method of killing the blond. He was good at the spine stab. It was his trademark method of committing murder, for it was quick and quiet. His victims never saw it coming. They rarely made a sound as they died. Their silence was music to his ears. A smile slid onto his lips, he licked them, and revenge would never again taste as sweet.

Double bonus, Starsky would suffer over the loss of his partner. So Colby knew he wouldn't need to track the brunet down or worry about looking over his shoulder for the man. Starsky would never know exactly what happened to Hutch nor would he know that his partner was dead, for certain. That would be the best revenge on the curly-haired detective that he could hope for.

Colby watched as the blond's eyes closed. Hutch looked exhausted. Colby wondered how long the detective could hold on before he collapsed completely. Hutch had a stubborn, determined streak in him. He would not go down easily. Good.

Hutch had nearly beaten him again today. Colby clenched his fingers into fists. He had once more had to resort to an underhanded trick to win. But he had won. It felt good. However, it was rather sad that Hutch would not see the stab coming, but then, most of his victims never did... But aaahhh, when Hutch realized it, felt the stab, the knife twist and then he would feel nothing at all...

Colby ran a hand down the front of his pants, just once, for he was endlessly entertained by the expressions people made when they died, the way their faces looked as they died... It didn't matter to him if his victims were male or female, young or old. The way they looked when they died was all he needed to feel something... anything at all. In that all-to-brief moment, Colby felt, whole, complete, at peace, the void within him was filled, but only for a moment, but what an exquisite moment is was. A sigh escaped his lips. He darted his eyes around, looking to see if his two companions had heard the sound.

Ruth was some distance off to the right, behind a tree, heeding nature's call. Hutch appeared to be sleeping. The blond's days were numbered. Colby knew that killing Hutch would be easy, especially since he was blind. He wondered what expression Hutch would make when he died. The smile worked its way back onto John's face.

He would savor the moments until just the time came to put the blond out of his misery. It was nearly as fulfilling as watching his victims' faces as they died. The build up of tension to near erotic proportions and then the glorious release of Hutch's death... Life just didn't get any better than that.

Hutch kept his eyes closed and listened carefully to the sounds around him, trying to get a mental picture of his surroundings. He could almost feel someone's eyes on him. He hated being blind and wondered if he would ever see again, but he couldn't dwell on that. Not now. His eyes still had a low burning ache. He fought the urge to rub them again.

He licked his dry lips again. Some water would be really nice about now. He would have to ask if they would give him some. Either that or hope that they came across a stream sometime soon and have all he could drink there. If they didn't give him water, it was a cinch to guess that they wouldn't give him any food either. His stomach rumbled quietly. Good thing he was used to fasting for a couple days at a time. He could ignore his hunger. Thirst was something else, especially given the dry, hot conditions. One minor plus was that there were very few mosquitoes to contend with.

He heard someone approaching and remained on the ground, pretending to sleep. Was it Colby or was it Ruth? At this point, he didn't know who was worse. If he could talk to Ruth separately from Colby, perhaps he could find out more about the man and maybe get the man to help him. After all, he had become an FBI agent for some reason, he had to have something going on in his life to cause him to be working for Manahan... maybe, just maybe, he could find out the reason and offer to help solve the problem and thereby get Ruth to help him with Colby.

"You're not sleeping, so just quit the act already" It was Hank Ruth.

"Could I have some water, please?" Hutch sat up, the backpack making his movement somewhat clumsy.

"Sure."

Hutch listened as the agent unscrewed the cap of the canteen and he held out his hand for it.

"Uh-uh, I'll hold the canteen for you. I don't want you to drink it all" The agent pushed Hutch's waiting hand down.

Hutch waited for the lip of the canteen to be brought to his lips, his tongue peeked out from behind his teeth, eager for the refreshing wetness of the water. He could hear the slosh of the water and the metal smell of the warm canteen bottle. A drop of water hit his lower lip.

"There, that ought to hold you until tomorrow" Both Colby and Ruth chuckled at the agents little joke.

"Good one" Colby said, laughter in his voice.

"Thanks, I try" Ruth snickered back. "Hey Colby, what's for supper?"

"I got some canned food, some beef jerky and a few granola bars."

"Sounds great, I'm starved."

"I wouldn't light any fires if I were you two, it's too dry out here. You could burn the whole place down." Hutch offered.

"Hey, did you say something Colby?"

"Nope, not me, don't light a fire though, I don't want any rangers getting curious about smoke in this area and coming for a look."

"Good thinking Colby."

Any response from Colby must have been nonverbal, for Hutch heard nothing. He the next thing he heard was the sound of feet approaching and in short order found himself face down in the dirt. The backpack was pulled from him and around his wrist; he felt the cold metal of a handcuff snake around, securing with a 'click'. His right arm was pulled and he was dragged forward several feet to a tree. His left arm was pulled around the tree and the other part of the handcuff was secured around his left wrist. He moved closer to the tree to relieve the strain on his arms.

"You could have asked, I would have moved closer without you having to drag me" There was only one reply and that was the ripping sound of cloth. The next thing Hutch knew was that he was being gagged. The center of the gag had a knot in it and that was shoved past his teeth and into his dry mouth. What little remaining moisture was sucked into the gag... a used sock by the smell and taste if it. It made him want to vomit. He breathed carefully though is nose.

"There, that's better, the mule is hobbled for the night and I don't know about you, but I never could stand the sound of a jackass braying" That was Colby's voice.

"Me neither. Hey, toss me that granola bar" That was Ruth and he sounded closer than Colby.

Somebody ought to gag the two of you then Hutch then heard the sound of Hank catching the bar. His stomach rumbled and the bark of the tree scratched his arms through his plaid shirt. One small blessing was that his arms were in front of him. It would make for a slightly less painful night. A cool breeze blew in. Hutch was well aware that he was in for a long, cold, uncomfortable night. He settled in as best as he could. He knew he should try to get some sleep, for he was well aware that his very survival depended on him being able to keep up with Colby and Ruth tomorrow.

He put his head down on his outstretched arm and listened as the two moved around the camp and he waited for the sound of approaching feet and waited for further tormenting and he waited for the morning.

"You should lie down and try to get some sleep Mr. Starsky. You'll need to be sharp in the morning if you expect to spot Mr. Hutchinson's plane." The Baron leaned back in one of the twin beds of the cheap motel room they occupied. He had been in worse places in his lifetime. He eyed the pacing detective.

Starsky nodded once at the Baron as he paced by the beds, too entangled in his own thoughts for resting, even though he knew the man was right. Starsky had contacted Dobey and let him know where he was and what he was up to. Dobey had informed him that the plane was most probably out of the country by now, most likely Mexico, according to the Feds. Starsky snorted when he heard that. The damn Feds didn't know their collective heads from a hole in the ground.

But, what if he were wrong? What if the Feds were right...? It could happen. They were searching for their man too, agent Hank Ruth, a good agent and a good man and then there was the decoy, a US Marshal named Clive Benedict. Clive had been chosen because of his similar height and coloring to Drake Mallard and the fact that neither Hutch nor Agent Ruth would have known him. The Marshal's were looking too. Dammit, why didn't anyone know, really know anything?

Something as big as a plane should be a lot easier to spot... he blew a frustrated breath out through his clenched teeth and paced back across the small room. Starsky stopped in front of the dirty window and pushed back the curtain with one hand, staring into the dark. The sun had gone down moments after the Baron had landed the beat up old plane. The sky had been red. 'Red sky at night, sailors delight' so, it was unlikely to rain tomorrow. It wouldn't matter if it was going to rain or not. Rain, shine, snow or hail, nothing Mother Nature threw at him would stop him from looking... but where?

What if I'm wrong? What if I am wasting my time looking at that forest? Why did I have to play that stupid, juvenile trick on Hutch? It should be me out there, not him Starsky dropped his head and leaned forward so his forehead touched the glass, he closed his eyes for a long moment God I'm sorry I got ya into this Hutch... I swear I'll make it up to you; just you wait and see... He traced one hand down the dirty glass, leaving a trail of his fingers on the window. He wiped his now dirty fingers on his jeans.

Starsky then moved back away from the window and flopped down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. All this uncertainty was giving him a headache. Should he search the forest again tomorrow? Or should he throw his lot in with the Feds and US Marshals? After all, they had the most resources, and by all accounts, they had the best resources and information. All he had was the Black Baron, (whose flying skills left much to be desired) and a really old, rickety flying death-trap and a hunch...

Maybe something would turn up by morning... he rolled onto his stomach and tried to get comfortable. The Baron was right about one thing; he would need his sleep, regardless of his indecision. He wouldn't do Hutch any good (wherever his friend was) if he were dead on his feet. All he could do now was try to get some sleep as he waited for morning to arrive.

Chapter 7

Hutch was only able to doze in spurts. The rest of the time was spent trying not to think about how thirsty and cold he was. He flexed his muscles, bunching and relaxing them in an effort to stay warm. He didn't bother to try to get comfortable. There was no chance of that happening. He knew he had a few ticks on him. He had tried to brush them off before they burrowed in behind his ears, but with his arms around the tree, it was impossible. He tried hard not to think about the small tickles and itching sensations the insects made as they moved through his hair. Their bites would be nearly painless, just as nature designed it.

He had rubbed his head on the tree in an attempt to rid himself of the bugs and noticed that the tree had a vanilla smell to it. He sniffed it again, yep, it was vanilla, that the tree was most likely a ponderosa pine... so that meant that he must be somewhere in the Rocky Mountains at an elevation of around 7,000 to 10,000 feet. Oh yeah, that really narrows down my location He thought sarcastically as he put his head back down onto his outstretched arms, suppressing yet another shiver from the cool night air.

He had just drifted off to an uneasy sleep when he was awakened to the feel of someone putting their hand over his mouth and nose, the grip was hard and firm, his air was cut off. Hutch reflexively struggled and tried to break free when Agent Ruth whispered quietly into his ear "hold still, say nothing". Hutch stopped struggling, but remained tensed, ready to struggle again if necessary, for all of the good it would do. To his relief, the hand was removed, as was his gag, which stuck to his dry tongue, Ruth pulled the sodden mess out of his mouth.

"Sit up."

The words were very quiet and whispered directly into his ear. Then the agent pulled the detective upright and nearly into his lap. Hutch stiffened and tried to pull away, but he just didn't have much leverage. He was barely able to move for now his arms were pulled tightly around the tree, putting an incredible strain on his joints and ligaments. The metal handcuffs dug in mercilessly into his wrists.

He turned his head to look at the agent before remembering that he was blind. He started to open his mouth to ask 'why?' when the rim of the canteen touched his dry lips. Water was poured into his mouth and he drank as quickly as he could, half fearful he would choke if he didn't and half concerned about ever getting another chance to drink.

"That's enough" The agent whispered as he took the canteen away and nudged Hutch forward, back towards the tree, the stress on the blond's arms was instantly eased. The agent brought up the disgusting gag and put it to Hutch's lips.

"Why?" Hutch whispered quickly before the gag was once more lodged in his mouth. He fought with his gag reflex as the agent tied the gag tightly behind his head. The agent must have set the gag directly on the ground because now it had dirt and a few pine needles on it. He had to carefully breathe though his nose several times to keep from vomiting.

The agent paused before moving back to his sleeping bag "Just hedging my bets."

Hutch saw the sense in that. He didn't trust Colby either. It had to be even more difficult if he were in the agent's shoes. Not that he ever would be. But why didn't Ruth just kill Colby? Than again, why didn't Colby just kill Ruth? What kind of game were they playing with each other? Or was it just business, or criminal code? Or perhaps Manahan needed the FBI agent and had forbidden Colby to kill him... Hutch shook his head. The way the criminal mind worked was beyond him sometimes. He put his head down and tried again to get some sleep.

A hard kick to his legs brought him out of the few moments of sleep he had managed to get. Hutch opened his eyes and found that his world was still black. He closed them again. He hated being blind. It reminded him of his days of captivity at the hands of Ben Forest's men. He was in a similar circumstance now. He was at the total mercy of his captors. Being blind made it much worse. If by some chance he got away, where would he go? Another rough kick took him out of those thoughts and into the situation at hand. His only goal today was to live to 'see' tomorrow. He snorted to himself as he awkwardly sat up.

One wrist was un-cuffed and he gingerly brought his arms back to his sides. Both of them tingled and burned as they awoke from their 'sleep' as the blood rushed through them. He bit back a groan. He would not be showing his captors any sign of weakness. He clumsily rubbed at his arms trying to ease the hurt and strain of the hours of tension that had been put on them.

Colby spoke "you better take a leak or whatever now; you're not getting a chance later."

Hutch carefully got to his feet and put his hands out in front of him to feel for obstacles in his path. Everything seemed to ache. His hands and knees hurt the worst. Had to be from all of the falling down he had done yesterday. He stopped and removed the gag and dropped it to the ground.

"Hurry up, we ain't got all day!" Colby called after him.

Hutch moved a little further away and did what he had to do behind a large rock he had found by walking into it. It really bothered him that he couldn't tell if he was hidden enough from their sight or not. But they wouldn't have let him completely out of their sight regardless. It was so humiliating.

Hutch walked carefully back towards where he thought the camp was, checking his head for ticks as he did so. He found several behind his ears, as expected. He had nothing to detach them with, and he was reluctant to just pull them off. That would leave the ticks' heads buried in his skin. An unpleasant thought, plus the detached heads could cause infections.

"Hey, where's your gag?"

Hutch shrugged and hoped Colby would just forget about it. But then he heard Ruth say "Got it" Dammit! The blond stood still, not knowing what they wanted. He listened as hard as he could. Someone grabbed his hand and wrapped it around a long stick.

"Ruth, what the hell do you think you're doing? What did you give him that for?" Colby sounded slightly irritated.

"I was hoping that with that stick, he will spend more time on his feet than flat on his face. I wanna get out of these woods before I die of old age" Agent Ruth went over and got the backpack and ordered the detective to put out his arms and put the heavy pack on him.

Hutch took the hint and reluctantly secured the straps of the pack himself. "Hey Hank, I was just wondering if you checked yourself for ticks yet?"

"Ticks?"

"Yeah, the woods are swarming with them... didn't Colby tell you?" Hutch kept his tone innocent.

"Nooo he didn't... what do you know about them?" From the slight change in sound, Hutch could tell that Hank turned his head away, as if he were looking elsewhere... looking at Colby, perhaps?

"Well, I know were to look for them and how to get them off, if you have any on you, that is..." Hutch trailed off. This might be an opportunity to use the agent and possibly stay alive for one more day and maybe put more of a wedge in between Colby and Ruth. He would have to be very careful in how he went about that though, one wrong move and he was a dead man.

"What's in it for you?" The agent sounded suspicious.

"Well, I want any ticks removed from me and I can tell you where to find them on you" Hutch reasoned.

The agent grunted, "Fine."

After explaining where to find the ticks, Hutch told the man how to remove them. It was a relief to get the insects off. The thought of those things sucking his blood simply nauseated him.

"If you ladies are finished...?" Colby sounded as calm as ever.

"Right behind you Colby" A shove from Hank was Hutch's cue to begin walking.

It took some trial and error, but Hutch quickly got the hang of using his walking stick, which was nearly as tall as he was. At least he could now spend more time on his feet, which were both a good and a bad thing. Good that he move a little faster so as not to burden them and thereby lose his usefulness, giving them reason to kill him, but bad in the sense that he was moving more quickly to his own likely murder at the hands of John Colby. Damned if you do, damned if you don't he muttered to himself as he trudged along.

While getting the agent to remove the ticks, he had also convinced the man not to replace the gag, at least for now. If he could keep proving his worth to Hank Ruth, he could stay alive for just a while longer. In doing so, perhaps he start to manipulate the agent and perhaps get the Fed to change his mind about killing him. It was the best he could hope for, for now.

"In here Mr. Starsky" The Baron called to his anxious companion as he opened the hanger doors. The man wasted more time pacing around. The Baron chuckled to himself as he looked at the detective. The man should really lighten up and try to enjoy life.

"But isn't that your plane over there?" Starsky hooked a thumb at the plane in question.

"That it is, but I was looking over the terrain maps this morning and realized it would be better if we took a copter instead, so I called in a favor and we'll be flying in this baby today" The Baron led the way into the hanger and stopped next to the military green helicopter.

Starsky could feel his mouth dry up and his stomach clenched at the sight. It was a UH-1 Iroquois, better known as a Huey. His knees trembled a bit before he locked them.

"Are you alright Mr. Starsky?" The Baron grabbed the detective's elbow to steady him.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm alright. It's just been a while since I've seen one of these up close" He felt the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. He swiped at it with the cuff of his shirtsleeve.

"Nam?" The Baron asked softly, knowingly.

"Yeah, memories" The response was clipped, his voice strained.

The Baron nodded, he had been there too. "You wanna take the plane instead?"

Starsky briefly fought with himself. They were just memories, things long gone and in the past. Things that were best left there. He focused on the now, he had to look for Hutch. He knew, as the Baron obviously did, that the Huey was the better choice for the job. He wasn't going into war, he wasn't going off to kill; he was on a mission of mercy, he was going to find his friend.

"No, you're right, this is what we need. From what I remember from yesterday, this is the better option, we should be able to get a better view with this, if something catches our eyes, we can hover or even land" Starsky made up his mind. Mind over matter, you can do this Davy, just this once, for Hutch

"Alright then, Mr. Starsky, let's get going" The Baron slapped the detective on the back before opening the door to the Huey, he then climbed in.

"You do know how to fly one of these things, right?" Starsky started around the nose of the copter to the other side. All he could hear then was the Baron laughing at him. It did not make him feel one bit better.

Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains

Hutch surreptitiously munched on the small piece of jerky that Hank had snuck him. It wasn't enough. His stomach rumbled nearly constantly and aside from the few covert sips of water the agent had given him, he had not had a substantial drink of water in nearly two days now. His lips started to crack and bleed. The heavily salted jerky wasn't helping either, but his body craved something to eat and to keep going, he had to eat whatever he could.

To take his mind off of his hunger and thirst, he considered Hank Ruth. He knew that he couldn't trust the man any more than he could trust Colby. He was well aware that the only reason Ruth was helping him now was just incase something happened to Colby. Ruth might need his help to survive in the woods.

Colby didn't need either of them... so why didn't he just ditch the both of them? He could move faster by himself. When the three of them, Starsky, Colby and Hutch had been in the academy together, they had also gone on a camping trip. Colby knew what he was doing in the woods. And who knew what he knew now after having been in the Air Force... or was that just another lie?

Hutch racked his brain trying to remember what had been said about Colby's time in the military service at his trial. He couldn't recall anything being said about it. The man was all lies; he had probably lied about that as well.

He tapped the ground in front of him, rather grateful to Hank for having given the stick to him. He knew that the agent was playing both sides of the field. That was a smart move on his part, though Hutch wasn't sure how Colby would take that. They were planning on killing him; both were in agreement about that, so maybe Colby didn't mind.

It was a sure thing that the agent didn't trust Colby. It would be interesting to see how the agent intended to deal with Colby, especially if Colby found out about the agent slipping him food and water. Hutch once more wished he could see. It would be much easier to judge his captors' reactions... not to mention that it would make escaping remotely possible. The blond sighed as he continued to walk. Some things were best not to dwell on.

Starsky had to force himself to concentrate on the business of looking for Hutch's plane. They had been searching for hours now. The forest below thinned and thickened below them. The scenery ran together after while, but he kept at it. He tried not to think about his friend being dead. He didn't really think Hutch was dead. He would know it, somehow... wouldn't he?

The Huey made another sudden drop as the air currents rising off the mountains below rose and fell unpredictably. He felt his stomach rise and fall with the copter. One false move by the Baron and it was 'good-bye world' He closed his eyes for just a second as he tried to calm his stomach. It was a good thing that he had not had any breakfast.

"How're you doing Mr. Starsky?" The Baron asked and then added, "You're lookin' a little green over there."

"Just keep this thing in the air" Starsky swallowed hard a couple of times "Please" he put his binoculars up to his eyes again the scanned the tree tops, looking for damage, looking for Hutch. Another day was nearly done, and still no signs or sightings of his friend. Where could he be? He expelled a harsh breath. It was possible that Hutch was nowhere near by. Dammit if the Feds were right about this...

The Huey lurched.

Starsky shot the Baron a tense look.

"Don't worry Mr. Starsky, everything is under control." The Baron shook his head; curly top was a really nervous flier.

"I smell somethin'" Starsky sniffed the air of the cockpit. He sniffed again "Don't you smell somethin'" he did not remove his binoculars from his eyes though. He was more worried about missing any signs of Hutch then about his own safety, but it was a very close second.

The Baron sniffed the air, more to humor the detective than anything. "No Mr. Starsky, the air smells fine to me" He chuckled. The man had concerns with planes and even more concerns with helicopters. It was obvious that flying in this copter was reminding the man of his time in Nam. The Baron understood that, he had been there too. Mostly just flying supply runs and such. But he was aware that the Huey was bringing back some unpleasant memories for Mr. Starsky.

It couldn't be helped. This was the only helicopter he could get a hold of on such short notice. He wasn't about to tell the detective that the refurbishing wasn't anywhere near being done on the Huey. Joe had cautioned him that it was a long way from being finished and to use it gently. He had been, but it had been a long day and the air currents and wind had been particularly rough today. The day was nearly over and after one more grid, they would have to head back to the airport for the night.

Colby must have moved an ahead a little, for Hank unscrewed the cap of the canteen and gave Hutch another quick drink. He swigged as much down as he could before the agent pulled the container away from him. Swallowing quickly, Hutch asked his question, hoping to get some answers before Colby returned. "Why are you doing this?"

"Giving you a drink? I told you, I'm hedging my bets."

"No, not that, I mean, why do you work for Manahan?"

"Money"

"That's it? Money?"

"Yeah... and a little revenge. Couldn't hurt to tell you why, I guess."

Hutch understood that to mean that he wouldn't be living long enough to tell anyone anyway. He shrugged noncommittally. Hank nudged him; Hutch took the hint and began to walk again, tapping the ground before him with his stick, funny how that had become a habit in such a short period of time. He was ever more grateful that Hank had given him the stick. He listened as the agent began to speak.

"I had a wife and two boys. The damn job kept me away all the time. One day I came home and they were gone. She left me. Took the kids and left. Just like that" He snapped his fingers. "Here I was, busting my ass to make this country a safer place to live and she splits. The bitch... She gets nearly half of my income now. Never lets me see the boys, says I'm not a good influence... what the hell does she know? She remarried. An accountant. An accountant, do you believe that? Says he's more 'stable', that he's there for the boys. We had a beautiful home just outside of DC. I loved that house, I want it back, but I know I can't get it. What I really want are my boys. She can have her damn accountant." The agent muttered something under his breath.

Hutch took the opportunity to ask "So you're only doing this for the money?"

"That and to pay back the FBI for the years I spent years bustin' my ass for them, doing whatever they asked of me... for what? Huh? WHAT? Well, when one of Manahan's men approached me, I jumped at the chance. After this job, I'm gonna visit the boys. Tell her I'm just taking them for ice cream. I've got passports and a Swiss Bank account with a six-figure balance. The bitch won't know what happened till it's too late. We'll be gone. Smoke. She'll never find us."

"Less talkin' and more walkin'" Colby's voice interrupted the agent's monologue.

Hutch had not heard Colby approach. That was bad, for either he had been too absorbed in Hank's rant, or Colby was a lot stealthier then Hutch had expected. He continued walking. He refused to let his aching head and his continued exhaustion hold him back. He just needed more time to figure out how and when to escape. To stay with these two was certain death. Then again, it was most likely certain death to wander the wilderness blind, but if he could stay alive long enough, perhaps someone would find him. He closed his eyes, C'mon Starsk old buddy, I hope you're lookin' for me right now... scratch that, I know you're lookin', it's just probably not in the right place... that's not your fault though, just keep looking, that's all I ask

"Move it Hutchinson" Hank pushed the cop forward with a firm hand.

Hutch heeded the push from behind and sped up as quickly as he dared, refusing to give up just yet. He felt the sun on his face. It must be late afternoon by now. A few more hours and it would be dark and than he could rest. It would feel good. He held onto that feeling. It was all he had.

Starsky peered through the binoculars; time was running short on his second day of searching. It had taken a lot to force himself into the Huey. He pushed the memories away, focusing on his task. He smelled it again... it was an electrical smell, like a short or something. The Baron did not seem bothered by it, or maybe couldn't smell it. It didn't linger.

The mountains were green and brown below them. Rather peaceful. The Huey rose unexpectedly and the burning electrical scent wafted by once more, the combination of motion and scent tossed him hard into memories best forgotten...

Shells and bullets shrieked past the Huey, they were under attack. The green of the jungle-covered mountains below them afforded no clear place to land... it didn't matter; it was all hostile territory anyway. He clung to his seat; nine others were in the compartment with him. He looked at them and wondered if he looked as scared as they did. This was one hell of a senior trip courtesy of Uncle Sam, see the world and kill some folks. Happy Graduation!

He gripped his machine gun tightly and prayed harder then he had ever prayed before. A bullet tore through the fuselage between his feet, leaving a small hole in the floor, mere inches from his left foot. He looked up; he knew that there would be a corresponding hole above his head and there was.

The Huey lurched and the engines sputtered, smoke blew through the open compartment, smelling of burning electrical equipment. He exchanged looks with the men in his group, well, boys really, just like him. They looked as white faced as he felt. The Sarge called out "Buck up boys, just a little further and we're home free!"

The Huey sputtered and shuddered, the engines hitting and missing at a fearful rate. This wasn't a plane... they couldn't glide in if the engines failed... it would be a crash, falling down straight from the sky. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Heights didn't used to bother him, but now the very thought of falling a couple thousand feet to the jungle below, in enemy held land... positively terrified him.

Lt. Daniel Murphy was shooting the machine gun that was mounted near the door; the M213 .50 caliber gun was spitting bullet casings everywhere--

"Mr. Starsky? Are you alright? You don't look so good" The Baron glanced over at the detective, the man was sweating, beads of it ran down his face. The binoculars were in his lap and his hands quivered with slight tremors. Maybe he should land for a few minutes and let the poor guy collect himself. He peered through the window and looked about for a clearing in the forest. Spotting one, he headed for it.

"I'm sorry Baron, did you say something?" Starsky wiped his face on his sleeve and tried to quell the tight spins his stomach was making. He looked about and noticed they were descending "What's wrong? Why're we landing?"

"Ummm, I thought I saw something" The Baron wasn't about to embarrass the man by telling him the truth, that he knew Starsky had been having a flashback.

Starsky was instantly and completely back in the here-and-now "What? What did you see?" The binoculars were back in place and he searched the treetops for damage "Hey! I see it too! On the left, right THERE!" Starsky pointed wildly and dropped the binoculars, letting them dangle around his neck by the strap. He leaned forward in his excitement, all fear gone now that there was a sign of a possible crash, a possible starting point to finding his friend.

The Baron then noticed the damaged treetops for himself "Holy Shit!" He pulled the copter around for another look. There it was; a shallow path in the treetops, just before the small meadow. He checked the area and it was big enough to land in, so he eased the Huey in for a landing.

The copter barely hit ground before Starsky was unbuckling himself from the seat and exiting the Huey. He ducked his head and crouched low as he ran under the still rotating blades. He didn't call out, though he wanted to. He trotted to the center of the meadow, looking for the plane. It took a little time, but he found the tire tracks in the grass. The tracks were hard to find for someone had taken the time to push the grass back up, hiding the fact that a plane had landed here.

The Baron joined him and they followed the tracks to the other end of the meadow and finally found the four-seat Piper. It was camouflaged with pine boughs. The two men carefully searched the area. Starsky searched the plane and found Hutch's satchel. It still had everything in it. Not a good sign. There was some dried blood on the floor of the Piper, not a lot though. From the damage to the plane's wing and wheels, they had had a hard landing, which would account for the blood. Though Starsky had the feeling there was more to it than that. Then he noticed the smashed radio. He and the Baron exchanged a look.

"Mr. Starsky, I think we should head back and get some help" The Baron climbed out of the plane.

"No Baron, I'm stayin' right here. You go ahead, radio this in, get a hold of Dobey, he'll know who to contact" Starsky began checking for obvious signs of the direction the missing men might have taken. They nearly two days on him, but he figured he could catch up to them; he refused to let himself doubt it. Did Hutch even know that one of the people he was traveling with was one of Manahan's men? God, he hoped so. He had to know it.

"You sure you'll be alright Mr. Starsky?" The Baron called as he headed to the Huey.

"Yeah, call this in, will ya? Times a wastin'." He would start to search on his own. He would not wait for the others to get here.

The Baron tossed a small backpack out of the copter "Here, some provisions."

Starsky ran over and collected it. "Thanks!" If the pack were anything like the last pack that the Baron had filled, Starsky would have plenty of provisions, both edible and shoot-able and even explode-able provisions. The man was a regular boy scout, always prepared. Starsky retreated from the copter and watched as it flew off over the trees, the whomp-whomp of the rotor blades sent shivers down his spine. But he stood his ground and waved one last time at the rapidly disappearing copter.

The Huey's radio had been cutting in and out all day, so Starsky knew that sending the Baron back for help was the surest way to get the message out. The Baron had told him that the Huey was being refurbished right after they had landed in the meadow. He wasn't happy about it, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He had more important things on his mind right now. He was finally going to find Hutch. He finally had a starting place.

He would have to dredge up everything he had ever learned about being in the jungle... the forest, he corrected himself, Hutch was counting on him. Starsky started his search back at the plane and he circled out from there. His circles grew ever larger as he expanded his search.

After nearly a half an hour of searching, he found a curious looking mound and had a very uneasy feeling about it. He carefully began to dig at the roughly oval shaped mound. It was grave sized. The rocks and fresh turned dirt were easy to move with the small camp shovel he found in the Baron's pack. He dug quickly; he had to know who was buried under the mound.

After several minutes, he found the body of a man he did not know. Starsky was relieved that it wasn't Hutch. This must be the decoy the US Marshals had provided. He quickly exposed the rest of the body to see if he could determine the cause of death. When he found a single stab wound in the man's spine, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew of only one man who used that method of murder. John Colby should be in San Quentin prison. But the curly haired detective didn't think Colby was in prison any more. He was in these woods. And he had Hutch with him. He shouldered the pack and began to search for the route that they had taken away from the meadow.

In the center of the field, where the Huey had been, a small red-hot bit of molten metal from the copter found its way into the deep litter of the meadow. It tumbled from blade to blade, gravity drawing it closer to the dirt below. It tumbled down deep and settled in, but before the metal cooled, it gave birth to a tiny little flame.

Chapter 8

The Baron pulled back on the yoke and gained altitude, carefully maneuvering the Huey out of the small meadow. He waved back at Mr. Starsky, he then tried the radio and as expected, it didn't work. He made for the airport, pushing the copter has hard as he dared. This was almost as fun as much fun as the time the four of them had stormed that castle. He laughed, Huggy was right; life was much more exciting around Starsky and Hutch.

The Huey rose unexpectedly "Whoa Nelly, gotta watch those up drafts" the Baron smiled to himself, this was fun. He checked the horizon, the sun was going down fast, he would need to hustle to make it back to the little private airstrip they had taken off from. He increased the speed and pushed the copter to its near maximum speed of 121 knots, the single Lycoming tuboshaft engine whined with effort.

After a while, the Baron spotted the landing strip in the distance and tried the radio again. Nothing. He checked the skies carefully for other planes. It could get messy if he got into somebody's flight path. And he couldn't tell the control 'tower'. It wasn't so much a 'tower' as a slightly taller building then the others, that he was coming in mute and deaf, that he had no radio and was unable to hear them. His customary smile faded, it was time to be serious.

Something tickled at his nose. He sniffed. A burning electrical scent collected in his nostrils. So, Mr. Starsky had been correct. He would tell the man that, when next he saw the detective. He buzzed the tower and waved at the controller sitting in the booth. He pointed at his ear and motioned that his radio was malfunctioning.

The controller stood up and started to wave franticly at him. The Baron gave the man a quizzical look, radios sometimes went out; it was nothing to get excited about. And with his old plane, burning electrical smells were common.

Still, he had to get this bird on the ground, he glanced about to make certain he wasn't in anyone's flight path and that's when he spotted the fire. It was small, but there, on the underside of the fuselage, it was just peeking out from the around what looked like the gearbox cowling. From what he could tell from the refection from the tower windows, that is.

The Baron wasted no more time on what the fire looked like. He maneuvered the Huey away from the buildings. The copter was increasingly more difficult to fly. He found an open stretch and aimed for it. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and he pulled hard on the yoke, trying to regain control and get the copter closer to the ground.

"Come on baby... just a little more..." The Baron's plea went unheeded as the Huey rolled violently onto its side; the rotor blades contacted the ground and fragmented, a half a heartbeat later, the rest of the copter smashed into the ground. Debris, fuel and flames erupted from the wreck and the nearby grass caught fire.

The Baron's body, lashed to the pilot's seat by safety belts, jerked hard and the motion from the crashing copter surged through him and his last cognitive though was "Oh shit, is Joe ever gonna be pissed."

After quickly re-burying the body, Starsk started to search for the path that three remaining men had taken away from the meadow. God help Hutch if it really was Colby with them. He and Hutch's former friend was a cold fish. But to actually like to kill? Starsky shook his head, not good. He had seen men like that in Vietnam. They would cut the ears off of their victims and string them around their necks, like trophies. Only those dead couldn't really be called 'victims' though, for they had been soldiers... still, soldiers or no, they hadn't deserved that treatment.

Starsky stopped those thoughts; he had to concentrate on finding Hutch before he ended up with a stab wound in his spine. He rechecked the ground near the plane and spotted something he had missed before. The grass was torn up and small branches were freshly broken on the ground. He knelt down and peered closely at the damage.

There had been a fight right here. Who had fought? What had they fought over, or about? Was it over the dead man? Starsky found a very clear footprint. It was Hutch's shoe size, he checked the print over very carefully, and there it was! There was the small cross in the heel print of the left shoe.

He knew it was Hutch's shoe print. He had cut the cross into the heel himself. Hutch would have been furious if he had known. Starsky just couldn't help himself sometimes. Superstitions got the best of him at times and carving the cross in the heels of shoes was to keep the devil from following you. He had them in his own shoes, along with the Star of David, just to cover all the bases. He smiled briefly; it would bug Hutch to no end if he ever found out about that.

Returning his attention to the area of the fight, he found a burst aerosol can. The can had been shot... but why? He sniffed it and it had a strong odor to it. He put it down where he found it, more out of habit then anything else. He then found a .38 shell casing not too far from that. Something had been in that can, something dangerous, perhaps? Or was it target practice? Or was it for intimidation? The answers to those questions would have to wait.

Starsky stood up and adjusted the shoulder strap of the pack he was carrying. He found the trail and followed it. It was a deer trail, from the cloven hoof prints he saw. On top of some of the prints were human shoe prints. Having found the trail, he sped up. He knew that he really should stop and thoroughly check the pack and see what all was in it before it got dark. That could wait though. It would have to.

He broke into a jog. He had a lot of ground to cover if he was ever going to catch up with the men. He would go until it was nearly dark, and then he would stop. With that thought in mind, he pressed forward, moving a quickly as he dared.

Hutch stumbled and struggled to catch his balance. He panted in the dry heat and was happy to note that there was just a hint of coolness in the light breeze that wafted by. His walking stick was getting heavier, but he maintained his grip on it. It was something he could hold on to and occasionally, in his now blackened universe, it felt like the only tangible thing in the world to him. And right now he needed that, strange how the stick had become like an extension of him, a part of him. His new best friend was a stick. He giggled at the thought and when he realized what he was doing, stopped.

Hutch knew that he was close to overheating... No, no, wrong word Kenny... heat exhaustion He corrected himself cars overheat, not people, still, it felt like he was overheating, but he was sweating still, that was good. But he was getting more and more lightheaded. Being blind further robbed him of his equilibrium. The stick was pretty much the only thing that kept him on his feet now. His backpack pulled hard on his aching shoulders, dragging on him. Why was he carrying it? He unbuckled the straps and shrugged his way out of them, letting it drop to the ground behind him. Relief washed over him. He felt so light now.

"HEY! What the hell do you think your doing?" Rough hands grabbed him and put the pack back on him. The straps were cinched tightly.

"Water?" Hutch whispered through parched lips "Please?" It was asking a lot, he knew. They had not seen even so much as a mountain stream the whole day. The canteens were all getting low now. Hank had stopped giving him sips hours ago. Or it seemed like hours ago.

"Oh for Christ sake! Here!"

There was the sound of the cap being twisted off and water sloshing. Flecks of water hit his face, one landed on his lips and he licked it off greedily. "More?"

The gag was shoved into his mouth and roughly tied on. His mouth was wrench widely by the mass and his whole jaw ached from having been in a similar position the night before. Hutch blinked rapidly, trying to assimilate what was going on. His heat-fragmented brain slowly gathered its thoughts back up. Oh yeah... he was playing pack animal to two criminals. They were in the woods. It was hot. Really hot.

"Now MOVE!" Hank shoved him from behind. Hutch had no choice but to walk.

"If you take that pack off before I tell you to, I'm tying your hands, got it?"

Hutch nodded dumbly and gripped his stick hard and staggered down the trail. The wind blew by him again, a cool gentle caress that tickled his face and hair. If the gag would have permitted it, he would have smiled, it felt that good.

"We'll be stopping soon, looks like a good spot up ahead. I'll look around" Colby called out.

Hutch used his stick to pull himself forward. It would feel so good to sit down. He kept walking, sweeping the area in front of him with his stick until he hit something. He tapped along the thing. Wood. He tapped again. Sounded hollow. He sat down and leaned forward. He would have fallen over backward if he had leaned that way, he didn't dare take the backpack off again. Not yet anyway. They might not be done walking for the day. His breath came in pants and he tried to keep breathing through his nose, he would loose less moisture that way. He needed every little bit he had left.

He rested his head in his hands. His head pounded as if it were a tom-tom being beaten for a tribal dance. He wondered if he could get away with taking the gag off now. If he kept quiet, maybe they would let him leave it off. His fingers itched to remove the thing. But he made himself wait. His breathing slowed after while and his haze of exhaustion lifted ever so slightly. He became aware of a buzzing sound somewhere close by.

He tilted his head and listened carefully. It was bees, or maybe wasps. There must be a hive close by... to his right. He didn't move. He did not want to stir them up and have them attack. He carefully removed the gag. He would need help getting away from them and he didn't want Colby to decide to camp there, so close to the bees, or wasps. He was hesitant to call out and warn them, it might agitate the insects.

He turned his face to the sun to try to determine how much daylight they had left. The sun seemed weak and with the occasional cool breeze, it must be near sundown. He would wait a little longer. The bees (or wasps) left him alone, so far. He slowly put his head in his hands again and rested.

Colby watched Hank and Hutch through the cover of the pine boughs. Hutch dropped onto a fallen log and put his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. Hank sat down on a rock and looked around for a few moments before opening his canteen and looking into it, the man took a quick drink and recapped it. He then picked up a stick and dug at the ground, obviously bored.

Hutch lifted his head after a few minutes and tilted it this way and that, trying to figure something out. The blond was like an animal in the wild. Without his sight, he was reduced to sniffing and groping. It was so funny; the man was usually so sophisticated and now look at him, he was reduced to the status of a pack animal. Colby grinned.

Which one should he kill? The tension had been building in his body all day. He was nearly panting with pleasure now. His hands slowly rubbed at the material covering his crotch. It was all sooo nice. It was nearly time now. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet mountain air.

Rub. Kill Hutchinson?

Rub. Kill Hank?

Rub. Hutchinson?

Rub. Hank?

Rub. Hutchinson was blind. Couldn't run away. Rub

Hank had a gun. Rub.

Hank could see. Rub.

Hutch had beaten him once. Rub. Had nearly beaten him again. Rub.

Hank was healthy, strong. Rub.

Hutch was weakened by exhaustion and lack of water. Rub.

Colby stood up, still smiling. He knew whom he was going to kill.

Starsky hated to stop, but he would have to. He couldn't follow the trail in the dark and there wasn't much of a trail to begin with, just a footprint here, bent over grass and weeds there. Tracking was not really his forte, but he dredged up as much of the old skill as he could from his time in Nam. It brought back more unpleasant memories.

"Men, we need that sniper killed. Starsky, Jacobs, you two are the best shots, you two head out and see if you can't find that son of a bitch that's picking us off" Sergeant Jones whispered "Good luck men, good hunting!" Sergeant Jones saluted them "We'll hold position here as best we can, hurry now" he motioned them off.

"Good hunting?" Starsky rolled his eyes, but saluted and grabbed his gear. Timmy Jacobs gathered his things as well.

"Yeah, what did you expect him to say? Bad hunting?" The blond kid laughed and shouldered his pack. "C'mon city boy, let me show ya how it's done"

"Don't call me boy, FNG" Starsky chuckled. He liked Jacobs. The kid always had a comment about everything. He had not really gotten to know the Fucking New Guy or FNG as they were called. But so far, no one else could make him smile as often as this kid. Kid, hell he only had about a year on the kid.

Starsky shook his head. It felt more like a lifetime. FNG's didn't really know the score, didn't know the dangers and were most often killed quickly if they didn't catch on. He should try to keep his distance and not make friends too soon, at least until the FNG proved himself by surviving for a month or two.

"Okay Slick... that's short for city slicker" Jacobs patted him on the arm and grinned, no rancor in his tone.

"Shut up, I know what it's short for. How 'bout I call you Tim, that's short for Timmy" Starsky rolled his eyes at that. Gees, couldn't he think of something better to say?

"How about you call me Jake, that's what my friends call me" The blond flashed him a smile and adjusted his helmet. "What do you know about huntin' Slick?"

"Nothin', but I wouldn't really call this huntin'. Who we're hunting is packin' guns and they know how to use 'em."

"So do we partner, so do we" Jake smiled again "Well Slick, listen up, I'm about to learn ya a thing or two" The blond became all business then and as they made their way though the jungle, Starsky was taught how to track. He and Jake had killed the sniper.

He would never become the tracker that Jake was, but he would remember the lessons he learned that day.

He stopped and made a quick camp, like back in Nam, he placed the mountain behind him and made sure he had a clear view of the area all around, plenty of cover for himself and not enough for his enemies. He ate a quick meal, a tasteless MRE that the Baron had packed away. He didn't start a fire. The enemy might see that. He curled up in his hidden position and dropped off into a light sleep.

Hutch felt the sun fading on his skin. He could not see the brightness dimming. It saddened him that he could not see the colors. He wondered if he ever would see them again. Hank had sat down somewhere to his left a while ago and he had listened for Colby. But had heard nothing.

There was a cool damp breeze blowing now. A front must be moving in. Maybe they would get some rain and then he could get a drink. Water would be oh so nice right now. He could imagine the rain dripping down on him and running into his mouth. He licked his lips in anticipation. Water... cool, sweet water...

A sound off to his left jerked him back into the now. He tilted his head. He could hear the bees (or wasps) buzzing and something else... a soft sound... He moved his head; trying to locate the sound... there is was again. A gurgle and a soft pant.

Huh? Hutch's brain turned the sounds around in his head, trying to get a mental picture of what was going on. He didn't ask. He didn't want the gag put back in. He listened harder. The panting was rhythmic and the rhythm was increasing. It sounded rather like... like someone approaching his climax. Hutch curled his lip in disgust. Were Hank and Colby doing 'it'?

A cold feeling washed over him as Hutch realized what was actually happening just a few feet away. Colby was murdering Hank. The gurgling was Hank struggling for breath... a stab to the spine was paralyzing him and his ability to breathe... the man was dying. And the rhythmic pants were Colby enjoying himself. Really, really enjoying himself.

Vomit worked its way up his throat, where it burned. Hutch swallowed hard. What could he do? He was blind, helpless, was he next? Probably. He heard Colby reach his climax and Hutch stood up, his grip was tight on his stick. Should he run? Where could he go? Which way? He had only seconds, if that... he needed more time, just a little more time.

"Well, Hutch... did you enjoy that as much as I did?" Colby sounded relaxed, happy. "It was great... you should have seen it... that's right you can't. You want me to describe it to you?" Colby stood up and moved closer. "I love to see the look on people's faces when they die. Whenever I get the chance, I watch them die. I don't always get the chance, in my line of work, sometimes you have to do it and run... well, rarely run. People notice someone running away from a scene. I always walk. Sometimes I even whistle"

Hutch could hear Colby walking around him, or trying to. Hutch kept turning to face him so John couldn't get behind him to stab him. It wasn't much protection. He heard the zipper close on Colby's jeans. He shuddered.

John gave a satisfied sigh. "Hank was the best I've had in years. Oh, I wish you could have seen it. He looked so stunned, and then kind of sad. Then he cried. Oh how the tears streamed down his face"

Colby laughed lightly "I wonder why he cried? Was he crying because he was dying? I looked deep into his eyes as he cried. He tried not to look at me. He kept closing his eyes, so I cut his eyelids off. He couldn't close his eyes then. Then his eyes streamed with tears and blood... Hutch, you should have seen it..." Colby closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and exhaled, just as slowly. Ecstasy, that's what this was, sheer ecstasy.

"It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen... it brought me great joy. I'm sure you heard that. I tried to keep it quiet... I like it quiet. Quiet is best" Colby slumped down and sat on the log the detective had just left. He was tired. But it was a good kind of tired. A smile danced on his lips.

He looked at Hutchinson; he was no threat, blind as he was. Colby watched him closely for several minutes and the blond wavered as his stood, obviously barely able to stand up. The man's knuckles whitened on the walking stick, he was no threat at all. John closed his eyes, reliving the bliss he had just experienced. This was by far the longest he had ever felt anything. He just couldn't stop smiling. Life was good.

Hutch heard Colby sit down. John was sitting on the log that he had just vacated. Hutch gripped his stick. He had one shot. Just one. He waited for several minutes, his knees shaking with the strain of staying upright and not moving. One chance, focus... focus! Just one. Wait for it... Wait for it... NOW!

Hutch tuned in on the sound of the bees and jammed his stick into the hive, swishing it around in there before pulling his stick out and turning to run away. It didn't matter where or what direction, he just made himself run as fast as he could.

"What the? Hey, Hutch where are you going" Colby stared after the blond, the stick had missed him, stupid cop, just where did he think he was going? Colby stood up as an angry buzz erupted beside him. Suddenly he was being attacked from all directions, stings piercing him as the bees swarmed him.

"Hutchinson! GOD DAMN YOU HUTCHINSON!" Colby bolted off through the trees as the bees continued their attack. Hutch had ruined his bliss. Just as soon as this bee attack was over, the blond was going to find out just how slowly he could make a man die. John gave it no more thought and continued his blind flight from the bees.

Hutch used his stick to find a path; some of the bees stung him, as he could not run as quickly away as Colby. He tried to go in the opposite direction of the sound of Colby's voice. The bees kept stinging him, forcing him onward when all he wanted to do was stop and suddenly, the ground disappeared and he fell.

The ground reappeared painfully as trees and bushes hit him as he fell, slowing him, but hurting him more. He kept silent and tried to stop his descent, to no avail. He plummeted down the incline, rolling and bumping down until he stopped with a splash as he landed in a small stream.

Water at last! He thought.

Consciousness evaporated, leaving him in a now, very familiar place. In the dark.

The fire was nibbling slowly at the grass around it. It was growing slowly and moving slowly. It was dark and the air was damp and cool. Not ideal growing conditions for a fire. So it kept low to the ground and ate only the oldest, driest of the litter. If the air grew too damp or if it rained, the little fire was doomed. But deep down, it had, like all fires have, it had the desire and the potential to be big one day. But that could only happen under the right conditions. And right now, the conditions weren't right. The fire sighed and sputtered and remained small and close to the ground.

Chapter 9

Fullerton's Airport, California

The small group of men fought the helicopter fire with everything they had, equipment wise, which wasn't much since this was a small, privately run airport, but they put forth supreme effort to save the man that was trapped in the cockpit of the fallen aircraft. They struggled desperately to remove him from the burning hulk.

Joe Higgins had donned the only fire protection suit the small airport had and SCBA that was available at the small, airport and pulled his friend from the wreck, the other men pitched in to help carry the injured man to safety, once they were clear of the burning fuselage. They then began a frantic battle with the spreading flames and the local volunteer fire department was called. They arrived at the scene twenty minutes later.

The injured helicopter pilot was loaded into the ambulance and rushed to the local hospital. The fire crew called for mutual aid from another local fire department due to the spreading flames. The dry conditions coupled with the spattered fuel from the crash started spot fires that would need to be doused to prevent a major conflagration due to the drought conditions the area had been going through for the last two months.

It was a good thing the darkness was rolling in, the cooling temperatures and minimal winds should make the blaze easier to get under control and the spot fires easier to see. As long as the conditions stayed that way, they should be able to gain control with in a short period of time.

But without trees to hinder it, the light wind breathed life into the fire at the airport and it grew despite their best efforts. More mutual aid from neighboring fire departments was called in. Sparks dancing in the winds, looking much like sparklers in the night. The firefighters battled on.

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range, California

Hutch regained consciousness slowly. The first thing he became aware of was that he was very thirsty. The sound of running water tickled his eardrums and he licked his lips in response. He noticed that they were cracked and dry; he further found that he was laying belly down, his legs were in a small stream, and his head and chest were on a sandy bank.

How did I get there? He wondered and then another thought wandered leisurely through his head, what was he doing there? The sound of water beckoned him and he heeded the call. He painstakingly maneuvered himself around, crawling in a half circle so he could get a drink, carefully turning to get his legs out of the water and he head closer to it.

Everything seemed to pull and ache and he couldn't decide what hurt him most. Water was foremost on his mind and that alone kept him going until he reached his goal of moving just enough to get a drink. With his hands in the four-inch deep water, he put his lips to the water and drank. The water tasted wonderful, at first and then he noticed that the water was warm and tasted like dirt. But that did not stop him from drinking his fill. He gulped it down until his thirst was slaked and his belly grew tight with water.

He then buried his face in the wetness, soothing the heat that was there. Reluctantly, he pushed himself out of the water, noticing for the first time that he still had the heavy backpack on. The thought of water and drinking had blocked everything else out of his mind. Pain began to re- introduce itself to him. He pulled himself up onto the bank and wondered how long he had been in the water and then wondered why he was wondering that.

Pain again made its presents known. He hurt. A lot. Hutch's body began to make its list of aches and pains known to him. His head hurt, his legs, and most of all, his right arm hurt. He slowly sat up and fumbled with the straps of the backpack and as it slid off it caught on something on his right arm. Pain slammed through him and he blacked out once more.

The blond awoke sometime later and shivered in the cool air. His teeth chattered and he slowly opened his eyes and blinked. It was still dark. Why was it so dark? In the distance, he heard the hoot of an owl... oh, it's night, that's why it's so dark He moved his arms to push himself off of the ground and pain lashed through his right arm, he panted to control it as internal darkness beckoned to him, whispering softly of pain-free slumber. He forced it away with questions Where am I? What am I doing here? He forced his mind to think. Why does my arm hurt?

Hutch lifted his head off the ground and tried to move his left arm and found he couldn't. It took a while for his befuddled brain to figure out that the backpack straps held his arms back. He vaguely remembered unbuckling the straps and so he maneuvered his left arm out of the strap, slowly moving his left hand to his right arm, trying to locate the source of his greatest pain. He found it. Something was stuck in his right arm. A stick. His long sensitive fingers felt around where the wood had pierced his flesh, just below where his green t-shirt sleeve ended, on the outside portion of his arm. Drying blood was caked around the point of entry and exit.

Though he used care, the cautious touch of to the area in question with his left hand made pain flare through his right arm and then across his right chest. Should he remove the stick? Hutch gave it thought, under normal circumstances, he knew better then to pull it out, such things were best left to doctors, for to do so on his own could cause more bleeding and possibly do more damage. But what should he do here? He wrapped his left hand around his right arm, just below the stick, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on his predicament a little harder. How did this happen?

Slowly, the events of the day returned to him and he recalled his frantic flight from John Colby. He also realized that Colby would be looking for him. The blond's eyes flew open, as his mind was flooded with the memory of Colby murdering Hank just a few feet away from him. He slowly turned his head and listened for any sounds that were out of place. All he could make out was the soft sounds of the water bubbling and gurgling in the little stream and the sounds of a light breeze rustling the leaves and pine needles around him. He listened for a while longer until he was satisfied that he was alone.

His arm would have to wait until he found a safe place to look at it. It wasn't bleeding too badly and if he pulled the stick out, it might bleed heavily, he was already weak. He couldn't take the chance that he might pass out from the pain and bleeding. I'll have to see to it later He gave a rueful snort, not that he could 'see' much of anything at the moment.

The blond gritted his teeth and pulled the backpack into place on his shoulders. There should be something of use in the pack. He ripped the lower edge off of his t-shirt and bandaged his arm. It would have to do. He would have to find shelter and hole up, hide from Colby. Colby would be hunting him down to torture and kill him. He knew his death wouldn't come as quickly as Hank had.

The blond pushed himself to his knees and prepared to get to his feet when he realized he didn't have his walking stick. He needed it to get around. He carefully groped and patted the ground around him. Luck was with him and he found his stick. He closed his eyes and gripped it for a long moment. It was difficult to imagine going anywhere without it now.

Bolstered by the minor comfort that the stick gave him, he climbed slowly to his feet, wavering unsteadily for a several long moments as his head spun in nauseatingly tight circles. He stomach, not wanting to be out done, joined in and soon nearly every drop of water he had consumed was vomited onto the dry ground.

Hutch dropped to his knees as the spasms continued to rack him. Slowly, he wrapped his left arm around his heaving middle, bending at the waist as his aching head sank to the ground before him. His belly spun out of control as waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him. He waged a bitter battle with his opposing body parts, forcing them to obey him.

Pain and nausea argued with him for a long time, each demanding his attention. He would not give up. He was going on. Gritting his teeth in sheer determination got him to his feet once more, with many pauses in between for further arguments from pain and nausea. He registered each complaint and filed it away for future inventory, he had to move and do so quietly. Sweat beaded on his face and slid down his neck, the salt stinging where the bees had stung him. He had to move. Now... Okay, now...

The blond hitched the backpack into place once more and began to carefully make his way. Where, he didn't know. That thought brought him up. He stopped and leaned heavily on the stick. If he walked in the stream, it would hide his trail, but with the splashing he would make, he would not be able to hear anyone or anything approaching. But, if he didn't walk in the water, he would leave footprints in the dry dirt and also trample down any grass or weeds, thus leaving a clear path to where he was...

"Damn" With little choice, Hutch turned and stepped into the small stream. He stood there for several long moments as he listened carefully. As he paused there, he tried to decide if he should go up stream or down stream. The pain in his right arm was difficult to ignore, so he didn't try.

You have been in more pain than this, Hutchinson, remember being trapped under your own car? Huh? The arm is nothing, the pain is less that that, more like root canal then being trapped under your own damn car... Okay maybe a root canal without anesthesia... and what kind of pain will Colby put you through if he catches you? Huh? Now MOVE! One foot in front of the other! You can do this... you have to. You have to; after all, you have pay good ol' Starsk back for that damn coin trick. Thus motivated, Hutch moved.

Earlier

John Colby stopped running and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The bees had finally stopped chasing him and the woods were now dark. Goddamn Hutchinson, always ruining his fun. John's hands clenched into fists as he fought to control his anger and then he paused for a moment. It was strange for him to feel anything for long. His craving for the kill had been eased for now.

The kill had been so sweet that he had shared his feelings with Hutch; he had just had to tell someone else about it. That was new. Normally he kept it to himself. The bliss of Hank's death had been so engaging... nearly perfect. It made him want to share it and Hutch had been as much of a friend as he had ever had in his life.

He had never had anyone else witness him kill before, well, at lest no one he let live, that is. It had added a pleasant dimension to the whole scene. The quiet of the kill coupled with the controlled pants of fear that had issued from the blond as he slowly realized what was happening just feet from him were simply beautiful.

Colby closed his eyes and relived it. Staring into Hank's wide eyes, after the lids had been removed... had been a stroke of genius on his part; John congratulated himself on that innovation.

It was too bad that Hutch was now blind and wouldn't be able to see his him as he watched John watching him die. He shrugged. Maybe he would do that to his next victim... Starsky, perhaps? Colby grinned widely at the thought. Now that would be interesting. Partially sever the man's spine, just enough to immobilize him, cut his eyelids off and then tell his former curly haired friend just how he had killed Hutch... John began to feel pleasure at the thought, but forced it away. He had to take care of business first. He had to go back and collect what gear he could from the body and then go find Hutchinson.

John grinned and began to make his way back to the scene as his last kill. Hutch could not have gotten far.

Starsky awoke with a shiver, the night air was cool and he pulled the army blanket tighter around himself. He was getting a little cool since he had stopped moving. He listened carefully to the sounds around him. He was alone. He hated to be alone in the forest. It had been worse in the jungles of Vietnam though. He had gotten separated from his troop and had spent the night in the jungle, in fear, nearly sick with it. If the enemy found him, he would have been killed, or worse, captured.

He listened to the sounds of the forest at night. The hoot of the owl and a distant howl of a coyote... at least he hoped it was a coyote. He had seen them in the zoo but had only heard their cry in old Western films. He was pretty sure bears didn't make that sort of sound. He clutched his Beretta and heartily wished he had something with a little more punch to it. Like an Uzi or a canon. According to Hutch, if he were to ever shoot a bear with his Beretta, it would just piss the bear off.

It took all he had, but Starsky held still for a long time and nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes and tried to get a little more sleep. He was safe; there was no immediate danger. He couldn't follow the trail at night anyhow. He snuggled back under the small rocky overhang he had found and did his best to get some more sleep.

Colby found the body of Hank Ruth right where he left it. He turned his flashlight on the dead man's face and gazed at the lidless eyes, reliving the thrill of it. The blood and tears had dried into trails on the sides of Hank's face. He wished he had a camera. John shook himself out of his reverie, he needed to get going.

He gathered his backpack and collected a few other potentially useful items from Hank. He then dragged the body to a natural shallow area and buried it under rocks, more out of habit and hiding his crime from possible detection, than any regard for the dead. Normally when he did a job, someone else cleaned up the mess. This was more work than he usually did. He dropped the last rock on the pile and dusted his hands off.

He looked up at the sky and figured it to be around 1 a.m. or so. He had pissed away half the night. He moved away from the area and walked in the direction Hutch had bolted in his mad dash to escape the bees and him. John decided that he would take a little rest later on. Hutchinson was not going to get too far, blind as he was.

Colby made his way carefully through the woods, using the flashlight to guide him along the blond's trail.

Hutch staggered over the wet and slimy moss covered rocks in the stream, tripping for the hundredth time, or maybe it was the thousandth time. He managed to keep from falling, though. His fateful companion, the stick, helped him stay on his feet. The blond's breathing was harsh in his own ears. He put his forehead down onto the top on his walking stick, panting with exhaustion and pain. Sweat ran into his eyes, but he was too tired to wipe it way. What does it matter? I can't see any way.

Without any warning, his knees gave way and he dropped into the water with a splash. He flopped down hard on his butt in the shallow water, jarring his right arm; a sob of pain snuck out passed his lips. He bit his lip to prevent any more sounds escaping. Unconsciousness called softly to him, offering a pain free haven. The blond ignored it as best as he could. Colby could be anywhere. He listened intently, but heard nothing but the normal sounds of the forest.

Hutch then recognized the call of a Hermit Thrush, a bird that was common back in Minnesota as well as in parts of the Rockies and California. Morning was approaching. He had to find a place to hole up in for the day and he had to find one fast. He thought about getting to his feet. His legs did not want to cooperate with him. Can't, too tired they argued. Tough shit, move! He mentally snapped back at them.

Using his stick as a ladder of sorts, the blond rose slowly out of the water, his pants, weighted with water, clung to his long legs. They burned with overexertion, but he had to keep going, just a little further. He placed his stick ahead of him and pulled his body towards it. Move stick. Move right leg. Move stick. Move left leg.

Finally Hutch felt a solid 'tap' under his walking stick. He tapped it in a half circle along the stream's bank. Shale, it was a bank of shale. He decided that this is where he would get out of the stream. If the rocks lasted far enough, once his prints dried, there would be no trail to follow. Continual taps indicated that there was a path of rocks that led out of the stream. He made his way further from the small stream.

He tapped his way passed a bush and walked right into a rock wall. The blond sank to the ground, befuddled and beaten, his right arm screaming with pain. As he rasped and wheezed, he moved around so he could rest his back against the wall and when he did that, he promptly fell over backwards. The heavy backpack cushioned his graceless fall as he rolled off the pack and face down onto a dirt-covered floor. Tears of anger, pain and total exhaustion rolled silently down his face. God is this ever gonna end? He silently cried I can't take much more of this...

He lay there for a while, with the weight of the pack pressing on his back, forcing him further into the dirt. After what seemed an eternity, he undid the shoulder and waist straps, he then took the right side shoulder strap completely apart so he wouldn't have to try to maneuver it over the stick in his arm. The pack rolled off his back and onto the floor next to him. The blond sighed with relief. He was now about fifty pounds lighter.

Hutch slowly sat up and took stock of where he was. Using his stick, he tapped around himself, hitting walls on three sides. He had managed, through total dumb luck, to find a cave to hide in. Okay, it was barely high enough to sit upright in, but it was big enough to lay down flat. With that bush in front of the entrance, it was a good place to hide.

Encouraged by his improved fortunes, the blond dung into the pack and identified several items he could use. A knife, a couple of shirts, some food, a blanket, a hatchet and a camp stove with plates and eating utensils. What he wanted was the canteen, but remembered that Hank had taken it. Not too much of a problem though, he wasn't that far from water. He had stopped for water several times during the night and had managed to keep it down. He was now out of the sun and wouldn't be doing much moving for a while. He could go thirsty until dark.

Hutch set his supplies around him and took one of the shirts and cut it apart. He then changed the bandage on his arm. He had to remove the old bandage carefully so as not to dislodge the scab that had formed. The bleeding had nearly stopped. So leaving the stick in place had been the correct course of action then. With the wound redressed, he grabbed an apple and ate it. He wasn't hungry, but knew he had to keep his strength up.

Exhausted, he spread out the blanket, lay down using the backpack as a pillow, he was soon asleep.

Colby sat up. He had just taken one hell of a tumble down a steep slope. His feet were in a small stream; his butt was in the wet sand along the edge on the tiny waterway. "Sonofabitch!" He smacked his hands down in the water, splashing it everywhere. His tantrum quickly over, he stood up and looked around and then looked up the slope he had just fallen down. He had been so intent on following the blond's trail, that he had not used proper caution. Thus his fall down the hill. Hutch must have fallen too. With the bushes and undergrowth, it had been impossible to see the drop off until it was too late.

But Hutch was nowhere to be found. Colby stood with his hands on his hips as he looked about the area for a trail to follow. Now, just how did the blinded blond think he was gonna get out of the woods? The stream... Hutch would follow the stream. Colby ignored the murmurs of pain his body was sending him. He could ignore pain and he would ignore the tiredness that was making itself known to him. He would find Hutch and then he would get some sleep. Once he had determined his course of action, nothing would stop him. He began to follow the stream.

Starsky woke up with a sense of urgency. And the need to find Hutch. After taking care of business, he grabbed his pack and headed back to the trail. It was still dark, but some noisy damn birds were making a racket in the trees, so dawn couldn't be too far away.

The fire stirred as the morning sun rose over the small meadow. It had smoldered the night through and now began to creep through the dead grass of the meadow, consuming the litter of old leaves, grass and pine needles. It made a playful run at a rabbit doe. She promptly gathered her young and left her fur-lined nest to be eaten by an endlessly hungry predator. The flames rose to a height of four to six inches and spread out a little, the morning dew and cooler temperatures keeping the young fire in check.

Bay City

"This better be important" Huggy snapped sleepily into the receiver "Do you know what time it is? I work nights and I don't appreciate... huh? Could you repeat that?... Uh-huh... uh-huh... Who? Angus Gobstopper? I don't know any Angus... wait, The Baron, you mean The Black Baron..."

Huggy sat up in bed and fumbled for a piece of paper and something to write with. "Hold on... just a sec... okay, give me the information... Hospital? What hospital? What happened?... An accident? What about Dave Starsky? Is he there as well?... Starsky, David Michael, he's a detective with Bay City Metro... What! He was with The Baron... Angus... No sign of him? Hell... alright... thanks" Huggy hung up the phone, completely awake now "I better call Dobey"

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range, California

Starsky double-timed it along the trail. Hutch would have been proud of the steady pace he was keeping. He was moving along at a near jogging pace. It was difficult to keep it up some times, so he moved faster down hill when he could. He took short breaks each hour to catch his breath and drink some water.

He didn't eat anything. With his limited water supply and the heat, eating would take more water than he had. He would have to find a stream or something. The Baron had even included some water purifying tablets, thank God, for the thought of drinking out of a stream where fish lived and animals did what came naturally, simply sickened him. He couldn't quite imagine being that thirsty.

The thoughtful Baron had also included some Gatorade, which made a difference and enabled him to keep up the grueling pace he had set for himself. But there wasn't much left now, as the afternoon approached. He had slowed some, but overwhelming concern for his missing friend forced him onward. If Colby's killed him... The brunet cut off that thought. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that.

Hutch woke up shivering. His teeth clacked like castanets. He tugged at his shirt collar and found it was soaked. Had it rained? He opened his eyes and found that it was dark out. Or was he blind? His fevered brain couldn't remember right now. Due to his already weakened condition, infection caused by the stick in his arm, was taking a firm hold of him.

He licked his lips. Water would be really good right now... he groped around, and felt dirt beneath his fingers. "Must be camping..." Some how that didn't quite seem right but he had no other explanation. He felt around for his canteen. He couldn't find it. He dropped his head back down onto his backpack pillow, exhausted. "Starsk?" Maybe his friend could get him some water... "Starsky... where are you? You had better not be lost..."

Hutch struggled to sit up, concern for his friend giving him the strength. It felt like someone had placed him in a centrifuge as his head spun with the change of position. But he had to find Starsky. The poor guy would be lost and helpless in the woods without him.

Colby sat down on a rock and could not stifle his yawn. He was beat. The damn blond was nowhere to be found. He dropped his head into his hands. He must have missed something. He should have easily been able to catch up with the blind and injured cop; he should have found him by now. Colby reluctantly gave up. He had to get some sleep.

The fire was a little frustrated. The wind was not blowing. So it had to stay small and close to the ground, consuming the forest litter. Still only inches high, it finally had made it to the edge of the forest where it continued to burn low and close to the ground. The humidity was just a little too high yet. It did however; did give off enough heat to dry the lower needles and leaves of the trees it burned around. It lacked the heat needed to burn live trees and had to content itself with the leavings of years gone by.

Chapter 10

Starsky stopped, bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees, gasping for air. He had been pushing himself hard, trying to catch up with Hutch and the others. He had noticed that Hutch's prints (when he could find them) seemed different from the other two; there were scuff marks and handprints on the ground. Hutch kept tripping and falling down for some reason... he seemed clumsier then normal. Not to say that the blond was a total clutz because he wasn't, most of the time. The only conclusion Starsky could draw from this was that Hutch must be hurt.

He got his wind back quickly and began to move. Along with the worrisome falling that his friend was doing, the brunet had noticed that whoever was leading them, -- Colby? -- was taking them in a circle. But why lead the group in a circle? What was the point to that? Where they lost? Didn't they know they were going in a circle? Hutch would know... why didn't they listen to him? Those questions troubled him and made him pick up his pace again.

Starsky backhanded the sweat out of his eyes and squinted up at the sun's position. It was around noon. After figuring out the circular and backtracking pattern of their route, he had experimented to check his theory and found where they had spent the night. That short cut had saved him some hiking. Hutch had been tied to a pine tree, judging from the scuffmarks he had found on it. He further found that Hutch now had a stick of some sort and was using it. It was hard to tell why his friend had the stick. His meager tracking skills couldn't tell him why. But, Hutch fell less often now.

Starsky figured that he would catch up to them by late in the afternoon, if the group kept to their winding, backtracking path. He heard a plane fly overhead and stopped to watch it fly by. Was it a plane that the Baron had sent to look for him? If so, why was he back in a plane and not the helicopter? It couldn't be the Baron then. Starsky trotted off once more, determined to catch up with the men.

Fullerton's Airport

The fire that they thought they would have under control was now burning rapidly through the county nearly twenty acres were involved The Baron's copter had dropped burning embers over a longer then expected path. As the heat of the day rose, so had the flames and the wind had picked up in the flat, open area of the airport, breathing life into the fires. The local fire departments, which are far more experienced with building fires, were now out of their element, they were unable to contain the blaze and the Bureau of Land Management or BLM, was contacted and hotshots were called for.

Ranger Station Number 20

Ranger Mike Jordan put down his binoculars. Some thin white plumes of smoke were curling out of a stand of trees in the Elk Meadow area. That area had not had a fire in well over thirty years, according to the records. It was over due. Fire is a natural renewing force, neither good nor evil, yes, it is destructive, but it also cleansed the forest, burning away old litter and allowing new plants to grow. Burning can improve the health of a forest. Some pine trees needed the fire to open their cones so new trees could grow.

Mike scratched his head as he pondered what to do. It was a dry spell. The fire could take off and blowup... but that was unlikely. Blowups happened every season, but it was unlikely to happen there. He put his binoculars to his eyes again. Elk Meadow had some very difficult terrain around it... it would be a bitch to hike to while packing in all your gear on your back, since the meadow was burning, there would be no close place to land. Smoke jumpers would have to be called and that would cost money, money that his department needed for some upgrades in radios and vehicles that were desperately long over due.

He put down the binoculars and walked over to the map on the wall and studied it. Maybe, just maybe, it might be the Bureau of Land Management's problem... The Elk Meadow area was in a gray area... if he could shift it over to the BLM and let them handle it... that would be nice. Give the problem to the BLM. Mike smiled and picked up the phone.

BLM Office, near Fullerton

Keith Adams put the put the phone down and studied his map. Ranger Jordan had just let him know that they had a fire burning in the Deer Meadow area. Deer Meadow was well in the Forest Service's area. Not his problem. Not a BLM problem. Plus Mike had told him that the area was in an inaccessible area. Besides, he had major problems of his own; the fire from the local airport was burning towards their office, unless the wind shifted again.

Keith more important things to deal with right now then some smoldering little nothing fire on some Forest Service range. He had some Hotshots coming in to his station for staging. He had to get ready for twenty people to be bused in shortly.

Sierra Nevadas Mountain Range, California

The blond made it to a full and upright position; much to the chagrin of gravity take that Sir Isaac Newton Hutch thought with a grin you may have discovered the law of gravity, but I defy it he went to tug at his wet shirt collar and nearly fainted from the sudden jolt of pain coming from his right arm, he hissed through the worst of it. His left hand went to explore the wound. It was hot and swollen; he could feel the heat was coming through the bandage. His arm was infected.

Hutch wiped a hand down his sweaty face and licked his lips. Thirst burned in him. He had to get some water and then go look for Starsky. He tried to stand up but knocked his head on the low ceiling. "Ow!" he rubbed the now sore spot on his head for a moment then crawled out of the small cave on his hand and knees, he kept his injured arm tucked to his chest and eased his way passed the bush.

A wave of dizziness swamped him, but he pushed beyond it. He could hear water bubbling and flowing; he had to get to it. His arm throbbed with every beat of his heart. He felt like he was on a Tilt-o-Whirl as his body swayed first in one direction, then another. His stomach clenched at the motion, so he stopped. Beads of sweat ran down his face. As hot as he felt, Hutch was certain that the sweat would hiss as it made its way down his face.

A slight breeze blew a gentle puff of cool air on him. He could smell the stream, he was so close now. He licked his lips again and tasted blood, by now they were so cracked and dry they were bleeding.

Hot, so hot. The sound of water was close. He tried to stand up, but collapsed. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to his knees, again hugging his injured arm to his chest. His dark world spun rapidly under his hand and knees, throwing him to the ground. He panted through the pain.

Water. The sound of it tickled his ears and tortured his parched lips. C'mon Hutchinson, you can do it... it's not that far... it's closer with each move you make The blond pushed himself forward, belly crawling, his injured right arm dragging off to the side now. He put out his left hand and dug into the shale, struggling to get closer to the water.

Darkness closed in. A darkness as deep as a black hole, from which light can not escape, gathered and surrounded him like ravenous wild dogs. He had to get to the water. Had to get a drink. Had to. Had to.

He pushed himself towards the water.

Colby sat up and shook the sleep out of his head. He blinked at his surroundings. Something had awakened him. Off to his side, a twig snapped. He focused on the sound. Another twig snapped. He carefully moved backwards, behind the bush that he had curled up under for a nap. A quick glance at his watch told him he had been sleeping for about four hours or so.

John heard a sound, rather like a grunt and the slight rustling of leave and pine needles. He peered through the leaves of the bush he had hidden himself and saw a flash of blond hair. A grin slithered across his lips.

There was a splash of water and another grunt. Hutchinson had come out of wherever he had hidden himself and was getting water. He didn't have to look any further; the blond had come to him. This was going to be easy. Colby's mind raced. Should he play with the blond a little first? Or just capture him and then play?

Colby smiled. A little blind man's bluff with a blind man, what fun! And he smiled ever wider at the irony of it all. Though, there was a small chance that the spray that had blinded Hutch had worn off... and maybe Hutch was trying to draw him out... He would be wary of traps and he pulled Hutch's Magnum out of his backpack. He would have it out and ready, just incase the blond got any funny ideas. But he wouldn't use it. Oh no. Not unless he had no other choice. Guns were noisy. He liked it quiet.

He eased his way through the brush and around tree trunks moving stealthily in the direction of the blond, only occasionally catching glimpses of blond hair. He fingered the Magnum and closed in.

Starsky had followed the trail to a pile of rocks. Something had happened here. The ground was scuffed and there was a rusty patch on the grass. Drag marks and flattened grass led to this pile of rocks. His belly crawled with dread. There were two choices of who was buried under the rocks. The disturbed dirt had several clear footprints in it. The shoe prints did not belong to Hutch.

His mouth dried up. He had to know who was buried under the rocks. Vomit rose in the back of his throat and he could taste it burning back there. He swallowed hard several times. He began to remove the rocks, slowly at first and then more quickly. Throwing them heedless of direction, frantic to find the body buried beneath.

A crack cut through the air. It was distant and it echoed through the trees. He dropped to the ground instinctively, hiding behind the mound of rocks. Five more shots in rapid succession assaulted his eardrums. The sound was far off, judging from the echo. Though that could be an illusion brought on by the dampening effect of the trees and terrain.

Starsky cautiously stood up. Experience told him that the shots were quite distant, but he would be alert and use care as he headed in the direction of the gunshots. He knew it was not just any gun. He would know that gun anywhere. It was Hutch's Magnum. A Magnum. Starsky corrected him self as he moved in the direction of the sound, but who else would have a Magnum way out here?

But first he had to know who was buried under the rocks... if it was Hutch under there... Starsky went back to his grim task. He quickly lifted several more rocks and found the head of the body. It was the FBI agent, his face frozen forever in a look of abject horror. The detective sighed with relief. It wasn't his friend. He didn't bother looking for a wound. He knew who did it and how this man had been killed.

He quickly began to replace some of the stones to keep the animals away. As he was about to place a stone over the man's face he paused. The man's eyelids were missing. A quick look showed a path of dried blood down each side of Ruth's face. The man had been alive when the lids were removed. Starsky shuddered. That was a new and very disturbing twist.

Starsky quickly but gently placed the stone over the man's head, snatched up his pack and hustled off in the direction that the shots seemed to come from. He narrowly avoided some angry bees as they dive-bombed him when he got too close to their hive. He checked for a path his quarry might have taken as he jogged.

The brunet nearly plunged off a hidden drop off. He would have too, if he hadn't noticed the freshly damaged brushes. He windmilled his arms to catch his balance. When he caught it, he could see that someone had fallen down the hidden drop off at this spot. He forced the lump in his throat back down as he glanced about for an alternative route down the steep incline.

There wasn't one. It would be faster to go straight down than to waste time looking for another way down. He didn't care for heights, but he wouldn't let that stop him from trying to get to his partner. But he didn't want to get hurt getting down to the bottom. He wouldn't do Hutch any good if he got hurt. How to get down then?

He remembered the rope that the Baron packed away in the pack he carried. After hooking the grappling hook to the exposed roots of a tree, Starsky eased himself down the steepest part and shook the hook loose when he got to a less steep section. Nearly beaning himself on the head in the process.

He made it down to the bottom and found a small stream. He looked around and noticed some prints. He couldn't tell how old they were, but some of them were the same ones that he had noticed in the dirt around the rock pile. At least he hoped that they were the same, the wet sand and mud didn't make for good prints as the person's feet slipped and elongated the prints.

Starsky scouted around, peering at the ground looking for Hutch's prints, all the while praying that he would find them. He couldn't find any more prints. He went down stream and then back to where he started. No prints.

With hands on hips, Starsky stood looking at the damaged foliage... that was a hell of a fall for anyone to take. He had only found one set of footprints. Did that mean Hutch had gotten away? Fell down the slope... and escaped? Hutch was a prisoner the night before... he wouldn't have had his gun. Colby must have been doing the shooting, but his preferred method was knifing, not shooting. Why shoot all six rounds? The questions only made him more frantic as each one popped into his head.

Which way should he go? He couldn't find any more prints or other signs. Starsky looked up the stream and he looked down the stream. Colby and Hutch must have walked in the water to hide their prints. Up stream or down stream?

Starsky took a gamble. He gambled that Hutch had gotten away from Colby. Perhaps sometime during Ruth's murder. That might have been enough of a distraction that his partner had managed to sneak away. He didn't waste any time thinking about why Hutch didn't try to stop the murder. That could wait. It would have to. The prints around the gravesite were Colby's, not Hutch's. If Hutch had been there during the time that Ruth was buried, it stood to reason that Colby would make him do the work. So that meant that Hutch must have escaped before the man was buried.

Up stream or down? He had to think like Hutch. The answer popped into his head. He picked his direction stepped into the water and ran.

It was late afternoon when Starsky staggered to a halt. He had left the water about an hour ago. It was just too difficult to try to run in. The rocky footing and slimy moss made for treacherous running. He had only stayed in the water that long just in case Colby was looking for Hutch and he didn't want the man to know someone else was in the woods as well. He could make better time out of the water and he had a feeling of impending doom. He had to find his friend. He came around a sharp bend in the stream and stopped.

A crumpled form lay about a foot away from the stream bank. The left arm was outstretched as if reaching for the water. The form was laying semi curled on its left side, with his back to him. He was so still. Starsky took a step closer and stopped.

Hutch was laying nearly the same way he was when Starsky had found him after Colby had knocked him out and kidnapped Mrs. Karen Karpel back in Bay City. It had taken nearly 20 minutes for him to find Hutch after he went in to place his call. When he had returned to the Torino to find Colby and Hutch gone, he had been annoyed at first, thinking that the two were playing a trick on him. As he started to search for them, annoyance departed and anxiety had set in.

When he spotted Hutch curled up on the pavement, his heart stopped for a long moment before he rushed to his friend's side. He couldn't figure out what happened... a dozen things shot through his head in that instant... had the men that had attacked Colby earlier came back for another try? Had Colby been kidnapped? Would Hutch be in worse shape than Huggy had been?

The fear that had gripped his heart upon spotting Hutch on the ground turned to confusion and then anger when Hutch recovered enough to inform him that it was Colby that had attacked him... and had betray them. Had used them and their friendship against them.

Starsky forced the memory away and bolted to his friend's side. He knelt next to the blond and put his hand out to touch Hutch's face. He pulled it back for a second as he noticed that the man's poor face was red, swollen and covered with small lumps and bruises.

He gently touched Hutch's face and hissed at the heat he felt there. It took a few tries to get any words out; his mouth was so dry with shock. "Hey babe... Hutch? C'mon buddy... wake up" He shook the blond gently by the shoulder and pulled back when he got a whimper out of his friend.

"Easy Hutch... s'me partner... please... wake up" He shook the arm again and Hutch winced and whimpered. Starsky then noticed how hot the arm was under his hand. His focus had been on the blond's poor face, not his arm. Starsky looked at Hutch's right arm and nearly fainted. It was swollen to almost twice its normal size and a stick was lodged completely through it. Hutch had managed to bandage it.

"Oh babe..." moisture gathered in the brunet's eyes at the suffering his friend was in. It became clear to him that Hutch had hidden somewhere and was unable to tend his wounds. He became feverish and crawled for water... only to pass out heartbreakingly close to his goal. A single tear slipped down Starsky's cheek.

"I'm here... I'm here Hutch... I've got ya" He brushed back the dirty blond locks off of Hutch's fevered forehead.

"Whaaa..." the sound was raspy and weak.

"Shhh... I'm here Hutch" Starsky looked his friend over quickly trying to determine if there were any other injuries that needed his attention before he set about doing something about Hutch's right arm.

"Whaaa..."

Starsky hit himself on the head with the palm of his hand "Water! Gottcha! Water coming right up" He moved to get his canteen to give Hutch a drink of purified water. He carefully eased the blond onto his back and lifted his head and shoulders into his lap, carefully feeding Hutch water by the capful. Too much water too soon would make him vomit.

The blond drank greedily and moved restlessly when Starsky cut him off "Sorry buddy... I can't give you any more right now... I'll give you more in a little bit. Gotta look at that arm first"

Hutch's left hand moved up and Starsky caught it in his own grip before it fell back down. Hutch weakly squeezed his hand.

"Lost"

"What's that partner?" Starsky bent down to hear what Hutch was whispering.

"Lost"

"You're not lost" Starsky shook his head, confused.

"No... you... lost... found you... I found you" The blond's fevered wrinkled brow smoothed out as consciousness slipped away from him.

Confused by that statement, Starsky shook his head and ruffled the dirty blond hair "No partner... I found you. Sleep now... I've got some unpleasant things to do and it's best that you stay out while I do 'em" Please let him stay out Starsky prayed I can't stand the thought of hurting him... he's been through enough already.

Chapter 11

Starsky eased his friend back off his lap and lay him back down on the shale near the bank of the little stream. He looked about for a safer place to put Hutch while he secured the area against Colby. After a brief search he found where Hutch had been hiding. He pulled out the pack that was in the little cave and checked out the contents.

The small stove would be handy, as would the small cooking pot. He set the water on to boil and then proceeded make a quick bed of pine boughs in the little cave. He then carefully eased Hutch onto one of the blankets and dragged him back to the little hide out. Getting Hutch in the little cave was a task as there wasn't enough room to maneuver. He had to sit and pull his friend in through the entrance. Hutch shook and muttered at the necessary manhandling, his blond head shifting restlessly on the blanket.

After so much jostling and tugging, Starsky puffed and panted with the exertion, his muscles quivering with effort. The stick in Hutch's arm caught on something and the blond wordlessly cried out with the sudden increase in pain.

"Sorry... 'm sorry partner... just a little more and I'll stop movin' ya" Starsky reached out to soothe the tossing head. "S'okay... s'okay boy, I'm here"

Hutch's left hand lifted and Starsky caught it. The blond weakly tugged the brunet's hand to his chest and held it there. His restlessness ceased. Starsky dropped his chin to his chest; he couldn't bring himself to pull his hand free just yet. "Alright... just for a few minutes" His free hand stroked the wispy blond hair as he waited for Hutch to slip back into a deeper sleep.

He watched as the lines of pain smoothed off of Hutch's brow as he slipped back into a fever induced sleep. Starsky then reluctantly pulled his hand from the blond's grasp. He had to set up some traps for Colby just in case the bastard decided to put in an appearance.

He crawled to the opening and briefly looked back at Hutch for a moment to assure himself that the blond was still sleeping. He then crawled passed the bush in front of the entrance and set about laying various traps and alarms to warn him if Colby or anything came too close to the cave. He didn't want to be caught unawares while he worked on Hutch's arm.

After setting up various booby traps, he made his way back to the little cave. Between building the traps and alarms, he boiled as much water as he could to prepare for the task of removing the stick and cleaning up the wound. It was nearly dark by the time he dismantled and hidden any evidence of the small fire he had built. That cigarette lighter had come in handy, Starsky mentally thanked the Baron for his foresight as he crawled passed the plant and into the cave. That guy had the uncanny knack for packing whatever they needed.

He fluffed the bush back into position and put some more boughs over the entrance to further prevent their detection by their enemy, as he would need some light to look after Hutch's injury. The shale outside the little cave prevented any footprints leading to their hideaway. Starsky shuddered briefly. Hiding like this evoked memories of Nam. He heard a groan and looked over at his partner.

Hutch was huddled on his left side, shaking and groaning. He had flung the blanket off at some point when his fever spiked and now he shivered as the chills replaced the heat.

Starsky quickly moved to his friend's side and pulled the blanket back over him, leaving the right arm exposed. He stared at the stick that was rammed clean through the blond's upper arm and shook his head. He had to get that out of there. He understood why Hutch had left it in there. A doctor should remove it, preferably in a hospital. There were so many veins, nerves, muscles and tendons in there; it would be easy to do more harm then good by pulling it out.

Plus the stick was likely acting as a stopper; it might bleed a lot once he pulled it out. He would have to look at the wound before deciding what to do. Whatever else needed to be done, the bandage needed to be changed.

Starsky carefully removed the makeshift bandage from Hutch's arm. As he gently removed it, hot juices of revulsion filled his mouth. The wound was festering and some tiny red streaks were beginning to show. The heat rolled off the arm like it would off of a bad sunburn. "Oh Hutch... oh my God..." Those streaks often signaled the insipient stages of gangrene. He had seen it before in Nam. A memory danced in his mind, flickering there like a silent movie in his head.

He and the remaining men in his platoon were hiding in the jungle... the enemy somewhere out there... waiting for one them to slip up and move or make a sound, thus giving away their location... Starsky sat next to Tim 'Jake' Jacobs, the kid who had taught him how to track, the FNG. He had become a friend to Starsky after the sniper incident. Now he was just one of the guys in his platoon. They waited to be evacuated... Praying they would be pulled out before Jake bled to death... the mud... the coppery scent of blood that intensified in his nostrils with each passing minute. The silent sobs of a boy of eighteen... just about six months younger then his own age... he was too young to see such things... and Jake was too young to die in the mud, in the jungle...

Hutch moaned.

Starsky blinked and swallowed hard, forcing the memory away. He was going to have to remove the stick and clean the wound as best he could under these conditions. He stared at the wound... removing the stick was gonna hurt, a lot, and staring at it would not get the task done. He brushed back the hair off of Hutch's damp forehead... as a sort of pre-apology for what he was about to do. The dirty bangs flopped back to their original spot.

He gathered his meager supplies and placed them around him in an organized, easy to reach pattern. Starsky rearranged things several times before he realized that he was stalling. He tied a bandanna around his head and stuck the small penlight in it next to his temple, to act as sort of a miner's lamp for lighting up the wound. He turned it on and took a close look at the stick from both sides of Hutch's arm, trying to see which way would be best to pull the stick from. He chose the top, that end of the stick was a little larger, so it should pull out easier that way.

"Okay Hutch, here goes nothin'..." Starsky took firm grasp of the stick and pulled up on it. It slid out easily, with a slight sucking noise. It was coated in yellow-white infection... pus. The bile rose into the back of his throat and he swallowed hard several times. He tossed the stick near the entrance of the cave. He would have to dispose of it later.

The wound, now free of the blockage caused by the stick, drained onto the floor. The infection making a small gross puddle under the blond's right arm. Starsky gritted his teeth and began to work the wound, forcing more of the vile substance out. Moisture broke out on his upper lip, then his brow. He continued to work the infection out.

Hutch began to move, just a twitch, at first.

"Hutch... go back to sleep... s'okay... shhh" he rubbed his knuckles over the blond's pale cheek and waited a few minutes, then went back to work.

Hutch flung his left arm out. More of a bat, then a real swing, Starsky blocked it and then caught it, gently pushing it back down to the blond's chest. The hand swung out again as soon as he released it. "Hutch... please... you have to hold still for just a little longer..." Starsky caught the flailing hand in his. "I need both hands for this... please... just for a few more minutes"

Hutch moaned and moved the second that Starsky released his hand "Huuutch..." He pleaded with his friend. He needed both of his hands to work the infection out, rinse the wound out with an iodine solution that the ever-prepared Baron had provided "Just how does he know exactly what to pack?" Starsky muttered as he let Hutch pull his hand back to his chest, hoping that the blond slipped back under so he could finish his lip-curling, stomach-turning task of cleaning the infected wound and bandaging it. If gangrene did set in, Hutch could loose his arm, if it got bad enough, he could loose his life.

He let Hutch hold onto his hand and used his free left hand to work the muscle around the puncture to keep forcing the ooze out; he had to work the wound until it bled. Soon the blond was shifting again and even holding Starsky's hand wasn't enough to keep him still. Chills racked the long body.

Starsky dropped his chin to his chest and sighed heavily. He would have to restrain his friend or he would never be able to properly clean the wound. He did not look forward to doing that. He took off his belt and secured it around Hutch's legs and then he took a handkerchief and tied Hutch's wrists together and then tied them to the front belt loops of his jeans. Then he went about the task of cleaning out the injury as quickly as he could so he could free Hutch.

Hutch struggled to free himself. Colby had caught him and was torturing him. He had to get away before John cut his eyelids off and rendered him incapable of doing anything but watching Colby watch him die. They were deep in the woods somewhere and no one would hear him if he screamed. He would not beg. He would not do that.

Pressure and pain suffused him; its epicenter was his right arm. Colby hadn't been lying when he had told him he would make it last. It seemed to have been going on for hours. A time or two he thought he had heard Starsky's voice and the touch of his hands, but it was just his mind playing tricks on him as the pain of the torture increased. Colby must be slowly roasting him over a fire, he was so hot, his throat was parched.

He was going to die at the hands of a mad man and no one would ever find him. Starsky would never know what had happened. His dark hair friend would search, maybe for years. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Starsky would never know the truth. A lonely tear streamed from his eye. Poor Starsk.

"Poor Starsk."

Starsky looked up from the wound at the sound of his friend's voice. He sounded so sad. "It's okay Hutch... just a few more minutes and I'll set you free" His words didn't seem to have any effect on the blond. He thumbed the tear off Hutch's cheek and kept working, he was nearly done. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped on his shirt. It was torture to watch Hutch suffering and knowing he was the cause. It was for a good reason, Hutch's life... but it still hurt.

He finished flushing the wound with the weak iodine solution and began to bandage it with a shirt he had cut up for just that purpose. He then proceeded to search Hutch's body, looking for other injuries before freeing him. He found scrapes and bruising and some ticks tucked in behind the blond's ears. Starsky removed the disgusting things and burned them with the lighter to kill them once he had them off of Hutch.

He could tend the bee stings on Hutch after he let him loose. There wasn't anything he could do for the sunburn to the right side of his friend's face, which must have happened when he had passed out beside the stream. His exposed right arm was probably burned as well, but with the redness caused by the infection, it was hard to tell.

The brunet quickly released Hutch from the belt and handkerchief. Hutch didn't seem to realize it yet. Starsky cleaned up the little area as best as he could and cautiously exited the cave. He took the fouled rinse water and old bandages out and buried them as far from the cave as he could to discourage animals and Colby from investigating. He made a quick scout around of the area, taking special care not to fall into his own traps. No Colby so far. Was it too much to ask for something bad to have happened to the murderer? He thought. Then he heard Hutch cry out and dashed back towards the cave.

Starsky slipped back into the cave and scooted over the restless blond "Hey! Shhh! Hutch... shhh... I'm here, 'm back now" He brushed a hand on the furrowed brow, it was still hot, but Hutch's teeth clacked together. He had the chills again.

Starsky quickly arranged the backpacks against the wall as a backrest and eased his legs around to bracket his friend as he had that day after he had found Hutch in a muddy back alley and had gotten him to Huggy's upstairs room to recover. He then gently pulled Hutch into his arms, and wrapped him in the blanket as he did so. He pulled the little camp pot closer, which now had cool, clean water in it and dampened a piece of t-shirt. He mopped his friend's face.

"No... stop!" the words were half shouted as the blond detective kicked out, fighting fever induced demons.

"S'okay boy... I'm here... I gotcha... shhh... quiet... we might get an unexpected and unwelcome guest if you don't, okay? Neither of us is dressed to entertain... 'kay?" Starsky checked his Beretta's position in his holster out of habit. "Though I do have a party favor for the first one through the door."

"No! Starsky... gotta find Starsky" Hutch's body quaked hard as the chills once more gathered him close.

"I'm here Hutch, right here... shhh" Starsky tightened his grip, hugging the shivering man, rubbing the left arm to help him warm up and to let Hutch know he was there with him. The actions he did for his friend now were as natural as breathing, but once, this would have been as foreign to him as a far off place called Vietnam had once been.

Sure, he had hugged and had been hugged by his parents and brother and other relatives. Hugged his girlfriends and held them close. Hugs given to male friends before Nam were the quick and rough 'manly' kind. The kind the consisted of a brief hug while pounding the other guy on the back with both hands as if to say, "I may be huggin' ya, but I'm also hittin' ya"

Nam had changed that. Tim 'Jake' Jacobs had changed that. Starsky tucked the blanket under Hutch's chin as his mind traveled back to Nam; the scene now, was similar to one from then. Hiding from the unseen enemy, with an injured man next to him.

The enemy was out there.

Somewhere

Waiting

Watching

Listening

Starsky sat with his back to a tree; the others in his platoon were hidden around the area as well. Some dozed while others watched and listened. All of them waited. Waited for the helicopters to come and evacuate them and the wounded. Jake moaned.

The soft sound startled him and he peered through the leaves of the surrounding plants to see if anyone else heard the sound. Sergeant Jones motioned for him to keep Jake quiet. The VC were near. Starsky put his hand over Jake's mouth as he leaned near and whispered in his ear to 'hush'. That did nothing. Jake pulled Starsky's hand away from his mouth and looked up at him.

"Slick?"

Starsky leaned down close so Jake could whisper in his ear "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna die."

"No! You're not... what kinda talk is that? Now hush... try to rest, we'll be rescued soon" he patted Jake's shoulder and placed his hand over Jake's mouth once more "Please... be quiet... the VC might hear you and find us."

Jake nodded and bit his lip as he withstood the pain. Starsky removed his hand and tilted his head back slowly to look for the Hueys, though he knew he would hear them long before he would see them. 'Any minute now... C'mon... Hurry up' he thought as he stared up... searching and listening.

Jake grew more restless as the day progressed, he was becoming delirious and his mutters grew louder... he was endangering the platoon... twice the VC had nearly found them; it was only sheer luck that had prevented it from happening so far.

Keeping Jake quiet had become a full time job, an increasingly difficult one. Starsky looked at the boy... a boy not much younger then himself.

"Slick?"

"Yeah Jake?"

"I don't want to die" the blond raised his hand.

Starsky grabbed it "You're not gonna die... they'll come soon, just hang on" he urged.

"I can't... I can't Slick... I can feel myself dying..." tears streamed down the pale face. "I don't want to die... I don't want to" his brown eyes connected with Starsky's through the tears, wanting some kind of assurance. "I want to see my mother... before I die."

"You-you're NOT gonna die! Stop talkin' like that, now hush!" He pressed his hand over the quivering lips to silence them. He looked around; some of his fellow soldiers were looking at him. They looked scared.

A series of hand signals were flashed. The VC were making another sweep of the area.

"Slick?"

"Shhh! Ya gotta be quiet now... please... they're close now" He whispered as he peered about, watching for the enemy, then he looked back at Jake.

"Hold me... I don't want to die alone" the brown eyes locked on to blue ones and held on with his eyes, even as his grip on life slipped.

Starsky blinked rapidly and shook his head, trying to tell Jake with his eyes that he couldn't hold him just yet... he needed to keep his hands on his M16, the enemy was getting closer... it looked like they were going to have to engage them this time. He needed to keep his hands on his gun.

Jake made as if to speak again and Starsky pressed his hand firmly over his friend's mouth and held it there. Moments later the threat was gone. And so was Jake. The Hueys arrived and pulled them from the area, Starsky held onto Jake's body all the way back to the base.

From then on he would take every opportunity to touch or hug his friends. If he were hurt or sick, he would want to be held and he knew that he would grab a hold of a friend... hang on and not let go. He would never let a friend die alone again. It was a promise that he made to Jake, or more accurately, Jake's memory. And he intended to keep it.

Tears streamed down the brunet's face as he remembered. God, let it go better for Hutch then it had for poor Jake. Had Jake forgiven him for not holding him as he died?

Hutch shifted in his lap, snapping him back to the present. Starsky found his legs had gone numb from the lack of circulation from the weight on them. None of that mattered to him. What mattered was that Hutch was alive. The blond tensed.

"Shhh... s'okay now, go back to sleep" Starsky stroked the blond's hair, then squeezed the left shoulder before picking up the rag to wipe at the beads of sweat that were forming along the hairline.

There was a sound outside. He froze. Hutch moved once more. He hugged the blond close and put his hand over Hutch's lips. "Shhh!" the command was whispered. If Colby heard them... all the man would have to do was open fire into the little cave and they would both be hit. They couldn't escape. Starsky pulled his Beretta from its holster and pointed it towards the entrance of the cave. He held his breath.

Hutch slowly climbed back to consciousness. He felt hot and very tired, but also very thirsty. He licked his dry lips as he tried to figure out what was happening around him. His arm ached fiercely. Where was Colby? He shifted slightly. Whatever he was laying on was a little uncomfortable... and moving. He held still and tried to control his breathing. He couldn't let Colby know that he was afraid.

He admitted it. He was afraid. Fine Hutchinson... you can be scared, but don't let your fear blind you... you can think of a way out of this, whatever 'this' is he instructed himself silently. He carefully tested his legs and could not detect any bonds. A small movement with his arms confirmed two things, one: that he was not tied and two: his right arm really hurt. Hutch then had a vague recollection of falling and getting a stick rammed through his arm. It was mixed together with scenes of Colby chasing him.

Hutch opened his eyes and saw nothing. A moment of panic gripped him as he remembered being blinded... oh God... no! Colby... he was running from Colby. Murder... torture... cutting the eyelids off of the FBI agent... he was being hunted and he was blind...

Nervous sweat broke out on his forehead and he tensed as he felt movement beneath him.

"Shhh... s'okay now, go back to sleep" a familiar voice soothed and a hand briefly ran over his hair and on to squeeze his left shoulder. It was Starsky! Hutch relaxed into the touch and exhaled in relief. A damp rag was wiped across his forehead; he moved his head to follow the coolness. The rag was reapplied, the cool wetness slid down his fever-heated face and into his hair. The coolness felt so good.

There was a small sound from somewhere. He felt Starsky freeze and pull him close. His friend put his hand over his mouth and whispered "Shhh" in his ear. He obeyed. He felt Starsky move slowly and heard the tiny sound of a snap releasing its hold. Starsky was pulling his gun from its holster. It had to be something serious.

Hutch tried to figure out where he was and just what was going on. Everything was muddled and disjointed, like a badly skipping record. His last clear thoughts, until now, were of running from Colby. How the hell had Starsky suddenly appeared? Oh, wait... he had been lost in the woods... or was that a dream? Or was he dreaming now? Sweat ran down his face. He struggled with his wayward thoughts, trying to get them in some semblance of order.

With his head pillowed on Starsky's leg, with the top of his head touching his friend's belly, he could feel when Starsky suddenly held his breath, listening. Trusting, Hutch held his breath too and listened for... what was he listening for?

He reached up and tried to pull Starsky's hand from his mouth, to whisper the question. The hand clamped harder.

"Shhh, hold still!"

The words were very quiet and urgent. The hand clamped over his mouth slipped up to his nose, almost completely cutting off his air. It was hard to breathe. What was happening? He held still for a few more seconds... but he couldn't get enough air... He tried again to pull Starsky's hand down just a little. Starsky tightened his grip some more.

Now Hutch's air was running out and Starsky's grip didn't loosen. A thought crept in... maybe this wasn't really Starsky... maybe it was Colby who held him after all. He arched his body and began to really struggle. He would not go down with out a fight. He grabbed at the hand over his mouth and pulled down as hard as he could. He got a lungful of air.

"Hutch... babe... please don't! Don't fight me, not now... they're out there... I mean, he's out there" Came the near-panicked whisper, still in Starsky's voice.

The arm around him began to shake. The hand clamped back over his mouth. It sounded like Starsky... but the actions didn't match the words... Starsky would never try to suffocate him... his fevered brain churned with confusion. Something wasn't right... he held very still and the grip eased from over his mouth, remaining there, but loosened to the point he could breathe freely again. The arm still trembled and the breaths came in nervous pants. He heard the soft 'snick' of the safety being turned off on a gun.

Another sound came from outside... at least Hutch thought it was outside... and he could feel Starsky... he was pretty sure it was his friend and the more he thought about it, the more is seemed... right. His earlier fear of the person holding him being Colby evaporated. He patted the arm that held him. Rubbed it... the tremors slowed and the arm that held him gently squeezed him back in response and Hutch's breaths came even more easily now, he was truly safe.

However, something was frightening Starsky. Hutch knew it down to his very core. Another sound and a rustling of... leaves? And Starsky's hand clamped over his hand back over his mouth. Hutch held perfectly still, and listened, determined to be of help to his friend, even if that help consisted of merely holding still and not making a sound.

After several long moments, Hutch heard a sound he knew very well, a chitter of a bandit. Starsky's hand clamped over his mouth again. Hutch smiled against it and gently pulled the hand away.

Starsky moved his hand firmly back.

The blond reached up and tugged the hand away long enough to whisper "Starsky? Could ya loosen your grip a bit, please? I can hardly breathe here" he could hear his partner's startled inhalation.

"Hutch? You awake?" There was relief in the brunet's voice.

"Yeah."

"Shhh... we've got company... I think it's Colby" The brunet shifted a little.

"I think it's a raccoon."

"Huh? Are you sure?"

"Yes, ya got a light?" Hutch had to concentrate on each word. He was so tired and hot, he just wanted a drink and to sleep. He heard the 'click' of the flashlight being turned on and then the sound of the raccoon scurrying away.

Starsky exhaled hard and collapsed against the wall behind him. "A damn raccoon! I thought that Colby had found us for a second there." He was still whispering, but not as quietly as before.

Hutch felt a hand brushed over his hair and the palm settled on his forehead.

"You're still pretty hot, partner."

"You're not so bad yourself" Hutch grinned, wishing he could see his friend's face.

Starsky snorted "You're sicker than I thought, if you think that. All kidding aside, how d' ya feel otherwise?" there was the sound of water swishing in a container, followed by the rapid drips of water being squeezed out of a cloth.

"Terrible" He closed his eyes as the little adrenalin boost he had experienced dissipated. A cool cloth was draped over his brow. "Feels good."

"Thirsty?"

"Very" He could feel Starsky ease his legs out from under his back and move away. A few moments and Starsky was back, slipping his arm under his shoulders and lifting him up enough to drink without choking. The lip of the canteen touched his mouth and he drank deeply, all too soon the canteen was taken away. He wanted to protest, but knew that too much water too soon would make him sick to his stomach. Somewhat satiated, he let his head fall back. Starsky caught it and eased it down onto a backpack pillow.

His eyes were so heavy now. He had to tell Starsky about his blindness. He struggled against his desire to sleep "Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

The cloth on his head was removed and replaced, the coolness of it beckoned to him, a siren call of comfort and slumber "I can't see."

Starsky snorted "It would help if you'd open your eyes, dummy."

"S'not that... 'm blind" Hutch slurred out the words, he didn't hear Starsky's response, he was already asleep.

Chapter 12

Colby looked down from his treetop perch. It was too dark to see anything down there. But he was sure he wasn't alone. He heard the occasional sounds issuing up from the darkness far below. He would have to spend the night right where he was. It was too risky otherwise. It was his own damned fault. How could he... HE... have been so damned dumb? He had nearly been caught.

He turned his gaze to the heavens above and noticed a swarm of fireflies off to the south of him. Having nothing better to do, he watched them for a while. It slowly dawned on him that it was not fireflies in the distance, but a fire, far away, but there. The night air was still and rather cool, a nice change after the hot day. From his vantage point he could see for miles. That fire was far too distant to be of concern to him. He shifted on the narrow branch. It creaked in warning. He held still and the creaking stopped. He cursed his stupidity once again, a true rarity in his life, admitting he was the one at fault for anything.

He had been so intent on finding Hutch that he had nearly gotten himself killed. He had spotted a mop of blond hair and he snuck up on Hutch. Only it wasn't Hutch he found. But a blond bear cub. He had started to back cautiously away when the sow bear made her appearance. He had shot at her as she charged. He wasn't at all sure he had hit her as he had been firing Hutch's Magnum over his shoulder as he ran. He had backed her off enough and that had given him -- barely -- enough time to climb this tree. But he had lost his backpack in his mad dash to escape the bear. She had reared up on her hinds and clawed the tree, breaking off some smaller lower limbs.

He shinnied up the tree as far as he could get and stayed there. He didn't have a choice. All he had now was an empty gun and the clothes on his back. He had dropped his backpack in his haste to get away from the bear. He had listened to her tear into it hours ago. Occasionally, the tree would shake hard, letting him know she was still around and still angry with him. Though it had been a while since the last time she had done that. There was nothing he could do but wait for the bear to leave so he could get down and back to the business of finding Hutch.

He settled in for an uncomfortable night on a thin branch, high in that tree, with nothing to do but watch the distant fire burn.

Starsky blinked at his now sleeping partner. Blind? Nah, he couldn't be. Hutch was running a fever and confused. It was dark in the little cave. That must be why Hutch thought he was blind. To prevent detection, the brunet had to keep the flashlight off as much as possible and that could also be adding to his friend's confusion. He nodded to himself, that had to be it.

His memories of Vietnam were coming back to him. Memories he had tried very hard to forget over the years. The circumstances surrounding Jake's death where so similar to the ones now with Hutch... an injured friend, the hiding, the hidden enemy... the memories were coming back to him in frightening waves, each one breaking higher on the shore then the last one.

He stared into the darkness of the cave, just beyond small circle of light that the flashlight gave off. The ending of this ordeal would be different from Jake's. The brunet fisted his hand. Hutch was ill, but he would live. Starsky pounded his fist into his thigh. Hutch would live.

The tired detective bit his lip. The Baron would have told someone, maybe Dobey, or Huggy now knew where to look for them. They would just have to sit tight until the rescue party came for them. It shouldn't take them long. Hell, they should have seen the rescue party by now. What was holding them up?

Hutch gave a low moan and shifted next to him.

Starsky pulled the blanket down to the blond's waist and continued to put cool cloths on the overly warm brow. A damn raccoon had gotten by his traps and alarms. That wasn't good. But then again, it was a fairly small animal. His traps were meant for humans, not animals the size of a raccoon. He leaned back, resting against the remaining backpack. He knew he would not be getting much, if any, sleep tonight.

He turned out the small flashlight again. Darkness descended around him. It was tempting to leave a light on, it would make caring for Hutch easier, but with no way to completely block the light from escaping the cave, it would be far too easy for Colby to see it. He couldn't take that chance and he didn't want to use up the batteries, just in case he needed them later.

Fullerton Airport Fire, 2 a.m.

Craig Johnston, the Incident Commander or IC was, watched the fire that he was now in charge of. Now that it was night and cooler, the fire had dampened down a bit, the rate of burn decreasing. It was still burning the acres up though. He sat on a soot-blackened fender of the truck as he tried to figure out what was bothering him. They seemed to be gaining the upper hand on the fire, but his gut was telling him otherwise.

He watched as the wind, when it gusted was erratic, sending sparks and cinders in odd patterns. Igniting spot fires all around, but they were gaining ground. They had lost a few homes and the airport was gone. The crew of twenty hotshots had been increased to eighty, with more on reserve, if they needed them.

Craig had been on the fire line for many years before making IC. He had been on many fires over the last fifteen years. This fire seemed to be like a hundred others he had seen. But he knew better than to think of any fire as 'normal' or 'typical' that kind of thinking got people hurt or killed.

He drummed his fingers on his knee. Something just wasn't right. He shook his head and started back to his crew. Perhaps he would be able to figure it out later. In the morning he would have a copter fly him around to check out the fire scene to get a better overall picture. He climbed back into his truck and headed back down from his vantage point to confer with some of his people.

Starsky yawned. The night was passing into morning rather quickly. Hutch asked for water a few times and he gave it to him, but Starsky was pretty sure that his friend wasn't completely awake at those times. He had tried to ask Hutch a few questions and got some mumbled answers. He shook his head; the answers would have to wait until his friend was a little more awake to answer them.

Hutch had been cooling down a bit and slept more peacefully as the night wore on. Starsky rolled his neck, which had a massive crick in it. He was one big knot. His legs in particular hurt, as they were not at all used to the activity level that he had been forcing upon them. He rolled his neck again; he would just about kill for an aspirin... He whacked his head with the palm of his hand; the Baron must have packed some of those in the little first aid kit.

He picked up the kit and then put it back down. If there were some aspirin in there, he had better save it for Hutch. I could use a drink of water though, he thought and swished the canteen around, it was almost empty, he would have to go outside and get a refill from the stream, before it got too bright out.

He eased away from his sleeping friend and cautiously exited the cave; all his senses were on high alert. Dawn was breaking to the east and it was getting lighter out. A light whiff of smoke in the air made him freeze in his tracks. He again sniffed the breeze and the smoke smell was gone. He warily continued to the stream to fill the canteen, ever on the alert for Colby.

Dawn was breaking when Colby started down the tree. He stopped every few feet just to make sure that the sow bear was truly gone, he had seen nothing of her so far. In the dim light of dawn, he could see the shredded remnants of his backpack lying in bits and pieces around the base of his tree. He spotted a box of shells and hoped it was the shells for the Magnum.

He waited for fifteen minutes before jumping out of the tree to land next to the box, which he snatched off of the ground. It was a box of shells for the Magnum. Colby smiled and loaded the gun, all the while keeping a sharp look out for the bear. When he finished, he grabbed up a few of the scattered supplies and headed back towards the little stream.

Obviously he had gone the wrong direction when he went looking for Hutch. He would go up stream this time. There was no other explanation for how the blond had gotten so far ahead of him then that he had gone up stream, instead of down stream. Colby shook his head. Being blind, the blond should have headed down stream in hopes of finding a river, which would lead him back to civilization. Hutch was a smart one; John had known that since the day they had met. Not that Starsky was a slouch when it came to brains, but he wasn't here, so it didn't matter.

He kept a watchful eye out for the bear as he trotted through the forest; he took no notice of the smell of wood smoke in the air as he made for the little stream, he was too intent on finding his quarry.

Hutch woke up and blinked. He opened his eyes as wide as he could and then closed them. It was still dark or, he was still blind. Hoping that it might still be nighttime, he listened carefully and heard the sound of a songbird and knew that he was still blind. He clenched his fists and fought off a wave of panic. As he gave the matter some thought, his panic subsided. He vaguely remembered Starsky showing up at some point.

He sighed and opened his eyelids again, but at least Starsky was here now. He wasn't alone any more. Hutch listened for movement or breathing, upon hearing nothing, he whispered "Starsk?"

He waited for an answer and got none. He sat up and the world spun wildly for a moment before settling back to its normal speed of rotation. He felt better, but that was a relative statement. His whole body ached. But he didn't feel as hot and ill as he had before.

"Starsk? Hey buddy, where are you?" He whispered as he patted the ground around him, but he could not find his friend. Perhaps he had dreamed that Starsky had come for him. He felt around and found two backpacks. He checked his arm -- which didn't hurt nearly as much as it had before -- and found that the stick was gone. So, Starsky had been there. But where was he now?

A thought shot through his head like lightning... Colby! What if Colby had gotten him? Could that be why Starsky didn't respond? Hutch made his way to the cave entrance and pushed through it. Thoughts churning in his head as he eased passed the bush and stopped. He had forgotten his stick, his heart pounded in his chest as he realized anew just how helpless he was. He was lost without his stick. He beat the frustration back. He would get his stick and then find Starsky.

Sweat popped out on his forehead and beaded on his upper lip, reminding him that he was not in peak condition. His right arm burned with each movement, so he kept it tucked close to him as he worked his way further outside after getting his stick. He swept it back and forth, checking his route. His memory of the lay out of the immediate area was vague at best. He knew there was a shale patch that led to the steam. But that was an open area... if Colby was there, he was aware that he could be easily seen. So he couldn't go that way.

He made his way to the edge of the shale and into the brush beside it and that's when something grabbed him around the legs and pulled. It happened so quickly that he didn't even have time to yell.

Starsky took extra care as he headed back to the little cave; he thought he had heard a sound a few minutes ago. He decided that he would let his friend recuperate as much as he could during the day and tonight they would head for to the meadow where the Baron had dropped him off. It would be a hike, but Hutch should be able to make it, provided he continued to improve as he had been. By traveling at night, it would make it much more difficult for Colby to find them as well.

He headed into the little cave and stopped immediately. Hutch wasn't in there. Fear wadded up in his throat, creating a stricture so tight it was nearly impossible to breathe. "Hutch?" he hissed. Hoping against hope he would hear his friend reply. When Hutch didn't, Starsky almost panicked. Hutch had been sleeping. His temperature had been down for several hours, but what if he was wrong about that? He did not have a thermometer; he had had to go by touch and gauging how easily his friend had slept. What if Hutch was delirious? Where would he go? God help Colby if he had found Hutch before he did.

The brunet checked his Beretta and headed back out of the cave in stealth mode.

10 a.m., Hopeful Farm, just outside Fullerton

Carol Winters looked out at her little ranch, knowing it was the last time she would see it in this condition. The smoke was rolling in a head of the fire. The sheriff had told her she had just five minutes to grab what she could and get out. He told her she would get no other warning. He was right and she would go, even though it hurt like hell. Smoke burned her eyes and made her blink rapidly, causing her to tear up. At least that's what she told herself.

She heaved a sigh and then hollered for her daughter "Jenel! Hurry up! We have to leave NOW!" When her daughter didn't reply, she ran to the barn and went in. "Jenel!"

"Here mom!"

Carol ran to the back door of the horse barn. She exited and saw her ten-year-old hugging Paco, the little BLM rescue burro. Tears were streaming down Jenel's face. Carol swallowed a lump in her throat. "It's time honey, let him go"

"Can't we take him? Mom... please! He won't be able to keep up with the other horses if... if" The young girl couldn't continue, she hugged the gray burro instead, burying her face in his shaggy coat.

The little burro took it in stride. His large ears rapidly tilting this way and that, but that was the only sign of concern he showed, though he had to be able to sense his owners distress. But nothing bad ever happened around humans. They kept him safe and fed him.

"Jenel, we've been over this. We can't take Paco, unless you want me to unload Missy or Clair..."

"You CAN'T! Clair's just a baby... she can't be without her mom!" Small hands clenched in the burro's stiff mane.

"And I can't leave Missy... she needs her baby... and she's not that young anymore..." Carol didn't finish, she just gabbed her shaking daughter around her shoulders gently pulled her away from the burro. "Look, Paco was born in the wild. He will know what to do. He can help the other horses to find safety" she pulled her child away from the burro and towards the waiting pickup and horse trailer. "It's time to go. Did you close all of the gates and doors?"

"Yes mom. Why did you have me do that, though?" Jenel looked back at the burro that looked back at her, his ears still waggling.

"So the horses can't run back into the barn, if it catches fire." Carol put her hand firmly in the middle of her reluctant child's back and pushed her towards the truck.

"Why would they do that?"

"Because the barn is the safest place in the world to a horse, they are protected there. There are no predators there, they get fed and brushed there, they are out of the weather there" one of the animals in question trotted by them, confused by the change and sudden freedom. Carol opened the passenger side door and Jenel climbed inside. Embers were blowing towards them now. She would have to hustle to get to the main road before the fire cut her off. She ran to the driver's side and got in, putting the vehicle in gear as she sat down.

More embers blew by and she stomped on the accelerator, rooster-tailing gravel as she headed out of her driveway. She checked her rearview mirror as she left; saying a silent good-bye to the little ranch Jenel had named 'Hopeful Farm' after she had read 'The Black Stallion' books by Walter Farley. There wasn't much hope for the ranch right now. It was in the path of a wildfire. She gunned the motor and raced to get to safety.

Paco trotted around the barn and met up with the other three horses that were left behind. It was a strange day. The humans had let them out and closed the doors to the buildings. They couldn't get in and there was something fearful coming, all of the animals sensed it. They wanted in... they wanted to be safe. There wasn't any way in. It was fight or flight and there was nothing to fight, which left flight. The horses wheeled about and bolted from the fire. Paco followed as fast as his little legs could go, but soon fell far behind.

He brayed for them to wait and heard a distant answering whinny from one of his horse friends. An ember landed on his hindquarters, spurring him to greater speeds. Paco soon found himself in a most fearful of all predicaments for an equine, all alone with something very big and very scary chasing him.

Fullerton fire, 10:20 a.m.

Craig Johnston was nervous, the fire had nearly been under control just two hours ago and now it was out of control again. He was on a fly over to get a bird's eye view of the fire. The wind had picked up and that was all the fire needed to take off. The copter dipped suddenly and the pilot struggled with the yoke. The copter steadied a bit but the wind and thermals rising from the fire still buffeted it. "I've seen enough, let's get the hell out of here" he hollered at the pilot over his headset.

The pilot nodded, relieved, maneuvering the copter away from the scene, heading higher.

Craig slumped in his seat as the ride smoothed a little. He caught a glimpse of smoke far off on the mountain. He keyed the mic "IC Johnston to BLM Keith Adams."

"BLM Keith Adams here" The reception was poor on the radio; there was crackling and interference from other radio traffic.

"Hey, just noticed some smoke on that mountain." Johnston yelled into the mic to be heard over the sounds of the copter and the radio traffic.

"That's not our problem; this fire is our problem... let the Forest Service take care of their damn own mess." The reply was curt.

Johnston shook his head. It was obvious that the local BLM and Forest Service were at odds. It didn't surprise him. There had always been a rivalry between the two. Probably always would be. His problem was this fire, as Adams had pointed out. He returned his attention to the Fullerton fire and what he could do to put it out.

Elk Meadow, 10:30 a.m.

The little fire had been burning for almost two days now. It had been slowly consuming the ground litter and what it couldn't burn, it dried out. The fire had remained small but had managed to burn nearly three acres of the meadow. It was already a hot day with very low humidity and high winds where expected later in the afternoon. Just what every little fire needs to become a big fire. The fire crackled with anticipation.

Chapter 13

Starsky pushed his way into the brush beside the path of shale and eased into the thick forest beyond. He had to find Hutch before Colby did, he headed in the direction that he had heard the sound coming from before. He pushed his worries aside and continued until he drew close to the source of the sound.

The first thing he saw were feet hanging from the rope snare that he had set. He crouched low to the ground and belly crawled closer. He paused and peered through the undergrowth. Hutch's head dangled just inches off of the ground. Starsky smiled, relieved that he had found his friend.

He moved forward, then stopped; he had better check around for Colby first and then free his friend. He would have to apologize to the blond later. He tried to catch Hutch's eye but the blond didn't seem to notice him in the bush. He shook his head and scouted about for John. Several minutes later he was satisfied that his enemy was nowhere close, he headed back to his partner's side.

Hutch was trying to work his way up to his bound legs in an attempt to free them.

Starsky grinned, happy to see Hutch so active, if red-faced. He had to be feeling better... aside from hanging upside down, that is. Starsky pulled his pocketknife and opened it as he approached. He shook his head as he contained his relieved chuckles.

The blond froze at the slight sound, his left hand locked behind his knees, holding himself in a flexed position, his head twitching this way and that, his eyes darting about but not fixing on anything.

Hutch couldn't see him. Starsky's heart fell. Hutch hadn't been delirious and confused when he said he was blind, he really couldn't see. The brunet swallowed hard.

Hutch panted from nervousness and physical exertion as he tried to figure out who was close, he took a hopeful guess "Gordo?"

"Hutch! I'm here, s'okay..." Starsky watched as Hutch released his hold on his legs, dropping down to hang like a side of beef. He darted to the blond's side and began to cut the rope.

"Starsky!" the relief was evident in the blond's voice.

"Yeah, it's me, I'll get ya down, just hang on" Starsky worked as quickly as he dared.

"Oh, like I have a choice... Just get me down, all the blood is rushing to my head!"

"Oh, maybe I should leave you like this... now that you finally have something in there for once" Starsky laughed as he carefully cut the rope, while holding his friend's legs tight so he could ease him to the ground.

"Yeah, and it's a feeling you'll never know" the blond grumbled.

Starsky shook his head as he cut through the last strands of the snare and lowered Hutch to the ground. "Good ta see that you're feelin' better" he then smacked his head with the palm of his hand at his poor choice of words. He sat down next to his partner and began to check him over. He put a hand to the beet red brow. "Still warm... how's the arm doin'?"

"Hurts like a son of bitch... why didn't you tell me it was you just now? I thought Colby had me again" Hutch turned his head towards the sound of his partner's voice.

"I thought you could see me" came the quiet response.

"I seem to remember telling you that I was blind" the blond's tone was slightly accusatory.

"You did. I'm sorry, you were pretty out of it last night, I just thought that..." Starsky sighed, "It doesn't matter what I thought. How you become blinded?" he brushed back a fallen blond lock, peering into the sightless blues. They looked normal, but Hutch did not make eye contact as he stared into them. He shook his head; he could see no reason for the blindness.

"It was Colby. We were fighting... he sprayed something in my face... it burned... hurt like hell. I don't know what that stuff was. I haven't been able to see since then" Hutch released a gusty sigh as Starsky gave him a quick hug, which he returned, leaning in for support.

"Do ya know if it's permanent?"

"No, I don't know--" A snap of a distant twig stopped the blond detective mid sentence.

Starsky looked around for the source "We'd better finish this conversation later, let's get back to the cave" that sound had made him uneasy. "C'mon" he whispered as he grabbed Hutch under his left arm and helped him to his feet. He started to lead them back to the cave.

"Wait!" Hutch's whisper was urgent.

"What?" Hearing the urgency in his friend's voice Starsky went on alert, ready to defend his partner at any cost.

"My stick!"

The brunet did a double take "Your what?"

"My stick, my stick... I need it"

"You need a stick?" A thoroughly puzzled Starsky stared at his friend, more then a little worried about him. He put his hand on Hutch's forehead, feeling for fever.

Hutch brushed the hand away "No dummy, I'm not feverish, I can't see. I've been using a stick to get around. I want it."

"Okay, okay... I'll get it" He patted the blond on the shoulder and looked at the forest floor, which was littered with sticks "What does it look like?"

"Starsk, I'm BLIND! I've never seen the damn thing!" The irate blond hissed.

Starsky's shoulders slumped and his head bowed "Fine, I'm sorry... Just give me the dimensions... there are about a hundred sticks on the ground around here."

Hutch sensed that he had gone over the line "Starsk, I'm sorry too--"

A voice called from somewhere, it sounded far off "Now this is just too precious... Husky and Starch, bickering like an old married couple."

"Colby!" The duo said in unison as Starsky grabbed Hutch and pulled him behind a large tree. He placed himself in front of his friend, sandwiching his friend between the tree and himself, then he pulled his Beretta.

"That's my name, don't wear it out" Colby hollered back.

Starsky rolled his eyes "Huh... is that the best comeback you've got Colby? I woulda thought that prison would have given ya a broader range than that childish taunt" he waited for a response. And waited. He scanned the forest, searching for the man, uneasy about Colby and his whereabouts.

Realizing Colby might be working his way around to get a shot at them; Starsky grabbed Hutch's hand and put it on his belt. He was gonna have to get them away from their former friend. He dug deep, calling forth memories of Vietnam and how to travel in the forest with the up-most quiet.

Starsky cautiously made his way into the thick brush, with Hutch clinging tightly to his belt.

Colby could have kicked himself for announcing his presence to the pair. It was that he had just been so startled at the sight of Starsky. Just how the hell had he gotten here? Were there others? Shit! What if there was a whole search party? But no... he would have seen evidence of that. So Starsky had found Hutch... but how?

It didn't matter how, though. That little mistake would only prolong the hunt and perhaps make it a lot more interesting. He could carry out his little fantasy of killing Starsky while Hutch listened. He rubbed his hand down his crotch once. God, it was gonna be great.

He slipped back towards the little cave he had found where the duo had obviously spent the night. He would rifle through the backpacks and collect what he might need. This would give Starsky time to get lost in the woods. He knew from first hand experience that the guy was a complete novice in the forest. Hutch would be of little use in his condition and besides, it wouldn't take him long to gather a few things and get back on their trail.

He quickly made his way back to the cave.

Hutch tripped and stopped his fall with his right hand, the left one was still gripping Starsky's belt. He clenched his teeth and quietly hissed his pain. He grabbed at a stick under his hand and squeezed it, to relieve the pain, much like biting a bullet. The stick felt familiar in his hand "Woody!" he breathed the word quietly, he held on to the stick as he followed his friend.

"Shhh!" Came Starsky's cautioning whisper. After several more minutes of winding through the undergrowth, the brunet stopped and nudged him behind some rocks. He could feel his partner looking around, looking for Colby. So he did his part and listened for anything out of place. He bit his lip in frustration. He wasn't much help to Starsky blind; he couldn't even back him up, should Colby find them.

He could feel Starsky sigh and lean into him a bit. Starsky took a breath and whispered "Okay, I don't think he's around... we're gonna have to move in a bit. Here's the plan... we're gonna head back to where you crashed, the Baron dropped me off there, that's where they'll start looking for us. With any luck, we'll meet them along the way. Colby most likely will back off when he sees them. We just gotta get back to that meadow."

Hutch clutched his stick "Just how are we gonna get back there? I can't see--"

Fingers pressed against his lips, silencing him "I know my way back."

Hutch snorted, "Right, this coming from the man who lost his way to the outhouse up at Pine Lake."

"It was dark" came the defensive answer.

"Welcome to my world" Hutch bit his tongue right after he said it. He didn't need to see the midnight blue eyes to know that right now they were filled with pain. "I trust you Starsk," he squeezed his partner's shoulder. "I always trust you... except when it comes to food."

"Hutch, I just gotta say this... I'm real sorry about that coin thing... It shoulda been me on that flight, it should be me who is blind right now, not you. I'll get us outta this, I promise I will" There was a catch in his voice.

"Starsk, no guilt trips, okay buddy? What's done is done." A wave of dizziness hit him.

"Hutch? You don't look so good... lemme take a look at that arm" a hand gently grasped his right arm and began probing carefully around the wound.

"No... you can look at it later. We probably should leave now" Hutch twitched his arm away; he gritted his teeth at the pain the sudden movement caused him.

"Sure you're alright? We could--"

"S'all right, we should get going" he grabbed the belt again, indicating he was ready to leave. It felt good to have Starsky around. He had been so frightened and alone, trapped in this new world of darkness. He had to bury that fear and hide it from Colby. Until Starsky's arrival, the stick had been his sole means of support, something tangible to hold on to.

"Sure..." Starsky started to move and then stopped again "Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

"You said something before... what was it? Oh, yeah... 'woody'... what was that all about?"

Hutch felt his face redden "Nothing... s'nothing."

"Your blushing or..." a palm landed on his forehead "your fever is coming back."

The blond pushed the hand off of his brow "It's my stick, Starsk... okay?"

Starsky snickered "You named your stick 'Woody'?"

"Hey, this stick and I have been through a lot together" his clutched the stick tightly in his hand.

"He named his stick 'Woody', that's original," the quiet snickering continued as the brunet led the way.

Hutch moved Woody carefully in his hand and jabbed his friend in the butt with it. "Shut up Starsk... we're trying to sneak away, so try not lead Colby to us with your cackling."

"Woody" was the whispered, laughing reply to his jab.

Hutch rolled his sightless eyes. This was gonna be a long trip.

Starsky smiled to himself. It felt good to pick on Hutch. It helped dispel some of his fear. He needed to keep a clear head and get them to safety. Hutch was doing all right for now, but he knew it wouldn't last for long. The blond was still rather warm. He needed to get another look at that arm soon. Not that he could do anything about it though. They were cut off from their backpacks and that meant that they had very little in the way of supplies.

He went over the list in his head. They had his Beretta, which was loaded with one full clip, the rope from the snare, a pocketknife, a canteen full of water and Hutch's stick, 'Woody'. He suppressed a smile. He was never gonna let his partner forget this one. Then he remembered the reason Hutch carried the stick. He was never gonna forget this either, especially if 'Woody' turned into a lifelong necessity. His smile faded away. It was his fault.

He gripped his gun until the rubber grip squeaked under his hand. He looked about, looking for the stream, which had to be below them. That meant that they had to continue up. Through the trees he could see a far off peak of a neighboring mountain. So, he had to keep the mountain peak off to his right side and the stream to his back... he wasn't able to follow the stream to where Hutch had tumbled down it, Colby could too easily follow them that way. This way would be faster, but it was also steeper.

He would keep going this way. He knew that the path Colby had taken Hutch and the agent on had been a winding and backtracking one, presumably to confuse them. Agent Ruth was fooled because he didn't know better and with Hutch blinded... Starsky gritted his teeth; he really ought to kill Colby for blinding Hutch. He pressed his lips into a thin line. It was a tempting thought, but he knew that unless Colby attacked them with deadly force, he would not kill John. He would not sink to Colby's level.

Hutch stumbled again, pulling down on his belt as the blond struggled to keep on his feet. Starsky stopped and turned around. "We'll rest here for a moment."

"No... 'm fine, let's just keep goin'..." The blond panted "Colby's out there."

"I know" He handed the canteen to Hutch. They hadn't been walking for more than an hour and already the blond tired. He shook his head sadly. The only way to get out of here was walk and unfortunately, most of it was up hill. Colby was out there, somewhere too. He scanned the area, looking for their enemy. Question was, where the hell was he? He needed to scout around. "Sit, we'll leave in a minute. I wanna to take a quick look around first."

"No! Don't go!" Hutch's left hand flailed out and snagged on his shirt, his knuckles whitened with his grip.

"Hutch, I won't be gone long... I'll keep ya in sight the whole time, 'kay?" He ran a hand through the sweaty blond hair. Hutch's hand remained knotted in his t-shirt, twisting fretfully.

"Don't go" Sightless eyes flitted about, fixing on nothing, the left hand tugged on the bunched up shirt.

Starsky studied Hutch's face for a long moment. The blond was afraid. "I'll be right back" he reached over and lightly cupped the flushed cheek. It was tough to decide whether the reddening color and the heat of his skin were due to the heat of the day or fever. His brow knitted in concern.

"No, I'll go with you" the taller man stood up, his legs wobbled.

Starsky put his hands on Hutch's shoulders "Stay here, 'kay? I'll be right back" He started to move away, but was stopped by a tug on his shirt, which the blond still had a handful of.

"What if you're not? Just how is it that you -- you who hate camping and bein' in the woods -- can suddenly find your way around? Huh? What aren't you tellin' me?" a frown worked its way across Hutch's face, mixing with the pain that was already there.

Starsky sat down on behind a rock and urged the blond to do the same. Where do I begin? He exhaled harshly "I was in Vietnam Hutch, that's where I learned... I learned a lot of things there..." his eyes closed against the memories that crowded in on him, trying to shut them out.

Hutch sat down as well, with a little guidance. He slid sideways until the left side of his body contacted the right side of Starsky's. He carefully adjusted his right arm in his lap. "What happened over there? You never talk about it. You haven't even really mentioned ever being in Nam. The only thing you did tell me was that you were in the Army."

The curly head dropped until his chin rested on his chest. "I didn't wanna remember an' I don't wanna talk about it. It's done, it's over" a tense sigh escaped him.

A blond brow arched upward "Why is it I don't believe you?" he stifled a yawn, his head nodded with exhaustion.

Starsky stared at his friend for a long moment "You're tired... why don't you just rest for a little while, okay?"

Hutch's left hand wandered up to his friend's face, his knuckles rubbed at Starsky's cheek, but missed and brushed his nose instead. He readjusted and tried again, this time hitting his mark. Hutch gave a lopsided grin "You're tryin' to change the subject. Alright, give me five minutes... then you're tellin' me all about it" his head dropped on to Starsky's shoulder and he dropped off to sleep.

Starsky tilted his head back and stared up at the blue sky. He pondered how to get out of telling the blond about it. He watched some wispy white clouds roll slowly by.

Earlier

The world had around him was strange. Colby shook his head to clear it, which aggravated his headache. The world stayed right where it was. Upside down. His head pounded with a massive headache. Just how long had he been in this crazy upside down world? He looked up at his suspended feet. How the hell did that happen? He worked his way to his feet and cut the rope with his knife. He rolled to his stomach and willed himself not to puke.

When the world stopped its out-of-control spinning, he looked at his watch. SHIT! It had been over a half an hour since he had seen the duo. He picked up one of the backpacks that he had found in that cave and proceeded after them, this time making sure not to step into any more booby traps.

Fullerton Airport fire

I.C. Craig Johnston lifted his head at the sound of someone shouting his name "Yeah, what is it?" He snapped as he turned is head back to his maps, trying to figure out how to stop the fire that was now well on its way to getting to be nearly two hundred acres in size. Despite their best efforts, the fire was getting the best of them. It was time to call in some air tankers and start dumping fire retardant on the fire. The ground crews just couldn't keep up anymore.

"Sir, I've got that weather report you asked for."

"'Bout time! I asked for it over an hour ago" he snatched the paper out of the young man's hand. His face paled as he read it and his mouth went dry. "Oh shit."

Chapter 14

Starsky looked down at Hutch. The sleeping blond twitched occasionally in his dreams. Starsky had eased him off of the rock that they had been sitting on and settled him between some boulders. He hated to leave him but he wanted to scout around for Colby and try to find an easier route up the mountain.

The smell of wood smoke was stronger now. Someone might be camping nearby. He would check it out and if it were, he'd have to lead Colby away from them, but if it were the search party, he would rush back and get Hutch. He took a step in the direction the smoke seemed to be coming from and then stopped. He had promised that he would keep his friend in sight. Granted, Hutch was sleeping when he had made that promise. Still, a promise was a promise.

He turned back and began to make his way back to his friend. As he did so, he felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. Someone or something was watching him. He kept moving as though he hadn't noticed anything amiss, but his eyes scanned the surrounding area, trying to locate the source of his unease.

Colby watched the brunet with a predator's eyes. He could take Starsky out right now with a well-placed shot, but that would be far too easy. It would also be easy just to grab the blond as well. Starsky tended to get reckless without Hutch to pull him back from emotions edge. Colby smiled, crouching low in the bushes as he watched Starsky draw nearer. He had time some really nice plans for the pair, starting with Starsky.

Hutch rolled onto his right arm in his sleep and the pain woke him up. He pulled the aching limb tight against his chest as he sat up. His left hand cradled the injured right arm; he let out a slow hiss of pain. He needed a sling for that arm, "Starsk?"

He waited for a reply and rotated his head around, listening for his partner. He heard nothing. He blinked his eyes and prayed for his vision to return. He hated being blind. He gritted his teeth and patted the ground around him until he found Woody. With the stick's help, he climbed to his feet. Dizziness made him sit right down on one of the boulder's he had been sleeping beside. "Gotta move a little slower next time," he chided himself.

"Starsky, where the hell are you?"

Starsky stopped dead in his tracks. A patch of blond hair had caught his eye. "Hutch!" the name came out as a harsh exhalation. He ran over to the bush where he had spotted the blond hair. He skidded to a halt and looked closer at the mop of blond hair. There was far too much hair for it to be Hutch.

As he drew near, he detected a faint smell of decomposition, whatever it was, it hadn't been dead for very long. With his new angle, he could see it was a bear cub and not his friend lying under that bush. "Crap" he whispered and backed slowly away from the sad sight. He began to look for its mother. He wasn't sure if the mama would be protective of a dead cub or not. Nor was he interested in finding out. Maybe the mother was around; perhaps that's why he felt he was being watched.

He continued to back slowly away, the faint scent of death clung to his nostrils. When he felt he was clear, he ran to where he had left Hutch.

It hadn't taken him very long to find their trail and catch up with them, they were moving slowly. Colby watched Starsky from behind some bushes. The brunet's behavior just now intrigued him and so he went to investigate after the brunet had sprinted off. He was in no hurry to follow just yet, with Hutch in the condition he was in, they weren't going anywhere fast. Simply pathetic, if Starsky would just leave the blond behind, he could easily walk out in a few hours time, provided he didn't get lost.

But no, loyal as an old dog, Curly was. He wouldn't leave his good buddy Hutch. That would work in his favor because Colby was itching to try some new torture methods he had learned -- but as of yet -- had not been able to practice. He had never had the opportunity or the motivation until now.

Colby finally got to the spot his former friend had occupied and noticed a patch of blond under a bush. He drew near and saw it was the bear cub he had mistaken for Hutch yesterday. He edged nearer and noticed that one side of it was covered with dried blood. Flies swarmed around the bullet hole and the cub's mouth, eyes and nose.

He smiled; the cub must have taken a round or two from the Magnum as he fired at its mother. "Good" he nodded to himself and walked away. It served the bear right for keeping him in a tree all night long. Colby moved back away from the dead animal and headed back to watch ol' Husky and Starch and prepare for his next move.

Starsky saw Hutch sitting on a boulder and knew he was in for it. His friend was gonna be pissed that he had left him alone, even though he had been able to see the blond's position most of the time. He missed the part where Hutch got up, but that was because of his finding the dead cub had distracted him.

The blond head swiveled this way and that, trying to home in on his location. Starsky deliberately stepped on a twig to alert his friend to his position. The blond head snapped to a halt. "Hey partner... s'me." he called softly. He watched as first relief then anger crossed Hutch's face.

"Starsk! Where the hell did you go? Huh?" was Hutch's relieved response and he let Woody fall and reached out with his left hand.

Starsky grabbed the hand in his own "I went out for a six pack of beer."

"Starsky, don't you know that stuff'll put hair on your chest?"

Starsky grinned and scratched his hairy chest "So, that's how I got this stuff."

"I don't suppose you saved me one?"

"Nope."

The blond's expression changed, "Don't do that again!" long fingers squeezed his hand hard, just for a moment before easing up, but retaining his hold.

"Yes mom," Starsky ducked his head and looked up through his brows at his partner "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," the blond smiled for a moment before it faded away.

"What?" Starsky searched his friend's face, trying to figure out what was bothering him.

"I hate this," the blond head dipped downward.

Starsky bent down and picked up Woody and put it in Hutch's hand, "Me too, let's go."

Fullerton fire

"Oh shit!"

"What's wrong Mr. Johnston?" The young hotshot watched as the IC read the weather report he had just delivered.

"Everything! Christ on a cracker..." Johnston removed his hard hat with one hand and ran the other through his sparse locks, before dropping the hat back into place; he then leaned forward on the map that lay on the table before him. "We've just got a Red Flag Warning, a front is moving in fast, no cooling and strong westerly winds with gusts up to fifty miles an hour."

The younger man paled, he hadn't been a hotshot for very long, but even he knew this was big trouble. With the temperature around 95 degrees outside, low humidity and no cooling before the wind arrived... it was very bad news. The high outside temperature brought everything flammable closer to its ignition temperature; this meant that it wouldn't take much more heat to set anything flammable on fire. On a much cooler day, it would take longer for say, wood to catch fire because the wood would have to heat up more to get to its ignition temperature. This was not going to be the case today.

He tugged at his soot covered yellow shirt collar; he just might witness his first blowup today. He had heard about them, other hotshots and firefighters in the service talked about blowups. He wanted to see one, but at the same time didn't want to see one. People died in blowups. Thirteen smokejumpers had died in a blowup at Mann Gulch back in 1949. And from IC Johnston's reaction, the conditions were primed for it.

Starsky walked up the slope slowly. Hutch's left arm was draped over his shoulders; the taller detective was drooping like a wilted flower. Both of them were soaked in sweat. The temperature had climbed into the nineties. There was no wind to speak of. Just heat. And the increasing smell of smoke, Starsky could also see puffs of it; above the trees in the very direction they were headed. He figured it had to be a signal fire.

"Almost there Hutch... just a little further," he encouraged, he moved Woody ahead a step. The stick had come in handy for climbing the steep part of the mountain. Since as the tired and injured as Hutch was, he couldn't really use it since the blond's good arm was currently across his shoulders.

Starsky glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the afternoon. Still no sign of Colby... but Starsky could almost feel him out there, watching... waiting... then again, it just could be the heat that shimmered off the land in visible waves off of the rockslide. He kept them to the forest edge; this afforded him a clear view, which would make it impossible for Colby to sneak up on them from at least one side.

He had stopped taking sips of water a while ago so Hutch could have the rest of it, not that there was much left in the canteen. One thing about Hutch being blind was that he could pretend to drink and get away with it, though he felt rather bad about tricking his friend that way. But Hutch needed the water more then he did.

Soon they would be safe. He checked his watch; they should be able to make it to the meadow in about an hour or so, provided his partner did not completely give out before they got there. He had so far; been able to avoid talking about his time in Vietnam, despite Hutch's repeated questions. He was almost relieved that Hutch was getting too tired to ask anymore.

The smoke odor was quiet strong now. That must be one hell of a signal fire they built, but then, both Dobey and Huggy thought he was worthless in the forest, a notion he cultivated with great care. The more he grumbled and complained; the less likely Hutch was to drag him along. It made dodging bad memories much easier.

"Nguhi linh!"

Starsky barely heard the whispered words; they were foreign, but familiar. He froze in his tracks. He carefully listened for more, his heart hammering in his chest as the words stirred forgotten memories.

Hutch, feeling the change in his friend, lifted his weary head "What's goin' on?"

Starsky quickly slapped his hand over his partner's mouth, silencing him as he pulled the blond down to the ground and pushed him towards some a thick bush. He pulled his Beretta from its holster and flicked off the safety. He listened again, hardly daring to breathe.

After a long time of waiting and listening and hearing nothing, he carefully pulled Hutch out of the brush and put his friend's hand on his belt again. Thankfully, the blond didn't argue. He just held on and crawled after him as Starsky made his way through the undergrowth.

Sensing it was safe to talk; Hutch whispered his question again "What's goin' on?"

"Thought I heard Charlie, for just a second there," Starsky clamped his teeth together, fearing he might have said too much. He didn't want Hutch to ask any more questions about his time in Vietnam.

"Charlie?" Hutch tilted is head to the side, wishing he could see his friend's face. So much of their communication was silent; he had come to rely on a mere glance to know what was passing through Starsky's mind, "Starsk, who is Charlie?"

Starsky didn't reply, he just bit his lip. I just imagined that I heard Viet Cong words just now, it's all in my mind He picked up his pace a bit, wanting to leave the area as quickly as he could. Never comfortable in the woods, the place seemed even more intimidating now. He urged the blond to hurry, "C'mon Blintz, it's not too much further now," he cast a look back at the trees, unable to shake his growing unease.

Hutch was a walking ache and he was so tired that if Starsky stopped for more then a few seconds, he started to nod off. He knew something was bothering his friend. He might not be able to see it, but he could certainly sense it and feel the tension in Starsky's back, through his fingers that were wrapped around the brunet's belt.

He did his best to keep up, not wanting to be a burden and wanting to get out of these woods as soon as possible. Colby was on their trail and it wouldn't take him long to find them. Hutch swallowed dryly, his weakness was slowing them down. Colby would catch up to them sometime soon, if he weren't there already, hiding, watching, and waiting to make his next move.

Hutch rubbed his forehead on his forearm, wiping off the sweat, which would immediately bead back up. The sweat ran down his brows and into his eyes, which then stung from the salt. He could tell he had a fever again, or more likely, still had a fever. Then again, it could be the heat. The sharp scent of wood smoke burned his nostrils. Smoke? His head shot up. The woods were too dry, who would be so dumb as to light a fire in the woods during a drought?

"Starsk?" He tugged on Starsky's belt.

Starsky stopped moving and whispered, "Yeah?"

"Is that smoke I smell?" the blind sniffed the air.

"Yeah,"

"Do you know where it's comin' from?" Hutch tried to detect the direction of the smoke, but the wind was fairly still and what light gusts there were swirled the scent around making it hard to detect what direction it was coming from.

"I think it's a signal fire meant for us. It appears to be comin' from the meadow where you crash landed, that's where we're headed," Starsky sat down, knowing that Hutch needed a break.

"That doesn't make sense..." Hutch slumped down and leaned against his friend for support, using him as a backrest as he tried to put his fuzzy brain to work on the reason it why it didn't make sense. He floundered for a long moment "Why would they start a fire? It's too dry; any S&R personnel would know that... I don't understand. The risk of forest fire is too high."

Starsky placed a hand on his brow "You're getting hot again."

"Flatterer" Hutch quipped as he tried to smile. He was trying to ease the worry that he could hear in his partner's voice. He desperately wished that he had his sight back. Without it, he felt so cut off from his friend. One of his main links, his ability to read his friend's body language, was severed by his blindness. He couldn't see Starsky's reactions and therefore had lost his main way to communicate with his partner.

He tilted his head back a bit and rested it on Starsky's chest. At least he still had the ability to touch; he kept his eyes closed, that was something, anyway. He and Starsky always touched. It had nothing to do with being gay, and everything to do with partners and friends. Their contact was their way of maintaining their bond, their connection to one another. It was something they rarely, if ever, gave any thought to.

Hutch knew he should get up; they needed to keep moving, a wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him. He could hear the pounding of his blood in his ears; it drowned out everything else as his right arm throbbed with pain with every beat of his heart. He gave in to the urge to rest, but only for a minute. He sighed heavily and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Starsky wrapped an arm around his partner, despite the heat of the day and the heat rolling off his friend and himself. He rested his chin on top of the dirty blond hair. His eyes never stopping moving as they repeatedly scanned the area for Colby, all his senses were on high alert.

He looked up the incline. It had to be at least a forty-degree angle and from what he could see, it was only going to get steeper and more open as they climbed. He idly stroked his hand over Hutch's dirty and tangled hair. "S'okay Hutch, just a little--"

"Nguhi linh, boh yu khi suong!"

Starsky's head popped up at the sound of the Vietnamese words. He brain fumbled for the translation of the long forgotten words, but the shock of hearing those words forced him to remember 'soldier, put down your weapon' or something along those lines. His whole body tensed and he reached for his gun.

"Hutch, wake up... we gotta leave now!" he whispered as he shook the blond to rouse him. He didn't wait for Hutch to fully waken before he started to quietly drag him away in the opposite direction of from the source of the words, which fortunate for him, was in the direction of the meadow.

Hutch blinked as he awoke to find himself being dragged along. He immediately grabbed the brunet's belt and tucked Woody under his arm and followed as quickly as he could manage. "What's happening?"

"Shhh!" Starsky cautioned as he rapidly made his way through the undergrowth with Hutch hanging on to his belt. He didn't hear any more Vietnamese words, so maybe he had just imagined them. That brought him up short and he stopped suddenly, Hutch piled into his butt. He didn't really notice as his brain began to process the information. It could be that the heat of the day, Hutch's injury, lack of sleep and the fact that Colby was out there somewhere were all getting to him.

He shook his head. He was gonna crack up if he let such notions get to him. He made himself focus on what he knew to be true. Truth, Colby was out there, truth, Hutch was injured and needed medical attention, truth, he was gonna get his partner outta these damn woods come hell or high water. His face became a mask of determination as he foraged through the undergrowth, with Hutch in tow.

Colby smiled at he watched Starsky's face through the binoculars that he had found in the backpack. Starsky's near panicked reaction to the Vietnamese words was even better then he had anticipated. He was careful to only speak them when he figured Hutch was too distracted or asleep, so he wouldn't hear them.

When he figured it to be safe, he picked up the backpack and followed them at a safe distance. He would steer them towards the smoke he could see rising above the treetops; he had scouted the area earlier to find out what was causing it. A small fire was burning in the meadow where he had landed the plane.

The fire had burned away most of the grass and the undergrowth, leaving only trees and blackened ground. The smoke would be good to hide in and plus the fire would hem them in, preventing them from getting away. Not that there was much chance of that, unless Starsky left his buddy behind. Colby dismissed that thought. He knew that would never happen. It was a perfect place for the end game. He would have his fun then burn their bodies. No one would ever be able to find them.

He smiled. This was going to be so much fun.

Chapter 15

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range

Paco wandered in the forest, instinct and fear driving him on. He hadn't heard a whinny from his horse friends in a long time and he had stopped wasting his breath braying for them. He was alone now. Really alone. He kept moving deeper into the forest, away from the fire and the fear it made him feel.

He sniffed the breeze, trying to get a whiff of his equine friends, but he could not detect them in the air. He caught the faint scent of humans in the air. His large ears twisted this way and that, trying to locate them by sound as well. But all he could detect was the tension in the air. The forest animals were as nervous as he was. He sniffed the air once more and headed in the direction of the human scent, for that scent meant safety to him.

Bay City Memorial Hospital, Burn Ward

Captain Dobey entered the hospital room, which now contained the Black Baron. The last and only time that he had met the man was when his boys had tried to help out Terry Nash, who had murdered Joe Durniak. He had turned a blind eye to all the violations this man and his boys had committed. He hadn't liked it, but he had done it. He released a heavy sigh as he stood in the doorway. None of that mattered now. What mattered was finding out what the hell had happened to Starsky.

The FBI's search for the missing plane containing Hutch, the FBI agent Hank Ruth, the decoy and the pilot was at a standstill. There had been no sightings of the plane since it had disappeared off of the radar. The Feds were coming up empty.

Dobey noticed Huggy sitting in a chair next to the Baron's bed. He barely tolerated Huggy Bear, for he represented everything bad that Dobey had been working so hard to change over his twenty-five year career as a police officer. But, Huggy was Starsky and Hutch's informant. Worse, he was their friend. Even worse than that, he just might be the only person who could give him any information on the whereabouts of Starsky. Dobey gritted his teeth "How's he doing?" he motioned at the still figure in the bed.

"He still has a tube in his throat to keep his airway open, the Doc said that he inhaled some hot gases from the copter fire and that caused the tissues to swell. He can't talk yet; he's pretty medicated right now... he hasn't told me anythin'" Huggy shook his head sadly "Sorry Cap'n"

"I don't suppose Starsky said anything to you about where he was going?" The big man leaned against the wall and stared at the informant.

"No, the last time I talked to him, he wanted me to get a hold of the Baron here an' I did that. Why're you ridin' my tail anyhow? Huh? I'm just as worried about them as you are" the thin man looked up at the Captain; he just never understood the man's animosity towards him.

"Just where did he have his accident?" Dobey kept his tone business like.

"You hear about the big fire over in Fullerton, near the California-Nevada boarder?"

"Yes, I heard something about it on the news" The Captain's voice was sarcastic this time.

"The copter he was flying was the cause of that fire" Huggy looked up at Dobey.

"Oh that figures! Why am I not surprised by this? The Baron is even a bigger menace then you are!" the big man blustered. "Why didn't you say some thing about this earlier?"

Huggy rolled his eyes. He was aware that Dobey tended to gnaw on his hindquarters when he was worried about his men. "I left you a message, it's not my fault you didn't get that part of it. I'm tellin' you what I know, okay?" He stood up and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Dobey snapped.

"Same place you are." Huggy moved grab the door handle.

The big man blocked the door. "No, you stay here and wait for him to wake up. When he does, ask him what the hell happened to Starsky."

"Where're you goin' Cap'n?"

"To contact the authorities in Fullerton."

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range

Starsky was panting with exertion as they neared the crest of the latest hill they were climbing. The terrain they had just crossed was a series of gullies and crests. They had had to cross several open spaces made up of rockslides. Each moment in the open revved up his heartbeat as he waited for Colby to strike. He hadn't heard any Vietnamese words for a while and finally figured that he had imagined them. This was by far the worst time he had spent in the woods since Nam. He vowed silently to never, ever go camping again, no matter how much Hutch might beg him.

"Starsk?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been wantin' to ask this... how is it that you can find your way around the woods?"

"Ummm, I just uh... remember what you taught me." The brunet hedged.

"Starsk... you're a pitiful liar" the blond's legs wobbled. He fought to stay upright and leaned heavily on Woody.

"You don't look so good" Starsky reached out and steadied his partner.

"Oh Starsky, you say the sweetest things" Hutch's sightless eyes rolled as a wave of dizziness hit him.

Starsky didn't comment as he tightened his grip on his friend's arms.

Hutch hissed with pain and dropped his stick.

"Sorry" Starsky eased his hold on Hutch's right arm and slung the blond's uninjured left arm over his shoulder again "C'mon partner, I gotta get ya outta open and get to some cover and then I'm havin' me another look at that arm." He lifted Woody up with his foot and used it to steady himself as they proceeded to climb up out of yet another gully.

"You're gonna tell me about it... Starsk... you've been actin' odd since--"

Starsky interrupted his friend "Actin' odd? Me? I'm not actin' odd, you just think that cause I've been thinkin' of all the time I'm wasting here with you when I could be spending my time workin' on my new idea on how to get some extra money." Starsky knew he had to stop Hutch from asking too many questions. The memories were just too painful. He had more important things to think about, like getting Hutch out of these woods and in to a hospital.

He launched into his latest idea, hoping to distract his friend and keep him from asking too many questions. "Now I got me this idea ta start a company that picks up road kill. Didja ever stop to think about how much money could be made by pickin' up dead animal carcasses? I call in 'Road Kill Riches'..." He continued to distract Hutch with his latest harebrained 'Get Rich Quick' scheme.

They continued their arduous trek to the meadow and when they crested the lip of the last little hill, Starsky looked at the meadow in disbelief. It was black. The trees were still standing; the trunks were a little scorched near the base, but for the most part, retained their leaves or needles. But where there had been grass and brush was nearly all black. There were a few places where the fire had not burned, leaving fingers of green grass amongst the burned areas. In the distance, smoke rose from where the fire now burned, a small flame of four to six inches high. And not another human in sight.

"W-what is it Starsk?" The blond lifted his weary head and fought to keep his legs from buckling, only sheer determination kept him on his feet now.

"The smoke wasn't from a signal fire." dread gnawed at Starsky's belly. They had wasted a lot of time and Hutch's meager energy reserves coming here. There was no help here and it didn't look like any would be coming anytime soon.

He looked up at the cloudless sky and sighed heavily. What should he do now? He didn't know where else to go. He had no map, no supplies, and a blinded, injured partner. He dropped his chin to his chest. He had counted on help being here in this meadow. Now he knew that there was not going to be any help. What am I gonna do? What the hell am I gonna do now?

Colby watched the pair through binoculars from some rocks not too far away from the duo. He smiled as he watched Starsky drop his head and a look of utter defeat crossed the brunet's face. This was going to be really fun. He felt the smile on his face broaden and something burst in his chest. He tilted his head to the side, puzzled at the strange feeling. It was some emotions he hadn't felt before. He decided it was joy.

He ducked his head back down and began to move closer to them. He would have to be careful. Starsky was going to be very protective of his injured friend; rather like that bear had been of her cub. Starsky was a deadly marksman as well. He had heard through the prison grapevine that Starsky had exploded the gas tank on a car, with a single shot. He had done this after the pair of kidnappers had shot the blond as he attempted to deliver the ransom money. The brunet had reduced the kidnappers to crispy critters.

Colby eased his way around the pair and made his way closer to them. Starsky's Beretta held 15 rounds, provided he had one in the chamber, otherwise it was 14 bullets, unless he had another clip on him... Colby bit his lip as he pondered that notion. He had confiscated their supplies and three clips of ammunition for the Beretta, which he had gotten rid of; he didn't need them and sure as hell didn't want Starsky to get them. It was unlikely that Curly had any clips on him. Still, he would exercise caution until he was sure that Starsky was out of ammo.

He slipped behind a large tree trunk and rifled though one of the backpacks he had found in the cave where his former friends had hidden the night before. He didn't know where the hell the brunet had gotten them, but the hand grenades he found in that pack were going to come in handy.

Fullerton fire

IC Johnston put in a call for some heavy tankers to make water drops on the fire to try to 'windproof' the fire line as best as they could before the front moved in. He also contacted the hotshot supervisors and had them pull their people away from the east side of the fire. With the strong westerly winds due to in under an hour, there was precious little time move them out of the way.

He leaned on the map, staring at it. So little time and so much to do... he raised his head and looked off to the mountain in the distance. He could see a wispy plume of smoke rise off of it. He checked his topographical maps and looked at the mountain again. If he were reading his maps correctly, anyone above that fire particular fire would have been in serious trouble. Thank God he hadn't sent anyone to fight it. There wasn't a thing on that mountain worth dying over. The fire would have to be fought at some point, but it was a lower priority since there were no people or property in its path.

Sweat trickled down his forehead. Johnston didn't notice it; he had to worry about his people on the fire line and how to keep them safe. God, if he had just a little more time and a few more people to fight this fire... the mountain fire was of lower priority since there were no homes or lives in danger, yet. That fire would have to be fought some time, but that time wasn't now. He shook his head; he would worry about it later.

He checked the skies, looking for the air tankers. They should be on their way by now, hell; they should be here by now. He grabbed the radio.

Elk Meadow

Starsky tried to hide his anguish from Hutch. It rolled off of him in waves. It was like when the tide rolls in, each wave just a little higher then the one before. He gritted his teeth; he had to maintain control. He had to find a way to get Hutch to safety.

"Starsk?" Hutch gently shook his friend's shoulder "Starsky? Talk to me... what's going on?" He hated being so dependant. He couldn't see, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to help anyway he could.

"There's no one here. I thought this was a signal fire... it's not."

"Just wait a second, how big is this fire?"

"A few acres, well, a few acres have burned that is... it's hard to tell, I can't see too much due to the smoke. Trees are fine though" A shiver racked Starsky's body.

"What?" Hutch's concern for his partner overrode his self-pity.

"Nothings wrong." In his minds eye, Starsky could see the burned out villages, the bodies lying in the blackened streets, bloating in the tropical heat, the stench of death hanging in the air.

"Bullshit, partner... talk to me."

"Fine, I'll tell ya, help ain't comin'... no one's comin'" the brunet's voice was tired, he had placed so much hope on there being someone here to fly them out. Now that hope was dashed.

"It's a forest fire Starsk... they'll send someone to check it out. They don't just let these things burn."

The brunet nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We'll just stay here until the rangers come to put out the fire. There are some rocks over there. I'll keep an eye out for Colby and you will take a nap."

Hutch smiled at him "What am I? Five? I don't wanna nap!" he stomped one foot petulantly, his smile never faded.

Starsky's fingers brushed back a wet bangs "Tough, it's naptime for you, ya big lug" he guided Hutch to the small formation of rocks.

"So, you started to tell me about this new scheme for making a quick buck... what is it?"

"Shhh!" Starsky felt his body tense at a familiar sound, a dreaded sound... planes, big ones, like the ones that flew bombing missions in Nam.

"Planes Starsk! Planes!" Hutch raised his good arm and waved at the sky, trying to draw the attention of one of the pilots, even though they were a few thousand feet above them and unlikely to see anyone on the ground.

Starsky grabbed the blond and hustled him towards the nearest trees and shoved him behind them.

"Starsky! What--"

He didn't hear Hutch as he was engulfed in an intense flashback, the droning engines, the smell of smoke and the sight of the scorched earth... Starsky clamped a hand over his friend's mouth "Shhh! Quiet... don't draw attention to us, Jake, they'll bomb anything that moves" he pulled his friend into his arms and dragged him further into the wooded area. Friendly fire killed many a soldier in Vietnam. He kept his hand over his friend's mouth; the FNG didn't know the ropes yet.

Chapter 16

Elk Meadow

Hutch was helplessly dragged to some trees and pushed against a tree trunk. He was nearly squished when Starsky pressed his back hard against his sternum. "Starsky what--"

"SHH! Dammit Jake, you're trying to get us killed, ain't ya?" The brunet pressed backwards harder and pulled his Beretta from its holster.

Hutch tilted his head to the left "Jake? Starsk--"

A hand slapped over his mouth. Hutch felt the blood run from his face as understanding dawned on him. Starsky was having a flashback, a very intense one from the feel of it. Hutch could feel the pounding of Starsky's heart against his own chest, it was hammering so hard, he was certain that it was trying to bust through and escape. He eased his good left arm around Starsky's chest and hugged his friend. "S'okay Starsk--"

Starsky turned halfway around and really clamped his hand over the blond's mouth "Shut up!" his whisper was urgent and laced with fear "Please... be quiet... the VC might hear you and find us!"

Unable to speak, Hutch nodded. He simply had no idea how badly Starsky had been affected by his time in Vietnam. He knew that a lot of men and women who had been over there and had been deeply traumatized. Starsky had certainly never talked to him about it. He just had never figured Starsky to be suffering in silence over the years. Or perhaps he had blocked it out and now these circumstances they were in were bringing those memories to the foreground.

As the last of the planes droned away, Hutch could feel Starsky start to relax a bit and removed his hand from over his mouth. "Hey buddy, you back with me here?"

"Huh? What're ya talkin' about?" Starsky shifted positions and moved away a little so his back was no longer pressed so hard against Hutch.

Hutch took a deep breath "You just had a flashback. You care to tell me what's goin' on?" he desperately wished for his vision to return. He needed to see the look on Starsky's face as he asked him what happened to him over there. "Starsk?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about."

Pressed against him as he was, Hutch could feel Starsky shake his head. "I think you do. I wanna help you, but you gotta help me."

"Help you what? I don't understand what the hell you're tryin' ta say," Starsky sounded slightly defensive.

Hutch sighed "Look, I've heard of soldiers having flashbacks, certain things trigger them, the sight of something, the smell, sound, or a combination of all of those things can trigger a flashback."

"We're stuck on a mountain, with no supplies, you're injured, we have an armed killer somewhere out there waiting and a fire burning not too far from us and you wanna talk about stupid flashback about an event that's best forgotten?" Starsky snapped.

"Event? It was a war; it was called Vietnam it--"

"I KNOW what it was, I was there! I don't need you to tell me what it was that I was doin' over there... we were fightin', bleedin' and dyin' in Nam, while you and others like you sat on your asses and demonstrated about what a shitty thing the whole war was. You weren't there... you have no idea what really went on! You sat here, all comfortable in your dorm room while we were over there, sleepin' in the mud and wonderin' if the next minute we were gonna even be alive! And you wanna know about some stupid stinkin' flashbacks?"

"Starsk, I'm not the bad guy here. I just want to help you" he tugged at Starsky's shirtsleeve.

"You wanna help me? Fine! Shut the hell up about Nam, already. It's an old issue. A bad memory best forgotten."

"Right, and not talking about it has done wonders for you." Hutch shook his head, unwilling to give up on this subject just yet.

Colby edged closer to the bickering pair. God, they were making this far too easy for him. The low flying planes had all gone by, for now. There might be more planes later, it was impossible to tell. Something big going on down in the valley, most likely the planes were going to be used to fight that distant fire he had spotted when he had been treed by the bear. Good. The media and authorities would be focused on the fire, a far more immediate threat then the disappearance of plane with four people on it.

Colby belly crawled even closer to them. He could hear them arguing, Starsky's voice was nearly loud enough that he could nearly make out what their fight was about. Not that he cared at all what their argument was about. He edged behind a rock and pulled the Magnum out of its holster and removed two of the hand grenades from the backpack. It was time to play. His groin tightened with anticipation of the hunt and he pulled the pin of one of the grenades, while holding the key down, waiting for just the right moment to toss it in their direction.

"Obviously this is bothering you Starsk, I don't ever recall you having these flashbacks before, what has changed that you are havin' them now?" Hutch tugged on his friend's shirt. "Talk to me!" he could feel Starsky pulling away, closing in on himself. It made him even more desperate to help.

Starsky flipped his arm in a half circle and broke Hutch's grip, he then moved away from him. A chilly silence filled the air.

"Starsk?" Hutch could hear Starsky's breathing; it was coming in huffy pants, an almost panicky sound. He grabbed Woody and moved towards the sound. "Starsk?" he reached out a hand, feeling for his friend.

"Luua!"

Starsky slammed backwards into Hutch, roughly shoving him into the tree trunk. His injured arm flared with pain as it was smacked hard into the rough bark. He could feel the darkness of unconsciousness flooding his senses, drowning out all but the sound of Starsky's heart beating wildly against his chest, or maybe it was his own heart... he fought to stay conscious.

An explosion of sound assaulted him and he could feel the concussive blast as a wave of energy from a bomb... or something that had exploded close to their location. Then the sound of gunfire erupted. His Magnum and Starsky's Beretta barked at each other like mad dogs. A haze of red filled his vision and quickly faded to black once more as he fought through the pain, he would do Starsky no good if he passed out now. He clutched Woody in his good hand afraid to let go.

"Ma kwai! Kon lun nguhi linh! Chet!"

Hutch kept his hand on the walking stick as he fought off another wave of dizziness washed over him. He could feel something... blood... start to soak the bandage on his arm. Starsky's back was ramming him into the tree, pressing hard on his chest, making it increasingly hard to breathe. "Starsk... Starsky..."

"Quiet Jake!" was the hissed response.

"Starsky... you're ~pant~ squishing... me ~pant~ I can't... breathe..." The pressure on his chest suddenly decreased and he gratefully sucked in the smoke filled air, which made him break into a coughing fit.

"Quiet dammit! You're gonna expose the whole platoon with that noise! Christ Jake, ain't ya learned nothin'?" Starsky's words were harshly whispered into his ear.

Another explosion caused dirt to rain on them. More gunfire went off. Starsky returned it.

It dawned on Hutch exactly what was going on. In a flash of insight, all was made clear to him. Colby was deliberately getting Starsky to fire at him, talking in -- (what he could only guess was Vietnamese) to further throw Starsky off into the ever-intensifying flashbacks. Hutch guessed the reason for doing that was to get Starsky to waste all of his ammo. Then Colby could close in on them and make good on his promise of torturing and killing the both of them.

Fullerton Fire

IC Johnston heard the planes before he saw them. The droning was music to his ears. With any luck, they could drop their loads on the spots he designated before the wind from the front arrived. They were already behind the eight ball on this one and could really use a break right now. The front wasn't due for nearly a half an hour yet, but he knew that weather forecasts were not terribly accurate. Maybe one day they would have more accurate ways of forecasting the weather.

Further thought on bettering the forecasting of weather was forgotten as a breeze wafted passed him, flapping the flag on the pole not too far from where he was. At the sharp snap of cloth, he lifted his head and stared at the flag. First it waved fitfully, wafting this way and that on its tether. Another gust, stronger this time, furled and unfurled Old Glory. The cloth made a popping sound as the wind began to play with it.

A strong gust caught the flag and pushed it straight out. It looked as if someone had grabbed hold of the flag and was pulling it directly away from the flagpole. Johnston gulped at the lump in his throat, attempting to force it down. The front had arrived. The wind would bring the fire to roaring life.

Elk Meadow

"Starsk?" Hutch whispered softly to the brunet. He knew, now, not to startle his friend. He needed Starsky to talk to him, but under these circumstances, it was going to have to wait. He licked his dry lips and tried to ignore his pounding headache, which was throbbing in time with the pulses of pain from his right arm.

Starsky had called him 'Jake' a few times now. He had never heard of Starsky talk about anyone named Jake before, but then, he had never talked about Nam before either. Obviously Starsky and Jake had been close. And just as obviously, something bad had happened to Jake and the situation they were in now, must be very close to the circumstances that were giving Starsky these flashbacks.

He had rarely seen Starsky so... intense before. He remembered when he had been running that satchel of money all over downtown, running from phone to phone at the twisted behest of kidnappers. When they had thought he had betrayed them, they had shot him.

Thankfully, he had been wearing a bulletproof vest at the time. The impact of the powerful slug had shoved him through a glass door, cutting his arm and forehead, knocking the wind out of him. He could easily recall his first painful attempts to breathe. The next instant, Starsky was there, shoving people roughly out of his way to get to his side. The brunet's face had been a mass of panic until Hutch had reached out to touch him. His friend had slumped down on the pavement, still clutching a handful of his sweat and bloodstained shirt.

Then later, he heard from the uniformed police and read witness statements about how Starsky had raced after the kidnappers, skillfully shot and exploded the gas tank on the car, which was rapidly engulfed in flames that killed the kidnapers. Bystanders had been frightened by what they called 'excessive force' and demanded that he turn in his badge. There was even an inquiry into those charges. But Starsky had been exonerated of any wrongdoing and the charge of using excessive force was dropped. Still, there was talk around the precinct for months about Starsky being a 'loose cannon'.

Hutch hated to admit it, but at this moment, he could understand their fear. He had dismissed it at the time, but now he understood it. This was not saying he was currently afraid of Starsky, he wasn't now, nor would he ever be afraid of his best friend. He was afraid FOR his friend. And he didn't know how he could change the situation. He was blind. He was the only reason Starsky was here in the first place.

He also knew he had to pull Starsky out of his flashbacks and keep him out; their lives depended on it. Then he had to find the reason for them and eliminate it. He felt his resolve strengthen. All he needed was a plan and having a plan always calmed him down.

He could hear Starsky moving quietly beside him and figured he was watching for Colby. He carefully patted his pockets, not really knowing what he was searching for until he found the coin in his pants pocket. His sensitive fingers could feel it was Starsky's trick coin. He struggled to keep the grin off of his face. He knew just how he was going to get Starsky back in the present and with a little luck, keep him there.

Colby kept a mental count in his head the number of rounds Starsky had fired. He had shot 7 times. Half of his clip was gone. If he had another clip on him, that meant he potentially had 21 rounds left. Unless the detective had fired a round or two during the hand grenades going off... it was still too dangerous to get closer. He only had a couple of grenades left and he didn't want to seriously injure the pair with grenade blasts. He wanted the pleasure of injuring them all to himself.

It had been fun to watch Starsky go a little nuts at the sound of Vietnamese words. Hell, he wasn't even sure he got the words correct or not. Though it didn't seem to really matter what he said, as long as it was in Vietnamese, it had a dramatic effect on his former friend. He was glad that he had gotten a look at Starsky's military records. It had been very enlightening.

A gust of wind pushed a blanket of smoke towards him, obscuring his view of the pair. The smoke stung his eyes, burned his nostrils and he fought off a coughing fit, well aware that Starsky was more then capable of locating him by the sound and shooting him regardless of the smoke. He pushed backwards and used the smoke to change positions. He knew the pair would be on the move as well.

Starsky stiffened as a cloud of smoke rolled up the incline at them and he knew it was time to leave this position and find a different place to hide. The enemy was out there changing their position. He knew that they had to get out of this area; it was about to be over run. He grabbed the blond and forced him to crawl away in front of him as he kept up a rear guard defense position. He nudged and pushed his friend before him, making for the source of the smoke, down the hill from their current position.

He calculated how many bullets he had expended in that little skirmish back there. He quickly patted his pockets and found he was out of clips. He had just 8 rounds left in his gun. He debated about keeping two rounds, just in case they ran out of other options. He recalled all the horror stories about what happened to POWs. He wasn't sure he could kill his friend to spare him from the hands of the VC. He gulped hard at the very thought of it. Only as a last resort, the very last resort.

Hutch allowed himself to be moved along. Starsky pushing at him every few steps, nudging him in the direction he wanted to go. When he felt confident that it was fairly safe, he whipped around on his knees and held the coin out in front of him, like a talisman to ward off evil. He clenched it in his left hand, fearful he would drop it.

Silence

Hutch was about to speak when he heard Starsky say "Hey... that's mine... gimme that" and the coin was snatched from his hand.

He hesitated for a long moment then asked "Starsk? Are you with me? Huh?"

"Yeah... yeah, I am. How'd we get down here?" He sounded like he was coming out of a daze.

Hutch closed his sightless eyes and sat down hard. It worked, thank god. "We crawled."

"We crawled?" The puzzlement was evident in the brunet's voice.

"That's how we got here. You had another flashback" He held up a single digit on his left hand, a silent warning not to interrupt. "You are going to tell me all about Nam, when we get outta here--"

"An' I told ya before no!"

"You owe me" Hutch gritted his teeth and continued. "That coin is the reason I'm here. It's the reason I got hurt. It's your fault... you said so yourself." He hated to send Starsky on a guilt trip, but he was running out of options. He needed... no, Starsky needed to talk about Vietnam. But first, they had to get the hell away from Colby.

He listened carefully. In the distance, he could hear the crackle of the fire. A gentle gust of wind pushed more smoke and heat from the flames towards them. He heard the dry rustle of leaves on the trees, but not a sound from his friend.

He broke the silence "Starsk?"

"Okay" The single word was whispered.

Hutch closed his eyes and sighed in relief. "Okay, well buddy... Colby's out there, he's speaking in Vietnamese and chucking grenades at us. It feels like the fire is below us... Now, how the hell do we get outta this mess?"

A stranger's voice broke in before Starsky could speak "Well, the first thing you need to do, is to leave here. Now."

The duo whipped around to face the interloper.

Through the breaks in the smoke, Colby watched his former friends. They seemed to be talking to someone. He focused the binoculars. Then refocused them. Damn smoke. He couldn't see the person or object they were looking at. He edged closer.

Chapter 17

Elk Meadow

Starsky whipped about and looked up at the speaker, momentarily stunned speechless by his sudden appearance. The man appeared to be in his mid forties, by the looks of him. It was rather hard to tell as his face had smears of soot all over it. The man's yellow shirt was also soot-stained as were his green pants. The hard hat he wore had seen better days as well. The man removed his Pulaski from his shoulder and leaned on the top of the handle, the head of the tool rested on the ground. He crossed his arms and then simply returned Starsky's stare.

So much was happening; Starsky was having a hard time taking it all in. He looked at Hutch for a moment, noticing anew just how exhausted and ill his friend looked. Hutch was right, it was all his fault. He took a shaky breath and slowly released it. He had to figure a way to get them both out of this mess.

"Who are you?" it came out sounding snappish; it was just that the man had startled him with his abrupt appearance. He fixed his gaze on the man.

"Wag."

"Wag? That's it?" Starsky scrutinized the man for a long moment. That was a hell of a name. He barely managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes. But he didn't need to make the man angry with him. He needed the man's help, unless the guy was somehow linked with Colby. He decided to play it safe and be cautious.

The man spoke again, "Don't you two know nothin'?"

Starsky was taken aback and puzzled by the question "Just what're we supposed ta know?" Starsky kept his eyes on the man, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Hutch cradling his injured arm to his chest. Starsky shifted position and moved in front of his friend, unsure of the visitor's intent. All of his senses were on high alert; he was in full 'protect your partner mode'. "You some kinda fireman?"

"Smoke jumper" was the terse reply.

"What's that?" The brunet cocked his head to one side, still mentally back peddling a bit. It seemed forever since he had seen anyone but Hutch and Colby, and now this firefighter shows up out of nowhere.

"Smoke jumpers are firefighters who jump out of airplanes to fight fires in hard-to-reach areas of wilderness" The man shifted from foot to foot "You're wastin' time askin' me dumb questions. You two need to get out of here. Now" a cloud of smoke briefly hid Wag.

When the smoke cleared, Starsky asked "Where're we suppose ta go?" he looked at the fire below them. It didn't look too bad. He could even see breaks in the fire line. Hell, the fire wasn't even very high, just a few inches. "Down hill?" They could make it. He could see a ribbon of water far below.

Wag shook his head and hefted his Pulaski "God no, go up hill. Now" he turned and started up the hill himself.

Starsky looked at the retreating figure and then at Hutch. The blond was weaving slightly where he sat. The brunet looked up the incline. No way was he gonna be able to get Hutch up that, not in the condition he was in. Then he remembered Colby. Dammit! The smoke jumper didn't know about the murder. He was about the go after Wag, when the man returned, coming out of the ever-thickening smoke. Starsky blinked at how quickly the man had moved over the rough terrain.

"You deaf? Go up hill... NOW!" The man pointed up the slope as he again leaned on the handle of the firefighting tool.

"It'll be easier to go down hill, my friend is hurt, and there is a killer up there shooting and throwing grenades at us." Starsky snapped at the smoke jumper, quickly tiring of the terse man. "You need to get down before he shoots ya... please." He had to change his tone. It wasn't Wag's fault that he didn't know that there was a killer on the loose and besides; he would need the man's help to get Hutch down the mountain. The blond was pale despite the heat.

The older man scanned the incline, apparently looking for Colby. "He'd better leave too, if'n he don't wanna die. He'd also be wise to loose his gun and grenades. If he gets caught in a run, the intense heat could cause those things will blow up and cause the bullets to go off inside his gun. Totally destroying what little the fire may leave behind." Wag spoke loudly enough to be heard at a distance. He turned back around and faced Starsky.

Starsky looked away from Wag and watched the fire for a few moments before making eye contact with the smoke jumper. "Look, my friend here is hurt. That fire doesn't look too bad. I can see water down below, too. It'll be easier to head that way."

"You think so? Look again."

Starsky looked down the hill at the fire. A sudden gust of wind picked up some embers and flung them playfully in the air. The sparks descended in a swirling pattern. Seconds later, that same gust rolled up the hill and into the brunet. It was hot. More swirls rose as another gust hit the hill; it threw the embers up higher before allowing them to land in the brushes and trees. What had seemed like a quiet fire below them was becoming a little more worrisome.

"Starsk? What's happenin'?" Hutch tugged at his partner's sleeve to gain his attention.

"Only fires and bears run faster up hill." Wag looked the brunet hard in the eyes as he said those words. "Going down hill into that," he pointed down hill "is certain death."

Starsky stiffened at those words, a little unsure of himself. He could feel the trick coin in his pocket. A bad choice that had ended with Hutch hurt, blinded and now caught in a forest fire. A wrong decision at this point could prove fatal. Should he trust this stranger?

Hutch nudged Starsky and gave a slight nod.

Starsky nodded in agreement, if Hutch believed Wag's word, which was good enough for him. Up hill it was.

Starsky put his hand over his friend's fingers giving them a quick pat of reassurance "We're goin' up hill buddy. C'mon, I'll help ya up" he then grabbed Hutch under his good arm and pulled him to his unsteady feet. The blond wobbled a bit. Starsky kept a sharp eye out for Colby, fearing at any second the shooting would begin anew.

Hutch balanced himself using Woody and began to climb the hill.

Starsky placed himself at the blond's elbow and continually scanned the area for Colby. He never felt more vulnerable. He noticed that Wag as gone again, hidden by the thickening smoke. Another heated gust of wind hit him from behind and an ember landed on him. He brushed it off. Then another landed in the grass in front of him.

Starsky turned to look back down the hill and where before there had been openings and breaks in the fire line, there were no openings now. The flames had closed ranks and rose from mere inches in height, were now a few feet in height and growing. He swallowed dryly. Wag was right. Down hill would have been a very bad choice.

A blast of wind hit the brunet hard from behind, nearly throwing him off of his feet. Hutch slipped and went to one knee. Starsky clutched at his partner's elbow and pulled him to his feet once more. He tossed the fire a quick glance, then returned his gaze to the hill before him and started climbing. They had a long way to go.

Colby adjusted his binoculars, taking in the yellow shirt, green pants and hardhat of the new comer. He knew from the man's apparel and age that he was most likely a smoke jumper. They were used for initial attacks on relatively new, small fires that were in difficult terrain.

He had found all that information out a few years ago when the mob had had him track down a squealer that the government had relocated to the forest service for the witness protection program.

He watched the trio and checked for signs of other jumpers. He didn't see any and moved closer to the pair. The fire below them was increasing in its intensity. He would wait and see if there were more jumpers around and then decide what his next move should be.

As he watched, Starsky and Hutch began to climb in his direction. He scrambled backwards a bit. He didn't want them to see him just yet. He would have to take out the jumper first, he decided but lost sight of the man in the thickening smoke. He cursed and brought out the binoculars again, trying to locate his target.

Unbeknownst to Starsky, Hutch or Colby, far below them on the mountain were crags, spurs, gulches, gullies and a winding river. The wind was being funneled through a series of ever tightening gullies. The wind was being channeled, like water in a garden hose. Pressure was building up in the narrowing areas of the gullies, rather like a kink in the hose. The pressure build up was the venturi effect and it was taking hold of the fire and turning it into something very deadly. The trio was directly under one such gully and the wind was being pushed through it.

At last, the once little fire had what it wanted.

It had plenty of fuel.

It had plenty of heat.

And now it had wind.

The fire inhaled the breath of wind and exploded upward.

A building roar of sound and a blast of heat from behind them made the pair turn to face the source. Starsky's eyes widened at the enormous change that had taken place in the fire. What had been small and innocent looking was entirely something new and horribly dangerous.

The small pockets of fire that had been burning down the hillside were now connected and had grown to several feet in height, and were getting larger by the second.

Though they didn't know it, they were witnessing a blowup. Hutch could feel the near hurricane force wind buffeting him. The heat of the flames intensified and he felt his bare skin taking the brunt of the heat, his clothing deflected some of the radiant heat.

Flames and smoke shot high into the air. The duo didn't need to know the exact nature of the beast to know it was dangerous. Hutch didn't need his sight to feel the intensity and the waves of sound and heat that assaulted him.

They turned as one and ran.

Colby looked at the pair through his binoculars. They weren't going to make it. Flames dogged his former friends' steps; he could feel the heat from them all the way to his currant position. He put the binoculars away. He knew when it was time to cut his losses and that time was right now. How unsatisfying that the flames would likely get them. Aside from the one jumper, he hadn't seen anyone else. He shrugged to himself, most likely any other jumpers were either dead, soon would be or currently running for their lives.

He glance at the struggling detectives, those two had the damnedest luck. If they stuck together, and they always did, there might be a slim chance they could get out of this. He looked at the ridge behind him. It had possibilities. If they made it to the top, he'd be waiting for them.

The fire seemed to be toying with them. Starsky had to keep changing their course to avoid the flames.

Hutch had listened in on the conversation that Starsky had with Wag, but trusted Starsky to handle the situation. He was worried that his friend would see how sick he really was. He didn't want his partner to worry. He kept a light contact with the brunet, since he couldn't see what was happening; he could at least feel for any changes in tension in Starsky's body.

The blond was pushed and nudged in the direction of now burned-out meadow where his plane had landed, as they both had figured that there was nothing to burn there as the fire had already reduced much of the area to ashes. But heat and flames cut them off. Straight up was the only way now.

Hutch could hear Starsky's grunts of exertion; they mixed with his own. But the roar of the fire was growing and he could feel pulses of heat flashing over him. The blond sagged and stumbled to a halt. His legs and side muscles burned with pain from his forced run. He knew he couldn't go any further.

He leaned weakly against his best friend, it was time "Leave me... you can go faster by yourself" His mouth was dry and sticky with dehydration and stark fear. "I'm not gonna make it Starsk. You have to leave me."

"NO! We go together... leave no man behind, especially your friends" Starsky hollered back at him. Tension, fear and exhaustion were evident in his voice.

"STARSKY! Listen to me!" Hutch yelled out with all his might to be heard over the ever-increasing roar of sound. God help them if Starsky had another flashback now. He reached out to shake Starsky's shoulders, facing him. He wished more than ever to be able to see his best friend's eyes, desperately needing that connection one last time. "If you don't leave me now, there isn't gonna be any chance for either of us."

"You know somethin' Hutch, you're right. See ya." Starsky let go of him and backed away.

Hutch felt the blood drain from his face at those words. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. He quickly realized the truth and was about to call his partner a liar when he heard Starsky scoff.

"Oh right, like that's really gonna happen, Hutch. I got you into this mess, I'm gonna get you out" The brunet grabbed his friend's arm.

Hutch could almost see Starsky roll his eyes as he said those words, but then the sarcastic humor changed into an utter seriousness tone.

"We're partners. You're my pal Hutch; I ain't leavin' ya, not now, not ever. Enough of this soapy talk, we gotta get outta here."

Hutch tilted his head and listened. He could hear the grass rustling close to him and a little further away, he could detect the sound of tree limbs creaking and dried leaves whipping in the wind. In his minds eye, he painted a picture the grassy area stretched before him, lined by trees and bushes that had been dried by the drought conditions the area had been experiencing. A whole lot of things to burn and they were right in the middle of it. The blond swallowed dryly, he didn't have enough saliva. He had to try one more time to convince his partner to leave him.

"Starsk, I-I'm serious. You can make it... alone... now get outta here" Hutch pulled away and leaned heavily on his walking stick. "Get outta here!" He shouted.

Long seconds passed. He realized Starsky was still there.

"Go... just go" He forced himself to stand tall and faced the direction of his friend. "One of us should make it. You can do it, if you leave me behind." He then looked away and kept his head turned. He pulled in his emotions, reeling them in like a fish on a line. He kept withdrawing without moving. It was imperative if he was to convince Starsky of his point.

"I know we can make it. And we will... somehow." Starsky's tone was adamant.

Hutch dropped his head; his little guilt trip had failed, tying Starsky to him with strings of obligation. Starsky wouldn't leave him. He had failed. And his failure was going to cost them both their lives.

Starsky scanned the area, looking for some place safe to go. He then remembered the smoke jumper and whipped around looking for him. The smoke and flames were closing in on them. The man must have taken off to save himself. Starsky couldn't blame him.

Just when he was certain that Wag had deserted them, the smoke jumper was headed back to their side, running up to them out of the thick smoke.

"Here, take this!" Wag shouted over the noise as he handed a small metallic looking object to Starsky.

"What's this?" The brunet glanced worriedly at the flames below them. Primal fear gnawed at him, deep and ingrained, making him want to keep moving up and away from the fire. Now.

"It's a 'shake 'n bake'" At the detectives' uncomprehending look, Wag elaborated, "A fire shelter, it's like a tent. Two can fit in it" He quickly explained how to use it, open the package, shake it out, head uphill, feet to the fire and hang on.

Starsky looked at the small package dumbly. That little thing could keep them alive in a fire? No way. He quickly pocketed it to humor the man and pulled Hutch's arm, drawing him away from the smoke jumper and further up the hill.

"You'll never make it!" Wag shouted at them to be heard over the increasingly loud roar of the fire. He snatched Woody out of Hutch's hands.

"HEY!" Hutch made a grab for his stick, but since he couldn't see, missed.

Starsky glared at the man for a second, then determined this was no time to argue with the jumper. They had to leave now. But something made him look at Wag once more.

The smoke jumper had taken Woody and was franticly tying something to one end of it. The thing looked like a traffic flare. The man then quickly lit the object then handed it back to Starsky.

Starsky stared at the flare tied to the stick then he looked back at the man. Wag must have lost his mind. They already had more fire then they needed... and the lunatic hands him a torch. He shook his head and took a nervous step away from Wag.

"I've tied a fusee to the stick and lit it; swing it around on the grass before you! You need to light a back fire to clear a safe place to deploy the shelter." Wag stepped towards the detective.

"Do it Starsk!" the blond shouted in his friend's ear to be heard over the sound of the fire. It was nearly deafening, like several jet planes taking off at the same time. The very air vibrated with the sound.

Starsky did as directed and lit the grass before them. The wind pushed the flames away from them and up the hill. It was amazing how quickly the grass burned. Then he tossed Woody away and grabbed the fire shelter out of his pocket, shaking it out as soon as it was clear.

He gathered Hutch to him and positioned him on the ground. Just before he lay down on his friend, he remembered Wag and looked for him. The man was gone. Flames and wind roared at them and there was no more time to spare. He whispered a quick prayer for Wag and pulled the tent over the top of them, covering them both.

Chapter 18

Colby stopped his mad scramble up the hill and turned to check on the position of his former friends. In the distance, he watched as Starsky swung a torch around and lit the grass in front of him. The wind pushed the torch-lit fire rapidly up hill in his direction, the flames mesmerized him as they bloomed and danced before his eyes.

The intense heat washed over him and he shook himself out of his revere in time to see that the fire was now dangerously close to him. He blinked rapidly for a moment before he turned fled up the slope, cursing as he ran. Had Starsky seen him and deliberately lit the fire to burn him? If so, ol' curly top would pay dearly... if any of them survived the fire.

Starsky hung on to the handles of the fire shelter, praying he could keep it down on the ground. If it came unhooked from his feet, the force of the wind would force it up and off of them, exposing the duo to the radiant heat of the fire. Though they were surrounded by 'good black' and there was nothing directly around them that was left to burn, the radiant heat from the fire was still hot enough to burn their skin or even kill them. Their only hope of survival was the shelter.

There was no bottom to the shelter and the only thing holding it down was the brunet's strength. His muscles ached with the past few days of exertion, lack of food and water. The wind yanked at the edges of the tent, trying to pull it off of them. He dug his toes as deep into the dirt as he could to keep the loops from slipping off his feet and kept his fingers tight around the upper loop handles, keeping the edges of the tent flush with the ground.

Partially beneath him, he could feel Hutch's whole body begin to shake. Their heads were close together so that even over the roar of the fire, Starsky could hear his friend's increasingly frantic grunts of fear. Or maybe those grunts were his own, or even a combination of both of them. Hard won nerves kept him hanging on. Whatever hell Nam had been, it taught him that regardless of what was happening, he could hold his position if he had to. And he had to. Both of their lives depended on his strength and his will to survive.

He thought back to the war. Hutch would make him talk about it. He didn't want to, but he had told his friend that he would. He always kept his word. He would try to weasel out of it on principal, but knew he would cave if pressed. He just couldn't say 'no' to Hutch.

He felt it when the blond shifted slightly. Starsky quivered with fear. How long would he have to hold the shelter down? And, could he last that long? How long could the thin material hold up to the punishing heat?

Another shiver of fear quivered through him. The silver of the tent reflected much of the heat from the fire, but still a great deal of the radiant heat made it through the material. He now completely understood why it was called a 'shake 'n bake' -- you shook with fear while you baked inside the tent.

The heat was stifling and air was a rare commodity. Starsky was becoming light-headed from it. He pushed his face closer to the ground, knowing that that was where the oxygen would be. He grimly hung on. Hutch was depending on him.

Hutch was slowly losing his grip on his self-control. His face was pressed into the ground, until his nose was buried in the soot from the recently burned grass. The soot and ashes were still hot. Soot was sucked into his nostrils with each breath he took. He sneezed. That kicked the ashes up and he inhaled some more sooty partials. Which made him cough. This kicked up more ashes that made him sneeze again. With air a rare commodity, the sneezes and coughs reduced his ability to breathe.

Starsky's weight compressed him further, making it even more difficult to breathe.

Hutch listened to the roar of the fire outside the silver fire shelter. Only a very thin piece of material and Starsky's strength was keeping them alive. But for how long? The fierce wind yanked at the flimsy protection; there was a flash of heat as a small portion of the tent lifted before Starsky snapped it back down. It was only seconds before he registered the pain. In that brief moment, his flesh had been exposed to the heat and now he could feel the burn. Literally. The patch of skin just above his wound and just below the bandage had been burned. The pain was incredible.

The human body and mind can only take so much be for something gives. Dehydration, stress, fever from his untended wound, trapped in a fire and with oxygen in limited supply that was getting even shorter, Hutch started to shake.

Trapped

He was trapped.

Trapped

Nowhere to go.

Trapped

Burning heat.

Trapped

Certain death.

Trapped

Burn to death... Hutch was going to burn to death. He knew it. The fear of fire is one of mans most basic fears that harkens back to a time before humans harnessed fire for their own benefit. But he wasn't thinking about any of that. He was far more worried about dying, of being burned to death. Fear gripped him. The same panicky fear that makes people jump to their death rather then be burned alive.

His thoughts raced in dizzying circles. It was stifling under the thin material and the air was running out. He felt he was being squished under weight, which made fully expanding his lungs difficult. Above him, the roar of wind and fire was growing louder with each passing heartbeat.

His shakes increased as fear took a firmer hold of him. Until all he could think of was escape. Fight or flight. There wasn't anything to fight. That left one option. Just one. Flight.

Fear pushed all cognitive thoughts away. Hutch was reduced by blindness, illness and panic. He was no longer able to think clearly as he began to shove at the weight that pressed him down. He bucked and pitched; adrenalin flooded his system, giving him strength. It made him forget that his right arm hurt, it made all pain and fatigue disappear.

"Get off of me!" he pushed at the crushing weight, clawed at the ground before him and struggled to get away. Panic overrode everything else. He crawled forward and started to tug at the edge of the shelter.

"NO! Don't! Stop!" The words were shouted into his ear even as he clawed his way out from under the body that partially covered his.

Trapped. Still trapped.

Gonna burn.

Gonna die.

Hutch was beyond any other thoughts as he continued to try to move, to escape the sweltering heat and the decreasing air supply. "Let me go!"

"NO! Stay here! Don't move, please don't go" a voice begged. It sounded distant, as if it were being shouted from afar; perhaps it was just the echoes of a memory, the din of the wind and fire nearly drowning the words out.

A small part of him heard. A big part of him wanted to run... to get away from here, to get away from the fire, away from the pain, away from the fear.

Run! His body screamed at him Run now! Run or burn!

He tore at the shelter material above them, determined to escape. "Let me out! I just want out!"

"NO! No dammit! Stay under cover... don't move!"

"I'm gonna die" Hutch didn't know if he yelled them or if he just thought those words. He was alone and trapped in inky blindness, shaking with fear and fever.

"NO! You're not gonna die!... I won't let you, I won't."

Starsky's strident voice could not make a tear in the thick cocoon of panic Hutch was wrapped in. Reason had fled. In his mind, he was alone. Starsky wasn't there, no one was. He was going to burn to death. He clawed forward, clawing at the shelter.

There was a flash of pain before the fight went out of him and he slipped peacefully into the arms of unconsciousness.

When he felt Hutch stop struggling, Starsky relaxed, as much as one can relax with a fire raging all around. He had just hit Hutch, with his Beretta. He dropped the gun as he once more reached for the edge of the shelter and held it down. Thankfully the shelter had stayed down in the few seconds it had taken him to pull his gun and knock his best friend out.

Tears streamed down his dirty face. He reminded himself that he hadn't had any choice. To leave the safety of the shelter would have been fatal. He just hoped he hadn't hit Hutch too hard. "M'sorry Hutch" he whispered in to the blond's ear.

After what seemed an eternity of fighting to hold down the shelter, the noise died down and Starsky cautiously lifted one edge of the shelter and peeked out, ready to slam it back into position if needed. A hint of a cool breeze greeted him. He cautiously drew back the shelter and looked around at the moonscape that had once been a tree lined hill. There were blackened corpses of trees not too far from his position; their blackened limbs reminded him of burned and twisted human arms. He looked away from them and closed his eyes.

For just a moment, the smell of napalm seemed to hang in the air. Starsky tensed, waiting for a long moment before realizing that he was waiting for gunfire and shelling to begin. He opened his eyes, shivering at the thought and then looked down at his friend. It was Hutch at his side, not Jake. He was back in the U.S., not on some nameless mountain in Viet Nam.

I need to keep my head on straight. Starsky told himself. Hutch needed him. He looked down at his friend. The blond was laying in much the same way he had been since Starsky had knocked him out during his panic episode. Starsky reached out and gently ruffled the sooty blond hair. The fire had burned away from them. They were safe, for now.

He looked grimly at the scorched earth all around him. Small pockets of smoke rose from the burning remains of wood. The immediate area was quieter. The roar of the fire was still there, but not so close now, smoke was still billowing high in the sky. The main body of the fire still raged nearby. Starsky started to get to his feet, but his legs shook so badly from delayed reaction from their close call that he had to sit back down. Ashes billowed up in a small cloud.

Starsky then carefully turned and pulled his friend into his lap. Once he was settled, the brunet brushed the dirty blond locks off of Hutch's brow. He swallowed hard and hugged Hutch to him. All around him was devastation. His world was reduced to two colors, black and gray. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and inhaled, than slowly released his breath.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the most blue of skies above him. Heavy smoke could still be seen, quickly reminding him of the danger they were still in. They still had a long way to go before he would consider them safe. He threaded his fingers though the blond's hair, feeling for a lump or cut from when he had hit his friend. He found a small knot in the back and his fingers could feel the stickiness of drying blood.

A sound caught his attention and he looked for the source.

Paco was too tired to trot, but survival instinct kept pushing him along. His coat was matted with dried sweat and his fur had been singed in a few places. His nimble little feet kept him on the narrow rock path he was on. The burning monster was still behind him, at a distance, but still there. And closing in. On tired legs, Paco continued, unwilling to give up.

He finally made it to an area where the ground was hot beneath his hooves. The burning monster had already been here. Somehow, instinct or perhaps luck had enabled him to get to this spot, which was already burned out by the fire. He stopped and sniffed the air; his large sensitive ears tilted this way and that as he searched for something familiar. Large brown eyes did their part as well.

All around him were things he had never seen before. The trees had changed, smelled strange and were now shades of black and gray. Smoke wafted up from the debris. His heart beat hard in his chest and he stopped. A scent tickled his nose. He inhaled deeply and took in a somewhat familiar scent, humans, not the ones he knew, but they were alive and he wouldn't be alone anymore. He broke into a trot, his fatigue forgotten.

Starsky shook his head. He must have imagined the sound. He looked back down at Hutch and started to try and rouse him. There was no way he'd be able to carry the blond very far. "Hutch?" he patted his friend's face. "C'mon Hutch, wake up... just a little."

Hutch's lips were cracked and bleeding a bit. His right arm just above and below the now dirty bandage was red and blisters were forming. Geez, that was gonna hurt when Hutch awoke. Starsky wished he had some water. He licked his own dry lips at the thought.

After several minutes, the blond shifted in his lap and began to rouse. "Easy... easy" Starsky murmured as the slight movements became more agitated. "Easy... s'okay Hut--"

A solid elbow jab to his groin sent pain ricocheting though out his whole body. His breath was robbed and spots danced before his eyes. It took him several long seconds before he could hiss out his pain.

"Hey Starsk... you okay?" The blond's voice was whispery, but concern could be heard in it. His head moved in the crook of Starsky's arm and tilted towards him.

"I will be" Starsky replied through clenched teeth as he let out another hiss as yet another wave of pain washed over him, each wave was thankfully less intense then the last one.

"What happened?" Blue eyes blinked rapidly as the blond became more aware.

"We were in a fire... um, how's your arm?" Starsky waved his hand before Hutch's face, trying to determine if Hutch could see yet. He didn't want Hutch to ask him about his 'private' pain, which he felt he deserved for whacking his friend in the head in the first place.

"I know that" Came the somewhat annoyed reply "My arm? It hurts" The second-degree burn sizzled with pain. Hutch gritted his teeth, which made him very aware that his head hurt. A lot. He eased his left hand up to his head and felt a knot in the back. "How'd that happen?" he waggled his blood-tipped finger at his partner.

Starsky didn't answer, but he knew Hutch could feel the tension increase in his body. The look on the blond's face slowly changed and he seemed to shrink in on himself as he remembered his panicked episode. Starsky ruffled his friend's hair. "How do ya feel otherwise? We need to get movin'" He nudged Hutch to draw him out of himself. "C'mon."

Hutch shifted and with Starsky's help, sat up. He wobbled a bit.

Starsky held him up, letting Hutch rest against his chest as he tried to think of another way to get him off of the mountain without making him move. He looked up and let out a yelp.

"What is it?" The blond turned his head this way and that, trying to hone in on what had startled his friend.

Starsky eyeballed the gray thing. It had stopped moving towards them at his inadvertent yell. The cloud of ash the thing had raised as it moved settled as it stopped, fully revealing what it was. "It's an ass, I think."

"What?" The blond brows furrowed and formed the familiar line between them as he pondered Starsky's words.

"Donkey, burro, jackass, ass... it's one of them things." At his quieter tone, the animal approached them, taking such tentative steps that Starsky lost some of his initial fear.

A weak grin formed on Hutch's face and he stretched out his left arm and turned his hand so his palm was up "Here boy" his voice was soft.

Starsky watched as the animal's large ears waggled and twitched. "Maybe it's a girl... Here girl" the large ears dropped off to the sides as the burro slowly made it's way to them. "Oh, you're right Hutch, it's a boy."

"How do you know that?" The furrow between the blond brows reappeared.

"I'm a detective, I just know these things. Hey, I even know its name." Starsky said with pride.

"Oh? And what is it?" The blond scoffed.

"Paco"

"Paco? How'd you know that, oh great detective, or perhaps you are seer of seers?" A single blond brow rose sarcastically.

"Well, it says so right on his head collar thing" Starsky peered at the band of leather over the burro's nose were the name was stitched.

Hutch snorted, "Some great seer you are. It's called a halter, not a head collar." He changed his voice, softened it. "Here Paco, c'mere."

Paco the burro stepped up to them, dropped his head down and allowed them to pet and scratch. It seemed to sigh contentedly and its large ears flopped to the sides. Its large brown eyes went half closed, in seeming pleasure.

Starsky allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The animal was a nice distraction for Hutch. Then he remembered that even though they were rather small, burros were quite strong and could carry heavy weights. The animal was obviously someone's pet so it most likely had been ridden and so would probably carry Hutch without a fuss.

He eased away from his partner and gathered up the fire shelter and folded it. It fit into his pocket nicely. He then took off his belt and stuck it through the metal ring that was under Paco's chin. Now he had a leash to lead it with. They needed to get going.

A short time later, after much protesting from his partner, Starsky boosted Hutch onto Paco's back and they started up the hill to get to the top. Starsky figured he could get a better idea of where to go from there. He had looked around for any signs of Wag and called for him. But he hadn't found any signs and got no response to his hollers.

Too many of the burned branches looked like charred human limbs and Starsky had spent as much time as he dared looking for, but not finding Wag, or his remains. They could only hope he made it.

Despite Hutch's liveliness upon the burro's arrival, Starsky could plainly see the pain and illness that had etched it's self in his friend's face. There were blisters from the burn on his right arm. He needed to get Hutch to a hospital. He took a hold of his belt, which was now doubling as a leash, correction, according to Hutch; his belt was now a 'lead rope'.

Starsky started back up the hill with the burro and Hutch in tow. He needed to get a good look around so he could find the safest route out of the wilderness. Smoke still billowed ominously, reminding him that a large fire still burned not too far away from their current position.

Chapter 19

Taking one last look around, Starsky grabbed a hold of Paco and began to climb the slope at an angle. It was a rather steep climb after they departed the area of where the meadow had been. He gritted his teeth against the cramps in his tired legs and forced himself up the hill. It looked higher each time he saw at it.

Getting Hutch on the burro had been amusing, the blond's long legs dangled comically on either side of the little animal, with his feet coming to about a foot or so off of the ground. Looking for all the world like a too-big kid on a pony ride. Starsky ducked his head to hide his smile.

He looked back and watched as Hutch rubbed the back of his head again. Starsky dipped his head as he continued to walk up the steep incline; they were nearly to the top when he broke the silence that had been resting uneasily between them. "I didn't have a choice." His said in way of apology.

"I know; it's not your fault. I'm not blaming you. You did what you had to. I'm just sorry you had to." Hutch's words were spoken between pants of breath, even though he didn't have to walk up the slope himself, as Paco was doing all the work.

Hutch sounded exhausted. Starsky eyed his partner as he continued up hill. As exhausted as he felt, Starsky wiped his free hand down his face, then wiped his hand on his dirty pants leg. He swallowed dryly and hard. He had to hit his best friend. There hadn't been any other way. Just as there hadn't been any other way back in Vietnam, with Jake. Or had there been? A knot formed in his dry throat and lodged there, refusing to move.

Nam and Jake were old wounds that he had worked hard to forget. For a long time it seemed to work. The forgetting had gotten easier over the years. Other things kept him distracted. A new best friend, girlfriends, a career in law enforcement had all helped him forget. Until now, that is, he shook his head. He didn't want to remember.

"I'm sorry I'm weak."

Those whispered words shook Starsky out of his thoughts on the past and back into the present. He reached up and clutched his friend's left shoulder, giving him a gentle shake of reproach "What? You're not weak Hutch, ill, yes, injured, yes. But not weak, you're one of the--"

"--Strongest people I know" Colby mockingly finished for Starsky. "That's what you were going to say, right Husky? Or should I call you Starch? I guess it really doesn't matter with you two. You know, I never believed those rumors at the academy about you. Until today, that is."

Starsky whipped around towards the sound of Colby's voice, reaching for his gun holster at the same time. Colby was above them, partially hidden by a boulder. Starsky could just make out enough of the gun pointed at them to know it was Hutch's Magnum. His left hand moved slowly towards the holster under his right armpit. Icy fingers of fear trailed down his spine when he found the holster empty. He had lost his gun. The last time he had it was when he had taken it out to hit Hutch with. It was down the hill somewhere, buried in the ashes.

"Come on up the rest of the way, guys. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. The two of you, all to myself." Colby stepped out from behind the boulder and motioned with the barrel of the gun. "C'mon hurry it up."

Starsky gritted his teeth and complied. He glanced at Hutch and read the tension written in his face, before the blond quickly concealed it. He deliberately slipped and grabbed a handful of ashes to throw in Colby's face when he got the chance. It was a truly pitiful ruse, but it might work. He clenched the still-hot ashes in his fist. They were barely cool enough to hang on to and a combination of smoothness and grit.

"Drop 'em" Colby hissed.

"Drop what?" Starsky knew that his ploy would fail. He was playing for time and testing Colby's reactions.

"Don't play dumb with me Starsky. I hate it when you do that." Colby retorted scornfully.

The sound of the Magnum's hammer being cocked made Starsky drop the ashes. He held up his hands, palms up and out to show that they were empty of anything.

He topped the ridge and noticed a large rockslide on the other side. Colby must have stayed there during the raging fire. He snuck a look at his former friend as he passed the boulder Colby was behind. One side of his face was red and his hair was singed. The hand holding the Magnum was also a bright, sunburned color. So, John hadn't totally escaped the effects of the fire. He smiled grimly to himself, at least he hadn't gotten away totally uninjured. But not injured enough to incapacitate him. Damn.

"Hey Hutch, nice ass."

Starsky snapped his head about when he heard that. He saw Colby swat the burro on the butt. The poor animal grunted and scooted forward to move away from the abuse. Starsky was about to say something when Hutch spoke up.

"You keep your filthy hands off my ass, Colby." The blond ground out.

"Fine, but I bet you love Starsky's hands all over your ass, don't you?" Colby laughed.

"Shut up Colby" Starsky snarled.

Colby fired a round into the ground inches from the brunet's foot. "I have the gun; I get to tell you what to do. Not the other way around. Turn around Husky and march, that way." He pointed down into the gorge were trees stood, untouched by fire.

Starsky blinked at the trees and then looked back to the top of the ridge, trying to figure why one side was burned and the other had not. The fire had run along the top of the mountain's sharp backbone, where it stopped and followed the spine, thus sparing the eastern slope.

With little choice in the matter -- for now -- Starsky grabbed onto his belt that was attached to Paco's halter and headed over the top of the ridge. He could see that further down the slope, past the rockslide, towards the gorge where there were trees standing tall and unburned. That was where Colby wanted them to go, away from prying eyes and any helicopters or airplanes that might fly overhead.

He looked far off to his left side and could see that the fire still raged. God help them if the wind changed directions and blew back towards them. He carefully checked to see if the fire tent was still in his pocket, it was. That was something at least; they might just have a way out of this yet. After a shove in the back from Colby, and Starsky started down the slope towards the tree line far below.

Hutch was very glad that the donkey had come along. It was all he could do to stay upright on Paco. He kept a firm hold on the donkey's short bristly mane to keep from sliding off the little animal. His right arm throbbed with the burn he had gotten from the fire and the original injury from the stick. Starsky had saved his life, again. He had totally panicked back there, under the tent. He let his chin drop until it rested against his chest. His head hurt, his arm hurt, everything hurt. He just wanted to lie down and not get up for a very long time. He licked his dry lips and tasted dried blood from his cracked lips.

He tried to think of a plan. A way to escape Colby, perhaps hit him with something... but Woody had been sacrificed to burn a safe place to deploy the fire shelter. He opened his eyes and his world was still dark. He closed them again. What was the point to opening them? His head just hurt so much that he felt that his eyeballs would pop out of their sockets and fall to the ground. He found that a very small part of him self morbidly wanting Colby to just do whatever it was that he had in store for them now. Just to get it over with.

Hutch was well aware that Colby would have lost patience with him by now, if he had been forced to walk. He could save his strength a little this way, but it was still work to stay balanced on the burro. He had to remember to lean forward as they climbed the slope. His upper thigh muscles were getting a work out gripping onto Paco's sides. He knew he would never have made it up the slope on his own. He scratched the furry neck in silent thanks to the beast. Starsky would have been forced to carry or drag him up. He was dead weight. A burden to his partner; a burden that had panicked under pressure. He would never forgive himself for that.

He remembered the time in that alley when he had froze, just before Gillian had been murdered. The shooting began and he found himself unable to move, or talk, despite Starsky hollering for him... to him. Starsky could have been killed that day. All because of his newly discovered love. In that moment, in that alley, he had known he could be killed. A single bullet, a lucky shot and he would have been dead. The fear of losing what he had so recently found -- had locked his legs and frozen his heart. He could die and never really experienced love. Not the false love of Vanessa. But the warm and comforting love of Gillian...

He could have been killed again today because of him. Only this time, panic had made him believe that only if he ran, he would survive. Reason had fled and he would have fled too, if Starsky hadn't knocked him out. He would have burned to death. If he hadn't panicked, forcing Starsky to hit him, his friend might still have his gun. Shame shoved his head down and made him hunch his shoulders.

Hutch knew Starsky would be thinking of a plan right now. It would be rash. Starsky tended to get ever more reckless when options ran low. Starsky's motto should be 'when in doubt, do something' and his friend wasn't too picky about what that 'something' was. Nor would he be much of a back up for him in his current condition.

Well, he might be down by one sense, sight, but he still could hear, smell and feel. And right now, he smelled burning wood. Oh that's brilliant Hutchinson; you're in a forest fire. Keep that up and you may make detective one day he rolled his eyes, the pain of doing that nearly knocked him off the donkey. Note to self -- do not roll eyes -- I almost knocked myself off my ass with that one. I wonder how many ass jokes or puns I can get in before I die? Hutch felt a smile trying to form on his face. Hey, that's an idea; I could goad Colby with those puns until he makes a mistake, or just plain kills us.

"Hutch? How're ya doin' up there?"

Starsky's concerned voice broke into Hutch's thoughts. A hand rested on his left knee, giving it a little squeeze. Hutch forced himself to smile wider. What's a little false bravado among friends?

"Fine, never better. Great view from up here. You should try it" Hutch could feel Starsky's eyes on him and knew what he was thinking. He gave his head a little shake to let Starsky know that he still could not see. "Or better yet, you try it, Colby." He turned his head slightly in the direction of where he had last heard his former friend.

"No thanks ladies. I like being able to see. Ol' Doc Matwick sure knows his stuff. I'll have to tell him that, when I get back to civilization."

"I can make the travel arrangements" Starsky replied amiably "It'll be like old times. You in jail, us putting you there... Good times, good times."

Hutch wished he could see the look on his partner's face. He could easily picture it in his mind, a dangerous mix of humor and hostility, spoken with that Cheshire grin of his on his face.

"Perhaps you should be joining me in jail, Starsky. While digging up some information on one of my hits, I located and read your military records. I found out something very interesting."

"Yeah, and what's that?" The words were spoken with a nonchalant air. But Hutch could hear the hidden tension in Starsky's voice.

"Hutch, did you know that Starsky was investigated for the murder of one of his army buddies?" Colby's tone was light and conversational.

Hutch did not need his eyes to tell him that Colby was smiling.

"I can't believe you never told Hutch about this one Starsky. But I can tell from both of your faces that you didn't. Oh joy! Hutch, you gotta listen to this one. It seems the Viet Cong shot down Starsky's platoon. Their Hueys crashed in thick jungle. The few remaining soldiers, including your best buddy Starsky here, pulled their injured buddies out of the wreckage. They were deep in enemy territory, surrounded by VC--"

That was when Hutch heard sound he had never heard before. A sound that was a cross between a banshee shriek and what could only be soul-deep agony. Paco stopped walking and stood in place, shivering beneath him. It was several seconds before the blond realized it was Starsky making that sound. And it was a sound he never wanted to hear again. He reached out and somehow found his friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

The last thing Starsky had heard was Colby talking about Nam. For the first time, he could feel the flashback begin. He could hear the drone of helicopters, rifle shots, grenades and always, always the screams of the injured and dying underlining it all.

The real world and the one made of bad memories started to slip sideways and melt together. It was bad timing. The worst. Colby could, hell, would use it to his advantage. NO! He couldn't let that happen, not now... not NOW! His mind screamed, his throat released the sound that his brain made. The sound stopped when he felt a familiar, comforting hand on his shoulder. A gentle squeeze and reality snapped swiftly back firmly into position.

Those things that Colby had started to speak of were things he knew that he and he alone should tell Hutch had been coming out of Colby's mouth. When reality refocused its self, the startled expression on his former friend's face was the all the opening he needed. The next moment, he was lunging at Colby. The suddenness of his attack stunned the gloating Colby and he knocked the Magnum from his former friend's hand. He continued his frontal assault, grabbing John around his neck, trying to subdue him.

The only thing that Starsky now heard was white noise, a staticky hiss of an off-the-air TV station.

Colby broke his hold with a karate move; a slight turn of his body, a swift outward thrust with his forearms and Starsky's hold was broken. He went in for the attack again, but Colby sidestepped and landed a solid punch to his ribs. Air rushed out of his lungs. He lunged at Colby again and received a kick to his chest for his trouble.

But Starsky managed to grab hold of his opponent's right leg before he could pull it back. He held on and stepped back, pulling Colby with him. The hit man lunged forward, hopped up and kicked Starsky in the face with his left foot, snapping his head sharply to the right. He maintained his grip on Colby's right leg and twisted the foot hard while pulling backwards to keep the man hopping.

Embroiled in their battle, the combatants didn't feel the change in the winds direction, nor did they see the smoke thicken or smell the scent of burning wood growing heavier with each lungful.

"Starsky!"

Tunnel vision socked Starsky in; he heard nothing except the pants of breath and the 'whomp' of his fists connecting with Colby's body, or John's connecting with his. He's goin' down was Starsky's only thought. And his mind repeated it over and over, that mantra kept him battling on, even though his body wanted to quit.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could hear someone calling his name. But he continued trading blows with the man until something large and furry crossed into his vision and snapped him out of his tight world where only he and Colby existed. The creature loomed above him and he stopped fighting. His worldview changed and expanded, enlarging until he could see that the creature was a bear.

Colby took advantage of his momentary distraction and punched him, knocking him down. Starsky's butt hit the ground and he froze for a long second, his mind struggling with the sudden change in dangers.

Starsky could only stare open mouthed at the new threat as it moved closer. The bear moved in slowly, silently and stopped about twenty feet from them, directly behind Colby.

Colby smiled as he bent at the waist and placed his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. But he kept his eyes locked on the brunet sitting in the dry grass in front of him. "Ha--" He caught his breath and tried again "Had enough?"

Starsky, his eyes locked on the animal, he struggled to get the word 'bear' out. But his mouth refused to cooperate.

Question furrowed Colby's brow "What's wrong with you Husky? Huh? Cat got your tongue?"

Starsky tried again "Bear" he managed to whisper.

"Bear? What? A bear's got your tongue?" The hit man shook his head, but maintained his stare at his opponent.

"Behind you" Again the words were little more than a whisper.

Colby straightened up and laughed, "Shit Starsky, you think I'm dumb enough to fall for that old trick?"

"It's not a trick Colby; there is a bear behind you."

"Right, and the second I take my eyes off of you, you are going to throw something at me. Good God, do you have any idea how many times I've done that same thing?"

"I see it too Colby" Hutch's voice joined in.

Colby laughed louder "Oh give it a rest you two, Jesus Christ, Hutch, you're blind and now you're backing up whatever your little buddy says. Just like you two always did. My God, you must think I'm stupid."

Starsky slowly got to his feet and edged over in Hutch's direction. He kept one eye on the bear and the other on Colby. "Yes, I think you're stupid for not believing me." He had had one experience with a bear before and this bear was even bigger than that one. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry to cooperate. He finally gained Hutch's side, not sure what else he could do. He had no gun, no weapons, not even a rock to throw at the large animal that was standing so quietly behind Colby.

Colby's eyes flitted from one of the partner's to the other.

Starsky could tell what John was thinking. Was there really something behind him? Should he chance a look? What would he and Hutch try if he did look? Starsky slowly held his hands up, palms towards Colby. He then pointed behind Colby once more. "I'm not armed and we're several feet away from you... look behind you... trust me, there is a bear behind you."

Colby did trust people. He trusted them to act in their own interest.

Starsky looked past John to the large blonde bear. It was much larger then the black bear that Simon's followers had put in that cave with him. Whenever Colby moved, the bear shadowed his movements. Out of the corner of his eye, the brunet could see Colby watching him, judging whether he should take a chance and look behind him. The man came to a decision and glanced over his shoulder.

"Shit!" John slowly turned completely around to face the animal.

Starsky collected his scattered wits and then slowly grabbed the belt that was attached to Paco's halter. He needed to get his friend away from that bear. He tugged on the burro's lead. The little beast's legs were locked in fear. Starsky tugged harder on it, pulling Paco away from Colby and the bear. The animal moved reluctantly, as though it knew fast movements might draw the bear's attention to them. He needed to get Hutch out of there, now.

"Starsk?" Hutch rasped quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Is there really a bear?"

"Yeah" That answered that question. Hutch was still blind. Starsky closed his eyes for a second as his spirits fell a little. For just a few moments there, things had been looking up for Hutch to regain his sight. He ground his teeth together.

"Shit. I can smell the fire again and the wind's changed directions. It's probably just trying to get away from the fire and is confused." The blond supplied helpfully.

Starsky looked over his shoulder and watched the bear and Colby for a few seconds. "I don't think so. That bear is shadowing Colby. It seems to be stalking him... like in the movies, bears roar and snarl. But this one is quiet." He reached up with one hand and smoothed down the hairs that were rising on the back of his neck and pulled the donkey further away.

"Colby is in real trouble then." Hutch's voice was tight.

"Is there anything we can do?" Starsky was angry about what Colby done to Hutch and who knew how many others. Colby had become a hit man, but no one deserved to be killed and eaten by a bear. Not even Colby.

"Not unless you've got my Magnum or something bigger." The blond's voice was heavy with regret.

The Magnum was lost; it would take more time than Colby had to find it. "What about playing dead? Wouldn't that work?"

"That bear is in hunting mode. If Colby lies down, it'll just start eating him." Long fingers clutched the burro's mane; they whitened as his grip increased.

Starsky managed a hard swallow. "Okay... what about if I get a really big stick or a rock?"

"It'll most likely attack and kill you and then go back to Colby." The blond head shook slowly and regretfully.

Starsky's lips thinned. Then it would get Hutch. He pulled Paco a little further down the gorge. He continued to watch as Colby moved very slowly away from the bear. He edged further up hill towards were the first tendrils of fire were snaking rapidly through the undergrowth. The fire was above them on the hillside, consuming the trees like a hungry man at a banquet. He saw Colby's plan. Get close to the fire. The fire would keep the bear away.

He remembered Wag's words 'Only bears and fires run faster up hill' and moved down hill, towards some rocks at the far end of the gorge. He could feel the wind blowing past him, towards the fire. Behind him the sound of the fire began to build.

If the fire moved like it had before when it had caught them in the meadow, Colby was a dead man. Starsky yanked hard on Paco's halter and finally managed to get the little burro to break into a trot. "Hang on Hutch!" He hollered belatedly as he dragged the animal and Hutch further from Colby and his lonely dilemma, the bear or the fire...

When Starsky came to a rocky slide, he stopped and looked back. The fire looked like it was alive. The flames whipped and danced. The sound rose, escalating to a now familiar roar. A tendril of orange-yellow flame shot out like the tongue of a dragon and enveloped Colby. The man continued to take a few steps forward, then wound down like unwinding wind-up toy, to land face down in the dirt.

Starsky looked away and closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened them and watched as the bear turned and ran from the fire.

Starsky took his cue from the bear, turned and ran as well, hauling hard on the burro's lead rope. Paco lost his reluctance to move and nimbly made his way down the rocky slide, with Hutch hanging on for his life.

Colby couldn't believe it. He was going to die. It couldn't end like this. He couldn't die... not like this. They were the ones who were supposed to die. He was down to a choice, the bear or the fire. Skirting the flames, he kept his attention on the light brown bear. The same sow bear that had treed him last night. He had killed its blond cub and now it wanted to kill him. It wasn't fair.

He looked beyond the bear to his former friends. They were leaving him. Walking away from him and his dilemma. The bear or the fire... behind him, the sound of the fire escalated and the heat was intense. He looked back at the fire and saw a tongue of flame shoot towards him, he gasped, inhaling the superheated air. This caused his larynx to spasm and close, leaving no opening for air to enter or exit. The superheated air seared the tender flesh closed. It would never open again.

The flames burned him and he did his best to move away from them, he couldn't breathe, the pain was intense. Through the flames that were on him, burning him, he saw Starsky looking at him. He tried to speak, to call out, but that ability was gone and would never return.

Seconds later, death claimed him.

Chapter 20

The fire crackled and hissed as it inhaled oxygen, plant and animal life. Before, when it had run up the side of the mountain, it had needed wind to push it and give it the energy to go. Driven by the wind; it had been in the blowup stage. But now it started to create its own wind, it had just reached the crown fire stage.

Flames danced and burned through the tops of the trees. Building, ever building in size with an unquenchable hunger for all things flammable, its thirst for destruction was yet unslaked. It drew ever nearer to its full potential as a firestorm.

Hutch clung to Paco's back as Starsky led them away from the fire. Since they were headed downhill, he leaned back so he wouldn't slip off the donkey's back and onto its neck. He could hear the flames crackling and roaring behind him. A jet taking off or a three-engine freight train going by had nothing on the ever-growing sound of the fire as it rose above them. A blast of heat made him cringe. He turned his head to look at it, more out of habit then the ability to see.

Though he did think that -- once or twice in the last few hours -- things had occasionally seemed to get lighter in his dark world. He was almost sure that he could make out the shadowy form of the bear earlier. That had prompted him to say to Colby he had seen the bear too, as much as it was he backing his partner up the only way he could. Then the darkness closed in once more, leaving him uncertain it had whether it had ever happened at all.

He had been elated when Starsky had confirmed that there had actually been a bear. But he hadn't wanted to say any thing about the possible return of his sight because if it went dark and stayed that way, he would have raised his friend's hopes for no reason. No. He would hold off telling Starsky until he was sure his sight had returned for good.

Paco shifted and slipped beneath him, unprepared for the sudden move, the blond fell off the little donkey. It was a short tumble, but an extremely painful one as he landed on his much-abused arm. "Aaahh!"

"Hutch!"

Hutch felt his partner's arms come around him and gather him up, helping him into a sitting position before giving him a brief hug. Panting with pain, he clutched at his friend's shirt with his left hand. "Starsk--"

"Hutch, if you're gonna say somethin' stupid like 'leave me', don't bother."

The blond shook his head and gave the shirt another firm yank to gain his partner's attention. "Starsk--"

"No dammit! I ain't leavin' ya, so don't waste your breath" Starsky continued to tug on him, attempting to get him to his feet.

"It's not that, it's my arm!" Hutch gritted out through the pain.

"Your arm? Shit! I'm sorry!" Starsky quickly released his hold his upper right arm. The brunet's voice went apologetic for a second. "I thought that you were gonna tell me to... well, ya know, to leave ya."

Hutch flashed a lopsided grin at his friend "Let's quit wasting time and get the hell outta here, in case you've forgotten, there a fire behind us." He gripped his right arm carefully, cupping the elbow in a vain attempt to find a position that didn't hurt.

"Yeah, and I don't want it ta be us as a couple of pigs that get roasted in Mother Nature's luau... here Paco" Starsky released Hutch and once his stood on his feet, hurried off to fetch the donkey who had wandered off a little, made nervous by the shouting.

Hutch listened as Starsky brought back the burro, he stared in the direction of the sounds of approaching hooves but could not make out the animal or his friend. He heaved a sigh. No change in his eyesight. A wave of dizziness hit him and his legs nearly buckled. He managed to lock his knees to remain upright. He silently cursed his weakness. If he weren't injured and ill, they would make better time.

"Hey partner, got your ride right here... c'mon, get on."

Starsky boosted him from behind and he slung his long leg over Paco's back. Hutch's spine and the donkey's spine connected roughly, sending a shaft of pain through his back. There was no time to complain as a wave of heat hit them once more, reminding him that there was a far greater danger from the flames than a slow death by being sawed in half by a narrow donkey's spine.

They hurried away as quickly as they could down hill away from the fire. At the reminder of the fire, Hutch remembered Colby. "Starsky... what happened to Colby? Did the bear--?"

"No, the fire got 'im."

"Oh" The clipped response to his question prevented him from asking more. Death by fire... what a horrible way to go... Though, he just couldn't seem to find it in himself to be too upset by it. It still might be their fate as well as the roar of the fire behind them swelled. Another thought hit Hutch "D'you know where to go?"

"Nope."

"Then where're we goin'?"

"Downhill."

"Why?"

"To get away from the fire! Christ! Stop with the damn questions! What are you, five? Wag said that 'only bears and fire run faster uphill', so we're heading downhill. I found you near a stream... there has to be a river or something down there, somewhere. I'm all turned around... I can't tell which way that stream was and it doesn't matter if I did. The fire isn't leaving us any choice. We have to go down; it's all we can do. Unless you have any better ideas."

Hutch knew his friend wasn't really angry with him or his questions. Starsky was frustrated and worried. He could feel Starsky's eyes on him and he shook his weary head. He didn't have any better ideas.

Paco could sense the fear and confusion in the humans. It made him even more afraid. The flame monster was gaining on them and the human beside him was growing frantic. The little burro was not used to such emotions from people, normally they seemed quite calm and in control.

He sniffed the wind as it rushed past him and towards the fire. He detected a hint of water in the air, which reminded him how thirsty he had become. He had not had a drink since he had left his home. He made a decision at that moment to head for the water. Many of the forest creatures were headed that way as well. He could easily see and hear them in the woods all around them. He pulled on the lead rope that the walking human was hanging on to; attempting to go in the direction that instinct was telling him to go.

"Hey! Where d'ya think you're goin'?" The walking man tugged on the lead.

Paco just kept going towards the water and each step towards it felt more 'right' then the last. He dragged the human several steps before stopping.

"Give him his head" The ill human with the soft voice spoke to the walking human.

"What?" Starsky looked over his shoulder at Hutch.

"Give him his head." The blond repeated.

Starsky's eyebrows knitted in confusion "What d'ya mean 'give him his head'? It's still attached to his neck." He tried to pull the burro to the left.

Paco locked his knees and leaned back on belt-turned-lead rope. Clearly saying without words -- No!

Starsky was snapped forward by the little burro's sudden move. "C'mon dammit! You don't wanna burn ta death, do ya?" he threw himself backwards, digging his heels into the ground and straining on the lead, while wondering just how he had gotten himself in a tug-o-war with a donkey.

The burro suddenly dropped his hunches, nearly sitting down; the action pulled Starsky off his feet and slammed him into the donkey's chest. Starsky stood back up and gave the beast an indignant look. "Why I oughta--" he raised his hand as though to strike the stubborn creature.

The burro stood back up and flopped his ears off to the sides, clearly not feeling the least bit intimidated or threatened by the cranky human.

Starsky dropped his arm back down, put his hands on his hips and simply glared at the unimpressed animal. With his peripheral vision, he could see as Hutch adjusted his seat on the donkey, having somehow managing to stay on during the tug-o-war incident.

After he settled, Hutch spoke "Let Paco go in whatever direction he wants. Animals have good self-preservation instincts. He seems to want to go a certain direction; he won't take us into danger. He's trying, just like we are, to escape. I've heard of horses getting out of wild land fires unscathed before, even carrying their riders -- as long as the rider let the horse chose the route." The blond was showing more vigor at that moment than he had in a long while.

"Fine, you had better be right about this Hutch" Starsky left the obvious unsaid. If his friend was wrong about this, they were all goners. He released his hold on the lead and gave it to Hutch, who held it loosely in his hand. Paco trotted off down the slope with Starsky right behind him.

The fire was growing ever larger; it was a true firestorm now... flames raced from tree to tree, burning each from trunk to crown. The pre-dried wood burned like a lit box of matchsticks. Anything in its path was fodder for its mindless hunger. Its appetite knew no bounds, set free of its original need for wind to give it strength; it now created its own. The fire was a restless, mindless thing and the wind it created howled madly.

It sucked in great gulps of air as the heat of the fire generated convection, pulling in cooler air from all sides around it. It howled at its success and continued its rampage. The fire could run in any direction now, not just away from the wind, as it had before.

Air tanker water drops would have no effect on such a large blaze, as the water would evaporate long before reaching the fire. A heavy rain, prolonged rain could put it out. But it was a drought year and there was no rain predicted for days. The only thing that could stop it now was lack of fuel. But it had plenty of that in the dry, dense forest

Nothing could stop it now.

Starsky looked over his shoulder and gasped. The fire was gaining on them. He stumbled to a halt and simply stared at the flames. They were mesmerizing. They way they danced and blossomed like dangerous flowers. A spark landed on him, burning him back to reality. He turned and ran after his partner.

Their trip wasn't a straight down the mountainside. There were gullies and draws to cross, for every downhill section there seemed to be two uphill ones. Trailing behind Paco, on the uphill portions, Starsky had taken to grabbing Paco's broom tail and hanging onto it to aid his climb. If they ever got out of this mess, the valiant little donkey deserved a metal.

As they crested another rise, Starsky stumbled, fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air. His lungs strained to glean oxygen out of the smoke he inhaled; his leg muscles quivered and ached with pain. Burning embers dropped all around them, swirling in the near hurricane force wind. He lifted his head and looked out through his sweaty bangs. Paco was still moving, trotting off without him. Hutch was slumped over and looking perilously close to falling off. Not to be outdone by the burro and determined to save his friend, Starsky struggled to his feet and staggered on.

His world had long since turned in to a red haze of exhaustion. Starsky stumbled along, knowing little but the need to press on and to hold on tightly to Paco's bristly broom tail. Heavy smoke, heat and flames chased the trio, a relentless multi-headed monster in a horror show made real.

Starsky could hear nothing over the sound of the pursuing fire. The roar was constant and the air was thick with smoke and embers. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think. He forced himself to continue, Hutch needed him.

He nearly missed it; the splash of water had to be imagined, for his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth at some point in time and he was certain it would stay there permanently. Starsky barely registered the wet on his feet and legs. It wasn't until the cool mountain water touched his groin did he notice the change in his circumstances. "Damn, that's cold!" He hissed.

He blinked and became more aware of his surroundings. He was standing in a large stream nearly thirty feet across. Paco waded in chest deep, than stopped and dropped his head, his muzzle dipped low enough to touch the water's surface. His front legs were splayed and his sweat soaked sides heaved.

Starsky released the burro's tail and staggered next to the tired animal's side just in time to see Hutch slide off the opposite side and into the water. "Hutch!" He slogged to his friend's side and pulled the blond's head out of the water. Thankfully, the stream was slow and the current was barely noticeable.

He stumbled on a rock or some other item in the stream, his butt hit bottom and the water came up to his shoulders, so he stayed that way. He pulled Hutch in front of him; letting the limp, blond head, rest on his shoulder. Cool water flowed over them and Starsky indulged himself in a few handfuls of water. He'd never had water that tasted so good before.

Somewhat revived, Starsky looked about and saw a world on fire... they were trapped in Hell. Flames soared high over their head and embers rained down on them, hissing when they hit water. He could not see the sky above them; it had all turned into fire. It was an eerie mixture of yellows, oranges and reds. The noise the fire made was nearly indescribable, it was a mixture of roaring wind, snaps, crackles and pops that sounded like gunshots.

Near hurricane winds, whipped his curly locks about, drying them. A tongue of flame shot snake-like across the surface of the water, forcing Starsky to duck under the water, along with his unconscious partner, he slapped his hand over the blond's mouth and nose as he sank beneath the surface. After several seconds under water, he cautiously surfaced and lifted Hutch's head out of the water.

As he blinked the water from his eyes, something bumped into them from behind and Starsky looked about to see what it was. His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of a large light brown bear. He froze. There was nowhere to run and there was nothing he had that could fend off the animal.

It turned its massive head and looked him dead in the eye. Starsky held still, fearing that a single movement could trigger an attack. The bear held its position for several pulse pounding seconds before moving away a few feet.

After releasing the breath he didn't know he had been holding, the brunet noticed that the steam was full of different animals. He spotted coyotes, elk, deer, raccoons and rabbits among the animals that were huddled in the water around them. He realized than that a strange truce of sorts had been called, for a far more dangerous predator loomed, threatening them all.

Starsky wondered briefly if this bear was the same bear that had chased Colby and decided that it was. He thought back to when he and Hutch had first been running from Colby -- Had that been just been this morning? -- And he remembered finding the dead bear cub... was that the reason the bear had stalked John and not them? Because he had killed its cub?

Starsky was about to dunk underwater again when he noticed Paco's ears were smoking. The poor burro shuddered in pain, but did not move. So he cupped his free hand and splashed water on the burro's head and ears. He could have sworn that Paco had a look of relief and gratefulness on his long furry face.

Starsky alternated between splashing Paco and dunking his and Hutch's heads under water to keep their hair from burning. In the spare moments that he had, his eyes would again and again scan the surrounding forest stunned each time he looked, for it seemed like the whole world was an unending ablaze.

The heat was so intense, nearing or exceeding eight hundred degrees; the water began to heat up at the surface to near bathwater warmth. Occasionally, a dead animal floated by along with charred bits of wood that had fallen into the stream.

Starsky grew ever more exhausted and was running on sheer will power by the time Hutch started to rouse out of his stupor. His blond head twitched and his eyes fluttered. Starsky was relieved; he didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. The fire had finally past, for the most part. Very few trees remained. Most had been reduced to blackened trunks, which still smoldered and burned. Smoke rose from black holes snaking into the ground where tree roots had once been.

Using the last of his bit of strength, a worn out Starsky dragged his friend onto the bank of the stream and collapsed on the warm, muddy bank. Once he was sure that Hutch was safely out of the water, he gave into his fatigue and slipped into an exhausted sleep. He did not see the wild animals' slow departure into the wasteland that had once been their home, their strange truce still in effect.

Chapter 21

Hutch woke up slowly; the recent past was a blurry memory of running from the fire with Starsky. Of a bone jarring ride on a little burro named Paco. The whole thing, from the plane crash, to their desperate run from the fire felt like a dream, or rather a nightmare. He blinked his eyes, trying to wake up. It felt as if he had not slept at all. That was when he noticed he was face down in warm mud.

Where the hell am I? he thought as he carefully pushed himself onto his side, than sat up; the sudden change in position nearly toppled him again. The world spun in dizzy circles around him. He could tell that he had a fever. His right arm throbbed with pain and his head joined in, memory returned sluggishly. He had been on the donkey... now he was in the mud... How did I get here? At first his brain slowly put the pieces together, than faster and faster memories tumbled into place, like dominos cascading into one another, until the last one fell. Any thoughts about how sick he felt were ruthlessly shoved aside.

"Starsky!" Hutch hollered, or tried to, his dry tongue was thick in his mouth; the sound that issued forth was a raspy whisper. The momentary panic and concern for his partner gave him an adrenalin rush that squelched the pain. He groped around and found his partner face down in the mud beside him. "Starsk?" His sensitive fingers combed through the muddy, tangled curls, a combination of habit, comfort and searching for any possible injury that may have rendered his partner unconscious.

Hutch than placed his left hand on his friend's upper back and could feel the steady rise and fall as Starsky's lungs filled and emptied. He nodded to himself, acknowledging that what Starsky needed right now was rest. He wished he had a blanket to put over his partner. Then he remembered the fire shelter. It was better than nothing, so Hutch patted Starsky's pockets until he found it. He opened it and carefully coved his friend. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. Satisfied that he had done what he could to make Starsky comfortable, the blond gave into the urge to lie back down and soon fell asleep.

Starsky awoke to something warm and fuzzy tickling his ear. He batted at the annoyance. The warm fuzzy returned again. He weakly swatted at it and this time connected with something. There was a startled grunt. He opened his eyes and yelped at the sight of a large gray fuzzy thing with huge eyes staring at him. Something silver and light was covering him. Aliens! He gyrated wildly to get the thing off of him. He elbowed something solid and warm beside him and froze.

He held his breath and tried to calm down. He looked about and reality sank in. It wasn't an alien, the gray thing was Paco and the silver thing covering him was the fire shelter. He shook his head, he had forgotten he'd had that thing in his pocket; he could have saved himself a lot of splashing if he woulda just thrown that over the burro's and their own heads. How did it get out of his pocket?

Hutch! He glanced worriedly about and spotted a halo of blond hair on the ground next to him. Starsky sat up and rubbed his eyes, smearing mud across his face in the process. "Yuck!" He than noticed he was covered in mud and wrinkled a lip in disgust, but that wasn't going to change anything, so he returned his attention to his partner.

He leaned over to get a better look and in the dying light of the day, he could see that Hutch's eyes looked a little sunken; the cause was most likely dehydration. He brushed back the fallen, dirty bangs and could feel the heat of fever. "Awww dammit buddy..." the words were a groan of frustration. It would have been too much to hope that Hutch could have somehow miraculously healed while he was asleep.

Starsky looked down at the shelter-turned-blanket that was now bunched at his waist. "Thanks partner" He ruffled the locks again and proceeded to check Hutch over. There wasn't much he could do for the ill man. No bandages, no food. There was plenty of water though. He put the shelter over the blond, smoothed it into place around his shoulders and took stock of their surroundings.

In the twilight, there was little to see but ashes and blackened stumps, tree trunks were sticking out of the ground like a buried giant's dead fingers. Well there's a pleasant thought the brunet shivered. He forced himself to his feet, his muscles protesting every move and he looked around. He had to get Hutch out of here. As much as he hated to do it, he would have to wake his friend up and get him back on the donkey. He ran his fingers through his tangled, muddy curls. He headed back to his partner.

Paco stood over the blond like a furry guardian angel. Starsky smiled at the sight "Thanks for stickin' around little buddy. I hate to ask this of ya, but you're gonna have to help me pack him outta here... 'kay?" He reached out and scratched around the large ears and watched as the large eyes went half closed in pleasure. That's when he noticed that the tops of those ears were now curled and wrinkled from the heat of the fire. "You poor guy" he scratched the burro some more, noticing as he did so that most of the animal's coat was singed; clumps of fur were melted together from the heat of the fire. He shook his head sorrowfully. There was nothing he could do for Paco either.

Starsky knelt down and gently shook Hutch's shoulder "C'mon partner... we gotta go, c'mon, wake up..." He carefully removed and folded the silver shelter up, sticking it in his pocket again. He hoped that Wag was still alive; he wanted to return it and thank the man for the use of it. It had saved their lives.

Hutch moaned and Starsky leaned in closer and gently patted him on his cheek to encourage him. "That's it, ya big lug... rise an' shine" the blond's eyelashes fluttered open.

"S'dark" The blond lashes lowered again.

Starsky let out a slow sigh, closing his own eyes for a moment, would Hutch ever see again? He reopened his eyes and smiled "Well, it tends to get that way at night." The sun was completely gone from the sky now and a full moon was on the rise. Good, they would have some light to travel by "C'mon, no more laying down on the job." He took a firm hold of the front of Hutch's shirt and carefully pulled him into an upright position. Hutch wobbled precariously, but stayed upright.

The blond lifted his head a little and licked his cracked lips "Thirsty" he whispered.

"Right, don't go no where" Starsky went to the stream, cupped one hand and brought the water to Hutch's lips. "Here ya go" he steadied his friend with his free hand.

The blond drank greedily from the cupped hand "S'good... more?"

Starsky brought him a few more handfuls before he stopped.

"More?" A blond brow rose up hopefully.

"Sorry partner. I can't let ya have too much at once... you'll just vomit it up. You can have more in a little bit." He put his hand to Hutch's forehead. It was hot. Terrific He tugged at his damp shirt collar. His clothes and Hutch's were still damp from being in the water, but there was no help for that either. But thankfully it wasn't too cold out, but with a clear sky, that could change quickly. The list of things he couldn't do just kept growing. But there was one thing he could do, and that was to get Hutch outta here, with a little help from Paco.

It was only after he had gotten Hutch onto Paco's back did he notice just how quiet it was. After all that time of listening to the roar of the flames, wind and destruction... the quiet was eerie. He knew that the fire still burned, he could see the distant glow in the sky and the moon was nearly blood red due to the smoke in the atmosphere.

Starsky gritted his teeth against the dull ache that was his whole body and took up his position on the left side of Paco for their trek out of the devastated forest. He went to his place beside Hutch and maintained a steadying hand on his friend's leg. He would keep near the stream and prayed he would find his way back to a house or a town so he could get Hutch to a doctor.

There was just enough light from the bloody moon above and smoldering lumber to keep walking. His exhausted body complained the whole time. Starsky had taken to stopping every so often to let poor little Paco and Hutch rest. He knew he would never be able to pack Hutch out of here and back to civilization without help of the little burro.

Hutch still had a fever, but the frequent stops for rest and water helped him, and he was feeling a little better. Or it could just be that Hutch was hiding how bad he felt. It would be just like him to do so. They didn't talk much as they traveled. Both were far too tired to expend energy speaking. Starsky stayed near the stream in hopes that it would eventually lead them out of the decimated wilderness, plus all three needed the water it would provide.

Starsky kept a close eye on Hutch, stopping when he felt that the blond needed to, and right now it looked like he needed to. No words were spoken as he helped his friend off of Paco. He looked for a place to set the blond down and checked a burned stump for heat. It was cool, so he helped Hutch sit down and sat next to him. The he eased the lanky blond's upper half into his lap, while he used the stump as a backrest. It was a process they had repeated several times already that night.

Usually Hutch quickly drifted off into a fitful sleep. But this time the blond remained awake, or at least his eyes stayed open, blinking occasionally. Starsky ran his hand over the blond's head, not really thinking of anything but the need to press on and get Hutch to the help he needed.

A long fingered hand reached up and Hutch's left index finger touched his nose. Starsky broke off the soothing hair strokes and looked down at his friend. The bloody moon gave the light blue eyes a strange shine in the dark. "What is it, babe?"

"Peek-a-boo, I see you" a weak smile broke over Hutch's lips.

Starsky immediately put his hand on the blond's forehead, there was heat there, but the fever didn't seem any worse. "How're ya feelin'? Huh?" Concern colored his voice.

"I said, peek-a-boo, I see you" the smile broadened.

"Yeah, I heard you, both times... you feelin' alright?" God help them if Hutch was taking a turn for the worse. He placed his hand on the warm brow once more. Hutch had to be getting delirious, if he was talking like that. He looked down at his recumbent friend once more.

The finger touched his nose again. "Beep"

Oh God... oh my God! He is delirious! What am I gonna do? His mind raced franticly over his options... he didn't have any. What could he do if he couldn't get Hutch to ride Paco? How could he get help? Hutch had been too long without proper medical care already, could he chance leaving him and striking out on his own and hope that he could find his way out and return with help in time? Not very likely...

"Starsky, look at me" Hutch's tone turned serious.

Starsky looked.

Hutch smiled up at him "I said 'I see you'."

Starsky ran a fretful hand over the blond's hair, trying to sooth his delirious friend, as well as himself as his mind raced. "Yeah, yeah, I heard ya buddy... listen, I'm gonna get you outta here, okay? I just--"

Hutch put his finger over the babbling brunet's lips. "I can see you, dummy."

That brought him up short "What?"

"Great, I get my sight back just in time for you to go deaf. That's just perfect." The blond smirked up at him.

"Y-you mean you can see me?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You're a mess--" any other words Hutch said were drowned out by a wild whoop of joy from Starsky.

After Starsky had calmed down, Hutch had explained that his vision had slowly started to come back hours ago and he had wanted to be sure it was really returning before saying anything. His vision wasn't one hundred percent yet, everything was still quite blurry, but he held hope that it would continue to improve as time went on.

After resting a while longer, Starsky once again boosted Hutch onto Paco's back and they started off once more. They walked, or rather, Paco and Starsky walked, Hutch rode. The little group trudged along in silence for a while, when Hutch decided it was now or never, he had to find out why Starsky was having those flashbacks. He had to know.

"Remember your promise? It's time Starsk."

The brunet's dirty curls bobbed up and down. He knew exactly what Hutch was talking about. He reluctantly agreed, "Yeah... guess I should start at the very beginning."

"It's a very fine place to start." A blond eyebrow arched up wards as he sang part of the first verse of a song from 'The Sound of Music'.

"If you're gonna break out into a musical, I'm outta here" Starsky hooked a thumb over his shoulder for emphasis.

"Hey, you're the one who started it" Seeing that his partner was getting irritated, Hutch asked "Why is it you that never told me about your experiences in Nam?"

The curly head dropped "I didn't remember... I guess I didn't wanna remember. I wanted to forget... I did my damndest to forget. Then, at some point, I did... I managed to block a lot out. Until I saw you at the Academy, I had totally forgotten Jake by then, blocked him out of my memory. But when I saw you, you looked like someone I could trust..." He raised his head a little and made eye contact for just a second before he looked away again. "You looked... familiar."

"Yeah, I remember that," Hutch nodded encouragingly "the look on your face when I turned around and looked at you..."

Dark blue eyes glittered in the moonlight; the dark head bob again "Guess that's why I had to talk to you that first day at the Police Academy. For just a moment, I thought you were someone I knew, 'til ya turned around."

"Yeah"

"I realized I didn't know you, but knew that I wanted to." Starsky gave his friend a small smile.

The blond nodded and patiently waited, knowing that Starsky would continue when he was ready. They walked along for some time in complete silence.

"Jake was just an FNG when we met..." He proceeded to tell Hutch about the sniper that had been picking them off. About how Jake showed him how to track, and how he had shown Jake a thing or two about shooting.

"So, that's how you found me... by tracking me to that little cave that I was in. I know I was kinda out of it, but I know I walked in the stream to hide my tracks from Colby. How did you know which way to go?"

Starsky gave him a sheepish grin, "I guessed." Seeing the look on Hutch's face he defended himself "I had a fifty-fifty chance."

"Yeah, and I had no chance with that damn two headed trick coin of yours."

Starsky's face fell and he looked away for a long moment.

"Starsk, 'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up." Hutch reached down from Paco's back and cupped Starsky's jaw "It's okay; really... just forget I mentioned that coin... 'kay?"

"It's not okay Hutch. It's my fault... I shoulda never played that trick on ya." Dark blue eyes connected with light blue "Jake gave me that coin. He told me it was because we were two halves of the same coin..." the brunet trailed off, lost in thought.

"Starsk, you don't have to talk about it. I understand."

"No, I want to talk about it... need to... I want you to understand, plus I promised I'd tell ya."

Starsky closed his eyes and thought back to that day... Jake's last day, the day that had prompted him to block out his memories of his friend. He began "It started in the sky... we were gettin' air lifted in Huey's after our mission. We were returning to base when we came under heavy ground fire. Ya know, before that day, I kinda liked flying... it's true!" He smiled at the stunned look Hutch gave him. "Anyway, the VC started shootin' at us and we started shootin' back. Well, the door gunners did anyway, the rest of us just hung on for dear life."

Starsky kicked the ground with the toe of one boot than he continued, "We got the shit shot outta us..." He once more felt the lurching and could hear the coughing of the Huey's engine as it hit and missed its way to the ground, the pilot fighting it all the way down. He clung tightly to his seat with one hand and tightened his safety harness with his other hand. He exchanged frightened looks with Jake.

"Starsk?"

Outside, he heard a loud 'bang' and watched helplessly as the tail rotor was shot off of one of the choppers and it spun wildly out of control and slammed into the ground as if a mighty fly swatter had batted it from the sky. Plumes of flames and smoke exploded from the wreck, leaving no hope for anyone in that machine. A bullet drilled its way through the floor between his feet; a corresponding one was opened up in the ceiling above him. He and Jake exchanged frightened looks.

"Starsky?"

The brunet detective shook himself out of the memory and met his friend's eyes. "Lotta good guys died that day..." He looked away again; it was somehow easier to talk if he didn't look at Hutch. "A total of about ten of us made it out of the different wrecked choppers... some were wounded, hell, I think all of us had some injury or other. I fucked up my ankles... didn't even feel it until much later when I tried to get outta that hospital bed they put me in. My feet hit the floor and I fell flat on my face. My ankles looked like they had each swallowed a softball."

A blond eyebrow inched upwards.

"Don't give me that look, I know ankles can't really do that... but that's what it looked like. The doc said something about me landin' on 'em funny, though I really don't remember much about the crash itself. The doc told me that I would likely have trouble with them for the rest of my life, that they would be prone to injury."

Starsky sighed "Anyway, I grabbed Jake outta the wreck and those of us that could, bolted for cover, I think just about everyone was pullin' someone along with 'em. I don't how far we got from the downed choppers. Then we hid an' waited for reinforcements. The VC made repeated sweeps through the area. Jake... Jake got worse an' worse as the day went on. He got delirious... started rambling, makin' noise. I could get him to hush, at first... but he got worse. It got tougher to keep him quiet."

Starsky closed his eyes at the memory "He got to the point where I couldn't get him to keep quiet. I could feel the other guys lookin' at us, beggin' me ta keep him quiet or we might all get caught, or killed outright." He opened his eyes and turned them skyward "I didn't have a choice Hutch... the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few."

"What'd you do? You didn't--"

Starsky cut him off "I did what I had to do. I didn't set out to smother him, at least not consciously, but that's what happened. The last thing he asked me ta do was hold him... the last thing I did was k-kill him. The needs of the many..." He broke off his explanation and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I killed my best friend to save what was left of the platoon. Of the ten that hid in the jungle, only nine of us made it back alive. I killed my friend and they wanted ta give me a medal for it." He stomped off.

Hutch urged Paco over to his friend. Starsky kept moving away each time he drew near.

"Dammit Hutch! Stay away from me! Weren't ya listening? I killed the last guy dumb enough ta be my 'best' friend. It's not safe for you ta be around me." Starsky kept his back to his friend and his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"I don't believe it." Hutch's tone was soft and low.

"I don't care what you believe. It's what happened. Colby was right. I was investigated for murder, Jake's."

"I still don't believe it."

"I put my hand over his mouth! I kept it there even though he struggled. When I released him after the VC where gone, he was dead. I KILLED HIM!"

"No you didn't. I know you Stark, you didn't kill him!"

"It really is true what they say about blonds." Starsky snapped at him.

"That we have more fun?" A small grin formed on Hutch's dried and cracked lips.

"Hell no! That you're dumb! 'Dumb blonds', male, female... all of ya -- dumb!" Starsky glared over his hunched shoulders at the stubborn man on the donkey. "DUMBASS!"

Paco's long ears flopped around at the sharp words as if to deny the charge.

"Not you -- HIM!" Starsky pointed to the man on Paco's back.

Paco seemed placated and dropped his ears off to the sides, apparently no longer interested in the conversation. Or perhaps the long things were just too heavy and the little burro was too tired to care about holding them up right any longer.

Starsky looked away. Damn burro had more sense then his jackass of a partner.

Hutch stared at the hunched, tight shoulders, could feel the waves of emotional pain rolling off of him and dismounted the donkey. He held onto Paco until his legs felt like they would hold him, than unsteadily walked the short distance to Starsky's side. "You didn't kill him."

Starsky flinched when a hand landed on his tense shoulder, and stayed there, kneading the tight muscles. He pulled away from the comforting hand. He didn't deserve it. Not when he was responsible for the death of a friend.

"You didn't" The soft voice was whisper quiet.

Starsky wanted to believe him. But it was a lie. He had killed... no, had murdered Jake. Sure, to save the lives of others, but that still didn't make everything all right. He mutely shook his head, silently disagreeing with his friend.

"You didn't do it Starsk; you wanna know how I know that?"

Starsky held still, but kept his back to his friend.

"I know that because even in your darkest, most intense flashbacks, you never hurt me. I was kinda out of it for a while there, but I knew when you were with me. I trusted you then and I trust you now. I recall how I struggled, I thought Colby had me again and a hand came over my mouth and nose... I couldn't breathe, until I realized it was you and I relaxed. The second I did that... you released your hold over my mouth and nose... I'm betting that you did the same for Jake. Sure, you had to keep him quiet. But the second he quieted and relaxed, you released him, just as you released me. You. Didn't. Kill. Him."

Starsky wanted to believe him. Was Hutch just telling him what he wanted to hear? Or was he telling him the truth?

"You didn't kill him. You weren't convicted of his murder, were you?"

He shook his head; his throat was too tight to speak.

"Did they tell you what the cause of death was?"

He thought hard, dredging up long buried memories, than nodded.

"How did Jake really die?"

"They told me he bled to death. They could have been covering for me though." Starsky made a last ditch effort to hold onto what he had subconsciously believed for all these years. "They've done stuff like that before."

"I don't think so. You would never have been able to become a cop, you wouldn't have made into the Academy... a part of you knows that what I say is true. I'm betting Jake knew that you tried to save him. Now, would Jake want you to feel guilty for not being able to save him? I didn't know him, but somehow, I don't think he would Starsk."

Starsky struggled to accept what Hutch said. Could it be true? Guilt had made him believe himself responsible of his friend's murder. No, not murder... perhaps it hadn't been murder. He had done all he could to save Jake, just as he would do whatever he could to save Hutch. He still wasn't completely convinced that he hadn't at least contributed to Jake's death. But if Hutch believed that he hadn't done it... than maybe, given enough time, he could too.

He felt Hutch's hand slip off of his shoulder and down his back, realizing what was happening he whipped around and caught Hutch as he fell to the ground. The blond's skin was hot beneath his hands.

"Hutch?"

Chapter 22

Starsky whipped around and caught Hutch as he collapsed, easing him to the ground. "Easy... I got ya" He sat down hard under the drag of Hutch's weight. He didn't have much strength left either. He peered anxiously into the blond's face and brought his palm up to his friend's forehead. Hutch was hot. Hotter then he had been before.

He pulled the slightly larger man to him in a brief hug before allowing Hutch to lie back on his lap. Starsky glanced at the stream behind him and wondered about the quality of the water. They both had been taking frequent drinks from the stream throughout the night. But he could see a couple of dead deer along the bank. He might use the water for cooling Hutch down, but would it be wise to drink from it any longer? Hutch stirred in his lap, breaking his chain of thought.

"Wha... what happened?" Hutch blinked and looked about. "How'd I get down here?"

"Gravity" Starsky grinned down at him.

"Smart ass" The blond rolled his eyes woozily, then shook his head to clear it. He bit off the groan he wanted to make.

"You decided to take a little break, s'all." Starsky ruffled the fine, but dirty, blond locks and looked to the stars above for the strength he knew he would need to get them out of this mess. And he would. Somehow.

Starsky sniffed the air and made a face "You need a bath. All righty then, let's get you back on Paco and back to civilization."

Hutch looked up at him with glassy eyes, sniffed, than curled his lip "I ain't the only one needing a bath. If I go blind again, I could just follow your stench right to you."

"Ha, ha very funny" Starsky eased Hutch into a sitting position, got up and walked over to Paco and brought him over. "Climb on Blintz." He helped his friend onto the patient little donkey's back. They started off once again.

The night seemed to extend hours longer then what it should have been. Starsky staggered along side of the gallant little burro. The stops they made were more frequent and lasted longer. Hutch could no longer sit upright on Paco and Starsky slung the blond's left arm over his shoulder and helped to hold him in place on the burro's back.

At last, the sun snuck its way into the sky, slinking like a shy child into a crowed room. Starsky stopped when the burro stopped and he lifted his head to see why. Paco stood with legs trembling and Starsky acknowledged the burro's exhaustion with a tired scratch to the furry neck. He stepped back and eased Hutch off of Paco. He collapsed under his limp blond burden, and lay there for a time, simply too tired to move.

When a modicum of energy seeped slowly back into his muscles, Starsky took notice of the surface that was beneath him. It was pavement. It was a road. Hope was roused and gave him the strength to sit up and look around. A road meant people... people meant help.

He looked around at his surroundings and they were just as denuded and devastated as the mountain was. Starsky looked at the pavement, it was cracked and damaged from the heat of the fire as well. He had thought it was just the mountain that had burned, but he could see that the foothills were just as damaged. He gave a weak shiver as he realized the scope of the fire. The area was huge, hundreds, if not thousands of acres had burned. It all looked revoltingly familiar. He could almost smell the napalm in the air.

He blinked that thought away as he looked up and down the lonely, empty road, would there be anyone even coming through this area? Why should anyone come? There wasn't anything left. He did hear planes flying overhead, but they were too far off to be of any help. He could not see any homes or buildings and certainly not any vehicles. What if the road was not heavily traveled to begin with?

Starsky glanced around, looking for Paco. He spotted the little burro lying on its side in the ashes just off of the gravel along the road. He crawled over to its side and checked him over. The donkey lifted his head and slowly rolled onto his chest and lay there, blinking tiredly at him. The brunet gave the burro a smile and patted the singed, gray coat "Thought I lost ya there for just a sec there, Pac." Starsky could hardly recognize his own voice as he spoke, it sounded raspy to him.

The fire-wrinkled ears flopped once before the burro again closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Starsky made his way back to his partner's side and looked him over. The three feet distance between Paco and Hutch felt like a mile. He sighed heavily and took a good look at Hutch. The sun reveled what the night had concealed. Hutch's face was covered in soot; he looked as if he was in black face make up. The blond lashes were curled and singed from the heat of yesterday's fire, as was the blond hair. Starsky imagined his hair was probably in worse shape for he had been further out of the water then his partner and exposed for slightly longer as well.

He shook his head to clear those inane thoughts away, realizing he was a little shocky and as such, that he wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment. Starsky focused on his partner and concentrated on figuring out how bad off the blond was. He moved to place his hand on Hutch's brow and could feel the heat coming off of it before he even touched it. That's not good

Starsky then checked Hutch's right arm. It looked awful. The arm above and below the filthy bandage had swollen a great deal. The bandage would have to be loosened or it would soon be cutting off the circulation to the lower part of his arm. Along with the swelling, there were blisters above and below the bandage from when his arm had been exposed to the heat of the fire when Hutch had panicked and tried to get out from under the shelter back in the meadow. Those blisters meant he had a second-degree burn. The pain had to be substantial. Good thing you're out cold, buddy. He gently brushed his knuckles along Hutch's jaw, before returning his attention to his friend's arm.

Then there was the original injury. The wound left behind after Starsky had pulled out the stick that had been rammed clear through it. The brunet stared at the once clean cloth. It was filthy. Dried blood, pus and soot had blackened the cloth. He knew he had to loosen it, but should he remove it entirely? Or should he just leave it alone after he loosened it?

Starsky patted his pockets and looked around. He had nothing save the shirt on his back to use, and that wasn't any cleaner then the current bandage. Heat rolled off of the blond's right arm. Starsky simply stared at it for a long time. After a while, he gritted his teeth, loosened the bandage and peered beneath it at the injury. The red lines had re-appeared. Pus oozed out of the crusty entrance and exit wounds. The smell made his stomach turn slowly into a tight knot. The knot stayed there, every so often tightening a little more.

He completely removed the worthless bandage and let the wound drip. If it started to bleed, then he would rip up his shirt and use it as a bandage. But for now, the infection needed to drain. Starsky dropped the dirty rag and turned to Paco.

The little gray burro was sound asleep, his muzzle resting in the ashes. With each breath he took, ashes puffed away from his nostrils. The creature was exhausted. Starsky didn't have the heart to wake him. Paco had gotten them to a road. He couldn't ask the burro to do anything more, it might kill the brave little animal. He stroked his hand over the furry cheekbone and turned back to Hutch.

He maneuvered his companion around and managed to get Hutch to a semi conscious state, it was just enough to get him to stand -- with a lot of help from Starsky. The brunet then quickly got in front of him, putting his back to Hutch's chest. With several awkward moves, he finally managed to get his friend onto his back. Hutch went limp again, apparently completely unconscious once more. Starsky glanced at the blond head resting on his shoulder and grunted as he adjusted and re-adjusted the weight.

"You're getting' ta be a little too big for piggy back rides, buddy." There was no response -- not that he was really expecting one -- so Starsky started off down the road. He couldn't spare a look back at the donkey, but he felt the loss of the animal's presence, and not only because he could have benefited from Paco carrying Hutch. But because of what all three of them had been through together.

Starsky gritted his teeth and kept moving. Hutch needed help and he needed it now. He ignored his body's increasingly louder protests. He ignored the pain. He would get Hutch to the help he needed or he would die trying. He was so intent on achieving his goal; he failed to hear the small tic-tac of hooves on pavement behind him.

Paco had awoken to find himself alone. Completely alone. Bad things happened to those who were left behind. So he got to his tired legs, sniffed the air to find the scent of the humans so he could rejoin his new 'herd'. It didn't take him too long to catch up. Humans tended to be rather slow. He settled in behind them and followed along, contented to be with his 'herd' once more.

Starsky wearily forced one foot in front of the other. Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walkin' across the floor. Put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be walkin' out the door He grinned as the lyrics to the song from some Christmas cartoon special played in his head. He had always loved watching those specials. He never missed watching any of them, except while he was in Vietnam. He mentally shook his head. The only thing he needed to think about now was walking. Nothing else, just walking.

He began to sing the song softly, it helped keep him moving, gave him a rhythm to march to. Just like his Army boot camp days. He concentrated on keeping moving, pressing on. He could feel the soft thump on Hutch's heart against his spine. He tried not to think about the limp blond head that lulled on his shoulder, or the infection that was dripping from Hutch's arm and on to his.

Starsky kept his eyes on the road. He had already tripped on the fire-damaged pavement and had nearly taken a header a time or two. Hutch was damaged enough already. He didn't need anything else to deal with. A cool breeze wafted passed him. He paused to look around and see if he couldn't catch a glimpse of someone, for anyone driving along the road. There wasn't. He felt his legs quivering beneath him, they hurt. He hurt. His lungs burned for oxygen, his legs begged him for mercy.

He growled and forced his right leg forward. His world had gone to a narrow red haze that was starting to go gray on him; he forced his left leg to move. Black started to color the edge of the gray. He moved his right again.

Then his left.

His right.

Left

Right

"Stop"

Left

"Starsk, stop"

Right

"Please"

Left

"Please, stop"

The words were whispered so quietly that if the lips of the speaker hadn't been so close to his ear, Starsky would never have heard it. He didn't so much as stop as he simply collapsed. He hit the hard pavement and got the wind knocked out of him. It didn't take much; he didn't have much wind left to knock out.

He lay face down on the pavement, gasping for air. It smelled of hot tar and ashes. It smelled like defeat. Hutch rolled off of his back, well, more like slid sideways. After what felt like an eternity, Starsky forced himself to sit up and pulled the blond into his lap, wrapping his arms around the limp body and holding on tightly.

"Starsk,"

He leaned closer to Hutch, easing his partner's head into the crook of one arm; he looked down into the sooty face "Yeah?"

"Don't try to carry me any further... buddy. You're gonna k-kill yourself... tryin'... I... don't want... that to happen." The effort to speak took its toll on the blond.

"Hutch, I told ya before, I'm ain't gonna leave ya... so don't waste your breath askin' me to." Starsky hissed angrily.

"I'm gonna die."

"No!" Starsky cinched up his hold on his friend. "No, you're not... what kinda talk is that? Now hush... try to rest, we'll be rescued soon." A shiver slid down his spine. It meandered from his neck all the way down to the base of his spine, then it crawled slowly back up again.

This was starting to sound familiar. It was as if the two images, one from the past and one from the present were overlaying each other... a mirror image, a snapshot of a ghost from the past and a life... Hutch's life, his life, Jake's death... were growing closer and closer, like the pages in a closing book.

"Starsk?" "Slick?"

"Yeah Hutch?" "Yeah Jake?"

"I don't want to die" The blond man raised his hand. "I don't want to die" the blond boy raised his hand.

Starsky grabbed it "You're not gonna die... they'll come soon, just hang on" he urged.

"I can't... I can't Starsk... I can feel myself dying..." a tear leaked out of the corner of one light blue eye, making a track through the soot on his face. "I don't want to die, Starsk..." The blond weakly squeezed his hand. "I don't."

"I can't... I can't Slick... I can feel myself dying..." tears streamed down the pale face. "I don't want to die... I don't want to" his brown eyes connected with Starsky's through the tears, wanting some kind of assurance. "I want to see my mother... before I die"

"NO!" Starsky gritted through his clenched teeth. "NO! Not again!" It could not be happening again. Not like Jake. He couldn't live through that again. "I'm here, I'm here... I'm not goin' anywhere... and neither are you. D'you hear me? Huh? Do ya? I went through Hell -- literally -- to find you. You ain't goin' nowhere without me! Got that?"

Starsky glared into the light blue eyes of his best friend. His partner, the other side to his coin, willing him to have the strength to continue, challenging him to fight and keep on fighting. "Don't give up... don't give up on us, babe."

A weak smile quirked the corner of one side of the cracked, dry lips "S-sounds like a start of a good song. Don't g-give up on us, b-baby..." the smile faded, the light blue eyes rolled up and the lids slipped slowly down over them. The tension leaked out of his body and Hutch went completely limp.

"Hutch? Hutch!" Starsky jiggled his friend, trying to rouse him. He dropped his head down to the blond's chest. The heart was still beating and to his relief, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of Hutch's chest against his ear. He was still alive, but for how long?

Starsky eased his friend off of his lap and got his legs under himself. He tried to stand. His legs refused to obey him. He tried again. And again.

Fine. If he couldn't stand up and carry his friend, he would drag him. "I'm not giving up. Not on you, not on me... I made a promise to get you to safety, and I'm gonna keep that promise. Even if it kills me."

He gritted his teeth. If he couldn't walk, he'd crawl. He ripped part of his shirt off and tied Hutch's hands together, then looped them over his head so the bound wrists rested against the back of his neck. He had seen firefighters do this to remove victims from fires. He straddled his friend and proceeded to drag Hutch along. It was awkward, but it worked, for a time.

The sun climbed a little higher in the sky. Starsky never noticed. Nor did he notice the little gray donkey following behind him and his burden.

There comes a time when the human body reaches a point where even determination, no matter how great, will no longer suffice. Starsky's body was at that point. Stress, hunger, thirst and plain exhaustion had taken their toll. His hands were bloody and his knees were raw from the effort of dragging himself and his partner along. His arms and legs gave out and he collapsed, into a panting, sweating heap on top of Hutch.

He couldn't go on. Not one more step. He managed to unhook Hutch's arms from around his neck and took his weight off of his friend. He lay there panting, staring into the still face of his best friend. He brushed the backs of his knuckles against the blond's cheek, than moved his hand to feel for a pulse in the neck. It was there, weak... so weak, but there. He closed his eyes in relief.

When he reopened them, a gray muzzle lowered its self into his line of vision. He startled a little. It was Paco. He looked into the big brown eyes and swore that he saw sorrow in them. Starsky watched as the creature sank down to its knees than curled its hind legs under and lay down next to him, Paco closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Starsky had used everything he had and it was not enough. He barely managed to pull Hutch into his lap. He leaned back, using Paco as a backrest. Tears of frustration leaked out of the corners of his eyes and streamed down his face. He had failed. Again.

He let the tears fall. He didn't have the strength to move his hand and brush them away.

He was staring into space, not looking at anything but the heat waves rising off of the pavement. A distorted image of something moving caught his eye. It was a mirage. It had to be. The mirage drew nearer until it pulled up to them and stopped. It was a green Chevy truck. The driver exited the vehicle and walked up to them.

Starsky shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up at the person.

"Oh my!"

It was a woman's voice. "Help" His word was croaked out.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay? That's a dumb question, or course you're not okay. I mean you couldn't be okay, 'cause you're sitting in the middle of the road looking like... well, like you were in a fire. Which you were... in a fire I mean. Wow, is he dead? He looks dead. I hope he's not." She pointed at Hutch.

Starsky opened his mouth to speak.

"I just didn't expect to see anyone out here. There was a huge fire; well you were in it so you know that already. Hey! I know that burro! Paco? Is that you? Thank God you're alive! Jenel will be so happy to find out that you made it. I can't wait to tell her."

"Lady--"

"Cindy, my name is Cindy, but you can call me--"

"Cindy, please--"

"Oh right, you need to get to a hospital and here I stand jabbering on. I got some hay in the bed of the truck. I'll break a few bales and make it comfortable, I would put you in the cab, but there's not a lot of room, I don't have a club cab. I think he would be more comfortable back there, you too. Wow, you know, I bet under all that dirt and soot you're a pretty handsome guy. Him too."

"Cindy--"

"Right! We'd better get going, come on; I'll help you with him. He looks heavy. What are you waiting for? He looks pretty sick to me. It's a good thing I came through the back way. I couldn't get to the ranch through the other roads. They're all closed off the main roads to keep looters out. Not that there's much to loot. Everything burned."

Starsky's head snapped up and he looked at her.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm not a looter; I was just going to take this hay to the barn where I keep my horse, Hopeful Farms... Carol and Jenel's place. I've heard of horses finding their way back to a barn after a fire like this. I didn't want them to go hungry. That'll have to wait though. We'll get your friend taken care of first. I can come back later."

Starsky listened to the woman as she prepared the back of the truck for him and Hutch. He didn't really have a choice but to listen. She didn't give him one; she just kept up a steady stream of talk. He couldn't keep up with her. He didn't even try. She drove her truck into the ditch next to the road and backed up so that the tailgate was just a few inches from the bank and led Paco from the bank into the truck bed. The little burro lay down and started to munch on the hay.

With her help, Starsky made it to his feet and with her aid, they got Hutch into the back of the truck. Cindy chattered on as she handed him a blanket and a canteen of water. In short order, they were headed off to get Hutch to a hospital.

The woman opened up the little window that was in the back and kept talking. Starsky didn't hear her. He was too focused on making sure Hutch continued to breathe. Cindy had given him her canteen of water and he sipped it gratefully. He wet his fingers and dapped at Hutch's forehead, attempting to cool the heat he felt there. The blond was once again ensconced in his lap.

It all seemed a little unreal to him, this sudden change of circumstance. Moments ago, he was close to giving up. Giving in and letting go. Hope swelled a little. He looked at Hutch. His friend and partner. "You're gonna make it. We're gonna make it."

He dug into his pant's pocket and pulled out the two-headed coin. The cause of all this trouble. He felt a rush of anger. He drew back his arm to throw it, to rid himself of the memory of his trick. A ray of sunlight glinted off of the metal. Get rid of the coin and get rid of the memory.

Starsky swung his arm forward; at the last second he stopped and retained his hold on the coin. He had gotten rid of too many memories. But he hadn't gotten rid of them. Not really. He had buried them. Pushed them away. But they never left him. He stared at the coin. He didn't want to forget Jake again. Jake was a part of him. Just like Hutch was a part of him. And as long as he remembered, then a small part of Jake would remain alive.

He clenched his fingers tightly around the coin. He looked at his fist. "I will not forget again. I will never use that trick again. I'm gonna punch a hole in this coin and I'm gonna wear it around my neck to remind me never to forget again. I promise." He unclenched his fist and shoved the coin back into his pocket. Suddenly, it was if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a burden that he no longer carried. "You hear that Hutch? Never again."

Hutch's eyelids fluttered and his lips moved.

Starsky leaned in close "Did you say something?" He held his breath, hardly daring to hope.

"Promises, promises" It was a ragged, sarcastic whisper, but it brought a massive smile to Starsky's lips.

Fullerton Fire command post

"What d'ya mean I can't go with him?" Starsky glared at the chopper pilot.

"I'm really sorry, we just don't have room for you. You can meet us there." The pilot climbed into the chopper and soon they lifted off.

Starsky stared at the receding helicopter until he could no longer see it. He was at the Fullerton Fire command post, where Cindy had dropped he and Hutch off. He had given her a quick 'thank you' kiss, which left her blushing and speechless, a feat that he thought would be impossible. He began to wander around the building, looking for someone to give him a ride to the hospital.

As he wandered the halls, a group of weary firefighters trudged by him. They were wearing dirty, sweat and soot stained green pants and yellow shirts. Those clothes reminded him of someone... "Wag!" Starsky yelped and grabbed one of the firefighters and asked to speak to someone in charge.

He was directed to the temporary office of IC Johnston. He entered the room without knocking on the door.

The exhausted-looking man had fallen asleep leaning back in his chair. At the slam of his door, the man windmilled his arms and somehow managed not to fall out of his chair.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Johnston grumbled as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. "I told them that I wasn't to be bothered for fifteen minutes."

"Sorry, but it's important." Starsky looked at the maps spread out on the man's desk. "Name's David Starsky, I'm a detective with Bay City PD, two of your guys just airlifted my friend to the hospital. Anyway, I'm here to tell you where you need to look for one of your guys." Starsky gave the man the short version of what happened.

"You need to go up and look for him. He's out there. I hope to god he's alive. He saved me and my partner." Starsky leaned on his hands on the desk, unmindful of the pain this action brought. He had to get them out there looking for Wag.

"What did you say his name was?"

"I didn't get his last name, he just told me 'Wag'. I'm guessing it's short for Wagner or something along those lines. You need to hurry! I can show you were to start to look." Starsky scanned the maps, looking for familiar terrain.

"Wag?"

"Yes dammit! He might be injured and needing help right now."

"Did he look like this?" Johnston pointed to a black and white picture on the wall above his desk.

Starsky looked at it. "Yeah! That's the guy! You friends with him?"

"I was."

At the strained tone, Starsky turned his attention back to Johnston. The man was quite pale. "What's wrong?"

"You saw him?"

"Yes, you're wasting time. Time that man probably doesn't have. I saw him. I talked to him. He gave me this fire shelter. It saved me and my partner's life, he saved our lives by letting us use it." Starsky patted his back pockets, feeling around for the shelter. He couldn't find it. It must have fallen out of his pocket at some point. "Dammit! I musta dropped it somewhere. I'll buy him another one."

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

"Why?"

"He's dead."

"Crap! You found him then?" Starsky dropped his head in sorrow. When he lifted it, he noticed that Johnston was staring at him. "What?"

"You're sure it was this man?" Johnston pointed to the picture again.

"'Course I'm sure--"

Johnston cut him off. "Wag's been dead for five years. I was at his funeral, I was one of his pallbearers."

Starsky felt light headed and sat down in the nearest chair.

"You alright detective?" Johnston stood up, walked around the end of his desk and touched the man's shoulder. "Detective?" upon getting no response, Johnston called for assistance and had two of his people take the detective to Memorial Hospital.

After everyone had left his office, Incident Commander Craig Johnston looked at the photo of Richard 'Wag' Wagner and smiled. "You were right my friend. You told me once that the cancer might take your body, but that your spirit would live on in those mountains. Ya did good."

Chapter 23

St. Mary's Hospital, 50 miles West of Fullerton

For a time, Hutch's world was a murky place. It was either too hot or too cold. Sounds were muddled and muffled. People jabbered at him too fast and other times far too slowly. At times he could catch a few words. The word 'amputate' came up quite often, and it was usually in association with the words 'arm' and 'gangrene'.

The very familiar antiseptic smell in the air told him he was in a hospital. It was a scent he disliked for so many reasons. But the way his arm throbbed and ached, he knew this was the place he needed to be. Except that they kept bringing up those words again. Whole sentences were beyond him; occasional words filtered in like a record with the needle skipping.

"...amputate... arm... improvement?"

What about my arm? Hutch wanted to ask. It hurt, so he must still have it. Right? Right? He struggled to sit up.

"He's waking up... don't..."

He had to know. Hutch sat up, or thought he had.

"...shouldn't move... nurse... give... ccs of..."

There was a small pinch to his left arm, a rush of warmth spread from that point to his whole body and he slipped back under.

Hutch awoke sometime later and knew something; no, that some one was missing. It took his foggy brain several minutes for bits and pieces of the events of the past few days to trickle in. A simple sniff told him that his was still in a hospital.

He then recalled the moment while they were still in the devastated forest and when he opened his eyes and had, to his great relief, not seen simple darkness, but saw Starsky's sooty, exhausted face. He smiled briefly to himself at the bewildered look Starsky had on his face as Hutch played his little trick on his concerned partner.

That's when it hit him... it was Starsky that was missing! He forced himself to the surface of consciousness and tried asking for his partner. He remembered Starsky's words about getting him to safety, even if it killed him... at least he thought he remembered. Things had gotten quiet hazy and confused as his fever had risen.

So he tried asking for his friend, but when he tried to talk, the nurses tending him would pat his hand or mutter some comforting words. He occasionally thought he could hear Captain Dobey, sometimes shouting and sometimes talking soft and low, but always encouraging him.

The next time he heard his captain's voice, Hutch struggled to ask about his partner "Cap... Starsk... Where?" The effort behind those three words sent him sliding backwards into darkness.

A large, warm hand gripped his left forearm and squeezed it gently "...rest... son... sleep... need it..."

Hutch thought it was Dobey talking, he couldn't be sure; he was unable to fight to stay awake any longer, so he faded out.

When next he surfaced, Hutch tried to listen without moving, hoping that would allow him to stay conscious longer. He strained against the pain and meds, struggling to hear and make sense of what was said.

"Outlook...?"

That voice was female.

"Prognosis... grim... too risky... big decision... not... time."

That one was male. Very good detective, you can tell gender now. Are they talking about me? Or are they talking about Starsky? Hutch tried to ask but as he opened his mouth, his eyes rolled up and he lost his balance and went under, slipping below the surface of unconsciousness again.

He still did not hear Starsky. That bothered him. A lot. He was certain he had told Starsky to stop carrying him. Hutch had heard the tortured, laboring sound of his friend's breathing as Starsky struggled to keep moving.

That wasn't all, Hutch could also tell that Starsky's heartbeat was too fast; he could feel the pounding of the heart muscle clear through Starsky's body and into his own sternum... it was far too fast, beating too hard. The effort to carry him was going to kill his best friend. That brought him up short. Is that why Starsky wasn't around? Did his friend actually die trying to drag him out of the wilderness?

His mind spun with the notion. He fought for equilibrium, swimming against the combined forces of fever, increasing concern about his friend's well fair and his whereabouts. As Hutch neared consciousness, he slowly became aware of Huggy and Dobey quietly talking.

"He's dead then?" Huggy whispered.

"Yes, I just got a positive ID from the coroner. I still have to notify his family." Dobey sighed. "This is the part of my job that I hate."

"No!" Hutch forced the word out as he attempted to sit up, moving his injured arm in the process. He bit back a groan.

"Lay down son, you need to stay in bed." Dobey gently urged. "I'll handle everything."

"No! It can't be!" A firm hand pushed him back down, Hutch struggled weakly against it as his light sensitive eyes blurred with protective tears.

"Is he delirious?" Huggy's face floated into view. "Easy there Blondie, you're in a hospital."

"I... know... that." Hutch forced out the words, it cost him, spots formed in his vision. He caught Dobey's eye and held it "He's... dead?... You're sure?"

"Yes son, I'm quite sure he's dead." The big man slowly shook his head. "Rest now. Huggy, get a nurse in here."

"Sure Cap'n" Huggy's face pulled away from his line of sight.

"He's dead?" Hutch asked Dobey one more time as the black spots started to connect and fill in his vision.

Dobey's eyes were filled with concern. "Yes Hutch... he is dead."

Hutch stopped struggling with his captain and no longer tried to keep his eyes open as Dobey gripped his left hand and pushed gently on his shoulder, pushing him back into the bed. He no longer wanted to resist. Nor did he have the strength to. Pain bloomed, its wicked blossom encompassed his right arm and darkness enfolded him in its snug embrace and pulled him down.

Hutch had no idea how long it was before the black shroud was loosened a bit and he could float just under the surface of pain. He worked at hovering there; it was a precarious balancing act. Rise too high; feel pain; sink too low and he couldn't sense or hear anything.

But then he wasn't too sure why he should listen in at all. Or why he should want to, for that matter. The words he heard were not very encouraging. He no longer paid attention to who said the words, male; female it was all the same to him. He let them wash over him; the voices had a tinny sound as if he were listening to them from under water. Some times they would sink in, regardless of his wishes.

"He's not fighting anymore. I wonder why?"

"It's a shame, he was improving."

"Looks like we're going to have to amputate. Even that might not be enough if he doesn't rally soon. We may lose him yet."

Lose him? I could die? A small part of Hutch wondered why he should care at all. How could he live with the fact that Starsky had died trying to drag him out of the wilderness? And from the sound of it, he was going to lose his arm. His best friend dead AND he would be crippled. A jobless cripple, since he couldn't be a cop with one arm gone.

Out of pity, BCPD might give him a desk job. The very thought made him cringe, the knowing looks on peoples faces, the pointing fingers, the whispers. 'That's the guy... his partner dragged him out of a forest fire and died doing it. Pity. I heard they were good cops. Now look at him, a partner-less cripple.' Hutch could hear it already.

He allowed himself to slip lower. Maybe he should slip off entirely now. Just end it. What would be the point of going on without Starsky? And the only reason Starsky was dead, was because of him. What kind of friend was he, to let his best buddy kill himself by exhaustion caused by dragging his worthless carcass out of the forest fire?

He sunk lower. Something caught his attention. Voices. He could hear people talking. What did he care? He settled down a little further. But the voices kept on, buzzing in his ears like mosquitoes on a hot summer night. He wanted to tell them to shut up and leave him alone. If there was an afterlife, perhaps he could see Starsky again. He let himself slip another rung down.

The annoying buzz of voices continued. He might as well listen in. He couldn't fathom why he wanted to do that though. He felt like an eavesdropper, but couldn't make himself feel the least bit guilty about it. He listened and started to be able to make out more and more words.

"No" The word was spoken softly, but firmly.

"Quiet! He needs his rest; you shouldn't be in here." The female's voice was impossibly, a strident whisper.

"I ain't leavin'."

"You want me to call an orderly?"

A hand took his. Hutch could feel the warmth flow from that hand to his. First the palm, then his lax finger slowly warmed, one by one.

"I don't care who ya call. I ain't leavin.'"

Hutch knew that voice. The warmth spread up his left arm and across his chest.

"I'm warning you--"

"Warn away, I'm stayin'."

The warm fingers squeezed his. Hutch worked at trying to return the squeeze. He heard the sound of shoes tic-tacking rapidly across the floor; the sound receded, and then disappeared.

"I'm here Hutch, right here... c'mon back... cuz I ain't goin' nowhere, an' neither are you."

The warm feeling spread throughout his body. The warm fingers increased their grip, ever so slightly. With great effort, Hutch returned the squeeze.

"Hutch... you're back." The words were whispered and carried a note of surprise.

Hutch's eyes fluttered and opened. He focused, as best he could. Familiar dark blue eyes connected with his. "Was there ever any doubt?" He wasn't sure if he actually said the words or just thought them.

"Never"

It was a lie.

There had been considerable doubt. Starsky watched as Hutch's eyes drifted shut. Sleep this time. He was sure of it. He let out a sigh of relief. It had been a near thing. He felt his legs go wobbly and his knees refused to lock. The nurse might have a fit, but he crawled over the railing and onto the bed. Hutch needed him to be close. He needed to be close to Hutch.

He had been on another floor, recuperating from exhaustion, dehydration, and smoke inhalation. According to Dobey, he had been out for over 48 hours, after that, he had periods of waking for a few moments here and there until yesterday. Yesterday, he had been able to keep his eyes open for minutes and then hours. His body was a mass of aches, pains, bruises and scrapes, from his efforts to save Hutch.

He had asked about Hutch as soon as he was able to form the words. He had been reassured that Hutch, while in serious condition, was improving. So he had heeded the doctor's advice and kept to his bed and flirted with the nurses. Huggy and Dobey had arrived and he had enjoyed visiting with them and filling them in on what had happened before, during and after the fire.

Both Dobey and Huggy had been shocked to hear about John Colby's part in their ordeal. Using a map, Starsky gave Dobey the general location of where his body should be. Later, Colby's body had been found and identified. Dobey had gotten the news while he was visiting Hutch in his room. Hutch had taken a sudden turn for the worse and Dobey and Huggy were escorted out of the room and no more visitors were allowed, fearing they were having a negative affect on him.

It had taken Starsky a few hours, but he had been finally able to duck the nightshift nurses and get to his partner's room. He knew that there were fewer staff at night and checks were less frequent then. He had made his way here. He carefully adjusted himself in the bed and rested his head on the pillow next to Hutch's.

Starsky kept his eyes wide open. He was going to stay awake, even though exhaustion still stalked him. The nurse would be back soon. Let them try to move him.

The head nurse led the charge into the ailing detective's room, ready to do battle on behalf of her patient. Upon entering, she stopped short at the sight before her, the two orderlies accompanying her, piled into her back. They stepped back away from her, waiting for her orders.

She looked at the two sleeping men. One dark, one light. One under the covers, one on top of them. Foreheads touching, breathing in rhythm. The blond's monitors were giving soft, regular beeps. She shook her head and signaled a retreat, pausing only long enough to place a blanket over the brunet before she silently exited the room.

Bay City Memorial Hospital, 1 week later

Hutch sighed contentedly as he looked about the hospital room. He and Starsky had been transferred here three days ago. More accurately, he was transferred; Starsky came along for the ride. Hutch looked down at his right arm that was in a sling. He patted it gently with his left hand. He would be keeping his right arm. For that he was very glad. He was rather attached to it. He wiggled his right hand fingers a little, just to see them move. He hid his smile as he watched the events taking place around him. He was satisfied to watch and listen. Life was good.

Starsky paced across the Black Baron's hospital room, flipped up the lid of a pizza box and flipped it back down upon seeing it was empty.

"What time is your big news report supposed to be on again?" The Black Baron looked up from his hospital bed, momentarily taking his eyes off of his girly magazine that Starsky had brought him.

"Between 6 and 6:15 p.m." Starsky paced the room. He sat down in a chair, got right back up and paced some more.

The Baron eyes darted back to the magazine once more. He then unfolded the centerfold and gave an appreciative whistle. "Hellooo Miss Auto Club! I wouldn't mind checking under her hood."

Huggy sat on the bed next to the Baron to have a look for himself "Oooh yeah... check out her trunk, plenty-o-storage back there."

Dobey rolled his eyes and snorted "Huggy!"

Starsky zipped by the hospital bed again.

"Starsky, will you stop doin' that?" Hutch sighed as he leaned against the wall. "The news isn't gonna come on any quicker with you walkin' a hole in the floor."

"Hutch, it ain't every day that we get to be on National Television! C'mon, tell me that ya didn't tell everyone you know about this... I know you called your mom and told her about it. I bet everyone in Minnesota will be watchin' your debut... and mine. Ma's gonna have the neighbors over. Ya know; this could be the beginnin' of somethin' real big for us. Not like that time they cut ya outta that Western movie."

Hutch blushed "Shut up about that. This is different. This is the news, news that people all over the United States are going to see."

"Yeah, this time, your ma will be so proud of ya she'll be fit ta bust, not like last time." Starsky laughed.

Hutch reddened once more and turned his attention to the arguing going on behind him.

"Just because you're a married man don't mean I can't have my fun. So Cap'n, look at Miss Auto Club and tell me she ain't fine." Huggy showed the Captain the centerfold.

"Get that outta my face--" Captain Dobey batted the magazine out of his way.

"Hey! Quiet everyone, it's on! It's on!" Starsky dashed over to the TV and turned the volume up and then he bounced over to stand next to Hutch once more. He elbowed his partner and pointed at the TV "It's on!"

"I can see that, now hush."

"--This is Clive Bowman with a special report on the aftermath of the Fullerton firestorm. People in and around the town of Fullerton have been trying to put back together the pieces of their shattered lives... I am standing here at the burned out remains of Hopeful Farm, run by a widow and her young daughter."

Starsky and Hutch nudged each other and grinned just knowing what was coming next.

"Hopeful, now that is a great name for this story I'm about to tell. It's about hope. It's about perseverance. It's about survival against the odds. When I heard this story, it brought tears to my eyes. The loyalty, the bravery..." the reporter wiped his eyes. "The selflessness, the willingness to give every ounce of strength for a worthy cause... to go the extra mile to save a life. Well, when I heard this story, I just had to meet the hero himself"

Starsky grinned widely "It was nothing," he puffed out his chest, and rubbed his fingernails against he shirt, pausing to blow on them and buff them some more "Just a superhuman effort on my part, s'all."

"Shhhhh!" Dobey, Huggy and the Baron hissed at the curly haired detective.

"...And here he is, the man of the hour... or should I say burro of the hour. I would like you to meet Paco. The brave little donkey responsible to rescuing two lost Bay City detectives from the flames." A young girl led Paco over to Bowman.

"No!" Starsky gasped. "That's NOT what happened!"

"This cute little fella saved the lives of two lost police detective, Dave Starsky and Ken Hutchison and led them out of the firestorm; they were helpless with out him. They were like two lost babes in the woods... but during his daring rescue mission, this little guy's home burned down... but never fear! I am certain that when word gets out, donations will start to pour in and soon this little hero burro and his horsy friends will all have a new home."

Hutch slapped his left hand over his eyes. Twice in one lifetime he had told his mother to watch him make her proud, once in Western movie and now National Television... That's it. I can never go home again, never.

Bowman then hung a medal around the burro's neck and hugged the very proud looking Paco as he merrily flopped his fire-damaged ears around. "This little rescued BLM burro did some rescuing of his own!"

"And next up is Karl Smith with the national weather report... Karl?"

Huggy was the first to snicker, barely containing his mirth as he turned to look at Starsky "Soooo, just who was really saving who's ass out there? Hmm?"

The Baron choked on his laughter "Assss if they'd tell us the truth."

"That's not what happened!" Starsky protested. "I--"

Anything he was about to say was cut off by whoops of laughter from Dobey, Huggy and the Baron.

Dobey held his aching side with one hand and wiped tears of laughter with the other.

Huggy collapsed on the bed next to the Baron.

"If laughter is the best medicine, I'll be all healed and outta here before midnight tonight; 'cause it'll be on again at 10 tonight. We can watch it again." The Black Baron gasped out between hoots of laughter.

The duo exchanged a look of despair and groaned.

The End

Author Notes: I based the character 'Wag' on a real person who, back in August 8, 1949, led 15 smokejumpers to fight a fire in Mann Gulch in Montana. There was a blowup and supervisor Wagner Dodge tried to get the younger men to light a backfire. The young men couldn't hear him, or perhaps thought he had gone crazy. They didn't listen and ran up the side of the gulch, trying to out-run a raging fire up hill. Only 2 of the 15 young men made it to safety.

Wagner Dodge survived the fire by lying down in the bare patch that he had burned out. He did not have a fire shelter. Some people blamed the deaths of their boys on Dodge, saying that the fire he started had contributed to deaths of their sons. But there is no proof of that. Dodge had gone to each and every parent to express his sorrow. Dodge was made a pariah and died from cancer years later. I thought he deserved better. If those boys had listened, they might still be alive today. That's just my opinion though.

The BLM has a program where they round up mustangs and burros and sell them to the public (last I heard, the price was $125 per animal, this may have changed). Each animal is branded for tracking purposes. They sell the animals as opposed to killing them off when the herds get too big for the range that they occupy.

The occurrence of animals and people sheltering together in water to escape fire has happened. I read about it in survivor accounts from the Great Peshtigo Fire 1871, Wisconsin. The Peshtigo Fire started on the evening of October 8, 1871. This was at the same time as the Great Chicago Fire. Between 1,200 and 2,400 people died in the Peshtigo Fire. The death toll in Chicago was about 250. The Peshtigo fire was categorized as a firestorm.

MRE -- Meals Ready to Eat

IC (Incident Commander) -- manager of a fire, he is on-site.

Air tanker -- Large fixed-wing plane that is used to drop water or fire retardant on a fire.

Fire retardant -- A chemical compound that is used to retard burning.

Red Flag Warning -- A warning issued that weather conditions are likely to cause unpredictable/extreme fire behavior.

Blowup -- Rapid increase in a fire's intensity and rate of spread, the result of which is a violent and widespread burst of flame. All available fuel, from the ground to the treetops, ignites. The blowup lasts only seconds, the result of which can end up as a Firestorm.

Firestorm -- A fire that burns so hot that it creates its own wind. This is done by convection, which draws cooler air in, at near hurricane force.

Fusee -- A flare used to start fires. They burn at roughly 1,700 degrees F.

A Run (of fire) -- A very fast and very intense advance of fire.

Fire shelter/ fire tent ('shake 'n bake') -- An aluminum tent like shelter that is used by firefighters as a last resort.

Safety zone/ good black -- An area cleared of flammables and is used by firefighters as a barrier or escape route.

Hotshots -- Fire crews of twenty who can be bused or flown where needed to fight fires. This is usually seasonal work for those involved.

Forest Service -- Federal agency responsible for National Forests and other (mostly forested) public lands.

Bureau of Land Management (BLM) -- Federal agency responsible for low value (mostly-but not always-unforested) public lands in the West and Alaska.

Blowup -- A sudden increase in a fire's intensity and rate of spread which results in violent, widespread burst of flame. Is usually over in minutes but can last longer. This is very similar in nature to flashover in a building. Flashover happens when everything flammable in the room ignites at the same instant.

I found these Vietnamese translations on the Internet. My most humble apologies if I got the meanings wrong. No harm or insult to anyone is intended.

Luua -- fire

Ma kwai -- demon

Kon lun -- pig

Nguhi linh -- soldier

Chet -- die/dead