A gift for Dale (part two of two)
A Day to Remember part two
by Fernanda
"Hutch!" I saw him come through the swinging doors whistling a tune.
"What is it? he replied, not knowing about the kidnapping and still happy. He frowned, "Hey, mush brain, you OK? What's the matter?”
"There’s a hostage situation at the Bonaventure. Terrorists. Gotta go there," I told him bluntly.
"You kiddin'…" not sure if he was asking or just saying.
I saw the air rush out of Hutch’s body. The newborn winter’s thin air was now deadly cold and heavy, like icicles cutting our throats, stealing our breaths and tearing us apart. What would we do? Turned into knots, our hearts were beating fast, bouncing like that ping pong ball.
Hutch and I had received our orders. We would join up with this SWAT team headed by Vazquez. Then we would wait for the moment to act.
Off we went.
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The trip was made in silence. We each knew very well what the other was thinking.
When Hutch and I were one block away from Figueroa, I slowed the Torino. The SWAT unit intercepted the car and turned us towards Flower Street instead of Figueroa.
I stopped and parked. We stayed sitting inside. The two of us were looking through the windshield. Waiting for the orders to come.
Unexpectedly, I felt Hutch’s hand on my right leg. I lowered my head and I turned to him.
No words were needed.
One huge man approached the car. "I'm in charge here. I'm Lieutenant Bronson. There's been an unexpected change in the strategy."
"Where's Vazquez?" Hutch asked.
"He's in the other van," Bronson said. "All the snipers are positioned." He pointed to the buildings surrounding the Bonaventure. "We are expecting the terrorists to act very soon and the outcome is imminent."
"What about the guy who was kidnapped, the Israeli minister?" I asked, feeling very nervous about getting back into the game so soon after coming back from my prolonged absence.
"We've decided to rescue Daniel Edelstein. He is being held captive in the hotel lobby," Bronson explained. "The presumed terrorists want to negotiate the man’s life in exchange for $3,000,000 and the plans to develop a nuclear warhead. The Israeli government is refusing to accept such nonsense."
From there, everything happened quickly. A crazy whirlwind blurring reality. Insane.
A crossfire of bullets forced us out of the car. In the blink of an eye, I felt paralyzed, nestled by the side of my Torino, lying on the pavement. This was a place that I was all too familiar with. I could feel the fear coming from the other side of my car. I heard Hutch yelling desperately at me, shouting my name over and over. I could not answer, I could not react.
After a few minutes, I saw Hutch appear in front of the car, crawling, risking being shot to be with me. This time, he'd decided he couldn’t stay on the other side. So he didn’t.
"Hey buddy, don’t be afraid, stay calm. I'm here. I'll take care, nothing's gonna happen to you. Everything's gonna be OK. You gotta trust me, you hear me?"
Suddenly, it all stopped, an armed peace settled over everything.
Silence.
While I caught my breath and Hutch sighed in relief, we could see five people walking toward us through the gun smoke and dust. And Bronson, who was near them.
Four men. One woman.
Meredith?
Two men forced the other two over near where the Torino was parked. The prisoners had their arms tied behind their backs, their heads thrown back with violence. They were walking awkwardly while the other two men, from SWAT, pushed them to the transport van.
Meredith’s attitude was rather... strange. She didn’t seem to be in charge at all. She was surprised when she saw the Torino. She tried to spot us. But regardless of her best efforts, she saw neither me nor Hutch. She was forced into the van.
Bronson started to talk to them. We couldn't hear a damn thing but we knew there was something very strange going on.
Our worst fears were realized when we each suddenly felt the cold steel of a piece stuck against our heads. The sound of the triggers almost clutching… the two men, dressed up like SWAT officers were aiming at Hutch and me…
"Bronson!" the rotund one who was holding Hutch shouted. "We heard it on the radio…They're coming. Hurry up! Vazquez's unit's just one block away from here. Gotta go! Now!"
"OK! Go to your spots and shoot, don't miss," Bronson said to the other two men that were surrounding us. "And you son of a bitch, take care of 'em,” he said pointing at us. “and don't ya ever dare to shout at me again, you hear me? I'll drive this piece of shit onto the highway. Meet ya there then, everything's on schedule."
Then the other two men dressed as SWAT officers ran rapidly toward Figueroa and assaulted another SWAT van that was coming down the street.
"We’ve been ambushed!" I whispered to Hutch. "Bronson is an imposter. He’s working with the kidnappers."
"That must be Vazquez’s unit," Hutch said quickly. "Now they’re the target of the attack."
"This is all wrong!" I whispered, trying to get rid of the thug that was holding me and to go to help Vasquez’s group.
"Hey baby, what are you talkin’ about? Ain't no shitty, wimpy lamb, are you? C'mon, face the music, honey, and speak out loud!" After saying that, the nasty little guy who gripped me spat in my face.
That infuriated Hutch.
We started fighting. We kicked them off and left them panting on the ground, rapidly retrieving our guns.
Hutch pushed me into the Torino and started the engine. Obviously, he intended to go after the imposters. The van Meredith was in was pulling away from the curb, driven by Bronson and another guy I couldn't see.
Hutch radioed dispatch “This is Zebra 3, tell Dobey we’ve been ambushed. All hell is breaking loose.”
The car only rolled forward a couple of yards. The Torino collapsed onto the asphalt, the front tires destroyed by the bullets.
Hutch and I got out of the car and started running toward the Bonaventure, up Flower, to follow the van. I knew perfectly well that the effort was futile. The van was going fast, leaving me and Hutch in the dust.
From nowhere, a blue Buick appeared and cornered us against the entrance of one of the bridges near the hotel.
Two men wearing dark clothes got out of the Buick and blocked our path. One had long, shaggy, brown hair and the other had a thick mustache.
I didn’t even have time to reach for my gun. Hutch’s hand went to his holster, but one of the enemy yelled, "Keep your hands away from your pistols!" He pointed his while his partner came up to take my gun from me. Hutch snarled but the terrorist grabbed his weapon, too.
I slammed my elbow into the guy with Hutch’s gun and kicked the other one at the same time. It felt good to fight. Hutch slammed a fist into the brown haired man’s face and grabbed his Magnum out of the guy’s hand. I kicked the other guy in the hand, and he dropped his pistol.
We were even.
I slugged the one with a mustache, panting. Hutch was grappling with the brown haired man. My strength deserted me too quickly. I felt useless.
Too much for the first time, I thought.
A cold bleakness slowly took hold of me, and went down from the top of my head to my toes through my spine. My entirety an iceberg, frozen. I couldn’t move, as if moving would break me in two. Fragile.
The mustached guy beat me to the ground with a couple of well aimed kicks to my ribs.
In between all this frenetic madness, my power was leaving. I hurt all over from the blows. I felt Hutch’s stare strike me, and I saw his horror. I couldn’t afford to distract him or worry him. He was waging his own battle.
I tried to react and rise to my feet. I couldn’t. It wasn’t needed. He didn’t give me time.
Hutch had decided to rescue me. With all his might, he planted a blow in the face of the brown haired thug.
The guy dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocked out.
Hutch took his Magnum. Like a demon, he took aim at Mustache who was almost done with me.
The roar of that cannon was deafening. A cloud of smoke surrounded Hutch.
I saw him fall, struck by a bullet that had come from nowhere. His face hit the ground. Helpless. His arms spread out at both sides.
Motionless.
I screamed his name. A fist slammed into my jaw. It was the last thing I remember.
Darkness.
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I’m floating. No!
I’m rocking, back and forth, back and forth...
I relax. I enjoy the gentle rhythmic swaying of the hammock. I curl on one side. I am cold. If I go to sleep again…?
I hear distant sounds. A motor? A strong pungent smell, pervasive. Omnipresent. Oh, no! Antiseptic? Not again! Is it my imagination?
Gasoline?
Where am I? The atmosphere is heavy, there is a gentle heat, yet I feel cold. Dry. My throat feels like it has been cut, and there is a pasty metal taste in my mouth. I can hardly breathe. The air is sick, sticky. I feel heavy.
And what if I open my eyes? What if...? Where am I?
It’s dark. Someone laughs.
Stop!
Don’t move anymore. Someone talks.
"Hey, what are we supposed to do with these two? Better waste ‘em right here," a rough voice said.
"Yeah. We’ll do it right now, but what the fuck, man? I know more than one guy who’d be very interested in having them delivered on a platter," another person said.
"You kiddin’? Really? Ya know ‘em?
"Sure, I do. Those pigs are Starsky and Hutch, the dynamic duo." He laughed.
“Dynamic what? Who the hell are they, Batman and Robin…? ”
“Oh man, you gotta believe me they are really tough cops," the man said. "Though in the state they’re in right now, I guess there’s not much fun left. We won’t even have time to have fun ourselves. Fuckin’ Bronson radioed me. He’s coming."
Silence.
I heard the door open and a sharp crack of light
blinded me. The sunlight hurt my eyes. Quickly, the two men got out.
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I wanted to move, to stand up. I couldn’t. A weight stopped me. I tried to get rid of it. Something told me I should be careful. I opened my eyes. My head beating like a drum. I had a tremendous headache.
Hutch!
Hutch was lying on me, half of his body was over mine, very heavy and still. He was bleeding.
I climbed over him and put my hand on his breastbone to feel for a heartbeat. Wild, erratic, but I found it. He was alive.
Hutch groaned.
"You're all right, Hutch. Stay quiet," I said quietly into his ear. " Trust me, you big lug, everything's gonna be OK. I'm OK, you hear me? I'm OK; I'm OK, and I'll take care of you."
He opened his eyes and smiled. I felt his warm and short breath as if it was feeding me... and I became alive!
"You OK?
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine and I can deal with this. No worries."
"Starsk, what happened?"
"You've been shot. We were ambushed, remember? That Bronson is one of the kidnappers. He took Meredith, and I'm sure one of those men was Edelstein, you know the one in the suit that's being held captive? That must be the politician."
"Yeah…but, where, where are we now?"
"Well, inside the van, I guess, not so far from town. We didn’t travel that much. Listen, you stay calm, OK? I'll take care..."
"Oh, it hurts."
"Yeah, I know. Easy, easy, don't push yourself. Relax. You cold?"
I figured he would be cold, possibly go into shock.
"A little."
"OK." I took off my sweater and covered him. I checked his wound. He’d been shot in his right shoulder. He had lost a lot of blood, but luckily the weight of his own body, unwittingly draped over mine while we were unconscious, had controlled the bleeding.
Something seemed to be on our side.
I settled him on his left side to elevate the wound and prevent any more unnecessary bleeding.
We were inside the back of the alleged SWAT van, and had apparently been abandoned to die. It was essential to devise a strategy. It was best to wait for the two thugs to come for us, and I would take them by surprise. I’d been dead before...It wouldn’t be hard for me to pretend to be dead again!
Suddenly, Hutch opened his eyes again, seemed like he was listening to what I was thinking. Weakly, he raised his hand and caressed my hair. I could feel his whole body relax in my arms. He knew I was there for him. He smiled again. Somehow he was calm and at peace.
"Go get 'em, Tiger. I'll wait here," he said, and in that instant an unusual strength filled me. All my senses alert, I stared at him, reassuring him that everything would be fine.
This time he had saved me. It is my turn to do my part.
Me and thee; Partners, side by side, helping each other go on.
The door to the van opened abruptly. Thick hands grabbed me by my hair and tried to drag me out of the truck.
Bad choice to have started with me... This time the battle was entirely unequal.
From the depths of my being, I twisted, striking out with my left fist. I landed the most accurate punch I’ve ever thrown in my life. The thug stretched across the floor of the van, deadly still.
In a flash, I took the two automatic weapons from him, one from his hand, the other from the holster over his shoulder. After making sure he was alone, I lifted the unconscious man and used him as a human shield to protect me when I opened the back door of the van.
Everything looked clear, but I could hear voices.
I dropped the thug and left him lying on the dusty floor at the back of the van where he couldn’t be seen.
"Hutch, stay quiet," I whispered to my partner. "I'll scope out the scene." He nodded wearily without speaking.
I crept out of the van. Around the right side, I could see two guys talking. There was another van parked nearby. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat, obviously unaware of me or of what was happening. He was talking into a radio microphone.
I looked on the other side of the truck. No one was there. Only the two guys I had seen earlier.
Something had to be that simple!
The vans were parked on a frontal road near a major freeway, almost perpendicular to another road that was less than one hundred yards away.
Not far from LA, I assumed, although I didn’t know how long we had traveled. I looked up at the sky. From the sun’s position, it was near noon. We hadn’t traveled that far, so Hutch hadn’t bled for too long, either. We had traveled northward, that was for sure, and the big road ahead was the Golden State Highway, Interstate 5. I figured we were near Bakersfield.
I realized it was essential to make the right moves and act calmly. If I succeeded, Hutch could receive the medical care he needed. I felt relieved. If that happened, I was sure he was going to be fine.
So I made the decision. I took the offensive and ran to the right side of the van, with an automatic rifle on each arm.
One of the terrorists noticed me.
“Freeze!” I yelled.
One guy was fast; he swung around and took aim at me.
I was quicker; in the blink of an eye, I squeezed the trigger, releasing a burst. The two of them were out in seconds, cut down by automatic fire just as I had been in May, 1979.
The one who was sitting in the other truck talking to the radio didn’t even try to escape. He knew. It was no use.
He got out of the van. His arms rose to heaven.
It was Bronson.
“Your journey’s over,” I said.
Bronson didn’t try anything. He knew well any attempt would be futile.
“Who hired you?” I asked him.
He smiled. “You’ll never guess,” he said.
I handcuffed him to the bumper of the van.
"Dispatch, it’s Starsky!" I called on their radio. "Ambulance for Hutch. He's down. We need reinforcements. I think we are just off I-5, Kern County, near Bakersfield."
"Understood, Starsky. Putting you through to Dobey," she replied.
"Captain!" I said when I heard his familiar growl. "Bronson was a fake-he lured me and Hutch, as well as Vasquez's men, into an ambush."
"Yes, the FBI came on the scene and found utter chaos," Dobey said gruffly. "What happened to you?"
"Hutch was shot! He’s bleeding from a shoulder wound. I got the guns from one of the terrorists and shot two men. Another one's unconscious, and Bronson's secure."
"Word is that this Bronson is a mercenary hired by a big fish called Hassan Ben Susan who was in a Federal prison back east and presumed to be responsible for attacking United States and Israel Interests abroad," Dobey said. "FBI says he's the local connection between the man and the Al-Jihad group, radicals who have a vested interest in developing a nuclear weapons program. One of the men busted at the crime scene broke down, and started talkin'. Ya know the FBI knows pretty well how to persuade their prisoners and make others believe. They're the best, especially in front of the media."
I laughed to myself. The whole operation was almost entirely dismantled by the two of us, but somehow some things never change… "I will get there as soon as possible, but it sounds like you're about two hours out from Bay City."
"I need to get Hutch to the hospital, Cap'n."
"Yeah I know; ambulance is on its way. You take care, son," Dobey said.
I checked to make sure Hutch was still among the living and helped him to sit up. He was pale and sweating, but managed a weak, "Did ya get 'em?"
I circled the other van parked near the one we'd been held in. I could hear thumps coming from the inside. "Come out with your hands up!" I yelled. "I am armed!" Nothing happened, so I opened the back door.
Meredith and the two men Hutch and I had seen being dragged away at the beginning of this whole mess. All were tied up and gagged. I ungagged them, asked them their names, one the Israeli Minister, Edelstein, the other one a scientist called Joe Guzman.
I was in charge. Totally. Completely. It felt so good!
"How are you doing, Meredith?" I asked happily, taking off her gag.
"Better, now that you're here," she laughed, wincing when I used my pocket knife to cut the ropes around her wrists. "Where's Hutch? I saw your car when we were grabbed!"
I untied Edelstein and Guzman. "Hutch was shot. You three stay here. Have to wait for the back-up and the ambulances. I feel a little dizzy, too."
"You OK?" asked Meredith, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Guess I need some rest, right now. That’s all."
"Oh, Schweetheart, Bakersfield is only 15 miles north. The hospital is waiting for us," Meredith said, imitating me.
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Hutch and I spent the holiday at the hospital because he wasn’t going to be released until the 27th. My head injury only bought me an overnight stay for observation, but Hutch had surgery on his shoulder and had to have IV antibiotics.
I brought a Christmas tree into his room and decorated it with ornaments and lights, all topped with a beautiful star. Through the window, we could see houses in the neighborhood decorated with colored lights and tinsel.
On Christmas Eve, I hung the stockings on Hutch's hospital bed.
"Merry Christmas, Hutch." I said. "We made it through!"
"Merry Christmas, Starsk," he said with a huge grin.
"Hey, listen!" Outside the room, the nurses were singing Christmas carols. I had brought cookies. I ate all the Santa cookies, but saved some stars for Hutch for later, because his stomach was sensitive, due to painkillers.
I proposed a toast, for the two of us. I will never forget that day-my first day back on the force. The memory will remain in me beyond my death.
That day, our bond tightened up even more, if it was possible. We were at ease and safe back home.
Hutch saved me in all the ways possible. And I saved him, too.
We were even.
Fin
by Fernanda
"Hutch!" I saw him come through the swinging doors whistling a tune.
"What is it? he replied, not knowing about the kidnapping and still happy. He frowned, "Hey, mush brain, you OK? What's the matter?”
"There’s a hostage situation at the Bonaventure. Terrorists. Gotta go there," I told him bluntly.
"You kiddin'…" not sure if he was asking or just saying.
I saw the air rush out of Hutch’s body. The newborn winter’s thin air was now deadly cold and heavy, like icicles cutting our throats, stealing our breaths and tearing us apart. What would we do? Turned into knots, our hearts were beating fast, bouncing like that ping pong ball.
Hutch and I had received our orders. We would join up with this SWAT team headed by Vazquez. Then we would wait for the moment to act.
Off we went.
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The trip was made in silence. We each knew very well what the other was thinking.
When Hutch and I were one block away from Figueroa, I slowed the Torino. The SWAT unit intercepted the car and turned us towards Flower Street instead of Figueroa.
I stopped and parked. We stayed sitting inside. The two of us were looking through the windshield. Waiting for the orders to come.
Unexpectedly, I felt Hutch’s hand on my right leg. I lowered my head and I turned to him.
No words were needed.
One huge man approached the car. "I'm in charge here. I'm Lieutenant Bronson. There's been an unexpected change in the strategy."
"Where's Vazquez?" Hutch asked.
"He's in the other van," Bronson said. "All the snipers are positioned." He pointed to the buildings surrounding the Bonaventure. "We are expecting the terrorists to act very soon and the outcome is imminent."
"What about the guy who was kidnapped, the Israeli minister?" I asked, feeling very nervous about getting back into the game so soon after coming back from my prolonged absence.
"We've decided to rescue Daniel Edelstein. He is being held captive in the hotel lobby," Bronson explained. "The presumed terrorists want to negotiate the man’s life in exchange for $3,000,000 and the plans to develop a nuclear warhead. The Israeli government is refusing to accept such nonsense."
From there, everything happened quickly. A crazy whirlwind blurring reality. Insane.
A crossfire of bullets forced us out of the car. In the blink of an eye, I felt paralyzed, nestled by the side of my Torino, lying on the pavement. This was a place that I was all too familiar with. I could feel the fear coming from the other side of my car. I heard Hutch yelling desperately at me, shouting my name over and over. I could not answer, I could not react.
After a few minutes, I saw Hutch appear in front of the car, crawling, risking being shot to be with me. This time, he'd decided he couldn’t stay on the other side. So he didn’t.
"Hey buddy, don’t be afraid, stay calm. I'm here. I'll take care, nothing's gonna happen to you. Everything's gonna be OK. You gotta trust me, you hear me?"
Suddenly, it all stopped, an armed peace settled over everything.
Silence.
While I caught my breath and Hutch sighed in relief, we could see five people walking toward us through the gun smoke and dust. And Bronson, who was near them.
Four men. One woman.
Meredith?
Two men forced the other two over near where the Torino was parked. The prisoners had their arms tied behind their backs, their heads thrown back with violence. They were walking awkwardly while the other two men, from SWAT, pushed them to the transport van.
Meredith’s attitude was rather... strange. She didn’t seem to be in charge at all. She was surprised when she saw the Torino. She tried to spot us. But regardless of her best efforts, she saw neither me nor Hutch. She was forced into the van.
Bronson started to talk to them. We couldn't hear a damn thing but we knew there was something very strange going on.
Our worst fears were realized when we each suddenly felt the cold steel of a piece stuck against our heads. The sound of the triggers almost clutching… the two men, dressed up like SWAT officers were aiming at Hutch and me…
"Bronson!" the rotund one who was holding Hutch shouted. "We heard it on the radio…They're coming. Hurry up! Vazquez's unit's just one block away from here. Gotta go! Now!"
"OK! Go to your spots and shoot, don't miss," Bronson said to the other two men that were surrounding us. "And you son of a bitch, take care of 'em,” he said pointing at us. “and don't ya ever dare to shout at me again, you hear me? I'll drive this piece of shit onto the highway. Meet ya there then, everything's on schedule."
Then the other two men dressed as SWAT officers ran rapidly toward Figueroa and assaulted another SWAT van that was coming down the street.
"We’ve been ambushed!" I whispered to Hutch. "Bronson is an imposter. He’s working with the kidnappers."
"That must be Vazquez’s unit," Hutch said quickly. "Now they’re the target of the attack."
"This is all wrong!" I whispered, trying to get rid of the thug that was holding me and to go to help Vasquez’s group.
"Hey baby, what are you talkin’ about? Ain't no shitty, wimpy lamb, are you? C'mon, face the music, honey, and speak out loud!" After saying that, the nasty little guy who gripped me spat in my face.
That infuriated Hutch.
We started fighting. We kicked them off and left them panting on the ground, rapidly retrieving our guns.
Hutch pushed me into the Torino and started the engine. Obviously, he intended to go after the imposters. The van Meredith was in was pulling away from the curb, driven by Bronson and another guy I couldn't see.
Hutch radioed dispatch “This is Zebra 3, tell Dobey we’ve been ambushed. All hell is breaking loose.”
The car only rolled forward a couple of yards. The Torino collapsed onto the asphalt, the front tires destroyed by the bullets.
Hutch and I got out of the car and started running toward the Bonaventure, up Flower, to follow the van. I knew perfectly well that the effort was futile. The van was going fast, leaving me and Hutch in the dust.
From nowhere, a blue Buick appeared and cornered us against the entrance of one of the bridges near the hotel.
Two men wearing dark clothes got out of the Buick and blocked our path. One had long, shaggy, brown hair and the other had a thick mustache.
I didn’t even have time to reach for my gun. Hutch’s hand went to his holster, but one of the enemy yelled, "Keep your hands away from your pistols!" He pointed his while his partner came up to take my gun from me. Hutch snarled but the terrorist grabbed his weapon, too.
I slammed my elbow into the guy with Hutch’s gun and kicked the other one at the same time. It felt good to fight. Hutch slammed a fist into the brown haired man’s face and grabbed his Magnum out of the guy’s hand. I kicked the other guy in the hand, and he dropped his pistol.
We were even.
I slugged the one with a mustache, panting. Hutch was grappling with the brown haired man. My strength deserted me too quickly. I felt useless.
Too much for the first time, I thought.
A cold bleakness slowly took hold of me, and went down from the top of my head to my toes through my spine. My entirety an iceberg, frozen. I couldn’t move, as if moving would break me in two. Fragile.
The mustached guy beat me to the ground with a couple of well aimed kicks to my ribs.
In between all this frenetic madness, my power was leaving. I hurt all over from the blows. I felt Hutch’s stare strike me, and I saw his horror. I couldn’t afford to distract him or worry him. He was waging his own battle.
I tried to react and rise to my feet. I couldn’t. It wasn’t needed. He didn’t give me time.
Hutch had decided to rescue me. With all his might, he planted a blow in the face of the brown haired thug.
The guy dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocked out.
Hutch took his Magnum. Like a demon, he took aim at Mustache who was almost done with me.
The roar of that cannon was deafening. A cloud of smoke surrounded Hutch.
I saw him fall, struck by a bullet that had come from nowhere. His face hit the ground. Helpless. His arms spread out at both sides.
Motionless.
I screamed his name. A fist slammed into my jaw. It was the last thing I remember.
Darkness.
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I’m floating. No!
I’m rocking, back and forth, back and forth...
I relax. I enjoy the gentle rhythmic swaying of the hammock. I curl on one side. I am cold. If I go to sleep again…?
I hear distant sounds. A motor? A strong pungent smell, pervasive. Omnipresent. Oh, no! Antiseptic? Not again! Is it my imagination?
Gasoline?
Where am I? The atmosphere is heavy, there is a gentle heat, yet I feel cold. Dry. My throat feels like it has been cut, and there is a pasty metal taste in my mouth. I can hardly breathe. The air is sick, sticky. I feel heavy.
And what if I open my eyes? What if...? Where am I?
It’s dark. Someone laughs.
Stop!
Don’t move anymore. Someone talks.
"Hey, what are we supposed to do with these two? Better waste ‘em right here," a rough voice said.
"Yeah. We’ll do it right now, but what the fuck, man? I know more than one guy who’d be very interested in having them delivered on a platter," another person said.
"You kiddin’? Really? Ya know ‘em?
"Sure, I do. Those pigs are Starsky and Hutch, the dynamic duo." He laughed.
“Dynamic what? Who the hell are they, Batman and Robin…? ”
“Oh man, you gotta believe me they are really tough cops," the man said. "Though in the state they’re in right now, I guess there’s not much fun left. We won’t even have time to have fun ourselves. Fuckin’ Bronson radioed me. He’s coming."
Silence.
I heard the door open and a sharp crack of light
blinded me. The sunlight hurt my eyes. Quickly, the two men got out.
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I wanted to move, to stand up. I couldn’t. A weight stopped me. I tried to get rid of it. Something told me I should be careful. I opened my eyes. My head beating like a drum. I had a tremendous headache.
Hutch!
Hutch was lying on me, half of his body was over mine, very heavy and still. He was bleeding.
I climbed over him and put my hand on his breastbone to feel for a heartbeat. Wild, erratic, but I found it. He was alive.
Hutch groaned.
"You're all right, Hutch. Stay quiet," I said quietly into his ear. " Trust me, you big lug, everything's gonna be OK. I'm OK, you hear me? I'm OK; I'm OK, and I'll take care of you."
He opened his eyes and smiled. I felt his warm and short breath as if it was feeding me... and I became alive!
"You OK?
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine and I can deal with this. No worries."
"Starsk, what happened?"
"You've been shot. We were ambushed, remember? That Bronson is one of the kidnappers. He took Meredith, and I'm sure one of those men was Edelstein, you know the one in the suit that's being held captive? That must be the politician."
"Yeah…but, where, where are we now?"
"Well, inside the van, I guess, not so far from town. We didn’t travel that much. Listen, you stay calm, OK? I'll take care..."
"Oh, it hurts."
"Yeah, I know. Easy, easy, don't push yourself. Relax. You cold?"
I figured he would be cold, possibly go into shock.
"A little."
"OK." I took off my sweater and covered him. I checked his wound. He’d been shot in his right shoulder. He had lost a lot of blood, but luckily the weight of his own body, unwittingly draped over mine while we were unconscious, had controlled the bleeding.
Something seemed to be on our side.
I settled him on his left side to elevate the wound and prevent any more unnecessary bleeding.
We were inside the back of the alleged SWAT van, and had apparently been abandoned to die. It was essential to devise a strategy. It was best to wait for the two thugs to come for us, and I would take them by surprise. I’d been dead before...It wouldn’t be hard for me to pretend to be dead again!
Suddenly, Hutch opened his eyes again, seemed like he was listening to what I was thinking. Weakly, he raised his hand and caressed my hair. I could feel his whole body relax in my arms. He knew I was there for him. He smiled again. Somehow he was calm and at peace.
"Go get 'em, Tiger. I'll wait here," he said, and in that instant an unusual strength filled me. All my senses alert, I stared at him, reassuring him that everything would be fine.
This time he had saved me. It is my turn to do my part.
Me and thee; Partners, side by side, helping each other go on.
The door to the van opened abruptly. Thick hands grabbed me by my hair and tried to drag me out of the truck.
Bad choice to have started with me... This time the battle was entirely unequal.
From the depths of my being, I twisted, striking out with my left fist. I landed the most accurate punch I’ve ever thrown in my life. The thug stretched across the floor of the van, deadly still.
In a flash, I took the two automatic weapons from him, one from his hand, the other from the holster over his shoulder. After making sure he was alone, I lifted the unconscious man and used him as a human shield to protect me when I opened the back door of the van.
Everything looked clear, but I could hear voices.
I dropped the thug and left him lying on the dusty floor at the back of the van where he couldn’t be seen.
"Hutch, stay quiet," I whispered to my partner. "I'll scope out the scene." He nodded wearily without speaking.
I crept out of the van. Around the right side, I could see two guys talking. There was another van parked nearby. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat, obviously unaware of me or of what was happening. He was talking into a radio microphone.
I looked on the other side of the truck. No one was there. Only the two guys I had seen earlier.
Something had to be that simple!
The vans were parked on a frontal road near a major freeway, almost perpendicular to another road that was less than one hundred yards away.
Not far from LA, I assumed, although I didn’t know how long we had traveled. I looked up at the sky. From the sun’s position, it was near noon. We hadn’t traveled that far, so Hutch hadn’t bled for too long, either. We had traveled northward, that was for sure, and the big road ahead was the Golden State Highway, Interstate 5. I figured we were near Bakersfield.
I realized it was essential to make the right moves and act calmly. If I succeeded, Hutch could receive the medical care he needed. I felt relieved. If that happened, I was sure he was going to be fine.
So I made the decision. I took the offensive and ran to the right side of the van, with an automatic rifle on each arm.
One of the terrorists noticed me.
“Freeze!” I yelled.
One guy was fast; he swung around and took aim at me.
I was quicker; in the blink of an eye, I squeezed the trigger, releasing a burst. The two of them were out in seconds, cut down by automatic fire just as I had been in May, 1979.
The one who was sitting in the other truck talking to the radio didn’t even try to escape. He knew. It was no use.
He got out of the van. His arms rose to heaven.
It was Bronson.
“Your journey’s over,” I said.
Bronson didn’t try anything. He knew well any attempt would be futile.
“Who hired you?” I asked him.
He smiled. “You’ll never guess,” he said.
I handcuffed him to the bumper of the van.
"Dispatch, it’s Starsky!" I called on their radio. "Ambulance for Hutch. He's down. We need reinforcements. I think we are just off I-5, Kern County, near Bakersfield."
"Understood, Starsky. Putting you through to Dobey," she replied.
"Captain!" I said when I heard his familiar growl. "Bronson was a fake-he lured me and Hutch, as well as Vasquez's men, into an ambush."
"Yes, the FBI came on the scene and found utter chaos," Dobey said gruffly. "What happened to you?"
"Hutch was shot! He’s bleeding from a shoulder wound. I got the guns from one of the terrorists and shot two men. Another one's unconscious, and Bronson's secure."
"Word is that this Bronson is a mercenary hired by a big fish called Hassan Ben Susan who was in a Federal prison back east and presumed to be responsible for attacking United States and Israel Interests abroad," Dobey said. "FBI says he's the local connection between the man and the Al-Jihad group, radicals who have a vested interest in developing a nuclear weapons program. One of the men busted at the crime scene broke down, and started talkin'. Ya know the FBI knows pretty well how to persuade their prisoners and make others believe. They're the best, especially in front of the media."
I laughed to myself. The whole operation was almost entirely dismantled by the two of us, but somehow some things never change… "I will get there as soon as possible, but it sounds like you're about two hours out from Bay City."
"I need to get Hutch to the hospital, Cap'n."
"Yeah I know; ambulance is on its way. You take care, son," Dobey said.
I checked to make sure Hutch was still among the living and helped him to sit up. He was pale and sweating, but managed a weak, "Did ya get 'em?"
I circled the other van parked near the one we'd been held in. I could hear thumps coming from the inside. "Come out with your hands up!" I yelled. "I am armed!" Nothing happened, so I opened the back door.
Meredith and the two men Hutch and I had seen being dragged away at the beginning of this whole mess. All were tied up and gagged. I ungagged them, asked them their names, one the Israeli Minister, Edelstein, the other one a scientist called Joe Guzman.
I was in charge. Totally. Completely. It felt so good!
"How are you doing, Meredith?" I asked happily, taking off her gag.
"Better, now that you're here," she laughed, wincing when I used my pocket knife to cut the ropes around her wrists. "Where's Hutch? I saw your car when we were grabbed!"
I untied Edelstein and Guzman. "Hutch was shot. You three stay here. Have to wait for the back-up and the ambulances. I feel a little dizzy, too."
"You OK?" asked Meredith, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Guess I need some rest, right now. That’s all."
"Oh, Schweetheart, Bakersfield is only 15 miles north. The hospital is waiting for us," Meredith said, imitating me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hutch and I spent the holiday at the hospital because he wasn’t going to be released until the 27th. My head injury only bought me an overnight stay for observation, but Hutch had surgery on his shoulder and had to have IV antibiotics.
I brought a Christmas tree into his room and decorated it with ornaments and lights, all topped with a beautiful star. Through the window, we could see houses in the neighborhood decorated with colored lights and tinsel.
On Christmas Eve, I hung the stockings on Hutch's hospital bed.
"Merry Christmas, Hutch." I said. "We made it through!"
"Merry Christmas, Starsk," he said with a huge grin.
"Hey, listen!" Outside the room, the nurses were singing Christmas carols. I had brought cookies. I ate all the Santa cookies, but saved some stars for Hutch for later, because his stomach was sensitive, due to painkillers.
I proposed a toast, for the two of us. I will never forget that day-my first day back on the force. The memory will remain in me beyond my death.
That day, our bond tightened up even more, if it was possible. We were at ease and safe back home.
Hutch saved me in all the ways possible. And I saved him, too.
We were even.
Fin