CHAPTER 7
Starsky gave up trying to keep track of how long he had been held prisoner. He had stopped making marks on the cellar wall after 6 weeks. Time no longer had any meaning since nothing ever changed. One day blended into another, day into night, filled with periods of torture, hours of isolation, and almost constant fear. Fear of not knowing when the cultists would return to abuse him more, fear of living, fear of dying, fear of being alone. The only human contact he had hurt so he started to withdraw into himself. He didn't want to die but he didn't want to live either, not like this. He was no longer living, he was simply surviving. Waiting for the day that this living hell would end one way or the other.
He still dreamed about Hutch at night but he no longer counted on the white knight rushing to the rescue. He still watched and waited for another chance to escape. No matter how much he was beaten down, it was not in his nature to give up. He would continue to fight to his dying breathe to be free again. He tried not to show them how afraid he was since they fed on the fear. But even Starsky had his limits, there were times when he begged for his life, times when he broke down and cried, times when he tried to hide. He began to pretend that it was someone else being torture instead of him. He escaped, at least in his mind, using the guided imagery techniques that Hutch had taught him to help him deal with the pain during his long recovery after he had been shot in the police garage. He always pictured himself on a lonely stretch of beach at sunset with Hutch by his side.
When Thomas and John came down the steps dressed in the hated black robes, Starsky sighed in resignation. He knew that he was about to participate in another one of their black ceremonies. Sometimes, Starsky was just there as an observer, while at other times, he was an unwilling participant in the rituals. After a particularly intense ceremony, it often took Starsky days to recover.
Thomas and John forced Starsky to his feet, after punching him a few times just for practice. After so many weeks of abuse, Starsky's appearance had changed dramatically. He had lost so much weight that he looked like a concentration camp survivor. His hair had gown back since the last time it had been cut and hung to his shoulders in dirty, tangled strands. Old scars and healing wounds covered his arms, his legs, his torso and his face. He walked with a stumbling, lurching gait, favoring his left leg. The toenails on his left foot had been pulled out as punishment for not bowing to Simon and the nail beds were badly inflamed and infected.
Instead of the main building where most of the ceremonies were held, they led Starsky to a large open field behind the old rundown barn where the rest of the cult was already gathered around a huge bonfire. The familiar chanting filled the air. Simon stood beside the fire, his arms spread open as if welcoming Starsky to their ceremony.
John and Thomas put their hands on his shoulders and forced Starsky down to his knees in front of Marcus. Simon smiled benevolently and laid his hand on top of Starsky's curly head. In a solemn voice, he intoned, "By the blood of our sacrifices, you have been baptized as Polaris, my eternal sacrifice. From now until the end of time, you belong to me." He reached down and cupped Starsky's chin in his face, forcing him to raise his head and look into Simon's eyes "Renounce those who came before me and accept me as your only master."
"Fuck you," Starsky spat out "You'll never be my master." Starsky knew from painful experience that his defiance would cost him and cost him dearly but he refused to bend to Simon's will.
Simon's eyes darkened but he didn't appear to be surprised by Starsky's defiance, he had expected as much from the rebellious brunet. It was that inner strength, that stubborn nature that he coveted above all. Breaking this man had become Simon's only goal in live, breaking his spirit and making him suffer as much as humanly possible in the process.
He let go of Starsky and stepped back with a thin smile. The gathering of his apostles moved in closer, surrounding the defenseless Starsky. From the folds of their robes, they pulled various instruments of torture; clubs, a baseball bat, bicycle chains. Systematically, they began beating Starsky, alternating their weapons with kicks at the more vulnerable parts of Starsky's anatomy.
Starsky yelps of pain were drowned out by the chanting of the cultists. Starsky felt at least two ribs give way under the assault. A particularly vicious kick caught him squarely in the groin, taking his breath away. Starsky felt his senses beginning to fade away as he retreated into the darkness of his mind, his only means of escape.
When Starsky opened his eyes again, he was stacked out on the ground and the dogs were coming at him, attacking him. He cried out and tried to turn his head as one of them lunged at his face. He didn't care much for dogs, especially big dogs, and these where specially trained Dobermans. They bit his hands, his legs, his stomach and even his toes. When Simon finally called them off and ordered Thomas and Adam to untie Starsky and take him back to his cellar, the brunet was covered with bites and blood, barely conscious.
The severe beating and the attack by the dogs, especially in his already weakened condition, took its toll on Starsky and he lapsed into a coma that evening. For the next week, Sara tended to him, keeping him alive, as Simon and the others waited to see if Starsky would live or die.
Finally, Starsky opened his eyes. He had survived against all the odds but with each new attack, something inside of him died. He was suspicious when Sara and Mary came after him and told him they were taking him for a bath. Instead of taking him to the horse trough where they usually made him bath, the women took him into the main compound and actually let him take a real bath in a real tub with hot water. It was a small comfort that he had been denied for so long, he simply lay there in the water and cried. When he was finished, he was given a pair of clean jeans and a tee shirt to wear, another small comfort he was usually denied. He was even more surprised when the women insisted on trimming his hair, cutting it with scissors instead of just hacking it off with a knife the way they usually did.
When he was clean and groomed, the women led him back outside where the rest of the cult was gathered. Simon stepped forward and looked at Starsky fiercely. In a grave voice, he said, "You have proven that you are stronger then we thought. We have grown tired of trying to break your spirit. So…" he waved his arm gallantly, "You are free to go."
Starsky's head jerked up sharply and he stared at Simon in disbelief. After all this time, all the pain, all the abuse, he couldn't believe they were giving up that easily. He stayed standing, afraid to move.
"Go!" Simon repeated in a louder voice "You are free to go. We no longer have any use for you!"
After a brief hesitation, Starsky bolted and ran towards the woods. Or at least he tried to. It was hard to run all busted up like he was. But, he was running through the woods and it felt wonderful because he was finally escaping from the terror, the pain, and the insanity he'd been going through. He didn't care where he was going or how he got there, he was finally free.
He finally had to stop to catch his breath. He leaned against a tree for support and listened carefully to see if they were following him or if they had sent the dogs after him. Nothing. Nothing but heavenly silence. It was too good to be true, his mind was having a hard time accepting the fact that they weren't trying to trick him.
He began to run again. Suddenly, he felt a crushing pain that ran up his entire left leg and knocked him to the ground. Gasping in pain, he struggled to sit up, a cry of rage and despair escaping from his lips when he saw that his left ankle was caught in the jaws of a steel bear trap. The pain was incredible and he felt sick to his stomach as he looked at the mangled flesh of his ankle where the steel teeth sank deep into the flesh.
Panting heavily, he grabbed the jaws of the trap with his hands and tried to pry it open but the tension was too strong. It wouldn't open. Starsky cried out in anger and began smashing his fists against the steel trap in frustration until he exhausted himself. He fell back on the ground and closed his eyes, knowing that he had failed. Letting him go had just been another one of their mind games.
Starsky had no idea how long he had laid there, trying to control the pain of his crushed ankle, when he heard the sound of someone coming towards him. He wasn't surprised to see Adam, Thaddeus and three other men advancing on him, laughing when they saw him caught in the trap. Starsky simply closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.
They freed him from the trap, laughing the entire time and telling him that he was crazy if he really thought they would let him go that easily. He lost consciousness after they released his ankle and didn't feel it as they picked him up and carried him back to the compound. He woke up in back in the cellar, his entire left leg swollen and throbbing with pain. Someone had fashioned a crude makeshift split that ran from his ankle all the way up to his thigh. Starsky closed his eyes and sought solace in the darkness as another small piece of the man he used to be died.
