Chapter 7

'You leave my partner outa this. I told ya, this guy needs a hospital and a real doctor, not some two bit cop with a Band-Aid and a year at med. school' Hutch's temper blazed out of control.

'Oh, so you do know what you're talking about!' Camargo said triumphantly. 'I knew it!'

'I said I spent a year at medical school. That doesn't qualify me for squat.'

'It qualifies you to save your buddy's life.' the youth retrieved a medical bag from the side of the room and fumbled inside it. He started to bring out certain items as Hutch watched. 'We got a knife and we got a needle and some thread. What else do you need?'

The blond furrowed his brow and sighed deeply. 'Even if I was gonna touch him, which I'm not, I'd need something to sterilize the wound and the knife and... look, if you care about your friend and you want him to live, get a fuckin' doctor to him.'

'Are you sure you're not gonna help him?' the Mexican said, with an odd look on his face.

Uh uh. No way.'

Camargo looked over his shoulder at his companion. 'Bring the other one in. Let's see if that persuades Blondie.'

As Miguel departed, the other youth, Esteban walked around behind the blond cop and he took a hold of Hutch's arms, holding him steady. The tall cop started to struggle, not liking the way the game was being played and a moment later he heard his partner yelling as he was pushed into the room. Miguel held onto Starsky's arms in a similar fashion to how Esteban was holding Hutch's and the two detectives locked eyes for a moment. They had left Danny locked in the other room and they could hear her muffled screams through the wall.

Camargo saw the look and crossed to the still bleeding brunet. He took a hold of a handful of curly hair and pulled the smaller man's head back until he could stare into the defiant indigo eyes.

'Your friend here says he isn't gonna help us' Camargo spat.

'Good for him' Starsky grunted and immediately doubled over as a blow caught him in the pit of his stomach. He wheezed and turned a pale shade of blue before he was pulled upright. Panting, he stared into the Mexican's face. 'Is that the best ya got?' he gasped. 'Did anyone tell ya you hit like a girl?'

Camargo grinned at him. 'Laugh it up, that was just for starters. I can see all the blows in the world aren't gonna persuade either of you to help, so I think it's time to change tack.' Once more Camargo reached into the black bag and a moment later, his hand reappeared holding a small black case and a vial of dark brown liquid. Opening the case, he brought out a syringe and a needle, making a great show of attaching one component to the next.

Hutch's eyes stretched wide as he saw the needle. The blond was brave; stoical, but that was his bete noire. Images of Ben Forest floated into his consciousness as he saw the glint of the cold surgical steel in front of him and his face paled visibly. It had taken Hutch 48 hours of sweat and pain to come down from the enforced heroin addiction. It had taken him another year before the cravings had finally gone completely. He'd watched as his partner had gone through the same cold turkey, having become addicted when Crazy George Prudholm kept him prisoner in a crypt and he'd helped wean the brunet from the drug at Dobey's cabin in the hills, suffering verbal and physical abuse from the smaller man as the pains took him and shook him. (See Pitch Black, by this author).

'No!' he yelled as he saw Camargo nod at Miguel who was still holding Starsky. The brunet struggled manfully with his captor as he was pushed towards one of the hard wooden chairs and the cuffs were removed from his wrists. Miguel kicked at the curly haired cop's legs and Starsky crumpled down onto the seat, his strength sapped by the blow to his stomach. Had he been fully recovered from his ordeal 4 months ago, he felt sure he could have fought back harder, but his treatment at the hands of Sue Gunther's heavies had caused his heart to stop twice in the ambulance going to the hospital and he'd remained hovering between life and death for two days. No one, not even someone as supremely stubborn as the brunet could fight back from near death to full fitness so quickly and now he panted heavily and glared at Camargo.

Hutch still struggled in Esteban's grip, his fight made more frantic by the thoughts of what the vial of liquid contained and as Camargo drew it up into the barrel of the syringe, the blond yelled again.

'For fucks sake, I told ya. I can't help him. I'd kill him. He needs proper medical care, not me foolin' around. Don't give him that, for fucks sake, noooo.'

The Mexican made a play of expelling the air from the barrel of the syringe and looked up. 'You got a choice here, Gringo. This is snake venom. It's deadly. I'm gonna inject it into your buddy over here and from then on, you have 55 minutes to deal with Enrico's wound. I have anti venom too, but if it isn't administered within the hour, Curly here is a dead man. So, the choice is, do you get the bullet out of his leg and save his life, or do you sit back and watch your friend die?'

Hutch watched in horror as Camargo took a hold of Starsky's sleeve and pushed it up the olive toned forearm to the elbow, clearing a patch for the needle. The brunet kept his eyes locked onto Hutch's, a small smile on his face.

'S'ok buddy. It's fine' the brunet said levelly. 'No problem.'

'Starsk, for God's sake!' Hutch tried to break free of his captor's grasp. 'Starsk...nooo.'

Camargo positioned the needle over the bare skin and aimed for the bulging muscle. As he started to insert the point of the needle, Starsky broke contact with his partner's eyes, looked away and bucked his body on the seat. The needle skittered to the right, making more of a cut than a puncture and some of the dark brown venom trickled down his elbow. The Mexican cursed and looked up at Miguel.

'Tie him' he snarled and once more, Starsky felt bonds, this time around his chest and his right arm. The left was left free and Miguel wedged it beneath his arm, holding the limb out straight, using his body as a fulcrum. Try as he might, there was no way for the brunet to move and Camargo once more approached. This time, there was no mistake. This time, Hutch's eyes sought out his partner's and locked onto them, never flinching as the plunger was driven home and the venom was pumped into Starsky's body. The brunet shuddered once, the site of the puncture wound already hot and on fire.

Camargo stepped back to examine his handiwork and Miguel let go Starsky's arm. It already felt sore and swollen and heavy and while Miguel untied the sweating brunet, Starsky tried to grin at Hutch.

'Not so bad' he lied thickly. 'I'm fine. I'm just fff...' the curly headed man toppled sideways off the chair and landed with a thud on the ground as Hutch took a step forward automatically. Esteban held him back and Camargo smiled at him.

'Call that an incentive. You have about 50 minutes if we're gonna be careful. 55 if we push it. First he's gonna have difficulty breathing. He'll feel hot, uncoordinated. From then on the pains in his guts will start and then he won't be able to swallow too good. Vision will be the next to go and then he'll start to throw up. After that, he'll loose consciousness and from then on it'll be coma and death. Does that put you in the picture huh? Now get to work or he dies.'

The blond looked at Starsky's twitching body. The indigo eyes were staring wildly ahead of him and tremors ran through the lithe body.

'Starsk. Talk to me buddy' Hutch said softly. 'Starsky!'

The brunet seemed to gather his wits about him and slowly he managed to lever himself up to a sitting position and slumped back against the wall, running a shaky hand through his curls. He blinked and looked around him, finding his partner's concerned crystal eyes looking down at him.

'Utch...M'fine. Don't do it. Don't help 'em huh?' The brunet clutched at his chest, heaving a huge breath that seemed to come from his toes. 'Ohhh shit!' he gasped as he lost his lunch on the floor next to him. He forced himself up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and bit back the groan that wanted to escape him. Hutch seemed to be a long distance away and as he looked at the big blond, the room seemed to waver around him.

'Utch? Ffffeeeel ffffunny.'

The flaxen haired cop grunted angrily and started to examine his "patient" again. Enrico lay quietly on the table, twitching occasionally and rolling his head from side to side. His eyes were closed and a fine patina of perspiration shone on his brow. Delicately, Hutch touched the site of the wound, feeling for swelling and the telltale signs of the bullet. Blood oozed from the neat hole and the Mexican gave a low groan.

'I need scissors, a very sharp knife, some disinfectant or alcohol, a needle and sutures. And a pair of forceps to get the bullet out with' the blond reeled off the list as his mind went back all those years to the three times he'd had the opportunity to go into the OR to watch a procedure.

Without a word, Camargo rifled through the medical bag, amazingly coming up with everything but the disinfectant. He laid the scissors, knife, forceps and suture materials out on the table and looked up at the blond.

'I need something to sterilize the stuff with' Hutch said. 'And something to disinfect the wound.'

The Mexican nodded. 'Fine. Get started and I'll find something. Esteban, stay with him and make sure he doesn't do anything crazy.'

'Like cutting into a guy without the proper stuff? Jeez who'd do something like that? Hutch asked bitterly. Camargo said nothing, but headed out of the door.

Carefully, Hutch took the scissors and started to cut up the leg of Enrico's pants, slicing past the hole and on upwards. The patient moaned and tried to move away as the fabric parted and the blond got his first good look at the wound. As he started to examine it properly, Camargo came back into the room with a half bottle of brandy.

'Will this do?' he asked.

Hutch glanced up. 'I guess. Pour half of it into a clean glass and dump the knife and needle in it. Give the rest to me.' Without questioning the cop, Camargo did as he was told, holding Enrico down when Hutch poured the brandy into the wound and the Mexican's body arched up off the table. His eyes flashed open and he let out a blood curdling scream and then sank back onto the table. Hutch ignored it and took the knife, testing its blade. It was very sharp and he took a deep breath, the blade poised over the hole.

On the floor, Starsky clutched at his stomach. His body stiffened until he was bent double, his knees and shoulder on the floor and the rest of his body arching upwards. Slowly, he sank back onto the ground, rolling onto his side as he let out a wracking moan. Indigo blue eyes flashed open and Starsky panted on the ground, his hand still wrapped around his stomach as pains flared through his guts. he ducked his chin to his chest, trying to hide the hurt from his partner. It was a futile attempt. Hutch had had too many years of reading the taut lithe body to be kidded.

At the table, Hutch paused, longing to go and take the brunet in his arms and take the pain away. He ran his forearm over his forehead, wiping at the annoying trickle of sweat that ran down the side of his face. 'Starsk, stay with me buddy. Talk to me. Keep talking to me.'

'What d'ya want me to say?' Starsky grunted.

'Anythin'. Tell me how ya feel. Talk to me.' As he talked, Hutch started to cut down into the wound on the Mexican's leg, the blood flowing freely from the wound as he sank the knife into the youth's flesh. The pain of the alcohol on the open hole had knocked the young man out and fortunately he felt nothing more as the blond carefully explored the bullet hole with his finger.

'Urts…' Starsky gasped. 'Remind me…never fall for girls……younger'n me huh?'

'Thought she was your angel buddy?' Hutch said, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the sensations in his fingertips.

'Hate ffffuckin' ssssnakes.'

'Yeah, me too Pal. You're doin' great. Keep talkin' to me huh? I need to hear that voice Starsk.'

'Uh huh. Thought you said…..talked too much. I…..Ohhh, jeez! Damn….hurts.'

'I know buddy, I know. Just hang on huh? Starsk? Hang on.'

Hutch's finger tip touched something that felt different to the rest of the material inside the bullet wound and he removed his finger from the hole, looking round at Camargo. 'The bullet is lodged right next to the femoral artery. I can feel it pulsing. If I take the bullet out, he could bleed to death in minutes' he explained.

'Then you'll need to be careful, won't ya?' Camargo held up another syringe with a clear liquid in. 'One wrong move Gringo, and the anti venom goes bye bye.'

Bitterly, Hutch reached for the forceps. 'One last chance punk. Get him to a hospital now huh Do us all a favour.'

At the curt shake of his captor's head, the blond slowly pushed he metal forceps down into the wound until he thought they reached the bullet. Cautiously he opened the nose of the instrument, terrified lest he nudge the artery and cause it to bleed. Sweat trickled uncontrollably down his back as he glanced at the clock on the wall. He'd been working over the young Mexican for 35 minutes and all the time Starsky was getting weaker.

As Hutch closed the ends of the forceps around the metal slug embedded in Enrico's leg and started to pull slowly on the bullet, he sent up a silent prayer and took a swift glance at his partner. Starsky's shirt showed a line of dark, damp material down his spine, the brunet's body now shaking violently. A hacking whooping kind of noise escapes the brunet's chest each time he inhaled and it was evident that Starsky was tiring fast. Hutch didn't know how much venom had got into the wound from the first attempt at injecting his partner but now he shouted over once again, trying to get his buddy's attention.

'Don't you dare go to sleep Gordo, ya hear me. I wanna hear your voice Starsk. Talk to me buddy.'

The command was followed by a sucking sound from the wound on the Mexican's leg and in Hutch's next breath he was yelling for cloths as a deep, ruby red tide welled up from the wound and spilled out onto the table.