Chapter 9

It was getting uncomfortable in the coffin, the air warm and thick as though Hutch was trying to breathe through a tropical thunderstorm. It didn't help that the blood from his broken nose had caked around his nostrils and as he coughed clots of blood lodged in his throat until he felt as though he'd never breathe again. He had no idea how long he'd been held captive or even whether it was daytime or night. Each interminable hour wore on, the same as the last as his pain mounted. The bleeding on his side had finally stopped although the whole of his side and his hands felt sticky and dirty from the blood. So far as he could tell, the ragged wound on his front was maybe the size of the palm of his hand, although by reaching carefully around, he could feel the wound in his back was much smaller, maybe the size of a quarter. The bruises had settled into an homogenous ache across the rest of his torso and thirst raged through his body. He could tell he had the start of a fever by the headache, the heat coming from his wound and the dry feel to his skin. And he knew that to keep the fever from getting worse he should drink plenty, but with only 2 litres of warm water to last him, rationing was undoubtedly the order of the day and so he tried to set his body clock to tell him when each hour was up so that he could take another mouthful of liquid.

Towards the end of what he presumed was the first day however, a new need arose; one he managed to ignore for a few hours before it started to eat away at him. He needed to pee, but the thought of releasing himself in the coffin and lying in his own urine revolted him. Not only was it not healthy, but it wouldn't be particularly good for his wound either. He'd heard stories at school from the more descriptive teachers who taught about the slave triangle how the black Africans coming over on the trading ships would sometimes urinate into open sores to disinfect them. At the time, back in his schooldays there was something vaguely heroic about having to do that to stay alive. Now, faced with much the same conditions and problems, the thought merely left Hutch feeling sick to his stomach. Eventually, he took the problem away by finishing the first bottle of water and using the empty container as the only receptacle he had to relieve himself into. He capped the bottle and pushed it away from him. Pioneers he knew had been reduced to drinking their own urine to save themselves from dehydration and death. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Hours rolled by and his biggest problem was keeping his mind active. Each time he relaxed and allowed his mind to wander, it brought up horrifying thoughts of what would happen if Starsky was unable to find him at the end of three days. Which would be worse – dying of suffocation or starvation? Shuddering, Hutch knew he didn't want to find out either way and an Edgar Alan Poe story came unbidden to his mind, where a man had been buried alive only to have his coffin dug up years later, deep scratched grooves on its lid where he'd ripped out his nails in trying to dig himself out with his bare hands. To stop the dark and terrifying thoughts, he took to occupying his mind with songs, poems he learned in school, games plays. 1970 Allstars AL Stars 5th: Rose replaced Aaron (playing RF); Hickman Replaced Carty (Playing LF); Killebrew singled to Hickman; Harper ran for Killebrew; Howard flied to Hickman; D. Johnson popped to Beckert in foul territory; Harper was caught stealing second…………

Songs

All my memories gathered round her, Miners lady, stranger to blue water. Dark and dusty, painted on the sky, misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eye.

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong. West Virginia, mountain momma
take me home, country roads.

Starting the third verse Hutch suddenly realised that whilst the sound of his own voice comforted him, the note left in his crate had told him he had enough air for only three days. What if the calculations were wrong? The air already felt old and stale. And what if singing used it up faster? Damn. He clamped his mouth shut, continuing the song in his head. Not as comforting, but at least he felt as though he were doing something productive.

I hear her voice in the mornin hour she calls me. The radio reminds me of my home far away. And drivin down the road I get a feelin that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday………..

The big blond closed his eyes in frustration. He'd shouted till he was hoarse for someone to let him out. He'd rationed the light to the bare minimum, fearful that it was powered by a battery and not wanting to think he couldn' never have light again. But there were tmes when his fear overcame him to such an extent that he had to reach up and flick on the bare bulb for just a few minutes in order to restore his courage and his equillibrium. Only then, when his breathing had slowed and his heart had stopped its uncomfortable hammering would he reach up wth a shaking hand and once more pluge himself into darkness. He'd tried to turn over to change position, but the unforgiving boards held him fast and the more he struggled the more claustrophobic he felt. He'd never felt that before, even when he'd been caving in his youth. Tight squeezes meant nothing to him then, when he knew there was a way out. Now, however, the lid of the coffin seemed to bear down on top of him pressing him flat and restricting his breathing even though there was a good 2 feet of air above him.

How much longer? How long had it been? And how much longer would he have to wait? Come get me Starsk, please. But be careful buddy, and don't do anything I wouldn't. That thought set him to chuckling. When was the last time his partner had ever listened to anything he said? Starsky was Starsky. He'd do things his own way and in his own time. But the flaxen haired cop trusted him with his life and he knew he'd never give up on the smaller man trying to find him. The brunet would do anything to save his partner, just like Hutch would move heaven and earth to find Starsky.

oOo

The plane ride back to Bay City seemed interminable, not least because Starsky really didn't want to make idle chat with Joe Durniak. He was tired, sore from the beating he'd received at Dale's hands and aching all over his body. What he really wanted to do was sleep, but Durniak wanted to talk. He had nothing in common with the gangland boss and nothing he wanted to say to him. But Durniak was behaving like Starsky was a long lost nephew, joking, laughing, clapping the curly haired cop on the shoulder occasionally. It was is though Starsky had never left him, or that Joe was trying to catch up on everything he'd missed about the brunet's youth and the intervening 10 years. He paid for the plane ticket back, bought drinks on the plane despite Starsky telling him he didn't want to drink and was solicitous to the point of making Starsky feel slightly claustrophobic.

The previous evening, Starsky had made his way home to his Mom's small house. She'd thrown her arms around him and welcomed him home and although he'd tried to hide his injuries from her, his Mom knew him better than anyone. She'd drawn him a hot bath, laid out warm towels and when he'd emerged a half an hour later with water droplets still pearling in his curls, she laid out her first aid box and dressed the more severe cuts across his chest and back without asking questions. Too many years as a cop's wife to know better than to delve too deep into her son's affairs. If he needed to talk, she was there. Other than that she'd provide support, quiet and dignified.

Reluctantly, Starsky responded to the gentle questioning from Durniak and found himself explaining about his time in the Army and as a POW in 'Nam and his recovery afterwards which focussed his mind on the idea of becoming a cop. 'Just like my old man' he explained, wondering at the very slight narrowing in Durniak's eyes at the mention of Michael Starsky.

'And then after that, I did my time at the Police Academy. And that's where I met Hutch. He was a dork' Starsky snorted softly at the memories. 'We kinda got off to an excitin' start and we were friends from there, although we lost touch for a while when we were in uniform. We'd go home for weekends to my aunt Roseys'. He was goin' through a messy time with his wife and he felt better with a family round him. He never had a lot of love from his own and he kinda adopted Rosey an' Al as his own folks. He's closer to me than my own brother…..well, ya know what Nick's like. We aint exactly in each other's pockets so it aint exactly difficult to be distant. I can be in the same room as Nick, even in the same conversation an' sometimes I feel like we're on different planets'. The brunet looked at Durniak for confirmation and Joe nodded.

'And then Dale shows up. I want Hutch back, in one piece Joe. I need to get him back'.

'He's that imprtant?'

'Uh huh. More 'n I can possibly say. It's kinda hard to explain, but when we've spent so long workin' the inner city, an' we watch each others backs every day, ya get to be a part of each others lives. A big part. An' I aint gonna give up on him coz some two bit low life from my past pops up an' expects me to jump through hoops for him'.

Durniak put his hand on Starsky's arm. 'Whatever Dale is, he aint no two bit punk Davey. He's grown up a lot since you last saw him. Enough that's he's got his own show to run now. Don't underestimate his power'.

'He's got Hutch. How could I do that? Look Joe, I don't want you to get your fingers burned. I just need you to go in an' use your influence to get him to tell me where my partner is. I'm a cop. I can't help him like he wants me to. That'd be against every code in my book. But for Hutch's sake I could maybe turn a blind eye. From there on in, it's up to Dale whether he takes a chance with the Narcs guys. I want no part in it'.

'How much are you willing to trade?'

Deep indigo eyes regarded the older man seriously. 'If I had to, my life, but I hope it don't come to that. An' I won't do nuthin illegal. But I will trade with Dale if he tells me where Hutch is, an' I will give him free passage outa my town'.

Durniak puffed out his cheeks. 'It may not be enough son'.

'It'd better be, it's all I got'.

oOo

The plane landed a little after 5 in the evening and Starsky and Joe were the first off it. With only carry ons they had no need to wait for their baggage and so they walked out of the air conditioned cool of LAX terminal and straight to Starsky's car. Durniak gave a low whistle.

'You were always the one for the flash wheels. Sweet!'

'Yeah, ya can admire them later. Right now, we got a job to do. Get in' the brunet growled, opening the door for the older man to slide onto the bench seat. Starsky trotted around to the drivers side and got in jamming his sun shades onto his nose against the glare of the late summer Californian sun. Joe took off his heavy jacket and flung it onto the back seat.

'Where to now?' Starsky asked as he started the engine.

Durniak looked at his watch. 'I need to phone and tell him we're here. He wasn't exactly happy that I was coming to his patch, but ya know what the family is like. Protocal dictates we take this slowly and we should observe the rules. And rule number one states we meet somewhere neutral to begin with'.

'Well don't take too long over formalities. My partner's life is at stake here. Where d'ya call neutral?'

'Do ya have a favorite watering hole maybe? Somewhere we can be conspicuous but alone?'

'Yeah, we got the Pits'.

Joe glanced sideways and for a moment a grin cracked Starsky's otherwise worried face. 'It aint as bad as it sounds, honest. The barkeeps a friend and he knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to turn a blind eye. We go there and make the call huh? But Joe, make it quick. It's already over 24 hours since they took Hutch and God knows what a state he was in to begin with'.

Durniak nodded. 'The Pits it is. And you're right to worry. Dale was always shall we say….thorough. He's cold and calculating. When we get there and make contact, keep your mouth shut……' he raised a hand as he saw Starsky about to say something. 'I mean it Davey. I know you're a passionate man, but if Hutch is as important to you as you say, you need to keep shtum. One word out of place and this while thing is blown wide open ok?'

'K' the brunet agreed and turned the Torino in the direcion of down town.