Chapter 13

Reality was suspended. Starsky no longer knew what was real and what was not. The brunet lost all concept of why he was on his back in a hospital room with his wrists secured above his head. Simon Marcus' ghost was just one of the phantoms that came to haunt him. Now, Crazy George Prudholm stared down at him from beside the bed. The hospital room disappeared into mist to be replaced by a cold, damp, dark...crypt?

'Gary, are you alright son?' he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Starsky's fever clouded mind paused a moment, processing the new development. 'What?'

'You look sick son. What can I get ya?' the madman said, reaching out to run his fingers through Starsky's hair.

The cop flinched out of the way, his skin crawling at the thought of Prudholm touching him. 'Ya can get me the fuck outta here' he said weakly. 'Just lemme go' he croaked through his dry throat. 'Lemme up an' I'll be ok. We can talk'.

'What do you want to talk about son? I shouldn't let you up, you're sick. Just lie still Gary and rest an' I'll look after you' Prudholm said almost tenderly.

'Not Gary…..You made me sick. I can hardly move….hurts. Lemme up' Starsky continued, trying to shuffle away from the man's caresses.

Prudholm looked confused. 'What do you mean, I made you sick? Gary, I'm your father. I'd do anything for ya, you know that. Let me look after you huh?'

'I'm not Gary. Your son's dead. Died in jail remember?' the brunet pushed, creeped out by the idea that Prudholm would think he was his dead son.

Prudholm faded away, leaving Starsky alone with his nightmare. He no longer knew what was worse – the loneliness, or the spectres that haunted him. He pulled hard at the cuffs securing his wrists.

Pains, which had once assailed his back, hips and shoulders, redoubled. His wrists hurt too now and although he couldn't see them, he knew that they'd bled. He could feel the raw abraded skin beneath the harsh ropes holding him immobile. It was his own fault. Even though he'd tried them so many times before, he had to struggle just once more to see if he could get free.

He sighed into the darkness and the sound seemed extraordinarily loud in the confined space. During the intervening hours, he'd once again lost the unequal fight for control of his bladder and now he felt dirty and almost inhuman as he lay on the sodden mattress encased in the wet denim fabric of his jeans. He'd held out as long as he could, in the vain hope that Prudholm might come back and help him, but as the time went on, he realised he couldn't hold on any longer. As he felt the burning liquid soak his jeans again, he'd sobbed just once, into the darkness, a forlorn and empty sound which scared away the rats pattering around the dirt floor. The fever which continued to rage through his body made him feel weak and he knew if he didn't get help soon he'd become too sick to be able to reason with Prudholm any more.

He muttered to himself

'Dave Starsky. I'm Dave Starsky…..Dave…..Dave.

But then he stopped himself.

You're goin' mad Davey boy. Talkin' to yourself. Shit….see. you're doin' it again!

He stiffened as he heard a noise again and watched as the door to the crypt was pushed open, George's figure walking into the room. Once again the brighter light stabbed at Starsky's eyes, and once again, he turned his head away from the painful stimulus.

'Gary?' Prudholm said gently.

'Starsky' the brunet corrected.

'Hmm. It's me Papa. I'm gonna stop you hurting son. I said I would'.

Starsky's heart leapt. 'Are ya gonna untie me? Are ya gonna let me up?'

'No son. I told ya. You need to rest. But I got your medicine. I'm gonna give ya your medicine and then everything will be fine' Prudholm said soothingly.

'Medicine? What're ya talkin' about? I don't need no medicine. I just need to be able to get up' Starsky said, wary now at the turn of events. He had no idea what Prudholm was going to do, but he didn't like the thought of "medicine".

'But you always want your medicine. It makes you feel so much better' George continued as he lit a candle and placed it on one of the stone shelves. Starsky turned his head to watch, the flickering light casting ghostly shadows around the room. Now that he saw the articles Prudholm unloaded from his pockets, he started to struggle frantically against his bonds.

'NO. ya lousy son of a bitch. I don't need no medicine. That aint medicine an' I'm no junkie. Don't gimme that. Just let me up huh? Just lemme go'.

Starsky yelled out into the hospital room. 'Nooooo.' His head tossed on the pillow and he started to pull once again at the handcuffs. This time, his wrists started to bleed for real and Tania turned from the TV monitor in her room to Ryan.

'Haven't we gone far enough?'

'Not yet. Ken has started working, but in truth I'm kinda curious to see what the outcome of this is. My other subjects have all been sick – junkies. Starsky's a strong guy. I need to know just how hard he can fight this. Call it professional interest.'

Tania turned away, sickened. The money was what she wanted. She had never been in the market for torture. Although she had set herself up to date the brunet cop as part of Ryan's master plan, she couldn't help but like him. He was cocksure, funny, sensitive when the need arose. And now he was sick.

'I'll um... I'll go and give him his next shot' she said, picking up a syringe and needle from the bench. As Ryan continued to watch the monitor she quietly let herself out of the room and walked down the corridor feeling more than a little dirty.

Back in the hospital room, Starsky continued to fight his demons. Now, perhaps the most terrifying of all was trying to take him over. Memories of his time in the army returned to haunt the cop. Memories he'd though he'd buried forever. Nightmares that he'd suffered for years after his release now came back and hit him full force so that he was no longer Sergeant Dave Starsky of the Bay City Homicide Division. He was regressed to Corporal Starsky, snipper.

'Starsky, David Michael. Corporal 231-51-3155. United States Army' he moaned as Tania walked into the room. She looked down at the scarlet cheeks and the dull, listless eyes of her one time lover and silently she plunged the needle into the port of the IV.

The brunet opened his eyes and although they held no recognition, he shook his head.

'Fuck...get away from me.' Starsky no longer saw Tania. He didn't see the hospital room or the large window above him where his blond partner stood sickened. He was back in the heat and the cloying humidity of the jungle, feeling the sheer terror of standing in front of the Vietnamese soldier.

'David Michael Starsky. Corporal. 231-51-3155. United States Army'. He stood at attention, his eyes never wavering from a spot above the General's head.

'Corporal, I'm a patient man, but there comes a time when I need answers. Do we have to start causing you pain? It would be so much easier if you would just tell me why you were sent here. Your American Government doesn't care about you. Do you think there is anyone in the White House who even knows that you exist? Just tell me why you're here and you can be on your way'.

'Corporal David Michael Starsky. 231-51-3155. United Sta….'.

The General cut him off with rapid fire commands and Starsky felt hands holding him still. His clothes were ripped from him and he was pushed down until he was sitting on a hard wooden chair.

He felt his heart rate hike up several notches and he tried to stop his body from trembling, but the fear ate at him and he looked at the ground desperate not to let these bastards see how terrified he was.

'Trung uý'

Ropes circled his wrists and ankles, lacing him to the chair and another loop was passed around his chest. He fought against the bonds with all his might, but they were strong, the rough hemp rope digging into his flesh. He yelled out as he saw the big generator brought into the room and the soldiers set about impassively attaching electrodes to his chest, his back above his kidneys and between his splayed legs to clamp on his scrotum. There was even one attached to each earlobe. He struggled again, breathless with exertion as he watched the general switch on the generator, his hand hovering over the handle.

What would it feel like? He'd heard stories of excruciating pain, but was that right? What sort of pain would it be? He'd always been able to cope quite well when he'd broken a limb, or come off worse in a fight. Would he cope with this? His dog tags rattles against his chest betraying his shivering body.

'Why were you sent here?'

'David Michael Stars….arrrgh' he screamed as the electricity coursed through his body. It took his breath away, his lungs spasming until he thought his eyeballs would fall from his head. The pain went on and on and all he could do was scream, his breath finally giving out as the General turned off the current. His body sagged against its bonds and he sucked a lungful of air in gratefully. His arms and legs continued to jerk as muscles groups fired against his will. He raised his head and grinned. He knew now what it felt like.

'Starsky. Corporal Serial numb…' another bolt hit his body full on and he jangled in the chair, screaming more to let himself know that he was alive than to ease the pain. Again the general flipped the switch and again he sagged against his bonds, sweat trickling into his eyes and down his bare chest. He groaned, his head feeling as though it would explode.

Hitching a breath, Tania wiped a cool cloth over the brunet's forehead. He flinched, his eyelids fluttering and his body stilled for a moment.

'Traff?'

'No, it's me Tania'

Starsky shook his head. 'I didn't tell 'em nuthin. Hurts... Traff? You there?'

'Who's Traff? Dave, try and rest huh. Just lay back.' Once again she put her hand on his forehead and instantly Starsky was transported back in time to a different place and a different sensation on his head.

'We have a new game for you' General Mai said clearly, making Starsky jump slightly.

As the brunet soldier looked, General Mai drew a revolver from his side holster and flicked the barrel round, making a satisfying ratchet noise in the heavy afternoon air.

The General tossed the sidearm to one of the soldiers, who took it and cocked the weapon, grinning as he held the muzzle against Starsky's head. The exhausted man looked up at Mai through bleary, dehydrated eyes and snorted softly. So, it had come to this. The end. Thank God for that! Starsky had no idea how much more of the General's treatment he could take and now, despite the hammering heartbeats in his chest, he welcomed the end, embracing the thought that despite everything that had been done to him, he had won. He hadn't told them anything and so he had played their sick game and won. He wasn't a prisoner any more. His spirit would be free because he'd endured.

'Why are you here?' Mai asked in a bored manner.

'Davvvvid Mmmmichael Ssst….'

Mai nodded and the soldier pushed the muzzle of the gun into the brunet's temple and pulled the trigger. Starsky braced himself wondering how it would feel to have his brains blown out. Would he feel it? Would he have any recollection? His body tensed at the metallic click of the trigger and…..nothing.

His body sagged as the adrenaline flooded his veins. The chamber of the gun had been empty. Oh my God. They were playing Russian roulette with him! He let out a desperate sob, almost disappointed that the shot hadn't been fired. He was so ready to die, and this at least seemed the easier way out!

Starsky's eyes opened wide and he stared up at Tania, seeing only General Mai rather than his ex. 'I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya' he rasped, 'Ya hear me ya yellow bastard?'