Chapter Two

Night blind, the road blurring as he crossed Route 66 at breakneck speeds, Red behind him every step of the way. The man had left the diner the minute he saw Starsky climb into his car. Now they were the only two people on the road. Fear kept him awake, but just barely. Sleep, so elusive in the daytime, was now trying to pull him down into its murky depths, but thoughts of Hutch kept him awake.

Mentally, he brought up the map. He'd spent days studying it, imagining alternatives routes that would take him away from Red. He hated leaving Route 66. It was bad enough that he had to avoid the airlines, the trains, but thoughts of going down dirt roads, roads that may not have been traveled for decades, made him nervous.

Up ahead, Starsky saw a sign and an off road, Starsky felt the car jolt as he made his way to it.

You are leaving Route 66. Welcome to Route 666, the handmade sign read.

Probably some teenagers thought it was a funny joke, he reasoned, recalling the teenage girl in the diner calling it Route 666. When this was all over, he would see if he could convince Hutch to take a road trip with him. He was sure his blond best friend would love it. He pictured it in his mind as he drove on, the blond sitting next to him in his red Torino, the banter they would share.

He was fighting tears as he looked in the rearview mirror. No signs of Red. Yet. But how could he be certain? It was too dark, the sky inky black. All Red had to do was turn off his headlights and he was the invisible man. Starsky needed to make certain. He couldn't afford to lead him anywhere. He was still depending on the element of surprise, so getting Red off his back was important. This was only one way to do it.

He drove on, careful of the bumps and dips, scanning the darkness for movement. The road was windswept with the occasional tumble weed going by, the hum of his vehicle the only sound.

He hoped the town was still there. If he were lucky, he would be able to use the facilities, have a cup of coffee, and wait for the appearance of Red. There would be no doubts if the man appeared. He would take care of it and get back on Route 66. He hadn't figured out how Red would be taken care of. He was too tired to think that far ahead.

He was a complication he didn't need.

What if the man came out guns blazing and Starsky was forced to defend himself? There would be police reports, maybe a hospital visit for both of them. Questions would follow; questions he couldn't answer. He would sound totally insane if he did. Even Huggy wanted him to see a shrink. It disturbed him to think that Huggy might be right. Maybe this whole thing was wishful thinking, his mind refusing to accept the truth.

Up ahead white eyes stared into his headlights then darted off. Starsky could almost hear his partner's voice. "White eyes could be a Coyote," Hutch had explained as they backpacked one summer that seemed to have happened a million years ago.

They'd been discussing the way animal eyes glow in the dark and how the eyes of canines mostly glowed white, while bears had fiery orange eyes, and cougars a greenish-gold color. It had been a fascinating conversation, and one, Starsky knew, was meant to keep him from considering his real fear of being eaten by a cougar. His partner had gone on to explain that Coyotes rarely attacked humans. And neither did cougars.

"Just make yourself seem large and make lots of noise and they will go away."

Starsky had laughed, imagining the tall blond doing just that.

"Oh, god. Why?" he cried out, feeling overwhelming sadness wash over him. But he did not have the luxury of feeling sorry for himself. He moved on.

Time seemed to flow at a different rate on the desolate road, almost as if he'd entered another world. He couldn't tell if five minutes had passed or an hour, but he saw the town in the distance, stark in his headlights, all grey and black, and obviously devoid of people. It was a ghost town, not a single light in sight. No cars on the street.

His disappointment quickly led to despair. There would be no cold water splashed on his face, no safe, warm place to wait for Red. No hot coffee to keep him awake. Instead, he would have to find a place to hide his car and wait for the man.

He drained the coffee that remained in his cup from the diner. It was cold and bitter but gave him a little kick to keep going.

Starsky spared a glance in his rearview mirror, he was reasonably certain that Red was keeping his distance. He turned off his headlights, becoming invisible in the dark. He continued slowly in a straight line, hoping he didn't end up running into something. He couldn't see his hands in front of his face. But neither could Red if he was back there.

Starsky rolled down the window, cool, crisp air flooding the inside of the tiny Fiat, the wind howling like a supernatural presence trying to get in. He sighed. His mind was getting the better of him, playing tricks. He needed to keep it together.

He strained his eyes and noticed what looked like a small patch of land with an Old West type wagon. He drove towards it, his car bouncing as he crossed the rutted road. He parked the car behind the wagon and got out, grabbing his flashlight and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. He stood back and was pleased to see that the wagon completely covered the car. He ran the short distance to the town.

It was an old town, maybe a hundred years or more, from the looks of it. Wooden sidewalks, buildings without windows or doors, a swing attached to an old barn that spoke of a time when children played in the streets. Now the swing moved ominously in the wind, as if a long-dead child still sat there.

A true ghost town that probably looked perfectly innocent during the day, but the heady darkness, the creek of wood as he walked, the howl of the wind as it dashed through long abandoned buildings, made Starsky feel undone, a primal fear that went back to a time when his ancestors feared the dark.

He walked on, his footsteps echoing on the wooden sidewalk.

A two-story structure loomed ahead. It looked like an old saloon with its swinging doors, the kind Starsky had seen in many Westerns. It seemed the perfect place to hide, but as he peered inside, he could see it wouldn't work. Part of the roof had collapsed, and it had no windows. It wouldn't be safe to go inside.

He moved on quickly, feeling the urgency of Red's arrival. He had to find a place to hide quickly.

He came to an alley with two buildings on either side. It would have to do. The buildings would provide cover and a clear view of the street. He would be able to see Red if he drove by. He shone his flashlight towards the back of the alley and was happy to see that it ran straight through. He had a way to escape if it came to that.

Across the street was a large structure. Probably a blacksmith shop, he reasoned. It even had a sign that creaked as the wind picked up speed.

Starsky crouched down, pushing himself as close to the building as possible and waited.

The October wind roared. Starsky shivered, cursing himself for not grabbing the winter coat that was still in the trunk of the car. There was no time to go back for it now. He would have to make do.

Soon he heard the faint sounds of a car moving in his direction. Red. He flattened himself against the building and peered out into the street. Nothing. Starsky moved deeper into the alley, but stopped when he heard a noise, his stomach flipping.

"Anybody there?" he shouted.

But only the wind answered.

Starsky pictured a cougar stalking him, the greenish-golden eyes hidden in darkness.

There was another possibility—this could be Red. Yet, he could hear the car coming closer. Red couldn't be in two places at once. Maybe it was someone else. Someone who worked with Red. Yet, that was impossible. No one could have guessed he would leave Route 66 and show up in a ghost town, then somehow get here before him. It just wasn't possible.

Yet hadn't the impossible already happened?

Starsky had been looking at the impossible for almost a year.

"I'm a cop with a gun. Identify yourself," he shouted out. He had already taken his gun out, aiming it at the end of the alley.

He considered using the flashlight but doing that was like shinning a spotlight on himself. For one, Red was close enough to notice it.

Something was moving, coming closer. It was hard to describe, not an actual sound, but an awareness, a subtle movement of the atmosphere. His blood froze, his heart beating fast.

"Cougars rarely attack humans," Hutch had said. "If you see one, make yourself seem large, make lots of noise."

But that wasn't an option either. He wasn't about to give away his position for something that could easily be his imagination. For all he knew, it could be the old buildings settling. Or a rat.

But his cop instincts told him different.

Something or someone was in the alley with him. He pictured a man standing there, a rictus smile on his face. He aimed the gun and stood defiantly, staring down whatever was on its way.

It was his last stand, or the stand of a fool who'd grown up watching too many horror films. Either way, he wasn't giving away his advantage by running into the streets.

Starsky heard a car pull up just down the street, then a car door slamming. Someone was coming.

TBC