CG- chapter #2
After driving several hundred miles, Roy pulled over to stretch his legs and check on his prisoners. It was full daylight now and the arid country was just beginning to heat up. 'Thank God for air conditioning' He took a leak behind the van and opened the side door to have a look at his new prisoners.
The smell of vomit nearly overwhelmed him. "Whew! Good God! Why is it that just about every time I see you two, you stink?!" He looked in on the pair. Both seemed to be unconscious but he got in to check their pulses anyway. Starsky had vomited and it pooled near his face. Roy held his breath and quickly checked his carotid artery. It was a requirement as a prison guard to know some basic first aid. 'Good, still beating'
He was relieved; he didn't relish the thought of showing up at the facility with a dead prisoner. He was also glad that he had placed them chest down to prevent them from choking on their own vomit. This was something that he had learned from experience. He got out some rags and sopped up the mess. Gross! He wiped off Starsky's face and hair as well.
He quickly checked Hutchinson as well. The beating in Hutchinson's neck was slow but steady. 'Gotta start calling them by their new names' he made a mental note to himself. He would be in deep shit if he fucked up and called them by their real names.
He wondered if he had given them too much of the drug. 'I mean, those drugs didn't come with instructions on how much to give' so he had just guessed.
Then again, the pair had been drinking. He vaguely remembered something about depressants and alcohol not going together. He usually used the drug on women. Of course, he never hung around until they woke up, so he wasn't sure how long it would take for the drug to wear off. He was kinda pissed at himself for not thinking to use the drug on the original prisoners. Sure would have saved him this headache he had now.
He sat in the doorway of the van contemplating his next move. He idolly ran his hand through Hutch's hair. 'Like corn silk, hmm' A thought skittered through his head. 'What would he look like bald?' The thought tickled him. Both of them bald. It would help disguise them and alter their appearance dramatically, as well as be pretty fucking funny. 'Well, at least to me' He chuckled. 'Best do it now while they were still out.' He got out his shaving kit and scissors and set to work.
Minutes later, Roy was done. He looked at them and burst out laughing. Bald as eggs! A pair of Telly Savalas's, minus the lollypops, from that stupid TV cop show "Kojak". 'Oh yeah, they are gonna be so pissed!' He decided right then he would keep their hair short. At least until the heat died down from the search that would be conducted for the pair. Though, from experience, Roy knew the focus of the search would largely be conducted in Bay City and Las Vegas.
Still chuckling, Roy got back into the driver's seat and continued with the long drive. As he drove he began to think about what else he could do to them. So many things! And such happy thoughts these things gave him. He could hardly wait to start. It would be easy to be brutal, but much more difficult and fun to play psychological tricks on them. Give them some hope, and then smash those hopes like mashed potatoes.
He began to recite their new names and information about the original criminals so that it would come natural to him by the time they reached the prison. 'Gary Mitch Harold, 32, dark blue eyes, dark brown hair, 5 counts of child pornography, petty theft and a few other more minor crimes. Samuel James Jones 31, light blue eyes, blond hair, 8 counts of child molestation, 5 counts of child pornography. No other known crimes.'
"Woo boy, they are gonna love you two in prison! And maybe in more ways then one!" Roy burst out laughing again. 'Gotta stop doing that, people will think I'm nuts' He wiped his eyes and continued to chuckle.
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Starsky slowly regained consciousness. He faded in and out several times before he fully faded in. And promptly wished he had not. He tried to move his hands to sit up, but found that they were secured behind his back. "What the hell...?" Well, that's what he thought he'd said, but what had come out sounded more like "wodahell?"
His foggy brain informed him, amid the hammer and thongs that were steadily being banged in his skull that his lower legs were secured as well. This was not good. He further noticed that he was on the floor of a van. The last time that had happened was when he had been kidnapped by cultists. He shuddered.
His fuzzy, hung over and drugged brain struggled to work. What was missing? "HUUUUTCH!" It was reflex to shout his friend's name. He should known better, for now his captors must know he was awake. 'Dammit!' He lifted his head to look about "Aaah! God DAMMIT! That hurts!"
Looking about, he saw an orange blur, the blur's back was to him and the hands were cuffed behind his back. He focused and then saw a bald head; the person's face was turned away from him. "Hey! Hey mister!" Starsky called. He raised his head gingerly. "Hey!"
He rolled closer to the person, noting while doing so his mouth had a vile bile taste. "Yuck!" Talking was like breathing to Starsky. He just couldn't help it, couldn't keep his mouth shut. It had gotten him into trouble before and would most likely get him into trouble again.
He struggled to get to his knees. This was nearly impossible to do in a moving vehicle and being bound as he was, but Starsky managed, after losing his balance several times. "Hey, MISTER! Uff!" He lost his balance and fell on top of the bound man.
"Ugh. Since when am I a 'Mister' to you Starsk?" Hutch muttered. "And get off me, ya big lug, you're heavy" It hurt to talk. Hurt to think. Vomit started to work its vile way up his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing it back down – barely.
"OhmyGOD! Hutch! Your hair is gone!" Starsky decided he hated the new look. He struggled to move off his friend. He finally made it and leaned up against the side one of the hard metal bench seats in the van, he moved his legs out in front of him which gave him a little more stability.
Hutch turned his head carefully to the side that Starsky was on. "Whaddya mean my hair is- Starsky! Your hair is gone too!" It was bizarre. He had never imagined what Starsky would look like with out hair. He didn't like it. Not one bit. His head began to throb in earnest. He lay his head back down and closed his eyes.
"Hutch?" Starsky knew that look. Hutch was in pain. Starsky watched as Hutch paled even more than usual. "Hey" He searched Hutch's light blue eyes and saw his own fears reflected there. "Can ya sit up? Huh?" He willed his friend to give it a shot. Sometimes it helped to sit up when sick to your stomach.
Hutch breathed through his nose a few times, fighting nausea. "Try" was all he could manage for words. He maneuvered around, trying to get his balance in the moving van. His stomach cramped and twisted. Hutch panted a bit to relieve the pain. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he swallowed hard.
"Hutch, Hey Hutch, come on, take it easy" Words were all Starsky had to offer, bound as he was. It frustrated him to no end that he could do nothing else. 'Dammit!' He watched in dismay as his friend went from white, to gray and then green in the face as he struggled not to vomit. "Just let it go, Hutch, maybe you'll feel better"
Hutch swallowed and squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the waves of nausea. Needing contact with his friend, he wiggled over to Starsky and placed his head on Starsky's outstretched legs. "Ugh, no, not here"
Starsky had enough. "Hold on Hutch, I gonna make some noise and get 'em to pull over"
Hutch cringed. He knew the volume of Starsky's voice. He prayed he could hold the contents of his stomach until their captor or captors came back to check on them. If they came back...
"HEY! HELLOOO? PULL OVER!" Starsky yelled. He banged his handcuffed wrists against the metal bench. BAM! BAM! "HEY! HELP! You've got a sick man back here!" He kept this up for several minutes. All the while watching Hutch battle his insistent stomach for control and losing ground.
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Roy heard the pounding and the hollering. He had been waiting for it. He knew Starsky- correction – Harold – was worried about Hutch – Jones. He also figured he knew the cause. Nausea. He chuckled and checked the highway. No one about. 'Let the games begin!' He thought and started to swerve the van back and forth.
Hutch held on as long as he could, then lost the battle and the contents of his stomach, all over poor Starsky's legs. "S-sorry... ugh... sorry Starsk... I couldn't..." He fought another wave of queasiness.
"S'okay Hutch, s'not your fault" He soothed. Starsky glared at the divider that separated him from the bastard driving the van. 'That son of a bitch is in deep, deep shit!' Starsky raged silently.
Finally, the van slowed and pulled off the road. Starsky heard the driver's door open and close and shortly afterwards the side door slid open. He stared in stunned disbelief. "Roy? What the hell....?"
"Well hello boys! Aww, ain't that sweet? You got your little friend's head in your lap" Roy gave them a smarmy smile "I know that little drug I give ya has a side effect of some short term memory loss, which is one of the reasons I use it." He reached in and patted Hutch's leg.
"Don't touch him!" Starsky snarled.
"Tut, tut, you can't talk to me like that, Mr. Harold. That's your name now, you know. And this" He patted Hutch's leg again, Hutch weakly pulled his legs back away from him. Roy chuckled "This is Mr. Jones"
"Roy, you crazy fuck, ain't nobody gonna believe that crock of shit!" Starsky glared at Roy.
"I'm afraid they will. You see, you two are a couple of real bad apples. Yep, Blondie, or should I say baldy, here, well he's in for child molestation, 8 counts and 5 counts child pornography and you, Mr. Harold, are in for 5 counts of child porn and some other lesser charges. Yep, you two are gonna be real popular at the facility."
Starsky and Hutch stared in appalled silence at Roy. They took in the guard uniform that Roy had on. It sunk in just what kind of trouble they were in. Prison orange jumpsuits, prison guard uniform. The realization slid like ice cubes down their spines.
"Being detectives, you may already have figured out that you're on your way to prison. You're destination is an experimental facility for rehabilitating the more difficult members of the prison population. We affectionately call it 'Boot Camp'" He grinned at the pair. "Inmates however call it 'Camp Hell'"
"Why?" Hutch croaked out "What did we ever do to you?"
"You crossed me! Did you think that I would let you get away with that? Did you?!" He smacked Hutch on the leg. "HUH?"
"Hey! Stop doin' that!" Starsky snapped "You screwed up, YOU, not us! All we did was point it out that-"
"SHUT UP!" Roy leaned over and backhanded Starsky across the face.
Hutch saw his chance and kicked Roy in the ribs with both feet. Roy flew backwards with the force of the blow and rolled out of the van.
Roy lay on the ground for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. His lip was cut and he wiped the blood off.
Inside the van, Starsky was trying to maneuver his way to the door, poor Hutch was dry heaving uncontrollably and was unable to do anything more at the moment. Starsky made it to his feet and was confronted with the business end of Roy's gun.
"I have had enough of you two!" Roy glowered at Starsky "I was gonna let you out to take a leak, but now, now you can just piss in your pants." He shoved Starsky backwards; he tripped over Hutch and went down. "'cause I ain't lettin' either of you out now 'til we get to Boot Camp"
Roy grabbed the collar of Starsky's jumpsuit and wrestled him onto the metal bench and secured his handcuffs to a sturdy ring that was welded there. He repeated the process with Hutch.
"Have a fun rest of the trip, boys" And with that, Roy slammed the van door closed.
"Well, that went well" Starsky quipped.
Hutch lifted his aching head and merely looked at his friend, at a loss for words. 'What could he say?' He thought dismally.
TBC