On the table, dramatically spotlighted by the small flame overhead, sat the most beautiful 2-way radio David Starsky had ever seen.
A huge, face-splitting smile spread over his face. The last time Starsky remembered smiling this hard was the first time he sat before a group of female 'dancers'. He was at a rare loss for words. Starsky turned to look at Hutch, who was wearing a smile that probably rivaled his own. The two men locked eyes and a palpable feeling of joy passed between them.
Then Starsky began to giggle. His face heated at the uncharacteristic sound bubbling over his lips, but soon Hutch was joining him. They were free, and it had been so simple. The radio suddenly became the funniest thing either man had seen in a long time. Even the dog yipped a few times.
When words finally formed coherently in Starsky's mind, he spit them out. "Looks like we're saved, Blintz. I'd like to send a big thank-you to our captors…" he babbled, sounding like an actor accepting a prestigious award.
Together they moved forward and Hutch shifted his weight from Starsky to the table, allowing Starsky better access to the radio. He turned the knob to a clear station, then Starsky picked up the hand piece and looked hopefully at Hutch. He pressed the button and began speaking. "This is Zeb- Detective David Starsky of the BCPD, I have a 10-108, I am in need of assistance. Does anyone copy?"
The radio crackled for a second before a clear voice replied. "10-2, this is the Topanga State Park Ranger Station. What's your 10-20?"
Starsky let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The dog barked once as the detectives relaxed visibly.
Realizing he had been asked a question, Starsky grabbed a wrinkled map and pushed it towards Hutch. "Where are we?" he asked, moving closer as the blond bent over the dimly lit paper.
Hutch ran an index finger over the map and squinted at it for a few seconds before his hand stopped and he tapped a spot near the corner. "Here, there's the campsite. We can't be more than 5 miles north of it."
Starsky rattled off the coordinates to the park officials. "We need an ambulance and extra officers. We were taken captive by armed and dangerous persons, current whereabouts unknown."
"10-4 detective. Units are in route. How many are in your party?"
"Two." Hutch's elbow jabbed his ribs and Starsky rolled his eyes. "And a… dog."
"Did not copy, please repeat."
Starsky sighed. "There are two officers and a dog."
Starsky thought he heard a laugh filter over the radio then the voice lost it's formality. "Sit tight detective, your assistance will be there within half an hour."
Starsky let the hand piece fall the short distance to the table top and he grinned in triumph. Despite his embarrassment over having to include the mutt in the call for help, a feeling of immense accomplishment warmed him. "Well partner, looks like this camping trip is gonna be cut short."
Hutch smiled softly. "It's alright." At Starsky's questioning look, he added, "There's always next weekend."
Starsky began shaking his head. "Oh no you don't…"
Hutch shifted his weight and something clattered to the ground. Starsky moved forward to steady Hutch as the blond bent over to retrieve the object. When Hutch stood again, he was holding the polished wooden butt of a hunting rifle. "What do we have here," he murmured sarcastically.
Starsky opened his mouth to reply when the dog moved soundlessly towards the tent's opening. The hair on it's back rose quickly as it audibly sniffed long and hard through the flaps.
A low growl rumbled through it's exposed teeth.
Starsky looked into Hutch's worried eyes. "What's he saying now?" He was afraid of the answer.
There was a loud bang that sounded suspiciously like a car door being shut. Then voices could be heard.
"Baby we're rich! Soon we'll be able to have that house on the beach, just like we wanted!"
"He almost backed out Elaine. It's getting harder and harder to unload this stuff! I don't want to be stuck with a load of illegal pelts!"
"Calm down baby, we only have to sell a few more."
"Hey- where'd they go?"
"Who?"
"You know who-"
The voices were suddenly silenced. The dog stood stiffly before the tent's opening, no longer growling but listening with perked ears and a slow and stiffly wagging tail. Starsky felt a knot of anticipation form in his gut.
Just when it seemed they had caught a break…
Starsky held up a flat palm towards Hutch and took a step forward, towards the entrance. Something in his head screamed at him not to get any closer, but he swallowed it down where it landed with a strangled cry and a thud next to mother's warning about taking candy from strangers. He envisioned the criminal couple on the other side of the suddenly-too-thin fabric, closing in with loaded weaponry. This all felt like a corny horror movie.
"Come on out boys, we know you're in there!"
A hand rested on Starsky's shoulder. "Let's do it partner," Hutch murmured, his eyes glinting.
Starsky looked down and watched as Hutch jammed the rifle through the rear bindings of his splint, crudely concealing the firearm from anyone viewing the detective from the front.
Starsky smiled.
Maybe their luck had changed.
"We're coming out!" he shouted back and ducked under Hutch's right arm. "Hold you fire!" he added for good measure.
Starsky pulled back the tent's flap and stepped into the warm sunlight that was finally gracing the earth. Water fell like diamonds from the tree leaves, and the campsite smelled new and clean. Even the birds were singing loudly. Perfect setting for shooting someone.
Roughly ten feet away, Frank and Elaine each pointed their rifles at Starsky and Hutch. A sick smile spread over Frank's face while Elaine remained focused on the target before her: Starsky.
"You boys look sad," Frank taunted. "You know, you shouldn't take life so seriously." He grinned and tightened his finger on the rifle aimed at Hutch. "It isn't permanent."
Starsky had tensed and was half a heartbeat from grabbing the concealed gun from Hutch when the dog slinked around the blond to stand in front of him. His head was lowered, his teeth were bared, his hackles up and a deep growl sounded from his chest. He was every bit the dog Starsky had seen just yesterday in a filthy alley, defending his dead owner from different group of humans. The dog was obviously not deterred by having guns pointed at him.
"Hey, get that fleabag away from me!" Frank exclaimed, backing up a small step. Elaine's eyes darted between Starsky and the dog.
For a crazy moment, Starsky thought that he and Hutch had the upper hand. "Lower your weapons and I'll call him off. I gotta warn ya, he's pretty hungry."
Frank eyed Starsky with uncertainty, but it quickly transformed into control. He lowered his shoulders and resumed his defensive stance. "I said, call him off." He spoke slowly and with conviction, this time looking directly at Hutch.
"Too late."
Before Starsky could blink, Frank fired his gun. Hutch was torn out from under him. A human yelp echoed the booming gunshot.
Everything moved in slow motion. The dog lunged for Frank as Starsky struggled to control Hutch's collapse with only one arm. Starsky saw the brown streak of fur from the corner of his eye as the rest of his vision was filled by the blossoming bloodstain on Hutch's chest.
Another shot sounded, and this time it was closely followed by a nonhuman cry. Hutch was fully on the ground now, wide eyed and panting with shock, and Starsky ripped the rifle from it's hiding place and hefted the weapon into the air with his right arm. He pulled the trigger as soon as it lined up with Frank, and the man toppled backwards to the ground as the shot echoed through the trees.
He turned sharply and froze, training the gun on Elaine.
Silence rang through the once-peaceful forest, broken rhythmically by Hutch's ragged breathing. The wound was crippling but not fatal, as the bullet had torn through the soft spot under Hutch's collarbone. Starsky couldn't risk looking down at his partner yet- not until he had Elaine apprehended and rendered harmless.
"Drop it," he spat, feeling his shoulders tighten.
Elaine's eyes softened and her shoulders slumped. With a small cry of despair, she tossed her rifle a short distance away and raised her hands in surrender.
Starsky herded her with his gun towards the tree he had been tied to only a short while ago. "Sit down," he ordered, too upset and angry to toss out a signature sarcastic remark. Elaine sank to the ground with her back to the tree. Starsky stuffed the rifle under his arm as he picked up the same length of rope that had bound his wrists and sank to his knees to secure her small hands. The process was slow as he fought to ignore the burning, grating pain in his broken arm while he used both hands to tie a secure knot. Finally satisfied, he rose to he feet and reclaimed the grip on his weapon.
He patted her cheek gently. "Don't go anywhere."
Elaine turned her tear-stained face away, but Starsky was now on a new mission. He quickly returned to Hutch's side and propped the rifle against the tent as he hit his knees beside his partner.
"Did you get 'em?" Hutch panted as he struggled to sit up. The blood was spreading over his bare chest, shining so brilliantly in the sunlight that Starsky wondered if maybe the sun had chosen this time to shine for that sole reason.
"Yeah Blintz, I got 'em." Starsky leaned over his partner and pulled him upwards, immediately noting the bullet's exit wound on the blond's back. "You sure are making a mess here," he muttered with a forced smile.
Starsky looked around for anything to press to the wound before remembering he was still in his undershirt. After a very hard struggle, he had the thin garment off his body and pressed hard against Hutch. "You're gonna be okay, help's already comin', remember?"
Hutch nodded then began tilting to the side. "Starsky, it's just a flesh wound." He swallowed as Starsky righted him. "I've had worse."
Indeed, the bleeding did not seem uncontrollable. Even with the deep lines of pain on the blond's face and all their previous injuries, Hutch was lucky. They both were lucky.
"Is he…" Hutch started quietly, and Starsky followed his partner's solemn gaze to the felled dog.
"He was shot, buddy."
"I gotta see him," Hutch said, suddenly rocking forward in an effort to go to the still animal.
"Hutch, wait-" Starsky was left fumbling as Hutch scrambled to his feet. "You bull-headed son of a- wait a minute!"
Hutch stumbled and flailed in his attempts to get to the dog, resembling a broken-winged bird in it's last efforts to fly. He sank to the ground, landing heavily because of his unbalance, and leaned over the mass of bloody fur.
"Hutch…"
Starsky whispered around the large lump in his throat as he stood behind his friend. Surely the dog was dead; it had taken a bullet at almost point blank. There was no need for Hutch to see the broken body of the animal he loved so dearly. What's done was done- the deities that had smiled upon them this afternoon had somehow overlooked their four-legged companion.
Starsky placed a hand on Hutch's trembling shoulder. "Hey, come on. Let's get you taken care of."
Hutch reached out a shaking hand towards the dog's relaxed face. His fingers ghosted over it's closed eyes and to Starsky's startled amazement, the animal cried.
His hand tightened on Hutch as Starsky leaned forward to watch. "He's alive?" he whispered, not wanting to speak too loudly as his voice alone might send the dog to it's death.
"He's bad," Hutch replied softly, letting his hands glide over the tangled and dirty wiry fur. The long, trembling fingers ran through the glistening blood on the animal's side and Hutch withdrew his hand sharply. The dog cried again, whistling softly through his nose. He made no movement.
Starsky never knew that dogs could cry. He knew they whined, barked and growled, but there was only one word to describe the heart-breaking sound coming from the animal at his feet.
The dog was crying.
Hutch sighed and his breath hitched. "I've gotta help him," he announced quietly, and Starsky furrowed his brow.
"What-"
Hutch's voice seemed to have found strength although it still wavered. "He suffering, Starsk. He's dying in agony and he doesn't deserve to go that way." There was a heartbreaking pause. "Bring me the rifle."
Something cold and spiny twisted in Starsky's belly. 'But you don't deserve this either,' he thought, and blinked away the sudden onslaught of water in his eyes. Had had thought it had stopped raining. Before he had actually given his feet permission, they were carrying him towards the gun.
Numb fingers wrapped around the cold rifle and soon Starsky was watching himself hand the firearm to his partner. It was all too surreal; whereas time had become hurried but lasting during the shooting, now it slowed painfully and dramatically. Starsky felt he should do something, say something- anything to stop what his partner was going to do...
To himself.
Instead, he helped Hutch to his feet while keeping his damn watery eyes trained on the dying dog. He couldn't look away. Starsky always put his total trust and faith into his partner, and if this was what needed to be done, then Starsky would stay at Hutch's side through it all. He owed the dog that much at least. He owed Hutch much more.
Hutch raised the rifle and aimed it at the fading brown dog. The quivering of the long barrel was not lost on Starsky. There was a gurgling noise now, and the whining was becoming more intense. Starsky lifted his gaze to his partner's face. Hutch close his eyes briefly, murmuring a potent prayer and a sincere apology, then he refocused pained blue eyes on the suffering animal. A tear slipped down his cheek. Starsky's stomach cramped.
A loud and hollow gunshot rang through the air, then absolute silence once more settled over the campsite.