"I said drop the gun." The weapon aimed at the blond detective was steady in the madman's hand, and his eyes darted wildly in his head. The man looked to be about 65, and was dressed in ragged, dirty clothing. A container of gasoline sat on the floor to his left.
Hutch sat awkwardly on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Glancing at his partner, he nodded. Starsky slowly bent down, placing his Beretta on the tile beneath him.
"Now…now kick it t-towards me."
Starsky did as he was told, keeping his movements slow and purposeful. "Look, Bob, we don't want to hurt you. No one's been seriously injured, yet. Just let these nice people go, and we'll talk to the DA about going easy on you. Deal?"
Hutch's gaze rested on Starsky, as he wiped at the perspiration beading on his own forehead. 'Stay calm buddy, don't panic him," Hutch thought.
Robert Matthews was someone they dealt with on occasion, between stays at Cabrillo State. But Hutch had never seen him violent. High, yeah, but never violent. Bob was more the quiet, drunk, insane type; talking and gesticulating to himself, spitting at invisible attackers, occasional shoplifting. 'Schizophrenic,' Hutch knew from the reports. But as long as the older man took his medication, he was relatively harmless--that is why the partners thought nothing of his coming into the plant shop. 'Obviously,' Hutch realized, 'he's missed a few doses.'
"Stay away from me; I know what you're trying to do." The man's voice grew louder and more manic each time he spoke, as if talking over voices only he could hear.
Starsky put his hands up, palms out. "We're not trying to do anything here, Bob, except make sure these people, and my partner, get out of here safely."
"Bob," Hutch's voice was calm and soft despite the massive shocks of pain coursing through his shoulder, "when's the last time you slept or had something to eat? Let's get out of here and talk about this over one of Jack's burgers."
Bob's finger moved against the trigger of his automatic, and he looked frightened for his life. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to sleep so they can take over my mind and my body. Like all of you have been taken over. I won't let you do it, I won't."
"Whoa, there, Bob." Starsky's eyes were wide, probably with the realization that the gun man was no longer a part of this universe. "You need to calm down before someone else gets hurt. Okay, that's good, Bob. Good. Relax your finger." The dark haired detective let out an audible sigh, then looked at his partner, worry lining his face.
Hutch knew Starsky felt helpless about the situation; he could see it in his eyes. All he could do to reassure his friend was nod. Hutch trusted Starsky, and knew that he would do everything in his power to get them out of this.
A woman's soft cry sounded from behind Starsky tense body, and Hutch scanned the room until his eyes fell on her. He gave her a smile, telling her everything was going to be okay. Not that he believed it; Bob was obviously out of his mind, and willing to kill.
Starsky continued to talk the older man down. "Who wants to take over your body, Bob? You know Hutch and me will do anything we can to protect you."
The old man grabbed the container of fuel and started sloshing it on the plants next to him, filling the small store with the strong fumes. "They are, the Pods. They want you to sleep so they can eat you, and then they leave a naked body double. They're the ones who force you to sleep. They drug you. But they won't…you won't get me." He threw the last of the gas onto the wooden shop door and reached into his pocket.
The two detectives looked at each other. Hutch couldn't avoid the smile that curved his lips when he realized Bob was describing the movie Starsky had talked him into watching the night before, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. When Starsky suggested it, Hutch rolled his eyes and gave in, knowing his buddy's need for old horror movies. So several beers and a pizza later, they sat on the old couch watching alien pods take over the world. Hutch had to admit, though, it was pretty good. Hutch drew his attention back to the gun pointed at him, realizing he must have faded out briefly. 'I hope Starsky didn't notice.'
A quick glance at the other detective's worried face, told Hutch he had. He also recognized Starsky looking for a chance to take Bob down; his legs were tensed and ready to pounce, and his eyes carefully watched the gun. Taking Bob out wouldn't be easy. The man thought his life was in danger, and that made him unpredictable. Starsky's best chance, Hutch realized, was to talk Bob into dropping his gun, and that wasn't very likely.
"Bob, we are safe from the pods here. See we are all still human." Starsky gestured to the store owners and the young mother carrying a young child. "You can be safe in here with us, if you just give me the gun." Starsky inched slightly closer to the armed man.
Bob pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a lighter. Hutch saw his partner flinch slightly.
"Don't you get it, cop? This is where they live, this is where they breed. I have to destroy the pods at the source." With that, the lighter was lit.
"Bob, don't do it." Starsky's voice was deep and threatening. A wave of grey was starting to come down on Hutch, as he struggled to remain awake. He was Starsky's backup.
Whimpers and cries echoed through the shop as the realization of what was about to happen dawned on the hostages. Hutch saw a flash of dread pass through his friend's eyes.
"Bob, put that down. You don't want to do this." Starsky slid a step closer.
Hutch fought the blackness pushing past the gray, feeling around himself for something, anything that he could use to distract Bob. He could hear Starsky pleading with Bob to drop the lighter, and knew Starsky was ready to move. Grabbing at the object, he hurled it towards the madman, only then realizing it was a ceramic planter.
The planter landed at Bob's feet with a crash just as he was was leaning over to light the flammable puddle. He hesitated, and Starsky took that moment to lunge forward, knocking the lighter from the shaking hand. The lighter fell harmlessly to the floor.
Hutch struggled to stand up, hoping to reach the two bodies rolling on the cold tile. A wave of dizziness knocked him back to the floor, and he fought to stay conscious. As his eyes were closing, Hutch heard a gunshot, and his partner howl in pain. He forced his eyes open in time to see Starsky give one last slug to the old mans face, knocking him to the ground. Starsky then grabbed his leg now covered in blood, and looked at Hutch.
"We won, partner..." Hutch slurred out before falling into darkness.
Hutch sat up further in his hospital bed trying to get a better look at the gift Huggy held in his hand. "What is that?" he asked an uneasy tone to his voice.
"It's a Nepenthes. I thought you could keep it on your desk at work to help control all the flies you two are always whining to me about." Huggy's chest was puffed with pride.
"It's a what?" Starsky, on the bed next to Hutch, rubbed his tired eyes.
Huggy shook his head. "It's a pitcher plant, Starsky. It's carnivorous, as in it eats meat. Dig?"
Hutch looked at Starsky and couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face at his partner's horrified expression.
"You're kidding, right?"
"What are you so freaked out about, Starsky? It's just a harmless little plant." Obviously, Huggy was unaware of the previous day's encounter with the Pod People. Hutch began to place his hands behind his head, then flinched at the pain in his bandaged shoulder.
Huggy didn't miss the subtle gasp that came out of the blond's mouth. "Hey, you okay, Hutch?"
"Still a little sore, Hug. Hey, thanks for the plant, by the way. It's, uh, very different from anything I have."
"Well, take good care of her. She's one of a kind." The slim black man set the plant on the night stand between the two men. "Now take care of that leg, Starsky, and you watch that shoulder, Hutch. I don't want anything happening to you dudes till you've paid your bar tab, comprende?"
Starsky, still staring at the brightly colored plant, absently waved good bye to the barkeep.
Hutch was a little more polite. "See ya, Hug. And thanks again."
As soon as the door shut behind Huggy, Starsky painfully swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"And where the hell do you think you're going?"
Starsky looked at Hutch as if he were missing a chunk of his brain. "Whaddaya think, where the hell am I goin'? You know…even 'eat them before they eat you' is a rule of thumb that I don't think applies to this situation. I don't trust these things further than I can throw them…"--and to illustrate that point he picked up the pot gingerly, keeping his hands well out of the way of the bulbous alien-shaped blossom, or even of the chance of it craning its stem down to get a chance of nipping at his fingers.
"Starsk, it's only a plant…"
Starsky ignored him--Hutch sighed in exasperation, but didn't reach to press the button for the nurse, watching instead as Starsky half-hobbled, half-hopped over to the chair near the foot of the bed and used it as a makeshift walker to get him to the door of the room, looking stealthily both ways down the hallway and then moving across the empty hall to the mailbox-like door in the wall that was a chute down to the hospital incinerator. He opened that hatch and tipped the plant in, holding onto the pot, then made his way back into the room, breathing hard and limping even harder, but with a look of satisfaction--pride even.
"You can tell Huggy it got tipped over," he said, climbing painfully back into bed and pulling the covers over himself. "Some things are a bit more important than the damn flies in the station, after all…"
"Like what?--saving the world from pod people?" Hutch inquired sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Starsky's…audacity, impulsiveness--sheer gall?
"Nah," Starsky said, shaking his head--"first things first--it was naturally gonna go for you before me, 'cause it was closer to you. You think I'd wanna wake up next to a pod partner?" He sighed and smiled wearily but indulgently, wincing a bit as he adjusted his injured leg beneath the bedsheets.
"You know, Hutch…sometimes you just gotta think more practically…"