Author's Note: Chapter replaced on 07/11/05.
'We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.'
-Robert Louis Stevenson
11:13pm
Day 1
Grants, New Mexico
"…So when we found out what Boss Hogg and Sheriff Rosco were up to, me and Luke stole the slot machines and took 'em to the orphanage. We made it seem like Boss Hogg had donated the money, and he had to go along with it!"
Hutch scrubbed one hand over his face then thumped it against the steering wheel of his LTD, next to his other hand. The 'General Lee', as he had come to know the orange car, was in front of him as they drove down the highway. A car passed them going the opposite direction and in the flash of headlights, Hutch could see two heads of curly hair sitting side by side in the Charger. One head belonged to his partner, and the other belonged to Luke Duke, the obviously more sensible, and quieter, relative of the blond sitting next to him.
'I think we should split them up,' Starsky had said before the headed out that morning. 'They're gonna be our responsibility, and there's less of a chance that they'll make a run for it if they're not together. You take Bo, and I'll ride with Luke, okay?'
Hutch grated his jaw as he fumed. 'Sure, stick your partner with the talkative one!' he projected the angry thought, and several curses for good measure, at the car in front of him.
The kid had not shut up once during the whole- how many hours? 13!- worth of road time. Hutch not only got a free, 5-hour lesson in car mechanics, but he was also an expert on the Duke family lineage.
His eyes hurt, his brain hurt, even his ears hurt.
"This is lost sheep 1, come in lost sheep 2, you got your ears on?"
Hutch stared at the CB. What the heck kind of a call was that?
Bo picked up the mike and replied, "Right here, cousin, go ahead."
Hutch rolled his eyes. Of course.
"There's a motel a couple miles up ahead. We're gonna stop there and find us a place to eat. Just follow us."
"Roger that, Luke."
Roger? Who said 'Roger' any more?
Bo replaced the mike and launched himself into another exaggerated tale about greedy county commissioners and feeble-minded sheriffs. There was some sort of explanation regarding that stupid little cookie jar in the General's trunk, something about it being a family heirloom of someone named 'Lulu'. Hutch hadn't really been listening. Bo voice was droning on in the background, as it had been for the past 300 miles, and Hutch fought down the hot, itching ball that was swelling inside him. He knew the feeling well- it was irritation.
The sooner he got away from the blond, the better. Bo had spent the better part of the afternoon drive cat-calling every female driver that passed them on the highway. Hutch was really starting to miss his partner and their pointless conversations about what makes the world go 'round.
The inky blackness of night enveloped the car and the highway, pierced only by the LTD's headlights as they lay upon the highway before him, like the walking stick held out by the blind man. They were cruising along at 70 miles per hour, speeding a little on the deserted New Mexico highway. The steady hum of tires against asphalt was a steady background noise on the rare occasion that Bo wasn't talking.
They had departed from Hutch's apartment at a little after eight this morning. Funding was minimal and each man had only taken the necessary provisions. This trip was meant to be mostly business, and mostly driving. Anything other than a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush wouldn't be needed.
So Luke led the way in the General Lee, with Starsky as his co-pilot. Hutch and Bo followed in the battered but loyal LTD, and they kept in contact via CB in between refueling stops. Arizona was a blur of endless highway and tumbleweed, except for the hour-long break the four took to eat lunch at some small roadside diner. After a meal of greasy hamburgers and fries and cola, it was back to the highway.
13 hours and 750 miles since Hutch first started his car this morning, they were pulling off the highway and heading towards a run-down but lit-up motel. Hutch eyed the place wearily as the car rolled over crunchy gravel. The 'Good Nite' motel was advertising vacancies, and it wasn't too difficult to see why. Three long buildings stretched out over the sand, accompanying a small check-in office. There were five cars already parked outside. The motel looked big enough for fifty.
In fact, there were more cars parked next door, at 'Sally's Family Restaurant', than there were at the motel. Several eighteen wheelers were occupying the far corner of the lot, looking somewhat ominous in the night. Hutch took a deep breath. He was road-worn and exhausted, more than ready to call it a night. But lunch had long since been digested and the burn in his gut would not relent until it was fed.
Looks like they were going to mingle with the locals of Grants.
This should be interesting.
Hutch pulled into the parking space beside the General Lee and turned the engine off. Eerie, unnatural silence filled the air. He stared at the brick wall before him, existing where only the taillights of the Charger had for the past 13 hours. Was the ground still moving underneath him? Why could he still feel the vibrations from the steering wheel in his hands? Footsteps could be heard around him, but that was impossible. The car was still moving.
"Hutch? You okay?"
Starsky's voice echoed in his head, and he smiled. He felt like when you were bored at work and began spinning in circles on your swivel chair, around and around and around, then the captain walks in so you stop spinning, only your body pulls to the side and your eyes feel like they're going to fly out of your head.
That sense of vertigo is what Hutch was feeling now, as he sat with his hands on the steering wheel of the parked car, staring at the wavering brick wall of the Good Nite motel.
"I think he's sleepin'."
"Bo, lookit. His eyes are open."
"He's been awful quiet since we got into Arizona."
"Why didn't you say something over the radio?" Starsky asked.
A hand waved in front of Hutch's face and he wanted to bat it away. He was trying to drive here!
Bo shrugged. "I thought he just ran out of things to say."
"Come on partner, let's get you out of there."
Hutch felt Starsky's hands on him, then the car door swung open. He felt himself being dragged to the side, towards the ground next the car. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He was getting sucked out of the car!
"Hutch, you gotta let go. I know it's been a long drive, but we're done for today. Come on Blintz, snap out of it!"
Hutch blinked and the world snapped back into focus. What happened? Somewhere in the distance, the crickets were chirping continuously in the darkness, unseen by the four weary travelers. The car's engine was off, in 'park', and facing the wall of the motel they would be sleeping in. The ground was not moving, and Starsky was standing outside, tugging at him.
"I'm okay," he said at last, releasing the steering wheel and brushing his partner's hand way. "I'm coming, I'm okay." He double checked to make sure the car was in 'park', then turned his eyes to the gravel in front of the car and ordered it to stop moving.
"Uh, why don't you guys go on in and get us some rooms," Starsky said, seeing his partner's struggles to clear his vision. "We'll be right there."
After the Dukes went inside, Starsky knelt inside the open driver-side door. "Hey Hutch? You in there?"
Hutch scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to look at his partner. "Are we there?"
Starsky smiled. "Yeah Blintz, we are." He stood and offered a hand. "You coming inside now? How 'bout some food? You look ready to crash."
"I think I've developed Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in my entire body."
"Aw Hutch, don't go talking about brain tumors. It wasn't that bad of a drive, was it? Didn't you think Arizona was nice?"
Hutch latched on to Starsky's hand and allowed himself to be pulled from the car. "Only for the first couple hundred miles."
"What, didn't Bo keep you company?"
Hutch snorted. "If you like talking about fast cars and women and all 20 inhabitants of Hazzard County." Hutch dragged his feet as they made their way to the check-in office. "The guy really needs to get out more."
"Okay, how 'bout we trade tomorrow. I'll take Bo and you take Luke. He's too quiet anyway."
Hutch studied his partner with a critical eye. While Hutch felt like he hadn't slept in days, Starsky looked as chipper as ever. "Aren't you sick of driving?" he asked as they walked.
Starsky looked at him. "How can you get sick of driving?"
Hutch forgot. Starsky loved this sort of thing. Cars were the brunet's hobby, and the fact that he had spent the day in that souped-up orange muscle car was probably a thrill for the detective.
Hutch was happy that Starsky was happy and he made and effort to smile. The bone-deep weariness was swallowing him whole even as they spoke. When had driving gotten so hard? He thought back to early this morning, when they brought their plan to Captain Dobey. The whole thing had barely passed with the reluctant Captain, who informed the detectives that he'd 'rather not know the details of their personal lives'. They were dismissed from the office rather quickly, but somehow Hutch felt the after-effects of a father's concern.
Last night, the four had mapped out the route to Georgia over dinner at Huggy's. It wasn't until Starsky had two slices of pizza put away that he finally picked up on what Hutch and Luke had been discussing for the past half hour.
"Twenty three hundred miles!" he coughed, dropping the pizza to his plate.
Hutch's expression held a tinge of exasperation. "Yeah, Starsk, your car is currently residing on the other side of the country."
Starsky looked from Bo to Luke, then at his partner. "How many days will it take?"
Hutch dropped his gaze to the map and traced a pencil over a large portion of it. "If we leave early, drive all day, and only stop to eat, sleep and refuel… three days."
A silent explosion of nothingness stilled the air around the four. Hutch watched as Starsky's gaze turned inward and he thought through the implications of the cross-country trek.
"Let's do it."
That had been over twenty four hours ago. Hutch rubbed his face, bringing him back to the present and followed Starsky into the dim motel room. Two large beds stretched out before them and a pathetic little TV sat against the opposite wall. The carpet was well worn and flat, the drapes were dusty, and there was a mysterious stain on the wallpaper beside the TV.
It would do.
"Okay, so this is nice, but where's our room?" Bo asked, breaking the silence.
Hutch 'gracefully collapsed', as he called it, onto the nearest bed and stared up at a cobweb as Starsky fielded the question.
"This is your room. You're still in our custody, and no offense, but I'm not taking any chances on having you two escape. Besides, you're cousins. I'm sure your used to it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bo snapped, staring at Starsky straight on.
"Come on, you're cousins, you're from Georgia…"
"Starsky." It was Hutch's turn to reel in his partner. The brunet always had been blunt with his honest observations.
Luke pushed Bo towards the bed and Hutch wondered how many times the older cousin had to leash his quick-tempered relative.
Probably as many times as he had to with Starsky.
"Look," Luke started in the classic good-guy persona, "We've been driving all day and we're all a little cranky. Let's just get some food and call it a night, okay?"
"Fine with me," Bo huffed.
As much as Hutch wanted to simply pass out, the burn of stomach acid was eating away at his insides relentlessly. He had only picked at lunch, unable to ingest the plate of deep-fried grease. Now, he just might give in. Hutch pulled himself off the bed and followed the others as they made their way back out into the dry heat of night. A jackrabbit bolted from it's hiding place and took off into the night, leaving only a trail of displaced sand in it's wake. Hutch watched it with envy, wishing he had that much energy.
Starsky pushed open the door to the restaurant and a cluster of bells jingled overhead. Hutch automatically began scanning the room and the other patrons, a habit born of career.
There was only one waitress visible, but considering the time of night, they were lucky for that many. A teenaged couple were sitting side by side in a booth, sharing a piece of pie. The majority of the customers were gathered at a table in the back corner. They were all men, and fairly big men at that. The condition of their clothes and skin suggested that these were the owners of the semi trucks parked out front. There were six men total, and the group seemed to be having an animated and boisterous conversation. Family restaurant by day, truck stop by night.
Hutch was the last to slid onto a seat at the bar. Bo was on the far end, nearest the group of truckers, Luke was on his left, then Starsky. The cousins each picked up the one-page glossy menu and silently looked it over. Hutch began doing the same before Starsky leaned over just a bit.
"Hey, thanks."
Hutch looked up. "For what?"
"For doing this with me. For dragging that junk heap of yours across the county. It means a lot."
Hutch smiled. "My pleasure." He risked a glance at Bo and Luke then added, "I just wish you had picked better company. What's with that cookie jar they're carrying around? They treat it like it's made out of gold."
Starsky returned the grin. "Hey, they're hillbillies. Does anything they do make sense?" When Hutch only rolled his eyes, Starsky continued, "Come on Hutch, lighten up. At least you're not a work. And just think, when I get my car, everything will go back to normal."
Hutch snorted. Starsky, his car, and 'normal' did not belong in the same sentence.
A short time later, the four were eating a late dinner in peace. The teenagers had left and the truckers had kept to themselves. The food was good, the atmosphere was warm, and the waitress was pretty.
Little did they know, she would be their downfall.
"Hey Sally, how 'bout another round of beers for me and the boys?" one of the truckers shouted, earning cheers from his companions.
"Sorry Clyde, you boys have had enough," the waitress responded as she gathered some empty plates from their table. "You're gonna drink me right out of business!"
Hutch picked at his salad, his attention now on the scene unfolding to his right.
"Then I suggest you stock up," Clyde replied gruffly, a frown deepening on his tanned face.
The lone cook stilled his movements in the kitchen and Hutch felt his gun grow heavier against his ribs.
Sally tried to laugh it off. Her arms were full of stacked plates as she made to leave. "Sorry boys, not tonight. I gotta get home to my kids."
"They can wait," Clyde growled, and snaked out a beefy arm, snagging Sally as she started to turn. Her arm was pulled and the stack of plates dropped to the floor, some of them shattering upon impact. "We're not going anywhere," Clyde pushed, giving her a shove.
Hutch tensed, preparing to follow his partner into battle.
Surprisingly, Bo was the first to move. "I suggest you stop bothering the lady," he said, the words low and menacing as his body went rigid.
Clyde's smile fell as he looked to Bo, then his eyes traveled down the line of strangers. "You say something, boy?"
Bo was off the stool and approaching the truckers with what Hutch would either classify as extreme bravery or extreme stupidity.
Perhaps a little of both.
Faithfully, Luke was right behind his cousin. "You heard him," the brunet challenged. "Leave her alone."
The six truckers stood, following Clyde's lead. Sally was now safely behind the counter and the cook was beside her, comforting her. Clyde glared at the waitress but then directed his attention to Starsky and Hutch. "And what do you two have to say about it?"
Starsky left his seat and moved to stand with Bo and Luke. Somewhere, deep down inside Hutch, he wanted to shake his head and disappear. This was beyond stupid. They were out of their jurisdiction by several hundred miles, and besides that, he didn't think a badge or gun would scare these heavy-set truck drivers at all. However, Hutch had never been one to ignore a call of distress, especially from a lady. So mechanically, he rose from the barstool and joined his partner at the battle line.
"Didn't your mother teach you how to play nice?" was the best he could come up with.
Hey, they were outnumbered six to four.
A smile formed on Clyde's face as a snake side-winds through sand. Without looking behind him, he said flatly, "Get 'em."
The room exploded into action. A large, tattooed man with a ponytail came at Hutch and he barely ducked a meaty fist in time. Hutch spun and backed into the man, grabbing his arm and yanking it forward, over his shoulder.
The man didn't budge.
Hutch faltered for a second in confusion, and that was all the time the trucker needed. Hutch was rocketed towards the bar and slammed into the edge, doubling over it before sliding to the floor.
And it all got worse from there.
The air was filled with the sounds of breaking glass, splintering wood, grunts and curses, and flesh hitting flesh as a good old fashioned brawl broke out. Hutch was still on the floor when his assailant charged forward and delivered a strong kick to Hutch's midsection. Pain blossomed in his stomach, pushing all the air from his lungs, and Hutch swore he regurgitated that last bite of salad. People were swirling above him and he could barely make out Bo, still on his feet, and delivering a powerful blow to his attacker's head, dropping the trucker to the floor.
Hutch didn't know the kid had it in him.
Then Hutch was pulled to his feet by the collar of his shirt and propped against the bar. Pony-Tail pulled back for another swing and Hutch collapsed more than ducked, dodging the strike once again. He spun away, somehow staying on his feet, and reached for his gun. Enough was enough. They were going to get killed.
Well, severely beat anyway.
"Police, freeze!" Hutch shouted into the frenzy, withdrawing his gun simultaneously.
Hutch didn't even have a chance to aim before a chair hit him from behind. Wood cracked and splintered and flew past his head and shoulders as the gun dropped to the floor, immediately vanishing into the debris and scuffling bodies. Panic flared within him even as he tumbled to the floor.
He rolled with the blow, trying to right himself quickly in a world that swayed like a ship at sea. He caught a glimpse of Starsky, defending himself with an empty beer bottle. The glass shattered as it struck a skull, and another trucker went down for the count.
Was Hutch the only one having trouble here?
Black leather boots filled his vision and Hutch rolled away, scrambling to his feet. Now Pony-Tail was wielding a steak knife and advancing with menace. Hutch struck out with his foot, connecting solidly for the first time that night, and the steak knife went clattering under a table near Luke, just as the brunet took a blow to the face. Luke stumbled back into the table and his assailant followed. Luke pushed off from the table and threw his entire body into a mean left hook, dropping the third trucker of the night.
Hutch didn't have time to realize the numbers had changed. Pony-Tail swung and connected, numbing Hutch's jaw and pushing him back into a table. Hutch's hands flew to the table to catch himself, and his fingers connected with an empty glass. Like a hound dog on a chicken bone, Hutch seized the weapon and swung, oddly enjoying the tinkling of glass at it shattered against Pony-Tail's head.
Hutch looked up, panting and still using the table to hold himself upright, and watched as Starsky knocked out a fifth trucker with his fists, and Bo the sixth with one of the wooden chairs.
Suddenly silence filled the air of 'Sally's Family Restaurant', save for the panting of four advocators.
Hutch looked to Starsky, noting the beginning of a handsome black eye, and nodded once. "You okay?"
Starsky returned the nod. "Yeah, you?"
Hutch winced as he realized that no, he probably was not okay, but it was nothing that warranted medical attention. "Yeah, great." To ignore the pain in his face, ribs and shoulders, Hutch moved forward and retrieved his gun, thrusting it back in the holster securely.
He straightened with difficulty and looked at the cousins, feeling sympathy as Luke tried to stop his nose from bleeding. Bo was trying to brush off glass fragments and wood splinters from his shoulders and hair. "You guys okay?"
Bo sniffed and looked up, squaring his shoulders. A small smile crept over his face. "Just like bein' at home."
Having chanced his opinion of the blond in the last five minutes, Hutch felt the need to say something congratulatory. "I like your moves."
Bo's grin broadened. "I like your style."
Luke limped towards the closest chair and dropped into it, tilting his head back. When Hutch shot him a concerned look, the burnet simply waved him off, signaling he would be fine. Hutch looked around the small restaurant, noting all the broken chairs, tables, glass, blood and limp bodies on the floor.
He looked at Sally and the cook, who appeared to be her husband, relieved to see them still safely in the corner. They stared back with wide eyes.
Starsky cleared his throat, capturing their attention.
"Uh… check please?"