Hi All,

Lots of stuff happening in this chapter, more bad stuff and words. Thanks for letting me know that you are enjoying the story. I hope to continue to do so.

As always, many hugs and thanks to the Usual Suspects. And special thanks to Kreek for her advice on all things Hutch.

Chapter 9

Fullerton's Airport, California

The small group of men fought the helicopter fire with everything they had, equipment wise, which wasn't much since this was a privately run airport, but they put forth supreme effort to save the man that was trapped in the cockpit of the fallen aircraft. They struggled desperately to remove him from the burning hulk.

Joe Higgins had donned the only fire protection suit the small airport had and SCBA that was available at the small, airport and pulled his friend from the wreck, the other men pitched in to help carry the injured man to safety, once they were clear of the burning fuselage. They then began a frantic battle with the spreading flames and the local volunteer fire department was called. They arrived at the scene twenty minutes later.

The injured helicopter pilot was loaded into the ambulance and rushed to the local hospital. The fire crew called for mutual aid from another local fire department due to the spreading flames. The dry conditions coupled with the spattered fuel from the crash started spot fires that would need to be doused to prevent a major conflagration due to the drought conditions the area had been going through for the last two months.

It was a good thing the darkness was rolling in, the cooling temperatures and minimal winds should make the blaze easier to get under control and the spot fires easier to see. As long as the conditions stayed that way, they should be able to gain control with in a short period of time.

But without trees to hinder it, the light wind breathed life into the fire at the airport and it grew despite their best efforts. More mutual aid from neighboring fire departments was called in. Sparks dancing in the winds, looking much like sparklers in the night. The firefighters battled on.

XXXX

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range, California

Hutch regained consciousness slowly. The first thing he became aware of was that he was very thirsty. The sound of running water tickled his eardrums and he licked his lips in response. He noticed that they were cracked and dry; he further found that he was laying belly down, his legs were in a small stream, and his head and chest were on a sandy bank.

How did I get there? He wondered and then another thought wandered leisurely through his head, what was he doing there? The sound of water beckoned him and he heeded the call. He painstakingly maneuvered himself around, crawling in a half circle so he could get a drink, carefully turning to get his legs out of the water and he head closer to it.

Everything seemed to pull and ache and he couldn't decide what hurt him most. Water was foremost on his mind and that alone kept him going until he reached his goal of moving just enough to get a drink. With his hands in the four-inch deep water, he put his lips to the water and drank. The water tasted wonderful, at first and then he noticed that the water was warm and tasted like dirt. But that did not stop him from drinking his fill. He gulped it down until his thirst was slaked and his belly grew tight with water.

He then buried his face in the wetness, soothing the heat that was there. Reluctantly, he pushed himself out of the water, noticing for the first time that he still had the heavy backpack on. The thought of water and drinking had blocked everything else out of his mind. Pain began to re-introduce itself to him. He pulled himself up onto the bank and wondered how long he had been in the water and then wondered why he was wondering that.

Pain again made its presents known. He hurt. A lot. Hutch's body began to make its list of aches and pains known to him. His head hurt, his legs, and most of all, his right arm hurt. He slowly sat up and fumbled with the straps of the backpack and as it slid off it caught on something on his right arm. Pain slammed through him and he blacked out once more.

The blond awoke sometime later and shivered in the cool air. His teeth chattered and he slowly opened his eyes and blinked. It was still dark. Why was it so dark? In the distance, he heard the hoot of an owl… oh, it's night, that's why it's so dark He moved his arms to push himself off of the ground and pain lashed through his right arm, he panted to control it as internal darkness beckoned to him, whispering softly of pain-free slumber. He forced it away with questions Where am I? What am I doing here? He forced his mind to think. Why does my arm hurt?

Hutch lifted his head off the ground and tried to move his left arm and found he couldn't. It took a while for his befuddled brain to figure out that the backpack straps held his arms back. He vaguely remembered unbuckling the straps and so he maneuvered his left arm out of the strap, slowly moving his left hand to his right arm, trying to locate the source of his greatest pain. He found it. Something was stuck in his right arm. A stick. His long sensitive fingers felt around where the wood had pierced his flesh, just below where his green t-shirt sleeve ended, on the outside portion of his arm. Drying blood was caked around the point of entry and exit.

Though he used care, the tentative touch of his left hand made pain flare through his right arm and then across his right chest. Should he remove the stick? Hutch gave it thought, under normal circumstances, he knew better then to pull it out, such things were best left to doctors, for to do so on his own could cause more bleeding and possibly do more damage. But what should he do here? He wrapped his left hand around his right arm, just below the stick, closing his eyes so he could concentrate on his predicament a little harder. How did this happen?

Slowly, the events of the day returned to him and he recalled his frantic flight from John Colby. He also realized that Colby would be looking for him. The blond's eyes flew open, as his mind was flooded with the memory of Colby murdering Hank just a few feet away from him. He slowly turned his head and listened for any sounds that were out of place. All he could make out was the soft sounds of the water bubbling and gurgling in the little stream and the sounds of a light breeze rustling the leaves and pine needles around him. He listened for a while longer until he was satisfied that he was alone.

His arm would have to wait until he found a safe place to look at it. It wasn't bleeding too badly and if he pulled the stick out, it might bleed heavily, he was already weak. He couldn't take the chance that he might pass out from the pain and bleeding. I'll have to see to it later He gave a rueful snort, not that he could 'see' much of anything at the moment.

The blond gritted his teeth and pulled the backpack into place on his shoulders. There should be something of use in the pack. He ripped the lower edge off of his t-shirt and bandaged his arm. It would have to do. He would have to find shelter and hole up, hide from Colby. Colby would be hunting him down to torture and kill him. He knew his death wouldn't come as quickly as Hank's had.

The blond pushed himself to his knees and prepared to get to his feet when he realized he didn't have his walking stick. He needed it to get around. He carefully groped and patted the ground around him. Luck was with him and he found his stick. He closed his eyes and gripped it for a long moment. It was difficult to imagine going anywhere without it now.

Bolstered by the minor comfort that the stick gave him, he climbed slowly to his feet, wavering unsteadily for a several long moments as his head spun in nauseatingly tight circles. He stomach, not wanting to be out done, joined in and soon nearly every drop of water he had consumed was vomited onto the dry ground.

Hutch dropped to his knees as the spasms continued to wrack him. Slowly, he wrapped his left arm around his heaving middle, bending at the waist as his aching head sank to the ground before him. His belly spun out of control as waves of nausea and dizziness washed over him. He waged a bitter battle with his opposing body parts, forcing them to obey him.

Pain and nausea argued with him for a long time, each demanding his attention. He would not give up. He was going on. Gritting his teeth in sheer determination got him to his feet once more, with many pauses in between for further arguments from pain and nausea. He registered each complaint and filed it away for future inventory, he had to move and do so quietly. Sweat beaded on his face and slid down his neck, the salt stinging where the bees had stung him. He had to move. Now… Okay, now…

The blond hitched the backpack into place once more and began to carefully make his way. Where, he didn't know. That thought brought him up. He stopped and leaned heavily on the stick. If he walked in the stream, it would hide his trail, but with the splashing he would make, he would not be able to hear anyone or anything approaching. But, if he didn't walk in the water, he would leave footprints in the dry dirt and also trample down any grass or weeds, thus leaving a clear path to where he was…

"Damn" With little choice, Hutch turned and stepped into the small stream. He stood there for several long moments as he listened carefully. As he paused there, he tried to decide if he should go up stream or down stream. The pain in his right arm was difficult to ignore, so he didn't try.

You have been in more pain than this, Hutchinson, remember being trapped under your own car? Huh? The arm is nothing, the pain is less that that, more like root canal then being trapped under your own damn car…Okay maybe a root canal without anesthesia…and what kind of pain will Colby put you through if he catches you? Huh? Now MOVE! One foot in front of the other! You can do this… you have to. You have to; after all, you have pay good ol' Starsk back for that damn coin trick. Thus motivated, Hutch moved.

XXXX

Earlier

John Colby stopped running and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. The bees had finally stopped chasing him and the woods were now dark. Goddamn Hutchinson, always ruining his fun. John's hands clenched into fists as he fought to control his anger and then he paused for a moment. It was strange for him to feel anything for long. His craving for the kill had been eased for now.

The kill had been so sweet that he had shared his feelings with Hutch; he had just had to tell someone else about it. That was new. Normally he kept it to himself. The bliss of Hank's death had been so engaging… nearly perfect. It made him want to share it and Hutch had been as much of a friend as he had ever had in his life.

He had never had anyone else witness him kill before, well, at lest no one he let live, that is. It had added a pleasant dimension to the whole scene. The quiet of the kill coupled with the controlled pants of fear that had issued from the blond as he slowly realized what was happening just feet from him were simply beautiful.

Colby closed his eyes and relived it. Staring into Hank's wide eyes, after the lids had been removed… had been a stroke of genius on his part; John congratulated himself on that innovation.

It was too bad that Hutch was now blind and wouldn't be able to see his him as he watched John watching him die. He shrugged. Maybe he would do that to his next victim… Starsky, perhaps? Colby grinned widely at the thought. Now that would be interesting. Partially sever the man's spine, just enough to immobilize him, cut his eyelids off and then tell his former curly haired friend just how he had killed Hutch… John began to feel pleasure at the thought, but forced it away. He had to take care of business first. He had to go back and collect what gear he could from the body and then go find Hutchinson.

John grinned and began to make his way back to the scene as his last kill. Hutch could not have gotten far.

XXXX

Starsky awoke with a shiver, the night air was cool and he pulled the army blanket tighter around himself. He was getting a little cool since he had stopped moving. He listened carefully to the sounds around him. He was alone. He hated to be alone in the forest. It had been worse in the jungles of Vietnam though. He had gotten separated from his troop and had spent the night in the jungle, in fear, nearly sick with it. If the enemy found him, he would have been killed, or worse, captured.

He listened to the sounds of the forest at night. The hoot of the owl and a distant howl of a coyote… at least he hoped it was a coyote. He had seen them in the zoo but had only heard their cry in old Western films. He was pretty sure bears didn't make that sort of sound. He clutched his Beretta and heartily wished he had something with a little more punch to it. Like an Uzi or a canon. According to Hutch, if he were to ever shoot a bear with his Beretta, it would just piss the bear off.

It took all he had, but Starsky held still for a long time and nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes and tried to get a little more sleep. He was safe; there was no immediate danger. He couldn't follow the trail at night anyhow. He snuggled back under the small rocky overhang he had found and did his best to get some more sleep.

XXXX

Colby found the body of Hank Ruth right was he left it. He turned his flashlight on the dead man's face and gazed at the lidless eyes, reliving the thrill of it. The blood and tears had dried into trails on the sides of Hank's face. He wished he had a camera. John shook himself out of his reverie, he needed to get going.

He gathered his backpack and collected a few other potentially useful items from Hank. He then dragged the body to a natural shallow area and buried it under rocks, more out of habit and hiding his crime from possible detection, than any regard for the dead. Normally when he did a job, someone else cleaned up the mess. This was more work than he usually did. He dropped the last rock on the pile and dusted his hands off.

He looked up at the sky and figured it to be around 1 a.m. or so. He had pissed away half the night. He moved away from the area and walked in the direction Hutch had bolted in his mad dash to escape the bees and him. John decided that he would take a little rest later on. Hutchinson was not going to get too far, blind as he was.

Colby made his way carefully through the woods, using the flashlight to guide him along the blond's trail.

XXXX

Hutch staggered over the wet and slimy moss covered rocks in the stream, tripping for the hundredth time, or maybe it was the thousandth time. He managed to keep from falling, this time. His fateful companion, the stick, helped him stay on his feet. The blond's breathing was harsh in his own ears. He put his forehead down onto the top on his walking stick, panting with exhaustion and pain. Sweat ran into his eyes, but he was too tired to wipe it way. What does it matter? I can't see any way.

Without any warning, his knees gave way and he dropped into the water with a splash. He flopped down hard on his butt in the shallow water, jarring his right arm; a sob of pain snuck out passed his lips. He bit his lip to prevent any more sounds escaping. Unconsciousness called softly to him, offering a pain free haven. The blond ignored it as best as he could. Colby could be anywhere. He listened intently, but heard nothing but the normal sounds of the forest.

Hutch then recognized the call of a Hermit Thrush, a bird that was common back in Minnesota as well as in parts of the Rockies and California. Morning was approaching. He had to find a place to hole up in for the day and he had to find one fast. He thought about getting to his feet. His legs did not want to cooperate with him. Can't, too tired they argued. Tough shit, move! He mentally snapped back at them.

Using his stick as a ladder of sorts, the blond rose slowly out of the water, his pants, weighted with water, clung to his long legs. They burned with overexertion, but he had to keep going, just a little further. He placed his stick ahead of him and pulled his body towards it. Move stick. Move right leg. Move stick. Move left leg.

Finally Hutch felt a solid 'tap' under his walking stick. He tapped it in a half circle along the stream's bank. Shale, it was a bank of shale. He decided that this is where he would get out of the stream. If the rocks lasted far enough, once his prints dried, there would be no trail to follow. Continual taps indicated that there was a path of rocks that led out of the stream. He made his way further from the small stream.

He tapped his way passed a bush and walked right into a rock wall. The blond sank to the ground, befuddled and beaten, his right arm screaming with pain. As he rasped and wheezed, he moved around so he could rest his back against the wall and when he did that, he promptly fell over backwards. The heavy backpack cushioned his graceless fall as he rolled off the pack and face down onto a dirt covered floor. Tears of anger, pain and total exhaustion rolled silently down his face. God is this ever gonna end? He silently cried I can't take much more of this…

He lay there for a while, with the weight of the pack pressing on his back, forcing him further into the dirt. After what seemed an eternity, he undid the shoulder and waist straps, he then took the right side shoulder strap completely apart so he wouldn't have to try to maneuver it over the stick in his arm. The pack rolled off his back and onto the floor next to him. The blond sighed with relief. He was now about fifty pounds lighter.

Hutch slowly sat up and took stock of where he was. Using his stick, he tapped around himself, hitting walls on three sides. He had managed, through total dumb luck, to find a cave to hide in. Okay, it was barely high enough to sit upright in, but it was big enough to lay down flat. With that bush in front of the entrance, it was a good place to hide.

Encouraged by his improved fortunes, the blond dung into the pack and identified several items he could use. A knife, a couple of shirts, some food, a blanket, a hatchet and a camp stove with plates and eating utensils. What he wanted was the canteen, but remembered that Hank had taken it. Not too much of a problem though, he wasn't that far from water. He had stopped for water several times during the night and had managed to keep it down. He was now out of the sun and wouldn't be doing much moving for a while. He could go thirsty until dark.

Hutch set his supplies around him and took one of the shirts and cut it apart. He then changed the bandage on his arm. He had to remove the old bandage carefully so as not to dislodge the scab that had formed. The bleeding had nearly stopped. So leaving the stick in place had been the correct course of action then. With the wound redressed, he grabbed an apple and ate it. He wasn't hungry, but knew he had to keep his strength up.

Exhausted, he spread out the blanket, lay down using the backpack as a pillow, he was soon asleep.

XXXX

Colby sat up. He had just taken one hell of a tumble down a steep slope. His feet were in a small stream; his butt was in the wet sand along the edge on the tiny waterway. "Sonofabitch!" He smacked his hands down in the water, splashing it everywhere. His tantrum quickly over, he stood up and looked around and then looked up the slope he had just fallen down. He had been so intent on following the blond's trail, that he had not used proper caution. Thus his fall down the hill. Hutch must have fallen too. With the bushes and undergrowth, it had been impossible to see the drop off until it was too late.

But Hutch was nowhere to be found. Colby stood with his hands on his hips as he looked about the area for a trail to follow. Now, just how did the blinded blond think he was gonna get out of the woods? The stream… Hutch would follow the stream. Colby ignored the murmurs of pain his body was sending him. He could ignore pain and he would ignore the tiredness that was making itself known to him. He would find Hutch and then he would get some sleep. Once he had determined his course of action, nothing would stop him. He began to follow the stream.

XXXX

Starsky woke up with a sense of urgency. And the need to find Hutch. After taking care of business, he grabbed his pack and headed back to the trail. It was still dark, but some noisy damn birds were making a racket in the trees, so dawn couldn't be too far away.

XXXX

The fire stirred as the morning sun rose over the small meadow. It had smoldered the night through and now began to creep through the dead grass of the meadow, consuming the litter of old leaves, grass and pine needles. It made a playful run at a rabbit doe. She promptly gathered her young and left her fur-lined nest to be eaten by an endlessly hungry predator. The flames rose to a height of four to six inches and spread out a little, the morning dew and cooler temperatures keeping the young fire in check.

XXXX

Bay City

"This better be important" Huggy snapped sleepily into the receiver "Do you know what time it is? I work nights and I don't appreciate… huh? Could you repeat that? … Uh-huh… uh-huh… Who? Angus Gobstopper? I don't know any Angus… wait, The Baron, you mean The Black Baron"

Huggy sat up in bed and fumbled for a piece of paper and something to write with. "Hold on… just a sec… okay, give me the information… Hospital? What hospital? What happened?... An accident? What about Dave Starsky? Is he there as well? …Starsky, David Michael, he's a detective with Bay City Metro… What! He was with The Baron… Angus… No sign of him? Hell… alright… thanks" Huggy hung up the phone, completely awake now "I better call Dobey"

XXXX

Sierra Nevadas Mountain range, California

Starsky double timed it along the trail. Hutch would have been proud of the steady pace he was keeping. He was moving along at a near jogging pace. It was difficult to keep it up some times, so he moved faster down hill when he could. He took short breaks each hour to catch his breath and drink some water.

He didn't eat anything. With his limited water supply and the heat, eating would take more water than he had. He would have to find a stream or something. The Baron had even included some water purifying tablets, thank God, for the thought of drinking out of a stream where fish lived and animals did what came naturally, simply sickened him. He couldn't quite imagine being that thirsty.

The thoughtful Baron had also included some Gatorade, which made a difference and enabled him to keep up the grueling pace he had set for himself. But there wasn't much left now, as the afternoon approached. He had slowed some, but overwhelming concern for his missing friend forced him onward. If Colby's killed him… The brunet cut off that thought. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that.

XXXX

Hutch woke up shivering. His teeth clacked like castanets. He tugged at his shirt collar and found it was soaked. Had it rained? He opened his eyes and found that it was dark out. Or was he blind? His fevered brain couldn't remember right now. Due to his already weakened condition, infection caused by the stick in his arm,was taking a firmhold of him.

He licked his lips. Water would be really good right now… he groped around, and felt dirt beneath his fingers. "Must be camping…" Some how that didn't quite seem right but he had no other explanation. He felt around for his canteen. He couldn't find it. He dropped his head back down onto his backpack pillow, exhausted. "Starsk?" Maybe his friend could get him some water… "Starsky… where are you? You had better not be lost…"

Hutch struggled to sit up, concern for his friend giving him the strength. It felt like someone had placed him in a centrifuge as his head spun with the change of position. But he had to find Starsky. The poor guy would be lost and helpless in the woods without him.

XXXX

Colby sat down on a rock and could not stifle his yawn. He was beat. The damn blond was nowhere to be found. He dropped his head into his hands. He must have missed something. He should have easily been able to catch up with the blind and injured cop; he should have found him by now. Colby gave up. He had to get some sleep.

XXXX

The fire was a little frustrated. The wind was not blowing. So it had to stay small and close to the ground, consuming the forest litter. Still only inches high, it finally had made it to the edge of the forest where it continued to burn low and close to the ground. The humidity was just a little too high yet. It did however; did give off enough heat to dry the lower needles and leaves of the trees it burned around. It lacked the heat needed to burn live trees and had to content itself with the leavings of years gone by. For now

TBC

Author Note: I promise things will really start to move along in chapter 10.