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Chapter 10

Starsky stopped, bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees, gasping for air. He had been pushing himself hard, trying to catch up with Hutch and the others. He had noticed that Hutch's prints (when he could find them) seemed different from the other two; there were scuff marks and handprints on the ground. Hutch kept tripping and falling down for some reason… he seemed clumsier then normal. Not to say that the blond was a total clutz because he wasn't, most of the time. The only conclusion Starsky could draw from this was that Hutch must be hurt.

He got his wind back quickly and began to move. Along with the worrisome falling that his friend was doing, the brunet had noticed that whoever was leading them, -Colby? - was taking them in a circle. But why lead the group in a circle? What was the point to that? Where they lost? Didn't they know they were going in a circle? Hutch would know… why didn't they listen to him? Those questions troubled him and made him pick up his pace again.

Starsky backhanded the sweat out of his eyes and squinted up at the sun's position. It was around noon. After figuring out the circular and backtracking pattern of their route, he had experimented to check his theory and found where they had spent the night. That short cut had saved him some hiking. Hutch had been tied to a pine tree, judging from the scuffmarks he had found on it. He further found that Hutch now had a stick of some sort and was using it. It was hard to tell why his friend had the stick. His meager tracking skills couldn't tell him why. But, Hutch fell less often now.

Starsky figured that he would catch up to them by late in the afternoon, if the group kept to their winding, backtracking path. He heard a plane fly overhead and stopped to watch it fly by. Was it a plane that the Baron had sent to look for him? If so, why was he back in a plane and not the helicopter? It couldn't be the Baron then. Starsky trotted off once more, determined to catch up with the men.

XXXX

Fullerton's Airport

The fire that they thought they would have under control was now burning rapidly through the county nearly twenty acres were involved The Baron's copter had dropped burning embers over a longer then expected path. As the heat of the day rose, so had the flames and the wind had picked up in the flat, open area of the airport, breathing life into the fires. The local fire departments, which are far more experienced with building fires, were now out of their element, they were unable to contain the blaze and the Bureau of Land Management or BLM, was contacted and Hotshots were called for.

XXXX

Ranger Station Number 20

Ranger Mike Jordan put down his binoculars. Some thin white plumes of smoke were curling out of a stand of trees in the Elk Meadow area. That area had not had a fire in well over thirty years, according to the records. It was over due. Fire is a natural renewing force, neither good nor evil, yes, it is destructive, but it also cleansed the forest, burning away old litter and allowing new plants to grow. Burning can improve the health of a forest. Some pine trees needed the fire to open their cones so new trees could grow.

Mike scratched his head as he pondered what to do. It was a dry spell. The fire could take off and blowup… but that was unlikely. Blowups happened every season, but it was unlikely to happen there. He put his binoculars to his eyes again. Elk Meadow had some very difficult terrain around it… it would be a bitch to hike to while packing in all your gear on your back, since the meadow was burning, there would be no close place to land. Smoke jumpers would have to be called and that would cost money, money that his department needed for some upgrades in radios and vehicles that were desperately needed.

He put down the binoculars and walked over to the map on the wall and studied it. Maybe, just maybe, it might be the Bureau of Land Management's problem… The Elk Meadow area was in a gray area… if he could shift it over to the BLM and let them handle it…that would be nice. Give the problem to the BLM. Mike smiled and picked up the phone.

XXXX

BLM Office, near Fullerton

Keith Adams put the put the phone down and studied his map. Ranger Jordan had just let him know that they had a fire burning in the Deer Meadow area. Deer Meadow was well in the Forest Service's area. Not his problem. Not a BLM problem. Plus Mike had told him that the area was in an inaccessible area. Besides, he had major problems of his own; the fire from the local airport was burning towards their office, unless the wind shifted again.

Keith more important things to deal with right now then some smoldering little nothing fire on some Forest Service range. He had some Hotshots coming in to his station for staging. He had to get ready for twenty people to be bused in shortly.

XXXX

Sierra Nevadas Mountain Range, California

The blond made it to a full and upright position; much to the chagrin of gravity take that Sir Isaac Newton Hutch thought with a grin you may have discovered the law of gravity, but I defy it he went to tug at his wet shirt collar and nearly fainted from the sudden jolt of pain coming from his right arm, he hissed through the worst of it. His left hand went to explore the wound. It was hot and swollen; he could feel the heat was coming through the bandage. His arm was infected.

Hutch wiped a hand down his sweaty face and licked his lips. Thirst burned in him. He had to get some water and then go look for Starsky. He tried to stand up but knocked his head on the low ceiling. "Ow!" he rubbed the now sore spot on his head for a moment then crawled out of the small cave on his hand and knees, he kept his injured arm tucked tohis chest and eased his way passed the bush.

A wave of dizziness swamped him, but he pushed beyond it. He could hear water bubbling and flowing; he had to get to it. His arm throbbed with every beat of his heart. He felt like he was on a Tilt-o-Whirl as his body swayed first in one direction, then another. His stomach clenched at the motion, so he stopped. Beads of sweat ran down his face. As hot as he felt, Hutch was certain that the sweat would hiss as it made its way down his face.

A slight breeze blew a gentle puff of cool air on him. He could smell the stream, he was so close. He licked his lips again and tasted blood, by now they were so cracked and dry they were bleeding.

Hot, so hot. The sound of water was close. He tried to stand up, but collapsed. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to his knees, again hugging his injured arm to his chest. His dark world spun rapidly under his hand and knees, throwing him to the ground. He panted through the pain.

Water. The sound of it tickled his ears and tortured his parched lips. C'mon Hutchinson, you can do it… it's not that far… it's closer with each move you make The blond pushed himself forward, belly crawling, his injured right arm dragging off to the side now. He put out his left hand and dug into the shale, struggling to get closer to the water.

Darkness closed in. A darkness as deep as a black hole, from which light can not escape, gathered and surrounded him like ravenous wild dogs. He had to get to the water. Had to get a drink. Had to. Had to.

He pushed himself towards the water.

XXXX

Colby sat up and shoot the sleep out of his head. He blinked at his surroundings. Something had awakened him. Off to his side, a twig snapped. He focused on the sound. Another twig snapped. He carefully moved backwards, behind the bush that he had curled up under for a nap. A quick glance at his watch told him he had been sleeping for about four hours or so.

John heard a sound, rather like a grunt and the slight rustling of leave and pine needles. He peered through the leaves of the bush he had hidden himself and saw a flash of blond hair. A grin slithered across his lips.

There was a splash of water and another grunt. Hutchinson had come out of wherever he had hidden himself and was getting water. He didn't have to look any further, the blond had come to him. This was going to be easy. Colby's mind raced. Should he play with the blond a little first? Or just capture him and then play?

Colby smiled. A little blind man's bluff with a blind man, what fun! And he did smiled ever wider at the irony of it all. Though, there was a small chance that the spray that had blinded Hutch had worn off… and maybe Hutch was trying to draw him out… He would be wary of traps and he pulled Hutch's Magnum out of his backpack. He would have it out and ready, just incase the blond got any funny ideas. But he wouldn't use it. Oh no. Not unless he had no other choice. Guns were noisy. He liked it quiet.

He eased his way through the brush and around tree trunks moving stealthily in the direction of the blond, only occasionally catching glimpses of blond hair. He fingered the Magnum and closed in.

XXXX

Starsky had followed the trail to a pile of rocks. Something had happened here. The ground was scuffed and there was a rusty patch on the grass. Drag marks and flattened grass led to this pile of rocks. His belly crawled with dread. There were two choices of who was buried under the rocks. The disturbed dirt had several clear prints in it. The shoe prints did not belong to Hutch.

His mouth dried up. He had to know who was buried under the rocks. Vomit rose in the back of his throat and he could taste it burning back there. He swallowed hard several times. He began to remove the rocks, slowly at first and then more quickly. Throwing them heedless of direction, frantic to find the body buried beneath.

A crack cut through the air. It was distant and it echoed through the trees. He dropped to the ground instinctively, hiding behind the mound of rocks. Five more shots in rapid succession assaulted his eardrums. The sound was far off, judging from the sound. Though that could be an illusion brought on by the dampening effect of the trees and terrain.

Starsky cautiously stood up. Experience told him that the shots were quite distant, but he would be alert and use care as he headed in the direction of the gunshots. He knew it was not just any gun though. He would know that gun anywhere. It was Hutch's Magnum. A Magnum. Starsky corrected him self as he moved in the direction of the sound, but who else would have a Magnum way out here?

But first he had to know who was buried under the rocks… if it was Hutch under there… Starsky went back to his grim task. He quickly lifted several more rocks and found the head of the body. It was the FBI agent, he face frozen forever in a look of abject horror. The detective sighed with relief. It wasn't his friend. He didn't bother looking for a wound. He knew who did it and how this man had been killed.

He quickly began to replace some of the stones to keep the animals away. As he was about to place a stone over the man's face he paused. The man's eyelids were missing. A quick look showed a path of dried blood down each side of Ruth's face. The man had been alive when the lids were removed. Starsky shuddered. That was a new and very disturbing twist.

Starsky quickly but gently placed the stone over the man's head, snatched up his pack and hustled off in the direction that the shots seemed to come from. He narrowly avoided some angry bees as they dive-bombed him when he got too close to their hive. He checked for a path his quarry might have taken as he jogged.

The brunet nearly plunged off a hidden drop off. He would have too, if he hadn't noticed the freshly damaged brushes. He windmilled his arms to catch his balance. When he caught it, he could see that someone had fallen down the hidden drop off at this spot. He forced the lump in his throat back down as he glanced about for an alternative route down the steep incline.

There wasn't one. It would be faster to go straight down than to waste time looking for another way down. He didn't care for heights, but he wouldn't let that stop him from trying to get to his partner. But he didn't want to get hurt getting down to the bottom. He wouldn't do Hutch any good if he got hurt. How to get down then?

He remembered the rope that the Baron packed away in the pack he carried. After hooking the grappling hook to the exposed roots of a tree, Starsky eased himself down the steepest part and shook the hook loose when he got to a less steep section. Nearly beaning himself on the head in the process.

He made it down to the bottom and found a small stream. He looked around and noticed some prints. He couldn't tell how old they were, but some of them were the same ones that he had noticed in the dirt around the rock pile. At least he hoped that they were the same, the wet sand and mud didn't make for good prints as the person's feet slipped and elongated the prints.

Starsky scouted around, peering at the ground looking for Hutch's prints, all the while praying that he would find them. He couldn't find any more prints. He went down stream and then back to where he started. No prints.

With hands on hips, Starsky stood looking at the damage foliage… that was a hell of a fall for anyone to make. He had only found one set of footprints. Did that mean Hutch had gotten away? Fell down the slope… and escaped? Hutch was a prisoner the night before… he wouldn't have had his gun. Colby must have been doing the shooting, but his preferred method was knifing, not shooting. Why shoot all six rounds? The questions only made him more frantic as each one popped into his head.

Which way should he go? He couldn't find any more prints or other signs. Starsky looked up the stream and he looked down the stream. Colby and Hutch must have walked in the water to hide their prints. Up stream or down stream?

Starsky took a gamble. He gambled that Hutch had gotten away from Colby. Perhaps sometime during Ruth's murder. That might have been enough of a distraction that his partner had managed to sneak away. He didn't waste any time thinking about why Hutch didn't try to stop the murder. That could wait. It would have to. The prints around the gravesite were Colby's, not Hutch's. If Hutch had been there during the time that Ruth was buried, it stood to reason that Colby would make him do the work. So that meant that Hutch must have escaped before the man was buried.

Up stream or down? He had to think like Hutch. The answer popped into his head. He picked his direction stepped into the water and ran.

XXXX

It was late afternoon when Starsky staggered to a halt. He had left the water about an hour ago. It was just too difficult to try to run in. The rocky footing and slimy moss made for treacherous running. He had only stayed in the water that long just in case Colby was looking for Hutch and he didn't want the man to know someone else was in the woods as well. He could make better time out of the water and he had a feeling of impending doom. He had to find his friend. He came around a sharp bend in the stream and stopped.

A crumpled form lay about a foot away from the stream bank. The left arm was outstretched as if reaching for the water. The form was laying semi curled on its left side, with his back to him. He was so still. Starsky took a step closer and stopped.

Hutch was laying nearly the same way he was when Starsky had found him after Colby had knocked him out and kidnapped Mrs. Karen Karpel back in Bay City. It had taken nearly 20 minutes for him to find Hutch after he went in to place his call. When he had returned to the Torino to find Colby and Hutch gone. He had been annoyed, at first thinking that the two were playing a trick on him. As he started to search for them, annoyance departed and anxiety had set in.

When he spotted Hutch curled up on the pavement, his heart stopped for a long moment before he rushed to his friend's side. He couldn't figure out what happened… a dozen things shot through his head in that instant… had the men that had attacked Colby earlier came back for another try? Had Colby been kidnapped? Would Hutch be in worse shape than Huggy had been?

The fear that had gripped his heart upon spotting Hutch on the ground turned to confusion and then anger when Hutch recovered enough to inform him that it was Colby that had attacked him…had betray them. Had used them and their friendship against them.

Starsky forced the memory away and bolted to his friend's side. He knelt next to the blond and put his hand out to touch Hutch's face. He pulled it back for a second as he noticed that the man's poor face was red, swollen and covered with small lumps and bruises.

He gently touched Hutch's face and hissed at the heat he felt there. It took a few tries to get any words out, his mouth was so dry with shock. "Hey babe… Hutch? C'mon buddy… wake up" He shook the blond gently by the shoulder and pulled back when he got a whimper out of his friend.

"Easy Hutch… s'me partner… please… wake up" He shook the arm again and Hutch winced and whimpered. Starsky then noticed how hot the arm was under his hand. His focus had been on the blond's poor face, not his arm. Starsky looked at Hutch's right arm and nearly fainted. It was swollen almost to twice its normal size and a stick was lodged completely through it. Hutch had managed to bandage it.

"Oh babe…" moisture gathered in the brunet's eyes at the suffering his friend was in. It became clear to him that Hutch had hidden somewhere and was unable to tend his wounds. He became feverish and crawled for water… only to pass out heartbreakingly close to his goal. A single tear slipped down Starsky's cheek.

"I'm here… I'm here Hutch… I've got ya"

"Whaaa…" the sound was raspy and weak.

"Shhh… I'm here Hutch" Starsky looked his friend over quickly trying to determine if there were any other injuries that needed his attention before he set about doing something about Hutch's right arm.

"Whaaa…"

Starsky hit himself on the head with the palm of his hand "Water! Gottcha! Water coming right up" He moved to get his canteen to give Hutch a drink of purified water. He carefully eased the blond onto his back and lifted his head and shoulders into his lap feeding Hutch water by the capful. Too much water too soon would make him vomit.

The blond drank greedily and moved restlessly when Starsky cut him off "Sorry buddy… I can't give you any more right now… I'll give you more in a little bit. Gotta look at that arm first"

Hutch's left hand moved up and Starsky caught it in his own before it fell back down. Hutch weakly squeezed his hand.

"Lost"

"What's that partner?" Starsky bent down to hear what Hutch was whispering.

"Lost"

"You're not lost" Starsky shook his head, confused.

"No… you… lost… found you… I found you" The blond's fevered wrinkled brow smoothed out as consciousness slipped away from him.

Confused by that statement, Starsky shook his head and ruffled the dirty blond hair "No partner… I found you. Sleep now… I've got some unpleasant things to do and it's best that you stay out while I do 'em" Please let him stay out Starsky prayed I can't stand the thought of hurting him… he's been through enough already

TBC

Author notes:

Hotshots – Fire crews of twenty who can be bused or flown where needed to fight fires. This is usually seasonal work for those involved.

Forest Service – Federal agency responsible for National Forests and other (mostly forested) public lands.

Bureau of Land Management (BLM) – Federal agency responsible for low value (mostly unforested) public lands in the West and Alaska.

Blowup – A sudden increase in a fire's intensity and rate of spread that results in violent, widespread burst of flame. Is usually over in minutes but can last longer. This is very similar in nature to flashover in a building. Flashover happens when everything in the room ignites at the same time.