Hi All,
I hope you enjoy this chapter. All that is left of this story is the epilogue. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Kreek, who gives me email kicks to my butt when I need it. I'm posting, I'm posting! Geez… -VBG-
Oh and Happy 9th birthday Rudy! (HUGS!)
Chapter 10
"Mister?" Kenny looked at the man on the ground and then looked about the mist-shrouded area, puzzled by his surroundings. The last thing he remembered was that he had been running away from his father and had hidden in the garage, under the workbench and behind some boxes. He prayed that his dad wouldn't find him. And he prayed that he would just disappear. He had felt himself slipping away and had been happy about it. Glad that he could really go away and escape. No more being hit. No more wondering when his father would explode and strike out.
Then, just when he thought he was free, his father had closed in on his hiding place, angrily whispering to Kenny just what he would do when he finally found him. He had buried his face in his flexed legs, his arms holding his knees tightly to his chest, making himself as small as he possibly could.
But, his father had found him and had reached for him under the workbench. Kenny knew then he was really in for it. Not only had he hidden from his father, he hadn't come out right away when he had been found. That was something that never failed to make father mad. Very, very mad. He had pulled into himself, cringing against the inevitable. He knew he was seconds away from a very bad beating.
He pulled away from his father's touch, even though this would stoke his father's rage. All he wanted to do was fade away into nothing. He felt very close to his goal when something very odd had happened. His father's hand had dissolved. The rest of him slowly followed, like the Cheshire cat from 'Alice in Wonderland', but not even leaving a smile behind. It was a difficult notion to grasp, but that was what had happened.
A hand grabbed him as the last of his father evaporated. He flinched and tugged hard to break away, thinking that father was the one to go invisible and not him. The one hand was joined by a second and Kenny began to struggle harder, unable to stop; even though he knew it was only going to make things worse for himself.
But then his father spoke. Only, it wasn't father's voice. It was someone else's. He kept resisting, thinking that this was just a new trick father was using to get him to come out. Like the time that father had called to him, saying, "Come here Kenny, I won't hurt you." It had been a lie; like so many others and he never fell for it again.
Only the hands that grabbed him weren't his father's. He knew them all too well. The hold these hands had on him was different. The grip was firm, but not binding or cruel. He couldn't explain how those hands were different. He allowed himself to be dragged out of his hiding place. But he didn't give up easily; it just wasn't in his nature to do so, despite what father always said.
When at last he was pulled from under the workbench, Kenny looked about, noticing for the first time that he was no longer in the garage at all, but in a strange, foggy place. He looked up at the man that had pulled him out from under the bench.
It was not his father. Kenny was startled. The man was so unlike his father, he had dark brown curly hair, was a bit shorter and stockier then father. The stranger's piercing dark blue eyes were his most striking feature. Those eyes seemed to drill right into his very soul, and found something worthy there. Kenny blinked. That had never happened before. He had always been measured by his father's standards and he always came up short. But not in this man's eyes.
They locked gazes. The man's hand engulfed his smaller one, but Kenny felt no fear. He felt a… connection. As he came to that realization, the man's eyes rolled upwards and he fell to the ground and lay there.
Perplexed, Kenny sat beside the stranger, worried and unsure what to do. He looked again for father, but did not see him. He didn't see any one or any thing. Kenny returned his gaze to the curly haired man and noticed that the stranger was beginning to lose form and sink into the ground. The ground seemed to be swallowing him up.
Panic set in as Kenny grabbed the man's arm and began to pull up, trying to keep the man's head above the ground.
XXXX
The Other left The Visitor to work directly against the detectives. It slipped in and began to take possession of the newsman.Things were not going the way they had planned and but he was about to take a more active roll and change all that.
XXXX
Boredom, that's what this was, pure, unadulterated boredom. Berry yawed widely, his jaw popped as it was stretched to near-dislocation. He sat watching the detective's chest slowly rise and fall, his left-hand fingers drummed on the mattress as he sat there.
He kept his right hand on the man's forearm, rubbing it occasionally, it gave him no thrill. Hell, they could use this kind of thing to torture people with. The constant, regular beep of the monitors, the near hypnotic rise and fall of the detective's chest combined was mind numbingly boring. Berry's head slowly lowered until it landed on the mattress. He was asleep.
(Look at him, just laying there like a lump. He'll probably be in a coma for years, taking up valuable hospital space and resources, like that Karen Ann Quinlan girl. He's probably brain damaged, and they'll most likely be lopping off parts of him due to the frostbite. He'd be better off dead. I know I'd hate to be like that. I'd want someone to put me out of my misery… it would be far more merciful to do that, rather then let them carve on me…I'd want to die. )
Berry rose from his seat beside the unconscious detective. He had no control over his own body anymore. He was a marionette, with someone else pulling his strings. But he didn't seem to care that he couldn't control himself. He grabbed a pillow from the other bed in the room and placed it over Detective Starsky's face.
Berry then realized he must be asleep and dreaming all this, so he gave into the small inner voice that urged him on. A part of him enjoyed what he was doing; the other part questioned whether this was healthy, even in one's dreams.
(But it's only a dream, there is no harm in dreaming, is there?) His inner voice coaxed him on, (it would be a mercy to die then to live like that, a senseless lump, having frostbitten parts cut off of me… have pity, do the right thing).
(Do it!) His subconscious was encouraging him to continue. It was all a dream, so what harm was in that? He pressed down gently, but firmly.
(Do it!) The man in the bed didn't move. Berry pressed a little harder.
XXXX
Kenny pulled harder. He wasn't strong enough. He was going to fail. He was a failure, just like father always said he was. He was a disappointment. Kenny felt his grip slip a little bit.
The curly haired man was becoming more of a shapeless blob with each passing moment.
Kenny's stomach turned. Father was right. He was all knees and elbows and had two left feet.
Weakling
He could almost hear his father hiss in his ear.
Worthless
The blond youth could not stop the sound his father's voice and words in his head. His sweaty hands slipped from their hold on the man's elbow, then to his wrist and then his hand.
I knew you couldn't do it. His father sounded smug.
Kenny tightly gripped that hand. It was the man's left one. Kenny could feel something dig painfully into his finger. It wasn't skin or bone. The skin of his right hand pinky finger was being pinched. He tried to ignore the pain. He could feel the skin begin to tear a little, as the man was being pulled under the sucking ground. He now only held on to the man by his fingertips. He could now see what had torn the skin on his finger. Two rings were on the man's pinky finger.
Just give up.
Kenny felt himself tear up at father's words. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and refocused on the man. Everything seemed to come to a halt as he stared at those rings. The man slipped into the ground a little further. Kenny lost his grip for a second, but caught the hand once more. He was not going to fail. He was not worthless. He dug in with his heels and hauled backwards. This man, this stranger, had seen some worth in him. He was not about to let that moment of good feeling slip away.
Give up. His father hissed loudly.
"No!" Kenny pulled harder; if this man believed him to have worth… then maybe father was wrong about him. That thought gave him strength and he hauled back harder. As he pulled, the man began to come back out of the ground. It dawned on him that this was the fate this stranger had saved him from. He had been saved from becoming nothing.
GIVE UP!
Kenny ignored his father's command and looked, really looked at the stranger's face. But it wasn't a stranger. It was someone who thought of him as worthy… worth being saved. His self-confidence grew. He could do this. Correction, he would do this. Kenny dug in with his heels.
Give up! He is nothing to you! Father shouted.
"He is everything to me!" Hutch hollered back at his father. But his father wasn't there. It was just him and Starsky, in a strange white space. Hutch blinked. Realities had changed. He was no longer a boy afraid of his father and his father's rejection. He was a man and he had worth, regardless of what anyone else said or did.
A white tornado formed next to the blond and raged at him. You must leave here now!
Hutch was startled, but pulled Starsky completely free of the sucking ground. "He's going with me!" He sat down and hauled his limp friend into his lap. "C'mon Starsk-" he patted the still face, he watched as Starsky's eyelids fluttered. Encouraged, Hutch patted again.
GO! The whirlwind shouted, sounding furious.
Hutch was enveloped in a hurricane force wind, he could feel his friend's weight being ripped from him "Starsky! Follow me! Starsky! Follow me and -" There was a brilliant flash and Hutch closed his eyes against the brightness of the light. The wind stopped as abruptly as it started, and he opened his eyes.
XXXX
Starsky tried to sit up. He couldn't. It was as if something were pushing him down. It was so hard to breathe. He was no longer in the white space he had been before. He was back in that dark, cold place where dead things resided. He could hear the echo of his guide calling to him.
'Follow me! Follow me!' The voice echoed.
It was his guide this time. Not a deceiver, not a fake. He didn't know how he knew this, but it was the truth. His guide wanted him to follow. Starsky knew he must follow… follow and… what? What must he do? The dark cold pulled at him, robbing him of his breath. The pressure increased. Cold, dead fingers clutched at him, scrabbling for purchase on his shivering skin. "NO!"
XXXX
Hutch sat up and immediately hands began to push him back down. "NO! Starsky!"
"Easy there detective." Montgomery's voice coaxed "You had a nasty fall, just lay back and relax."
Hutch allowed himself to be eased back down onto the gurney. He had a splitting headache. "Ow, my head." He raised his hands to head so he could keep it from rolling off of his neck and onto the floor.
"You had a nasty fall on the steps."
"No kidding." Hutch groaned and kept his eyes closed at the bright lights overhead.
Montgomery then proceeded to ask him the standard questions about what day it was and who the president was and other such annoying questions.
Hutch answered, slowly but correctly. Thinking hurt. It was the doctor's next question that got to him. "Do you remember why you're here?"
The memories flooded in; a deluge of information swamped him "Starsky!" Hutch pushed away his pain and sat up quickly, his stomach lurched, bile rose to the back of his throat and burned there. He swallowed hard to force it back down as the room spun around him. He succeeded in stopping the urge to vomit, but just barely.
"Hey, hold on there a minute," Montgomery grabbed his arm firmly. "You need to lie back down and relax."
"No! Starsky… I gotta get back to him." The blond eased his legs off the side of the gurney and stood up. His legs threatened to give away. Hutch ignored the threat and pushed away from the bed.
"Your friend is fine or I would have gotten a call, okay? You're about to fall flat on your face, please, lay down." Montgomery nodded at a nurse and she put her hand on the detective's other arm. "You're in no condition to stand let alone go to your friend just yet."
Hutch jerked out of their grasp. He had a feeling Starsky needed him.
XXXX
"Berry! What the hell are you doing?"
At the sound of his cameraman's alarmed voice, Berry awoke to find that he was doing what he had been dreaming about and quickly released his hold on the pillow like it was a hot coal, it tumbled off the injured man's face and it fell to the floor. He shook himself and goose bumps appeared on his arms. "Um… nothing… I wasn't doing anything."
"That's bullshit and you know it!" Rob gasped out.
"Shut up Rob; let's just get the hell outta here. This story's a dead end." Berry shouldered his way by the stunned cameraman and down the hall to the stairwell. He couldn't quite shake the creepy feeling of the dream he had had and of watching what was going on and not being able to control it, not that he had tried very hard. He suddenly felt quite sick.
"Christ Berry! What the hell were you doing back there?" Rob Baker rasped as he trotted along beside his coworker.
"Shut the hell up Rob!" Berry hissed back. "Just remember I have those pictures of you and Cindy from Accounting, so unless you want me to send 'em to your wife… Just shut the hell up, okay?" He just wanted to leave this hospital, the two bad-luck homo detectives and try to forget this day had ever happened. He'd think of something to tell his producer, or a better story might come along.
Berry silently prayed for a better story, perhaps he could work in an angle on this snowstorm, it was going to be the lead story in the morning anyway, maybe there would be a horrible vehicle pile up. His fingers itched to turn on the news van's police scanner.
XXXX
The Other was pitched from the newsman and was flung back to the place where The Vistor was struggling to maintain his hold on their remaining victim… what did humans say about a bird in hand? He added his efforts to The Visitor's; they would not lose this one. He was theirs.
XXXX
Hutch shook Doctor Montgomery and the nurse off and headed down the hall to get to Starsky's room. He didn't notice that his hospital gown was not tied in back and his butt was on display for all to see. But at this point, the blond would not have cared if he had noticed. Starsky needed him.
Montgomery and a gaggle of nurses tried to restrain him, but he simply increased his speed and bolted for Starsky's room.
An overhead page added to the cacophony in the hallway. "Code blue 514, code blue, room 514."
Hutch's heart joined his nauseous stomach in his throat as he realized that was Starsky's room. He broke into a run, his bare feet slapping loudly on the linoleum floor. He could hear the small crowd of people following him, but their importance diminished as he rounded the corner and headed directly to Starsky's room.
He burst through the door and gained his friend's side, his left foot hit something soft on the floor; he simply kicked it out of his way as he leaned in close and took a gentle hold of Starsky's forearm.
"Starsk? Starsky? C'mon buddy, don't do this! Please… please follow my voice."
"You need to leave sir!" A nurse grabbed his elbow and tugged.
"NO! He needs me… Starsky… listen, listen to me, please! I know what is wrong now-"
"What's wrong is that he isn't breathing! Out!" The nurse pushed her way in between him and Starsky. "Will one of you help me? Get him out of here!"
The small room was soon filled with nurses and techs.
Hutch was grabbed by his arms and hauled backwards "NO! No! Stop, he needs me to be here… Starsky, just follow my voice, okay? Just follow my voice!" He strained forwards, trying desperately to get back to his friend's side.
The nurse in front of him shoved him away from the bed. "Some one call security!"
"Starsky! C'mon… Hey! Let me go! Can't you see he needs me?" The blond alternately called to his friend and begged/demanded them to let him go. More hands grabbed him and began to bodily remove him from the room.
"NO!" Hutch grabbed onto either side of the doorframe and held on, as he wedged his right foot in between the door and frame, simultaneously hooking his left to the opposite side, looking for all the world like a cat someone was trying to stuff in a pet carrier. "No! You don't understand! Starsk… fight! Fight them, damn you! Fight!"
Someone started to pry his tightly gripping fingers away from the each side of the frame. They finally succeeded in tearing him from the doorway, pulling him into the hallway, with Hutch fighting their every move.
"Let him go." Doctor Montgomery wheezed as he approached the group.
The throng maintained their grip on the struggling blond.
"I said let him go! Do it!" The portly doctor's tone was resolute. The nurses and orderlies released the patient.
Hutch nodded briefly at the doctor before bolting back to his partner's side. "Starsk? Starsk, come back… please?" he carefully gripped his partner's arm, just above the white bandages on his hands. "Just follow my voice, okay?"
Hutch's world had collapsed into itself until all the distractions faded away until there were only two people in the room. He could sense activity around him, but none of it really registered. It was like a buzz of a florescent light fixture, white noise. He ignored it as best as he could as he reached out with his very being to his best friend. His nausea and headache faded into that background.
Further away in that background, he sensed as the doctor nodded at the nurses that were working around the patient. One nurse had intubeated Starsky; the other was using a bag valve mask to force air into his lungs. Under his fingers, Hutch could feel the weak and thready pulse of his best friends blood in his veins. He kept up his steady talk, reaching out with every fiber of his being to reach Starsky.
XXXX
The pressure was removed as suddenly as it had arrived. He could breathe. Starsky inhaled. The cold darkness lifted. He could hear his guide whispering to him and he listened intently. He nodded once and proceeded to follow the sound of his guide's voice.
You cannot leave. The Visitor said as it formed before him.
"I am leaving now, you can't stop me." Starsky knew what to do now and briefly wondered how he had ever been fooled by The Visitor.
The vaporous form of The Other joined that of The Visitor, blocking his path. Starsky stepped around them as he harkened to the voice of his guide.
You cannot leave. The Visitor repeated.
"Watch me." Starsky continued to walk and with each step he took, things became clearer to him.
The two beings of vapor moved in front of him once more.
Starsky turned his attention away from the misty pair, to the field of lumps that stretched out before him. "These are all people, aren't they? Each one is trapped here. Maybe they're in a coma. Maybe they are catatonic or have some other mental illness. Perhaps even some of them are depressed. Something brings them here and once they are here, it's your job to keep them here, isn't it?"
The vapor beings swirled, but did not respond.
"So, the way I figure it is this, the ones that disappear into the ground die. Right?" Starsky didn't wait for them to answer, "The ones that I pulled free, or that somehow free themselves… come out of their coma, depression or whatever…" He knew he was on the right track as he could see the vapor beings swirling tighter and tighter, a sure sign that they were angry or upset.
"Why are you so upset? Is it because I freed some of them? It must happen all the time, why get so worked up about losing me?" The detective stopped for a long moment as he pondered his own question. He could hear his guide calling to him and he listened for a long moment.
"I think I know what you are and what this place is…" Starsky swept his hand out, indicating the whole field. "You draw your strength from people brought here. Maybe you even posses people, if they have a moment of weakness… you feed off of them. I have noticed you don't use names, not even your own. There is power in names. It makes people human, not just some lump that takes up space. You can't be something like anger or hostility… they are more active, direct… you two are subtler then that. You like to take things away from people, their identity and their individualism. You want every thing to be the same… you, in some ways are even more dangerous then anger, rage or hostility put together."
The vapor beings closed in on him, each a mini tornado.
"I'm on the right track, ain't I?" Starsky stepped back away from the beings. "You make people think that they are nothing, that they are useless, worthless, that there is no need from them… you are apathy and indifference."
Reality snapped as the twin whirlwinds collided with him and Starsky found himself in a gray haze. "Terrific."
He put his hands on his hips and scanned his new surroundings. "Hello? Is anyone here?"
In the distance he could hear his guide calling him. Starsky began walking towards the sound. "Yeah, yeah Blondie, I'm comin'. Just keep talkin'… I know, follow your voice, that's what I'm doin', following your voice… but what else is it that you want me to do?" Starsky sped up a little; he was weary but determined to reach that friendly, warm voice, the voice of someone who cared, who was never apathetic or indifferent to anyone.
XXXX
"Follow my voice Starsky, c'mon buddy, I know you can do it." Hutch's voice was raw and cracking. He had been at this for over an hour now. His partner had started to breathe again on his own after a few very tense moments.
Doctor Montgomery had allowed him to stay, provided that he sat while he was here. He also knew that there was a nurse in the room with them. He understood that Montgomery was still very worried about his head injury. He rejected treatment for now. But the doctor insisted that his wear a nasal canula to help mitigate any problems that might yet arise. He refused pain medicine and couldn't take any aspirin since aspirin thins the blood and promotes bleeding.
Hutch rubbed his friend's arm once more and stretched out one long and kicked something soft. He looked down. There was a pillow on the floor. He broke contact with Starsky for a second and reached down to retrieve it. It must have been knocked there when they worked on Starsky. He tossed it haphazardly onto the bed behind him and went back to talking to his partner.
"C'mon Starsky… I know you're listening, I know you can hear me… follow my voice, please?" He blinked back a tear as he looked at the still face of his friend. The eyelids twitched. "Starsk?" there was a hopeful note in his voice. "Buddy? Can you hear me?"
XXXX
"Yes, I can hear you… I'm comin'." Starsky knew he close now. "Keep talkin'…" He could hear his guide… his friend… talking. "Yes, I'm following your voice, but what's that other thing you want me to do?"
XXXX
"Wake up, Starsky, please wake up." Hutch gently brushed his knuckles over one pale cheek, just to one side of the oxygen mask. "Please wake up."
The cheek under his knuckles twitched and the head moved.
"Starsk?" Hutch couldn't keep the hope from his voice. "Buddy?"
Starsky's head rolled slowly from side to side, then stilled. The eyelids slowly rose. Hutch could feel a smile forming on his lips. "Starsky… you did it."
Dark blue eyes took several long moments to adjust before locking on Hutch's own eyes. A weak smile formed under the mask. "I'm awake… are we late for work again?"
Last chapter and Epilogue to follow.