The Major Incident

Chapter 13

Monday 9.00am.

Starsky stared at the retreating back of the General, past memories filtering back slowly. Of course he knew the blond; he was his partner in the army. No. Wait, he'd been a soldier in the past, but now? He struggled for clarity, fighting the enforced mind altering regimen of the last few days.

The soldier who had held vigil in the room advanced on the dark haired man, licking his lips in anticipation. His CO had just given him free reign to do whatever he liked, and he wasn't going to pass up the chance for some fun. He'd had the night shift in Starsky's cell through a couple of nights and although he couldn't help admiring the brunettes stamina and capacity to withstand pain, he didn't take kindly to being deprived of sleep. That was fine for prisoners, not for their captors

Starsky eyed the soldier coldly, weighing the odds. He was fast coming to the end of his human emotions and only those more animalistic and fundamental feelings were left. Hutch was out cold, so no help there. And will he ever help me again? He pushed the thought to the back of his already addled mind for the time being. One thing at a time here Davey. The soldier toted an AK50 sub machine gun. Starsky recognised it as newer version of the AK-47. This one had a permanently mounted "illegal" triangular bayonet, which he remembered would leave a sucking wound that would not close. So don't get in the way of that thing, hotshot.

The two men circled each other, one confident and armed, the other weary, sore and confused. As the soldier made his move, ignoring the gun's true purpose and instead trying to stab his captive with the knifed end, Starsky's instincts took over and he rolled down onto the floor, sweeping his legs against the soldier's and knocking the surprised man to the ground. Muscles protesting all the way, Starsky sprang to his knees, and with an almost animal scream, launched himself at the downed soldier and with all the hatred of the past five days behind him, landed the best left hook he had ever thrown on the man's right cheek, knocking him out cold.

The brunette collapsed against the body of the soldier, his last ounce of strength leaving him. His breath was ragged, and the wounds which had been inflicted on him over the past week hurt like nothing he had felt before. Still, at the back of his mind, he knew he had something else to do. Now, if he could just remember……Me and Thee. The phrase caught in his head, playing over and over until the words ran out of meaning. The blond man had said 'Me and Thee'.

Forcing himself to look up, he saw Hutch's body still hanging by the wrists from the ropes anchored to the ceiling. He forced himself to his feet and staggered over to the blond, relieved to see the chest fighting to rise and fall with each breath. Reaching up, he tried to undo the ropes around Hutch's wrists, but the rope was damp with the taller man's sweat, and the knots had swollen, making the task impossible. Starsky looked back to the soldier, still unconscious on the ground, and limped over to take the gun, with bayonet attached. He struggled back over to Hutch and with difficulty levered the weapon overhead and sawed through the bonds, the muscles that had held him spread-eagled against the wall for hour after bitter hour cracking with the effort.

Hutch's body dropped heavily to the floor and he let out a low groan. The brunette bent down to pull the blond over onto his back and was rewarded with a glimpse of ice blue eyes looking back at him, uncertain.

'Starsk?' Hutch whispered, 'That you? You OK Gordo? Thought I'd lost ya there buddy', he tried a weak smile.

Starsky was confused, but glad the blond man remembered him. If he could only remember why he knew him. He looked down into the face, his mind taking him back to another time he'd done that. He remembered this same man laid in a hospital bed, a sweat soaked yellow gown sticking to too pale skin. He'd been shivering and in pain and he'd looked up to Starsky and gasped 'The game is Hutch is dying…….'

The memory was so powerful, it took Starsky's breath away, and the room took a dip to the side, as the brunette passed out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Starsky flinched as he felt a hand slowly stroking his forehead. Positive the pain was about to begin again, he whimpered pitifully and tried to knock it away. Slowly realization hit that the hand was accompanied by a voice, which was achingly familiar, and he cracked his eyes open to see Hutch leaning over him.

'Oh, hey, there you are. Welcome back buddy, can ya sit up?'

Starsky decided he didn't want to but probably could. He struggled into the requisite position, pains knifing through every part of his body. Whilst unconscious, the curly haired detective had dreamed of his blond partner, memories of cars, women, wounds and jokes flooding back to him. And the realization that he had almost snuffed out the very life he had always pledged to watch. That memory, more than any others was so painful that Starsky couldn't look his friend in the eye. Instead he smiled a thin smile and took a deep breath.

'We need to get out of here now. Can you walk after….'For Gods sake, just say it you sadistic bastard. Say 'After I nearly tortured you to death'.

'I'm good' Hutch grunted, as he levered himself to his feet. 'Clothes would be nice though'. He looked over to the still unconscious soldier and unceremoniously divested him of pants and black tee shirt. Once clad in the slightly too large clothes, he tried on the boots. 'Ah well, knew it was too good to be true' he murmured as he took the too small boot off his left foot. 'Bare feet it'll have to be'. He removed the laces from the boots and quickly tied the soldier's hands behind his back.

All the while, Starsky had been examining the room, the door and the corridor outside. Gathering up the AK50, he expertly checked the magazine and thumbed the button at the side from single shot to automatic. At least this way, if they met any resistance, he'd just have to point and spray ammunition. Looking behind him he asked 'Ready?' before opening the door and venturing into the corridor.

Although he had been in the building for five days, he had never had the opportunity to explore it. He thought the way out was probably straight ahead, so, pushing Hutch behind him, he set off as quietly as possible.

The men were approximately half way up the corridor when Starsky sensed a movement behind him, before a deafening shot rang out behind them. He felt Hutch's body catapulted into his own and a burning sensation in his right side. Looking down, he saw blood blossoming from the bullet hole, just as he fell to the ground beneath his partner's body.

Sharpe had seen the shadows moving outside his office, and, taking up his own AK50, crept out into the corridor. He was surprised beyond words to see the two detectives alive. In anger, he brought up the gun and with one shot, the high powered bullet passed first through the blond man, then ploughed into the body of the brunette.

Sharpe smiled evilly, Fantastic – two for one – I do hate waste. He set of confidently up the corridor to inspect the two bleeding bodies on the floor.