MIND CONTROL
CHAPTER NINE
The sound of the door opening aroused Starsky from his stupor. He watched with disinterest as Colby pushed a cart into the room with a portable television sitting on it. Colby pushed the stand close to the bed where Starsky could see the screen clearly and plugged it in.
"Thought you might want to watch the news." Colby said with a sneer "Catch up on what's going on in the world." He flipped on the TV and switched through the channels until he found the local station.
Starsky struggled to focus his attention on the screen. He listened as the newscaster recapped his alleged accidental death three days before, the victim of a one car accident. The reporter gave a brief summary of his career with the police department, reporting his numerous commendations and achievements, ending with the shooting in the police garage that almost killed him the previous year and the subsequent investigation that had brought down one of the most powerful men in the country. Then a short clip came on the screen, images filmed at his 'funeral'. Starsky felt a lump lodge in his throat when he saw his mother and Hutch appear on the screen. His mother was obviously grief stricken but Starsky's attention was focused primarily on Hutch. The big blond looked completely devastated, his eyes flat and lifeless, the color gone from his face. Starsky closed his eyes to block out the sight of his closest friend in so much pain.
Colby laughed as he turned off the TV and pulled the plug. Leaning over the side rail of the bed, he got in Starsky's face and said, "As far as everyone back in Bay City is concerned, you're dead and you ain't never coming back." He chuckled with pleasure. "I wonder how long it'll take for 'golden boy' to eat a bullet and put himself out of his own misery."
Starsky's eyes snapped open, the sapphire pupils filled with a cold, deadly rage. "If anything happens to Hutch, I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands!"
"You're not in any position to threaten me, old friend." Colby said with a mocking laugh. "You're dead and buried…nobody cares and nobody is going to be looking for you. Welcome to hell…" He stepped back and turned, wheeling the cart with the TV on it out of the room.
Starsky lay there, his eyes closed, the images he'd seen on the TV screen playing over and over in his mind. His chest ached and his eyes burned with unshed tears as he pictured Hutch's grief stricken face in his mind. His head pounded as he searched desperately for that almost psychic bond he had always shared with Hutch, a bond neither one of them completely understood but one they simply accepted. For the first time since he had met the big blond back in the academy, Starsky couldn't feel that bond anymore. He was alone, painfully alone, and that knowledge cut through his heart like a knife.
I'm still alive, buddy…don't leave me here alone! Please…I don't want to be alone. I'm not dead! I'm not dead! Starsky's mind raced frantically, his thoughts in chaos. He knew he was still being drugged and that whatever they were pumping into his veins was keeping him disoriented, his emotions dangerously close to the surface. The isolation and lack of human contact was taking its toll. He found himself talking aloud just to hear the sound of his own voice.
Shortly after Colby left after showing Starsky his own private viewing of his funeral, the nurse came in. Silently, she took his vital signs and injected something into his IV. Starsky had given up talking to her since she never answered him anyway. Within minutes, the brunet felt a heaviness settle over his body and his eyes slowly drifted closed.
A short time later, Colby opened the door and peered into the room, pleased to see that the brunet was out cold. He nodded at the two men accompanying him and the three men stepped into the room. One of them deftly removed the catheter and the IV, while the other man unfastened the restraints around the brunet's wrists and ankles. When they had finished with their tasks, they lifted Starsky's limp body off the bed and laid him on the floor in the far corner of the room. They wheeled the hospital bed out of the room, leaving Colby alone with the brunet. Walking over to where Starsky's unconscious body lay on the cold tile floor, Colby smiled coldly as he knelt down and pulled a long length of thinly linked chain out of his jacket. He fastened one end of the chain around the long vertical pole fastened securely to the wall, padlocking it in place. The other end of the chain he fastened around Starsky's left ankle, also using a padlock to fasten it into place.
Satisfied that Starsky was securely, Colby removed the hospital gown leaving his former friend lying nude in the slightly chilled room. Whistling under his breath, Colby left the room, pausing in the outside hallway to turn down the temperature control, lowering the temperature in the room to a chilly fifty degrees. Cold enough to be uncomfortable for Starsky when he awoke but not cold enough to cause hypothermia. Colby also turned off the switch that controlled the lights in the room, leaving Starsky in total darkness. Phase two of the brunet's conditioning was about to begin.
Almost two hours passed before Starsky began to regain consciousness. As he struggled towards awareness, he immediately sensed that something was different but he wasn't sure what it was. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he shivered involuntarily at the coldness in the room. Slowly, the hardness of the floor he was lying on registered in his clouded mind. He groaned as he forced open his heavy eyelids. At first he thought he had suddenly gone blind when he found himself in pitch blackness. As panic clawed at his throat, he saw a faint line of light shining underneath the door from the hallway and realized that lights in the room had been turned off. At the same time, he realized that his hands and legs were no longer restrained with the thick leather cuffs.
His limbs hurt from being restrained in one position for so long, unused muscles protesting any sudden movements. Starsky lay there, fighting to control his breathing, as his mind tried to assimilate this new information and figure out what it all meant. Slowly, he took stock of his new environment. The room was cold, dark and uncomfortable. His hands were free but there was something fastened around his left ankle and he was no longer dressed in the open backed gown. The IV and the catheter had both been removed leaving his penis irritated and sore. Regardless of the change in his confinement, he was still a prisoner in this room and at the mercy of his captors.
Moving slowly and with great care, Starsky eased himself to a sitting position, ignoring the stiffness in his arms and legs. After lying flat on his back for an extended period of time, it was a vast relief just to be able to move around a little on his own. Running his hand down the length of his leg, he found the chain that was fastened around his ankle. He followed the length of the chain, estimating it to be approximately six feet long. He found the metal pole it was fastened to and used it to pull himself to his feet. He swayed unsteadily as a wave of vertigo threatened to send him crashing to the floor.
After the dizziness passed, Starsky ran his hand along the bar. It ran along the length of one wall, giving him a relatively fair amount of freedom to move around the room at will. He tried to think, to plan a way out of this situation, but his mind was still fuzzy from the drugs flowing through his system. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to keep his thoughts organized and rational.
Feeling his way around the room with his hands, he tested his boundaries. He found the tiny bathroom in one corner of the room. It wasn't much larger than a closet with a commode and a tiny shower stall. Although the chain was long enough for him to reach the commode, the shower was beyond his stretch. The rest of the room was empty and the chain on his ankle wasn't long enough for him to reach the doorway. Exhausted from his short exploration of his cell, he slumped on the floor and leaned his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath. An overwhelming feeling of sadness and loss swept over him. He found himself wondering if he would ever see any of his friends or family again or would he slowly lose his mind and his soul to his captors.