THE TICKING OF TIME
Part II
By: Karen B.
Summary: Starsky's thoughts just before he tosses the pitcher. MS: Shootout
Thank you, Laura. I feel so forutunate..you have shared so much of your time and friendship with me!
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"Do you think you can handle this? Heave it against that wall over there?"
Hutch's words were spinning around in my head. I gnawed at my lower lip as explosive jabs of pain made their way up and down my back and left arm.
Hugging the pitcher against my chest, I wanted to believe that the combined efforts of my partner and I could really pull this off. It was going to be tricky. The pain in my back was bad, and I still was feeling sick. Even though the pitcher was small, I knew it would take everything I had to make the first pitch, giving the thing enough momentum to hit the wall and make a lot of racket.
We both knew I was in a bad way. Hutch wouldn't let on though. He's the kind of guy who'd do anything for a friend. Do anything to save someone's life. It didn't surprise me to see him walk back into the restaurant with nothing more than a 'narrowly missed', possibly dying partner with a pewter water jug as his only backup.
Hutch was trying to show me by force of example that he wasn't scared. I knew otherwise. But even shaken and worried about me, that partner of mine could command a room full of crazed chimps if he had to. In this case it was a couple out-of-state killers. Even without his badge and his gun, Hutch kept his professional cool -- doing his job. I don't know if I could have done the same in his shoes.
Even off duty we're on duty. My eyes roamed around the office. The room was packed with junk, but nothing that I could use. What felt like razor blades bit into my back and made me dizzy, the room tilting at an odd angle. I almost dropped Hutch's pocket watch, but got hold of it before it could slip out of my fingers as they were starting to go numb on me. I decided I better set it on the floor before I did drop it and it rolled somewhere where I couldn't see it.
Dinner, not breakfast.
It would have been a great idea if it weren't for the super bad timing.
"Uh," I bit back a moan.
If the pain was bad before when Hutch was sticking his finger in the bullet hole, it was worse now.
I was worried about my best buddy. I was only kidding about the bad guys tripping and dropping their guns. My partner, he thinks he has a bag full of magic. Maybe one of the bad guys would trip and fall -- but not two.
I wasn't going to be much good to Hutch. Standing up was out of the question, my legs felt like the goopy jelly inside my morning donut, and every breath pulled at my wound.
My eyes started to slide shut. The shock was making me feel sleepy and I fought to keep them open, keeping focused on the time. So what do you do when you have to watch the hands of time slowly tick by while trying not to pass out from blood loss?
You lick your dry lips, take in deep breaths, and be thankful both your testicles are intact, 'cause you're gonna need them.
The clock ticked on...
Keeping my eyes on the watch, I listened to the heavy raindrops clatter against the small office window, every now and again seeing a flash of lightning. I felt so cold. The covers had fallen to the floor and I wanted to pick them up and pull them back over my body, but was too weak to try. I had to save my energy for the big pitch. Time, it was a strange and cruel thing. One minute you're ordering linguine with clams in a place that reminds you of your grandmother, the next minute you're on the floor with a bullet in your back.
I felt so helpless. Hutch was out there alone, and all I could do was lie here and bleed, holding onto this damn jug, trying not to take a siesta while watching time circle like a vulture over my head. A pocket watch and a jug. All I needed now was a shovel so I could tunnel my way out of here. If the Wild Man didn't pull the plug on the telephone I could have at least crawled to the phone and called in SWAT. Not how The Lone Ranger would have done it.
I stopped feeling cold and started feeling hot, still dizzy, and nauseated. Kinda wishing Hutch would come back with that awful tasting cool cloth, washing away these black dots prickling in front of my eyes --
"Ahhhhhhh."
My body jerked, and I opened one eye. "Shit."
How long was I out? Could have been a minute, an hour, a lifetime? Time? What time was it? Blinking to chase away the black dots, I hauled my head up just enough to take a peek at the time.
"Uhhh," I groaned inwardly. One minute. I was out one minute, that's sixty seconds gone.
The glow of lightning zigzagged a pattern in the sky, blurring my vision.
The jug had slipped from my grasp and lay next to me. I fumbled for a hold of it, and noticed not only the numbness in my fingers but in my hand and halfway up my arm as I guided my weapon back against my chest. My heart was beating faster than a runaway train.
One minute. Doesn't sound like a long time, but when your partner is counting on you, one minute could mean everything.
The wheel of time never stops. Time doesn't care if you need more of it. It just keeps pushing on. Turning round and round. Controlling everything you do. As I watch the seconds tick by I am mesmerized. It's like watching grains of sand flow through an hourglass. Speck by speck, second by second. Each minute gone forever, never to be taken back. Delaying only one minute -- I could be too late.
Time ticked on…
It would have been a perfect evening if it weren't for those pains in the ass. Why were two out-of-state killers sitting in a cozy little Italian restaurant this late? It was way past their bedtime. The name Vic Monty popped into my head. Things were out of whack. I couldn't get a grip on my thoughts. It was like someone had stuffed them into the bottom of a drawer, and every now and again that drawer would open and I'd remember.
I tried to play back the soundtrack in my mind, the noises when I was lying on the floor and everything was a buzz Everyone seemed to be dancing around the restaurant. I didn't hear much of what the bad guys were saying, only heard Hutch talking soft and soothing to me. I recalled him getting really mad, first in the restaurant, then back here.
"Get in here with that stuff!" He had shouted so loud I nearly pissed myself.
My partner, he won't go down without a fight. My heart beast faster as that thought scared me even more than his loud voice. Hutch won't stop. Won't keep his anger in check. It could get him killed. It's all my fault. I screwed up and got shot. I gotta pull this off. Can't let Hutch come back here to find a pitcher in a dead man's hand.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, and waited patiently for fourteen to twelve. Another minute ticked by. I waiedt some more. My eyes kept shutting and I could feel myself slipping away. I was getting angry at myself, angry at the whole damn eggs vs. linguine shit. Because of the job, we don't eat regular hours. Hutch would never eat linguine with clams for breakfast, so how could he expect me to want to eat eggs for dinner?
Hutch -- he and I should have been clinking our wine glasses, enjoying a good leisurely meal, and listening to free music. I don't like being behind enemy lines, hiding out of view. I tried really hard to listen to what was going on out there, allowing my senses to absorb every movement, every sound, but I couldn't make out any of the voices that swirled around me. My partner was out there alone, unarmed. Joey didn't look like he had too much upstairs, but the guy in the suit looked real efficient and business-like. He'd make certain the job got done right. A shuddering chill flew down my spine as if someone was scraping long nails down a chalkboard. What if gunfire started going off, and I couldn't get to Hutch? I wished I could see through walls. How was he going to take on two armed men by himself? He was running a high-risk operation on his own. What if a bullet blew through his chest, and he crumbled to the floor, dead?
I ran through my options, and could only come up with one that might work. After I made my pitch, I could monkey crawl to the front door, make my way to the Torino and call for backup. Right. That's what I would do, while Hutch hopefully kept thing number one and thing number two busy enough that they won't see me make my move.
The clock was counting down the minutes so slowly. With each passing second I could feel time sucking the energy from my body. I took in a couple deep breaths trying to take the edge off the pain, and desperately trying to stay fully aware.
This whole thing was crazy. These guys weren't mild-mannered street thugs, and they had no consciences. They were dangerous and to-the-letter accurate, and would kill us all. I was afraid, but my fear wasn't for my own life. Hutch entrusted me to stay in the picture. To serve and protect, even lying down, unable to stand.
Another minute had elapsed. My body was trembling, and my throwing arm felt like someone shot me up with an overdose of Novocaine.
"Uh." I winced, feeling a sharp pain in my back.
The bullet must have worked its way lower; no shoulder wound ever hurt this badly. I was icy cold again, and beneath the cloth Hutch had tied against my back my shirt was wet and sticky. I was still bleeding, and it was making me feel like I was going to throw up and never stop. But that didn't scare me half as much as not being able to do a damn thing to help him.
All I could do right now was try to keep my gaze fixed on the watch, and stay on guard.
Time ticked on…
I curled my shaky fingers around the handle of the jug, and gripped it as tightly as I could. I knew it was getting close but while studying Hutch's pocket watch the numbers began to dance and swap places, and I really wasn't sure about the time anymore. A minute too soon -- Hutch wouldn't be ready. A minute too late -- I didn't want to think about it. My mind started to drift.
I imagined Hutch standing straight and tall as he made his move. Getting in Joey's face, and in no uncertain terms tripping him, jerking his gun loose, and whacking Joey in the head with the butt end, becoming the hero everyone was counting on. Clutching tightly to the gun and not wasting any time, Hutch sidestepped the Wild Man's motionless body, and pointed his weapon at the guy with the ugly tie. The hit man spared my partner a wicked smile, then pulled the trigger.
In my nightmarish fantasy, time played out in slow motion as the bullet plowed right through my partner's forehead, out the back of his skull, and splattering blood all over the place. His six-foot-one frame crashing through a table before lying on his back, lifeless, blood gushing over the checkered tablecloth.
Dead. Hutch was dead.
Somehow I managed to yank myself from the nightmare, staring once again at the watch. Fourteen to twelve had just ticked past. I felt confused and alone, and in my arms I hugged a jug tightly against my middle. What was I supposed to do with it? Where was Hutch? I had something important to take care of. My pulse was racing, my body chilled and shivering. I heard arguing going on in the other room, and remembered what it was I was supposed to do.
My energy had drained like a balloon leaking air. I almost didn't make the throw, but at the last possible second, I drew the jug back. It took everything I had to keep from passing out. My grip wasn't too good, trembling fiercely, but I kept a hold of the handle, and chucked it, watching as it smashed against the wall.
I flopped back to the couch, knocked half senseless from the exertion, and I felt more blood pour from my wound. I tried to get up, desperate to get to Hutch, but I couldn't even turn my head, or catch my breath.
I thought I heard a gun go off and all I could think about was my partner under fire, that horrid image of him dead still haunting me. I continued to struggle, to get my body to move, but the pain was tearing me up and the office was spinning around me, as I found myself on the floor. I couldn't defend myself, much less Hutch. Couldn't keep my eyes open. They were almost completely shut, and I had stopped feeling any pain. If I could have pulled a shovel out of my ass and tunneled my way out of here, I would have gone for help.
I'll find a way to get to you, partner.
It was my last rational thought before darkness overtook me, dragging me under.
TBC
Part 3 of 4 coming soon. Thank you very much -- for your patience.