Soldiers in blue were starting to flood into the stadium. Whether it had been planned, which Starsky seriously doubted, or not, Molly's Torino-fueled rush onto the baseball field had given the police the opening they must have been waiting for. They'd pushed through the tunnel with riot helmets and shields, shouting for everyone to hit the dirt.
The cops had no way of knowing what they were going to find on the other side. What they did find must have been sobering.
"Did you call the police?" Starsky asked.
"They were already there...when I crashed through the gate." Molly said.
Starsky nodded his head once. The explosion alone had to have rocked the neighborhood and left a plume of smoke in the sky that would attract anyone's attention. Follow that up with gunshots and the police would know there was a dangerous situation going on. Maybe they'd been in contact with the accented voice. Maybe they'd been shot at by someone out in the parking lot.
Something had stopped the cavalry from rushing in for almost two hours. Had it really taken a hot-headed kid like Molly, stealing his Torino, to bring the good guys in?
The thought dragged uncomfortably through Starsky's brain, making his pulse rise, and the ringing in his ear take a higher pitch. Starsky drove the car toward where he had last seen the blond head, found his partner pulling an enraged Dorice off an unconscious bad guy and honked the horn.
Given that the Torino was the only car driving around the baseball field it wasn't necessary to use the horn, but the blare of sound in a place where it didn't belong served to surprise everyone in the stadium. A few more of the bad guys gave up the ghost, and a few more of the frozen and shocked good guys moved back into action.
Hutch took the time to make sure Dorice was okay and point her rage toward a more worthy goal than, say, beating up an unconscious body, then Hutch aimed for the car. Starsky yanked Molly with one hand into the middle of the front seat seconds before Hutch landed in the passenger seat and swept the door closed.
"We really had backup." Hutch said, breathing hard.
Molly nodded, a small pride-filled smile coming to her face. Starsky tried to lean for the radio, instantly felt bone grind on bone in his side and groaned, straightening in the seat. The sound captured the attention of the other two in the car.
"Let's get outta here, partner.." Hutch suggested, reaching around Molly for the radio and switching it on. "Zebra Three to…whoever's out there running this thing."
"Zebra three this is Riot Command."
"Riot command?" Starsky asked, cranking the wheel and meeting the same stunned smirk that he was giving Hutch.
"What will they think of next?" Hutch muttered then toggled the handset. "Riot Command this is Zebra Three, we're in the hot red Torino heading your way. Please don't shoot us."
"Copy Zebra Three...that was a damned fool stunt you pulled."
Both men turned accusatory glances toward Molly who flushed beet red and sank a little lower in her seat.
"Riot Command...any chance Captain Dobey of Precinct 9 is there?"
"Yeah, he's here. And he's smirking."
A second later the radio squawked and Dobey's voice sounded. "Starsky, Hutch." They heard the sigh. The "sigh" said about a dozen different things including, "Damn glad to hear your voices. You boys worried me to death. How bad is it? Will you live? How can I get you out of the potential mess we're all in." One sigh. Then Dobey said, "Report!"
"Bruises and a couple of broken bones. We're headed your way."
"Hey-" Starsky said softly, then wiggled his fingers against each other until Hutch handed him the mic. "Cap, any chance you've got a bomb squad out there?"
"As I understand it, they're part of the standard Riot Command package. Are they needed?"
Starsky glanced to his partner, meeting Hutch's creased brows with a questioning look of his own before they both looked at Molly.
The girl felt the eyes before they actually got to her and fiddled with the bottom hem of her shirt for a second then said, "I told you guys all I knew."
Neither of the two blue-eyed gazes wavered and Molly looked up again, squirmed, then said, "I might have remembered something else."
"I hope that's why you came back." Hutch said.
"And stole my Torino and crashed it through that tunnel like it was a derby car." Starsky said, a little heat behind the statement. "Send 'em in, Cap." Starsky added into the radio, before he focused again on Molly.
Molly had blushed, her eyes widening. Hutch saw the tears before they could appear and gave Starsky a look and the brunet sighed.
"What else did you remember?" Starsky asked, leaning his head back against the seat and pulling the car to a gentle halt outside the crowded tunnel, waiting for it to clear before he tried to take the Torino through it.
"The guys were talking about a timer."
"The guys...the guys from the vent?" Hutch asked.
"Yeah. Before I heard them say the part about "leveling the playing field" they said, "The first one is by remote. The second one is on a timer."
Starsky's eyes opened to slits. "They say how long?"
"I don't know." Molly said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I wasn't listening."
"Which locker room do you change in?" Hutch asked.
"There's only one on the home side. The one down this tunnel." Molly said, pointing to the long concrete hole in the ground that Starsky had parked the car in front of, letting the engine idle while floods of cavalry moved in and out.
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other, Molly's head ping-ponging back and forth between them.
"If we can find him in that mess behind us, Tom would be helpful." Hutch said.
"Tom hates us." Starsky said, then paled and squirmed. The grinding in his side was not a sensation he was ever going to get used to. It hurt, sapped the energy from his arms and legs and took the breath from his lungs every time.
"Starsk…" Hutch said, then laid his hand on Starsky's shoulder and squeezed. "You two should get outta here while you still can."
"No, I'll stay with the car, you take Molly and Tom-"
"Starsky-"
"No, Hutch."
The blond clamped his face shut, along with his mouth then turned in time to catch Tom passing by with a group of cops. Hutch rolled his window down and waved the older man over then looked back to his partner.
"Suppose we find the bomb, huh? Suppose there's one minute on the clock and we gotta take off. How fast can you run, the shape you're in?"
Starsky put his teeth together, thought about the question then said, "Who's running? I have the car."
"No-"
"Yes."
"No!" Hutch insisted.
"You're wasting time." Starsky said, his tone of voice abruptly ending the argument.
Hutch forced the passenger side door open, pulling Molly a little roughly after him and into the tunnel. When the door closed again the Torino rocked and Starsky winced, felt a tug at the back of his throat and started to cough.
Blind, mindless pain raced up his side, the pain making the urge to cough worse, the urge to cough in turn making the pain increase, leading to panicked, short breaths. When the hot wet blood in his lungs finally came out, splatting against the palm of his hand, it took everything in Starsky's power to stop the cycle. Starsky stared at the blood, wiped it on his pants then considered whether or not he was going to admit, even to himself, that Hutch was right. It gave him time to calm the burning pain in his throat, the tortured breaths that left him shaking weakly in the driver's seat.
Even holding the brake pedal down felt like a challenge he might lose now.
But...he wouldn't abandon his partner. He couldn't.
The alternative was truly unbearable.
Once he was able, Starsky pulled the Torino into the tunnel, even with the door to the locker room that Tom, Hutch and Molly had disappeared into. He threw the parking brake but kept the engine running, braced his side and let his head rest against the window frame. The urge to cough again began to build at the back of his throat and he did everything he could to ignore it.
He could feel pressure building under the pain and more than a few times the thought flittered through his brain, 'If only I didn't have to breathe.' He recognized the obsurdity of it and spent a few minutes distracted by the puzzle of how to remain alive, without oxygen passing through his lungs.
He fell asleep that way. Lulled by the throb of the Torino's engine, following the siren song toward the land of no pain, as the exhaust from the car filled the tunnel.
When Starsky woke again it was to the flash of lights passing by overhead. He could feel the soft plastic of an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, but the confinement of the strap around the back of his head made his heart-rate spike. He tried to reach for it and felt hands capturing his. He struggled, brought the other hand up, then heard Hutch's voice telling someone, "He doesn't like the strap. I'll hold the mask."
His head was lifted, the strap dragged through the hair on the back of his skull, some of the pressure sealing the mask to his face went away, and Starsky felt fingers in his hair.
"Relax, buddy. Breathe slow. That's it."
Starsky reached for the hand, his fingers flying through the air like an acrobat's, trusting that the other guy was going to catch him before he fell. And Hutch was there, capturing the hand, returning it to the gurney and moving so that he was in view at Starsky's side.
The rolling bed careened into the exam room and Hutch went with it, finally visible. It took Starsky a long time to figure out what was wrong with his partner's face. The day had left Hutch with a painful looking sunburn, the curse of being fair haired and fair skinned. Under the red were the bruises and swelling around his nose and eyes. His hair had been swept up and back, flat against his skull, like he'd been doused with water.
Starsky could smell the smoke on him, could see patches of much redder, glistening skin under scorched holes in Hutch's shirt. But the thing that bothered Starsky the most was that Hutch was scared. It radiated off his partner like a stench and Starsky's brow creased, the curly-haired man entirely focused on the mystery until the pain came rushing back with the shift from the gurney to the hospital bed in the middle of the exam room.
The rest was a blur of blinding pain, rising and falling panic, interrupted by moments of clarity during which the thought would return, 'Why was Hutch scared?' Every time Starsky would seek out his partner, study him for as long as he could remain lucid, come seconds close to knowing the answer, only to have the pain return and the solution fly from his head.
He'd heard the words 'x-ray' and 'surgery' enough times to know he would be knocked out soon. The way the doctors were talking, it would be for a long time and the question that he could barely remember, unresolved as it was, bugged Starsky too much to let that happen without a fight. On the way out the door he threw both arms out, grabbing at anything he could and arresting the progress of the team trying to get him from the ER to the OR.
A nurse, who meant well, but didn't understand, kept trying to tuck Starsky's hands against the blanket, but the cop wouldn't cooperate. He was trying to talk but his throat felt numb, and the pain was beginning to go away, and his mind somehow connected making noise with bringing the pain back.
Starsky didn't want that. But the question was still there. On their way into the elevator he managed to catch one hand on the side of the door frame, skewed the gurney sideways and accidentally squished a nurse in the process. The doctor, realizing there was something wrong, finally paid attention to his patient, heard the word "hush" come through the mask and rolled the gurney briefly back into the hallway.
"Get the man's partner, quick, or we'll never make it to the OR."
Hutch was there instantly, or else Starsky had passed out in the time it took to bring Hutch over. His shirt was off, most of the patches on his skin covered with special bandages meant to treat burns.
"What are you, crazy? Starsk, you gotta let them take you to surgery." Hutch began, even before he had Starsky's floating hand in his.
"Scared.."
"I know...I know, buddy. I know you're scared, but it's gonna be.." Hutch took a breath, forced it from his lungs and squeezed the hand in his. "It's gonna be fine if you just let these doctors do their job."
Starsky's head rolled on the pillow, then his pointer finger unfolded from across the back of Hutch's hand and he said, "Scared."
Hutch looked down at himself, realized what Starsky was saying and felt something so terrifying it nearly dumped him on the floor. Starsky was worried about him. His partner had halted the rush to surgery, the desperate race to save his own life, because he'd sensed the fear Hutch harbored for Starsky's life...and Starsky was concerned.
Hutch put his free hand against his partner's cheek, wanting to shake the foolish man, at the same time overwhelmed by that terrifying wave...of love.
"I'm fine, buddy." Hutch said, knowing there were tears on his face. He kept his eyes on Starsky's and finally felt the brunet accept what he'd said. "I need you to be fine. Cooperate, ok." Another moment, another long stare into deep blue eyes, then Starsky nodded. "I'll see ya." Hutch crushed his partner's hand, felt Starsky's grip in return, weaker, but the intent was there.
They rolled his partner into the elevator and Hutch stood in the hallway, waiting for the doors to close before he leaned against the wall, slid down to the floor and wept.
TBC - Look for "Third Base"