Chapter 10

Hutch pulled Starsky from the barn by the arm. The brunet seemed to hang back, stunned, spacey and off balance. He said nothing as Hutch pulled harder on his arm and pushed him outside and into the darkness beyond the golden candle glow within.

'Starsk, are ya with me buddy?' Hutch asked quietly. 'How're ya doin'?'

There was no immediate answer from the brunet. He stood with his back to the barn as if undecided whether he preferred to be inside or out and it wasn't until Hutch tried again that he got a response.

'It's over Starsk, it's over. We just gotta get away, huh? Can you do that?'

Starsky seemed to shake himself from his trance. 'Away? Oh, yeah, just get me away from these crazies, huh?' The words sounded good, but here was little conviction to them and Hutch looked sharply at his partner. Starsky looked pale in the darkness of the swamp and a dark patch showed at the crook of his neck where Papa Noir had bitten him. The curly haired cop's shirt was still open at the front showing the long slash that the witch doctor had made earlier. In parts it continued to seep blood although Starsky seemed unaware of it.

Hutch's own arm hurt like hell. He could feel the blood oozing from the long deep cut and trickling down his hand to drip from his finger tips and yet oddly, Starsky had said nothing about it. Usually the brunet would have been all over his friend like a mother hen and yet Starsky seemed distant, his mind far away.

Hutch dragged his own mind away from worrying about Starsky. There would be time for that later, but Papa Noir had told them they had one hour to put as much distance as possible between them and Kaleb and his men before they came after him and Starsky with the dogs. Although Hutch hadn't seen any bloodhounds, or indeed heard any baying, he had no reason to believe that the Sheriff would not have tracker dogs somewhere around. They needed to get going, now.

The warm, foetid air of the swamp hit him as he stood in the shadow of the building and he looked around. Both Hutch and Starsky had been unconscious when they'd been brought to the barn and it struck the blond for the first time that he had no idea where they were, or indeed how far they were from the small town of Lapetite. Which direction should they go in? It was a given that Kaleb, Clyde and Jed would know the ground far better than he and Starsky and Hutch had little time to study the lay of the land.

Hutch recalled the only thing that he could think of to help in his hellish situation. He'd been an Eagle Scout and he'd tracked and played Hound and Hunted with Mr Hagedoorn, the leader. He recalled the man's words now. Find water boy. Nothing can track you in the water. It hides footsteps and smells and even dogs can't track through a stream or a river.

The blond cop looked around him, his eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. There was a crescent moon and enough stars to make some light above the cypress trees but Hutch knew that once inside the swamp proper, there would be too much cover from the Spanish moss hanging from the canopy for there to be enough light to be of use.

Oddly, Starsky stood quietly, as if waiting for Hutch to make the first move. In every other occasion, the brunet would have been the first to act now and ask questions later but Starsky's mind was still trying to process what had happened to him. Whilst in the barn and at the mercy of the witch doctor, Starsky had watched his body move as though it didn't belong to him. He knew his arms and legs moved, he felt himself walk behind Papa Noir and yet his brain seemed to register none of it, as though he was a puppet whose strings were being pulled by some demonic puppeteer. With distance between him and the Shaman, Starsky felt his will returning to him little by little, although he still felt as though Papa was peering over his shoulder. Starsky shook his head to clear it, but the feeling was so strong that he looked behind him, half expecting the black face with its red teeth to be at his back. He shuddered and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes to make the feeling go away.

'Leave me alone' he whispered into the darkness.

Hutch's gut clenched at the softly spoken, pain filled words. What the hell had Papa Noir done? What hold did he have over Starsky and was it really as unshakable as the bond he thought he had with the brunet?

Time to find out, Hutch thought to himself. No time like the present. 'Are ya with me?' he hissed.

'Uh?' Starsky looked up and his body seemed to relax marginally as he saw his partner in front of him. 'Oh, yeah. Lead on Cochise' Starsky muttered. 'Which way?'

Not enough time for concern now. Hutch would check out his partner later, but he still wanted Starsky to feel that everything was ok. This was just a walk in the park, right? The blond did what he always did with his best buddy. He aimed for sarcasm with a hint of humour. 'You want me to toss a coin?'

Starsky snorted, knowing that Hutch was putting on a show for him and thankful for it. Knowing that Hutch was as rattled as he was did nothing to clear Starsky's head and so he played along for the moment. Deep conversations about what Clyde and Jed had done to them and about what Papa Noir had done to him would come late. For now, Starsky played along. 'Is that the sum total of your boy scout skills?'

'You got a better idea?' Hutch asked. In answer, Starsky fumbled in his jeans pocket and brought out a dime.

'Heads or tails?'

Tails took them roughly north so far as Hutch could tell. As both men started to plunge through the unfamiliar trees it became apparent just how tough the going was going to be. Underfoot the ground was soggy and slippery from the recent storm, the mud clinging to their shoes and the branches from the overhanging vegetation grasping at their clothes. The going was incredibly hard and it was only ten minutes into it that Hutch paused for breath and looked down at his arm. In the darkness the blood pouring from the nine inch slash stained his shirt sleeve, making the gore look inky black and there was enough of it that Hutch immediately knew he was in danger of bleeding to death. That's what Kaleb had planned for all along of course, knowing that without Hutch, Starsky would find his own way back to Papa Noir. Once the brunet became the witch doctor's servant, he would be open for all manner of abuse from anyone who paid Papa enough. Kaleb had missed out on the fun in the barn earlier and Mary Lou was getting too big and too feisty to lie back and shut up, as was Clyde. No, Kaleb needed his gratification from another source and Starsky fit the bill perfectly.

Hutch sank to his knees in the soft mud, clutching at his arm and breathing past the nausea and dizziness that were threatening to black him out. Starsky, who had been following close behind almost tripped over the blond and caught himself on another tree trunk.

'Hutch?'

'S'ok bud. Just needed to catch my breath and...'

'You're bleedin'...bad.'

Hutch looked up into Starsky's face. There was no hint of a joke there, just pure concern as though the brunet hadn't noticed what had gone on in the barn. What else had Starsky "forgotten"?

'It's nothing. Kaleb thought it'd be fun to cut me up some.'

'Let me look.' Starsky squatted down next to his partner and gently took Hutch's arm.

Leave him to bleed Mon Cher.

The brunet got up quickly and whirled around, expecting to see Papa Noir behind him. The swamp was empty.

'Starsk? What?'

Starsky shook his head. 'I thought...I...nuthin. It's fine. It's...let me see your arm.' The brunet squatted down again.

Let the gators have him. Let him bleed some more. Vous êtes mon amour. Revenez moi. Come back to me.

The heavily French accented voice sounded loud in Starsky's head sending shivers down his spine. The voice seemed to wrap itself around Starsky like a piece of midnight blue velvet, seductive and calming, with the promise that Papa Noir would take away all Starsky's problems. He ignored it, as best he could. He was putting distance between himself and the witch doctor. He was fighting this...wasn't he?

Starsky took Hutch's arm and gently probed the wound. Hutch hissed in pain as Starsky reached the deepest part of the slash and the brunet looked up. 'Shit Blondie. Why the hell didn't you tell me? Here. Let me bind it up.' Starsky looked around for something he could use and finally shrugged out of his shirt and ripped the cotton into strips, winding them tightly around Hutch's arm. The blond had his eyes closed and his head resting back against the tree and looked ghostly pale in the moonlight. For a moment Starsky thought the worst and gently shook his buddy.

'Hutch? Stay with me huh?'

Hutch opened his eyes and made an attempt at a grin. The blood was already soaking through the makeshift bandage on his arm and he felt dizzy and sick to his stomach, but they'd hardly put any distance between themselves and the barn. With difficulty Hutch levered himself to his feet and tucked his bandaged arm inside his shirt, using it as a sling.

'I'm good. I'm fine' Hutch said as he set off again through the swamp.

'Like hell' Starsky muttered and started to follow behind.

In the dark, the sounds of the surrounding swamp seemed amplified. The insistent croak of the bullfrogs, the cry of the night owls all set the brunet's teeth on edge. His mind took him back almost 10 years to a different swamp and a different country although the danger was the same. Starsky had vowed he would never go back to Vietnam, but this Louisiana swamp was the closest thing to his worst nightmare.

Above all; above the night sounds, Starsky could hear a voice in his head. It called to him seductively. The French accent seemed welcoming, almost as though his best friend was calling him home and several times, the brunet whirled to look behind him, expecting to see Papa Noir striding through the trees. The swamp was always empty, but Starsky's nerves were shredded and a deep throb of pain started up in his guts.

Ahead, Hutch had found one of the many streams that cut through the boggy land. Here, the trees came right down to the slow flowing water's edge, the Spanish moss draping itself into the water. This was what they needed in order to put the dogs off the scent, but this was also where the snapping turtles, alligators and water moccasins hung out. One wrong move in the water, and both Starsky and Hutch would rapidly become ex-detectives.

'We'll follow the stream for a few hundred yards' Hutch whispered. 'Stay close to the middle of the water and watch your step, huh?'

Starsky eyed the stream warily. 'Are there snakes?'

'Um...only tiny ones. They'll be more scared of you than you are of them' Hutch lied valiantly.

'Don't you believe it' Starsky muttered darkly as he followed Hutch down and into the oily, warm water.

The cypress trees hung out over the waterway, their tangled masses of moss blotting out almost all the moonlight from the stream. It was almost pitch black down in the water and although the stream was not deep – maybe two or three feet in parts, the going was tough because there were fallen trunks submerged beneath the surface and invisible until one of the men tripped or fell.

Hutch was weakening fast. He tried to keep his arm out of the water. Alligators had an incredible sense of smell and would home in on the smell of blood from miles around. The blood however continued to seep through the makeshift bandages and with each millilitre gone, the blond felt sicker and more dizzy. Twice he stopped for breath, bending over a branch or rock. Twice, he felt Starsky's hand on his back, rubbing small circles and encouraging him to go on but eventually, Papa Noirs treatment started to get to Starsky too.

He had thought at first that it was just imagination that made him feel hot, feverish and sick to his stomach. The pains in his gut that he'd first thought were just anxiety seemed to amplify as the two men continued to push themselves further from the barn until finally, as Hutch stopped for the third time to catch his breath, Starsky had to stagger a little way from his friend, find a quiet bush and throw up into it. The coppery tang of the blood he'd been forced to drink returned to his tongue so that he scooped handfuls of the warm foetid water and rinsed it around his gums before spitting it back out. His head pounded and his guts were on fire and yet Starsky started to shake, his teeth chattering together as though he was in the Arctic rather than in sub-tropical Louisiana.

The brunet paused, shaking his head against the insistent voice in his head telling him to turn around and return. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to obey it, somehow knowing that if he did return, the pains and the fever would go away. A vision of Papa Noir holding him and calming him floated before his eyes and Starsky shook his head angrily. He forced himself to his feet and staggered back towards Hutch who seemed collapsed across an overhanging branch. As Starsky got to his friend, he just happened to look upstream...into two bright and unblinking lights floating just above the surface of the water; two piercing bright eyes, luring him on.