A DARK DAY IN MAY
CHAPTER 6
Three days later the one thing we had all been praying and hoping for finally happened. Starsky opened his eyes for the first time since the shooting. I wasn't there to see it but I heard all about it afterwards. Hutch had been so excited that he had danced the startled nurse around the room. I would have loved to have been there to see that for myself. Starsky had only been able to keep his eyes open for a few seconds before drifting off again but this time it was into a deeply medicated slumber instead of a coma.
Hutch was still pretty wound up when I got there, insisting on telling me over and over again about the thrill of seeing Starsky finally open his eyes again. The various doctors assigned to his case were still being cautiously optimistic, warning Hutch not to get his hopes up too high. Starsky was not out of danger yet. Unforeseen complications, infections, his own bodies weakened condition, could still prove fatal to the dark-haired detective. Due to the large number of blood transfusions he had been given since the shooting, his immune system was practically shot to hell. In his present condition, even something as simple as a bad chill could kill him.
"They've got him heavily medicated to keep him quiet and make him sleep." Hutch explained "So his body can start to heal and get stronger. The doctor said that even when he wakes up, he'll probably be confused and disoriented, too weak to even talk. He probably won't even remember the shooting." That would be a blessing if you ask me, I thought to myself. I tried to concentrate on Hutch's words as he continued, "They don't want him to panic or get scared."
Easier said than done, I thought. Starsky was going to be scared out of his mind if he woke up and couldn't remember what had happened to him, especially considering the amount of pain he was going to be in. That alone would be enough to panic anybody in their right mind. And, in spite of the cardiac arrest, there were no signs that indicated that Starsky had suffered any kind of brain damage during the time he was considered clinically dead.
I stole a quick glance at Starsky, looking for any change in his face or his position but it all looked the same to me. For the first time since entering the room, I noticed that he had been weaned from the ventilator. He still had a nasal cannula providing extra oxygen to help ease the strain on his severely injured lung but he was breathing on his own. Another milestone to celebrate. A nasal gastric tube had been inserted in one nostril and threaded down into his stomach which Hutch explained was to evacuate air from his stomach and to tube feed him. Unable to eat, Starsky was losing weight at an alarming rate.
I continued to visit the hospital every day. Although Starsky's eyes were always closed when I was there, I began to notice subtle signs that he was aware of his surroundings on some unconscious level. Sometimes his hand would twitch, his fingers moving as if he were trying to reach for something but he was too weak. A muscle would twitch in his cheek or his eyelids would flutter but he didn't wake up. Whenever Hutch was touching him or talking to him, the monitors would reflect a definite change in his blood pressure and his heart rate, as if he knew the big blond was there and he was safe.
Two days after he came out of the coma, there was a major setback when Starsky had to be rushed back into surgery when he suddenly spike a high fever. It turned out that he'd started bleeding internally again, meaning more painstaking repairs to his already mangled insides. Then he developed pneumonia and had to be put back on the ventilator. He also developed a serious infection in one of the surgical wounds. Once more, we were back to counting the minutes and then the hours, waiting and praying for him to rally. After almost a week, he was finally determined to be out of immediate danger, although the doctor kept him on the ventilator for two more days as a precaution.
Through it all, Hutch was determined to bring James Gunther to justice and prove that he was behind the hit on Starsky. He had been methodically unraveling the tangled web of bogus holding companies and falsified records that concealed Gunther's illegal activities. It was stressful and tedious work that was taking more time than he would have preferred. Minnie and several other officers were helping out, but Hutch still insisted on being kept advised of any new developments or leads.
I wasn't there the day Hutch finally found the connection that linked Gunther to several high profile cases that Starsky and Hutch had been involved in over the past two years, cases that gave Gunther more than enough motive to want to see them dead. But, believe me I heard all about it from a nurse that I had become friendly with during the course of my visits to the hospital since the shooting.
Hutch had rushed into Starsky's room with an arm full of computer printouts, ranting and raving to his semi-conscious partner about finally finding something he could nail Gunther on. The exasperated nurse had finally gone in search of Captain Dobey to get him to calm down the excited blond so that Starsky could rest undisturbed. Finally, Hutch calmed down and caught a flight to San Francisco that same after noon. Under the circumstances, the SFPD had agreed to let him serve the arrest warrant on James Gunther in person.
When Hutch returned he told me that when he arrived at Gunther's mansion and burst into his office unannounced, he had found Bates, Gunther's right hand man, dead from drinking a cup of poisoned tea. Arrogant and aloof, Gunther had pulled a gun on Hutch. But the old man had never been forced to do his own dirty work before, always hiring others for the job, so Hutch had no trouble disarming him. He read him his rights and cuffed him before turning him over to the SFPD.
Hutch told me how badly he had wanted to just blow the bastard's head off and I can't say that I blamed him for that. But, in the end, the cop in Hutch had prevailed. Gunther would have his day in court and Hutch would do everything in his power to make sure that he couldn't buy his way out of it by making sure he had an air tight case against him. When it was all over, Hutch returned to his partner's side and that is where he stayed except for brief trips that he made to headquarters to work on the case against Gunther. Whenever possible, he worked on the case at Starsky's bedside with files and computer printouts piled in his lap and on the floor around him.
The nurses had learned to work around him, asking him to leave only when they had to tend to Starsky's wound care or when the doctor needed to do some medical treatment under sterile conditions. Finally, one of the nurses found a recliner in the doctor's lounge and moved into the room next to Starsky's bed so Hutch could be more comfortable since he was practically living at the hospital. I knew that Hutch had only been home a few times since the shooting to shower and to change clothes but not to sleep. He did that at the hospital, sitting beside Starsky's bed. The entire medical staff was overwhelmed by Hutch's obvious affection and devotion to his injured friend.
I'll never forget the first time I was in the room when Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch had stepped out for a few minutes to talk to the doctor and I was sitting in the bed beside him when I saw his eyelids flutter and then open, not much only about half way, but it was enough to see the sapphire blue of the pupils.
"Hey, Curly! You're awake!" I said, my throat tightening up with emotion. "Hutch is talking to the doctor right now but he'll be right back." I wasn't sure if he understood me or not but he seemed to relax, then his eyes closed again and he was out. But to me, I still felt as if I had just witnessed a miracle.
