Chapter 27

The room spun slowly as Starsky opened his eyes and realised he was lying once more on his back on a hospital bed. For a moment he panicked and from experience checked the back of his hands and his arms for any signs of IVs. There were none, which was always a good sign and the brunet relaxed marginally. He recognised the room as being the one he'd made his recovery in before. It felt welcoming and homely, and at the same time just a little bit disconcerting to be back in it so soon. Was he sick? Crazy? Or a combination of the two? Starsky rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed pausing a moment to allow the room to stop swimming in front of him and then looked down to see that whoever had placed him on the bed had also taken the trouble to clean him up some and give him new dark blue scrub pants to wear. The dirt and dried blood had gone but the bruises in the centre of his body were marching up the flat plain of his belly in a blue/black tide towards the dimple of his navel and as Starsky moved a dull ache restarted in his balls.

Cautiously the brunet got off the bed and walked towards the door his hand outstretched to open it. He was so far past surprises at that moment that it never occurred to him to wonder why his new friend Doctor Isaac had been in the car right after he'd been drugged by two strange men. To Starsky the world was revolving whilst he took no part in it. After so much new information to process he was reduced to the status of a spectator, observing life but sitting out on the fringes whilst others did their things around him. He had a passing thought about where Hutch might be, and then that passed too as the door opened and Isaac walked into the room.

'Good, you're awake, my friend. How are you feeling Ethan? Are you rested? Do you have a hangover? You had quite a skinful last night.'

Starsky's eyes narrowed. 'Heads fine I guess, unlike the rest of me' he replied carefully.

'Good. It's good you have a clear head although I'm concerned about you Ethan.'

'Why?'

Isaac walked towards the bed and patted the mattress, pulled up a chair and sat down. 'Come and sit by me. You still need to rest.'

'I don't' wanna rest. I need answers. I can't live the rest of my life like this. Why am I here? Tell me why you brought me back? Am I sick or sumthin?'

'No…'

'Then I'm confused. Doc don't get me wrong, I'm glad for the bed and for…..well, you put me back together again, But I don't do drugs and your folks are way too ready with 'em. My head is screwed enough. I need answers not another arm full of narcotics.'

'I can understand the need for answers and I'll try to give them to you, but I need you to calm yourself and sit down.'

Starsky turned slowly to gaze at the doctor. 'Why? So that you can drug me up again? I thought you were my friend.'

'I am. I'm your one friend Ethan.'

'Prove it.'

'What do you want me to say? What do you want me to tell you? How can I prove it to you?'

Starsky prowled the perimeter of the room. 'You can start by dropping the "Ethan" routine. My name is Starsky. Dave Starsky.'

'Do you really believe that?' Isaac asked softly. 'Has he gotten to you so fast?'

'Who? Has who gotten to me?'

'Hunt. He's a master of illusion you know. He'll tell you anything, tell you anything to stop you from killing him.'

Starsky stopped prowling and stood glaring at Isaac, 'Hutchinson. He's called Ken Hutchinson. We're partners. We're cops. He told me. He took me to a place. They all knew me. It's you. You're the one who's lying to me' Starsky's voice took on an edge of desperation as his head told him one thing but his body and his gut instincts told him something else.

'His name is Ray Hunt and he knows you want to kill him. He has money Ethan. He has enough money to make almost anything possible, including employing extras like they do in a film to say they know you.'

The brunet whirled on the doctor. 'It was real' he yelled, his hands flung up to his temples as Starsky closed his eyes and shut out the confusing thoughts. He'd been so sure that Hutch had been telling him the truth. For that one hour last night, when he and the blond man had been talking, Starsky had felt truly relaxed, as though he belonged. Now the itchy, antsy feeling was back on his skin and in his head and an explosion of pain started behind his temples and felt as though it were eating itself out from behind his eyes.

Isaac came to his feet and took a hold of Starsky's wrists, pulling the man's hands from his head. He gazed into Starsky's eyes, putting such trust into that one look as he could muster. 'He was lying Ethan.'

'NO! He wouldn't.'

'Yes, he would. He'd stop at nothing to save his own skin.'

'But it was so real' the brunet whispered. 'It was so fuckin' real. I dunno. I dunno what to believe any more. Why would he protect me? He didn't look rich.'

'Why would he go to the island the way he did Ethan? You were forced to swim. He had a luxury yacht waiting for him.'

'He said it belonged to the guy who'd taken him there' Starsky said softly.

'Why would he try to kill you Ethan? Why would he hurt you? I've seen the bruises. I've seen the damage he inflicted. Would a friend really do that?'

'No, that's not right. He helped me. He said you'd brainwashed him into hating me. Into wanting to kill me, like you'd brainwashed me into killing him. He told me he could remember but he…..'

'What Ethan? What?'

Starsky collapsed onto the bed and held his head in his hands. 'He said he didn't know why I couldn't remember. He said he'd help me.'

'How? By beating you? By inflicting those terrible injuries?'

'No!'

'Then how? Has he helped you so far?' Isaac urged, feeling that the door he pushed against was beginning to open.

'He…..no, he hasn't…..well, he took me back to my home.'

'And left you there, yeah. Has he helped you any more? Has he given you medicine? Has he taken you to a doctor?' Has he Ethan?'

'No….yeah……no, I mean I dunno.' Starsky looked up, his eyes cloudy and confused. 'I believed you. I believed him. Now I don't know what to believe any more. I'm goin' crazy aren't I?'

Isaac smiled sadly. 'You're not going crazy Ethan, but you are sick and I'm gonna make sure you get better. After that…..well we'll take one day at a time huh? For now, will you let me give you a sedative? It'll calm you and help you sleep. It may even help some of your memories.'

'No. No more drugs Doc. I don't want nuthin.'

Isaac shook his head. 'Who's the doctor here huh?' he asked gently.

'You.'

'And who knows what's best for you right now?' Isaac asked just like a caring practitioner.

Starsky ducked his head. 'You' he said quietly, his voice defeated and small.

Isaac pulled a syringe from his pocket and removed the plastic cap. Starsky made no further comment as the doctor swabbed a small square on his bare arm and pushed home the needle. Within minutes, the familiar warm fuzziness started to flow through Starsky's body and the brunet rested back against the pillows, his head cradled on his arms as his eyelids slid slowly closed. 'M'not crazy…..not crazy' he whispered into the pillow as sleep claimed him.

Outside the door, Mr Lake paced impatiently until Isaac came out from the room.

'Well?' he asked.

'It could be better, but it's not the sort of situation that's unsalvageable. Give me another 24 hours and he'll be ours again. Within 36 hours I'll have reprogrammed him once more.'

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The middle of the night is a lonely time for most people. When the darkness hugs around a body like a warm oppressive blanket and the silence is deafening, imagination runs riot and hearts start to beat faster. Midnight is the time when small boys clutch their sheets to their chests and wonder if the monster under the bed will come out and get them. It's the time when little girls wonder if Mr Tumness really will come out of the back of the wardrobe and whether he will be chased by the ice queen. And it was the time that Starsky next awoke, his disquieted mind shaking off the effects of the sleeping drug more quickly than Dr Isaac would have believed.

The brunet opened his eyes and stared up into the darkness until finally he could make out shapes and then shadows and eventually the crack of light under the door to his room. Pain argued with him, giving him a choice between lying still and hoping it would go away, or getting up to see if an obliging nurse would make him a drink. His throat was parched and his stomach growled making Starsky wonder when was the last time that he'd eaten.

Stomach won out against pain in the end and with a low groan, Starsky flung back the sheets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet touched the cold tile of the floor and made him shiver although the room was not cold and the brunet looked around for a tee shirt or shoes. With none readily available, Starsky slipped off the bed and went to the door, opening it a crack to look down the hallway. Something, and he knew not what, made him cautious, as though some part of him did not want to be caught walking the corridor at night.

Still holding onto that feeling, Starsky slipped into the brightly illuminated hallway looking both left and right. It was like no hospital he could ever remember being in, although given the state of his memory that said nothing, but there was none of the usual hustle of bustle of nurses, orderlies and doctors and none of those small ceaseless noises that hospitals at night were full of. Instead there was a deadly silence, giving Starsky the feeling that he was the only one awake in the whole building. The absence of other people added to his feelings of caution and as he walked down the corridor Starsky hugged the wall, walking on the balls of his bare feet to leave as little noise as possible.

The nurses' station was empty, devoid of life and there was not even a light on showing that maybe a nurse was on her way back from the little nurses room and Starsky passed it slowly, ducking his head around the various doors along the hallway. Some of the rooms were empty of everything whilst one, very close to Starsky's had another bed and another set of drawers very like his own. The rest of that floor of the "hospital" was deserted and suddenly Starsky's heart started to hammer in his chest.

Why?

What the hell was going on? Where was everyone? Why was he the only one awake? Why did he seem to be the only patient? The absence of people and the deathly quiet made Starsky's feelings of paranoia worse. That was it! The first stages of madness. He was delusional and before long he would wake up in his bed with Doc Isaac shaking his head and tutting over him.

Curiosity and a sickening fascination drove the brunet on as though he were living a nightmare. He ran from one door to the next, abandoning caution now as each room came up empty, devoid of life or indeed furniture. Lights from the street below illuminated some of the rooms whilst others were as dark and still as the grave. Those were the rooms Starsky closed the door on quickly and by the time he came to the end of the corridor his breath was whistling in his throat and his heart hammering like a jackhammer against his ribs.

The last door on the hallway opened onto a large corner office. This room at least showed signs that it was in use and that its owner had merely stepped out for the night. Starsky stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Whether he was Dave Starsky or Ethan Quade, he had no idea, but some instinct told him he needed to search this room for his answers and some innate ability told him how to do it.

Ignoring the view from the window or the lure of the water machine in the corner, Starsky headed for the leather topped desk set at an angle across the far corner of the room. It was a dark, masculine room, the air redolent with the smell of cigar smoke and aftershave. The deep pile carpet was a deep dark green, the walls wood panelled in glossy wood and the desk heavy and mahogany. As Starsky padded across the floor his toes sunk into the carpet pile and the wool tickled his feet. Air conditioning blew across his naked chest, raising goose bumps over his flesh and he shivered again.

The top of the desk was littered with papers. The owner of the desk was either very untidy or very busy and after looking over his shoulder, Starsky came around the front of the desk and bent over the files, his hands hovering over the papers as his eyes darted over the print. Medical names, drug names, copies of x-rays all scattered across the leather top of the desk as Starsky would have imagined a doctors desk would look and he was about to give up looking when his eyes hit on one word amongst hundreds.

Hutchinson.

The one word was buried in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a paragraph and the rest of the words were hidden beneath a copy of an x-ray of an arm showing what looked like an elbow joint blown clean apart. Starsky's hands scrabbled through the files, more and more words jumping out at him as his eyes flowed over the print.

Starsky……comatose…….Hutchinson…….damage…….subject……..erased.

That final word was the one that Starsky's eyes fastened on and he grabbed the paper his mouth working over the words on the page.

Subject David Starsky was brought in comatose from the "accident" with his partner Ken Hutchinson. Whilst Starsky is proving an easier subject the other man is more problematic and it will be a challenge to have his memories finally erased.

Pain lanced through Starsky's head like a bolt of lightening and he gasped, clutching at his temples as his spine bowed him over the table, gagging on his own spit and trying hard to breathe through his agony.

A car – a red car going downhill. Too fast. He couldn't stop it and he tried to steer away from houses and cars. The tree coming up towards him too fast.

'Hutch jump.'

'Over my dead body.'

'No, over both our dead bodies if you don't go now. Jump.'

The memory threatened to overwhelm him and the pain in his head amplified, arcing behind his eyes so that he ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The world was reduced to the pain in his head and the flashes of memories, the pictures of his life flowing back into his brain like a tidal wave. Starsky groaned, panting heavily as in one huge rush his life and his identity returned to him, blotting out the office and the incriminating file……and also the noise from the hallway.

The door to the office opened slowly, the wedge of light from the corridor getting larger as Starsky forced himself to look up.

'You always were going to be a difficult man to convince Ethan. Or should we revert to Starsky? It's a shame we came this far and now we can go no further. It's the end of the road, so to speak.'