GUTTERS AND ALLEYS
CHAPTER NINE
10-107 Suspicious person
It was early morning but still dark out, and our shift was just about to end. I had this great idea. It involved me, a hot shower, a bowl of soup, some special herb tea with lemon, and a warm-hearted partner taking pity on me. Sometimes a guy just needs to be fussed over and Hutch makes a great mother hen.
"Shifts almost over." I coughed and cleared my throat. "Sure could use a hot bowl of soup, and --" I coughed harder into my hand. If I played my cards right, Hutch would come through. "Some special herb --"
"Work on that act some more, buddy," Hutch laughed. "You almost got me."
"Thanks." I sniffled, as we headed downt he road to what I hoped would be our last call.
Dispatch had radioed us about a 10-107 -- a suspicious person, lurking around the apartment building at 14208 Vince Boulevard.
Before we pulled up to the location, Hutch cut the headlights, parking the car flush against the curb. Silently, we existed, quietly closing the vehicle doors, guns drawn. In this job you learn fast anything goes, and you should always err on the side of caution.
"Probably just a false alarm, someone who locked themselves out of their place," I whispered to Hutch.
"Just be careful. You take the back." My partner took point.
I nodded and we split up. I rounded the building and found myself in a dark parking lot. There was only one streetlight which didn't offer much lighting as lamppost was a few hundred yards away. The building and cars seemed to match the deep watery blue and green shadows of the night. I hated the dark, and I hated when Hutch and I had to split up. Not having him in my sights made me wound tight. There were quit a few cars parked back there, and I went up and down each aisle, searching for that one thing that didn't belong. As I rounded the far corner heading back toward the front of the building, I stopped short and crouched behind a dumpster. Before me was a double door garage one side open. I strained to see better but couldn't.
Staying in a crouched position, I slowly slid out from the cover of the dumpster, and made my way toward a crop of bushes facing the front of the garage. I finally could see what was going on. A white van was backed up close to the open half of the garage door while two suspicious men wearing dark clothing were loading the vehicle up with what appeared to be stereo equipment. I could just make out a third silhouette behind the driver's wheel and the engine was running.
I crept closer; my 9mm raised in their direction, taking my shooting stance I yelled, "Think you're forgetting to take the kitchen sink." The two men spun around in utter surprise. "Police, hands up!" I ordered
Everything after that happened in one fluid timeless motion. Hutch had just come around the corner and our eyes met for a fraction of a second. The suspects dropped their load and scrambled into the back of the van as the vehicle tore off its back doors swinging wildly in the wind. It was then I saw a forth shadow emerge a few yards behind Hutch -- obviously the one left behind. There was no mistaking the way the shadow stalked its prey or the barrel of the gun that was pointed at my partner's head. I didn't have time to aim and shoot, besides I'd be shooting at a shadow, and could miss, and hit Hutch instead.
"Hutch!" I yelled and rushed toward him like an all-star linebacker.
I watched the dark outline freeze as my loud yell must have caught him off guard. It gave me that split second I needed to get to my partner. My hands outstretched, I pushed Hutch off balance, just as a bullet whizzed past my ear. Hutch fell to the ground, but I couldn't stop my momentum as my right arm went straight through the garage window that had been behind him.
Without thinking, I recoiled and drug my arm back out the broken glass, and whirled to aim my gun at the shadow shooter. My only goal -- to protect my partner. I heard something metal clatter to the ground, and the sound of running feet faded off into the distance.
"Where'd he go?" Hutch shouted, just now getting back to his feet, and aiming his gun in the same direction. "Starsk, do you see him?"
"He's gone," I said clicking the safety on my weapon. "You get the plates on the van?"
"No, it all happened too fast," Hutch said in a deflated tone. "Damn, Starsk." My partner winced and rubbed his elbow. "Did you have to hit me so hard?"
"I saved your life, dummy," I said, taking a step forward. I was feeling a little woozy from my cold again, but ignored it. "We're even now."
"Oh really, Gordo? I think I had the situation under..." Hutch stopped his rant.
I raised my gun and shot a nervous look around the area. "You see him? Where'd he go?"
"Long gone. He tore off down the street. Starsky, what did you do?" I turned to see a startled look on Hutch's face.
"What? What's wrong?" I glanced down at what had gripped my partner's attention, and swallowed hard.
My windbreaker was torn to shreds, and blood was everywhere. There was no pain, but it looked bad. All I felt was the warm slick ooze, as it sluiced down my arm and coated the twitching fingers of my right hand. I hadn't even felt the jagged glass cut into my flesh.
"How'd that happen?" I tried to laugh my inury off as we both stared in shock at the blood for several seconds -- not moving.
I knew how it'd happened. My arm had gone through a plate glass window, but how could I be cut? I did not feel anything. I was sure if I was cut, I'd have felt the pain. I continued to stare in shock at the blood when my body gave an involuntary jolt.
I made eye contact with Hutch. He must have been in shock too; the expression on his face was blank.
"Ugh!" The pain suddenly came alive, my eyes rolled, and my knees started to crumple. Before I knew what hit me -- I felt my body slump toward the ground.
"Easy. Hold -- easy." I heard Hutch's stunned voice in my ear, and felt the warmth of his body pressed against mine. "Sit, buddy." A hand gently gripped my good arm. "You're bleeding pretty badly."
"Ugh, Hutch." I trembled as he slowly guided me to sit on the ground, my only goal now -- to stay conscious.
"Damn." Hutch rushed to slip out of his flannel shirt and wrap it around my arm applying pressure, but blood quickly stained the material.
"Ahhh!" I jerked my arm back.
"Sorry. Sorry, buddy." Hutch had a grim look on his face." Try to stay still. There are bits of glass stuck in there, but first I gotta stop the bleeding and then get you some help," Hutch said in a quivering tone.
"Bits, Hutch? Feels more like-like chunks." I forced myself to rally; glancing around feeling uneasy and wondering if the burglars really were gone. I recalled the clatter of metal and looked to the ground at the small dark shadow that lay there. It sure as hell was no little black bible. "Hutch, the gun."
I weakly tried to get up but Hutch placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down emphasizing his request to stay still.
"What are you talking about, Starsk?"
"Creep dropped his gun." I gestured toward the bushes.
Hutch averted his eyes to the area I had pointed out. For a second he didn't budge as if he were pondering his options. "Do you think you can stay with me, Starsk?" Hutch moved my good hand and pressed it over the wound.
"You're the one driving. Where am I going to go, dummy?" I shivered.
"I'll be right back." Hutch didn't laugh at my joke as his hand brushed my shoulder, it was barely a touch, but the contact eased some of my shivering, and I nodded.
I watched as Hutch jogged over to the object in question, produced a handkerchief, bent down and retrieved the weapon. He was back in a flash, collecting me in an embrace.
"Wh-where we going?" I slurred, as I lolled against him.
"We're going to the hospital. It'll be faster if I drive you." Hutch took my gun from my hand and placed it back in my hostler for me. "Easy. Up you go," Hutch grunted with the effort to get me to my feet.
I took a deep breath as I stood, the shock of the blood loss leaving me quaking with weakness. I kept my injured arm tight against my chest. My good hand was limp at my side, and my whole body trembled like I was having a seizure.
I closed my eyes feeling confused and disoriented. Not sure for a moment what was happening. All I heard was Hutch's voice close to my ear.
"Starsk? Hey, buddy, don't pass out on me."
"I'm not," I mumbled, as my head bobbed up and down.
The next thing I knew, I felt myself sink into soft leather and opened my eyes. I was in the passenger seat and Hutch was crouched down in the open doorway next to me, his hand on my knee. My partner's eyes held such worry or was he just measuring me for a coffin? Was my wound that bad?
"Just- just hang in th-there, okay?" Hutch stuttered. When I wasn't looking he had grabbed the ratty wool blanket we always kept laying on the back seat. "You're one tough Ombre,Starsk," he said wrapping the itchy blanket around my shivering shoulders.
"Yeah, that's me. One tough, burrito," I snickered lightly, but then felt sick as I watched a stream of blood drip scarlet stains onto my thigh. "Ughnnn! I groaned, slamming my eyes shut, feeling hazy, and swallowing the bile in my throat.
Hutch quickly locked a hand around my wrist and drug my limp hand up to press against the wound. "You have to hold pressure on this, buddy. I can't do that and drive."
"Hutch." I felt myself fading, my body swaying like I was boogieing on the dance floor -- but I knew I wasn't.
"Starsky, I want you to look me in the eye!" Hutch's voice was loud but reasonably calm. I had to do as he said. "You need to stay awake for me." He raised his brow. "You can do that, right?"
"'K." I nodded, breathed out hard, and sank slightly further into the seat.
I watched as Hutch seemed to move inhumanly fast slamming the door shut, rounding the front of the car, getting in behind the wheel, and squealing out onto the road.
"Ohhhhh, Hutch." I cringed as I twisted my position finding myself half -sitting, half -leaning on the seat.
"Get out of the way!" Hutch's angry voice startled me out of my daze.
Through my milky haze, I saw what had him so upset. An early morning garbage truck had blocked the roadway. Hutch flashed his badge out the window, beeped his horn, and cursed so loud his car seemed to shutter in fear of his rage.
"Police emergency, move!"
I clutched tighter to my wound not sure if the bleeding was slowing or not, as the truck finally moved and we were once again speeding toward the hospital. Everything looked blurry gray, fragments of the past few hours floated through my mind in pools of blood red and spotlight white, scattering like lost puzzle pieces.
I thought of the day Hutch had asked me my name back at the academy. Ever since -- I've leaned on him and he has leaned on me. The right of friends, dealing with the roughest things in this world, trying to make a difference, unlike that damn frog who wouldn't talk.
Starsk?" Hutch looked over at me, and through my fog I could tell he was trying to keep the concern from his eyes
"I'm here." I nodded, feeling faraway, I tried to ease his worry and offer a smile.
"You got your chance to play hero tonight, thanks buddy."
"Don't call me that," I grumbled. "Just your partner backing you up. Okay?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way, buddy."
I watched Hutch's hand, his fingers creeping spider-like across the seat until they took hold of my shoulder.
Hutch gently pulled me closer. I came to him limp and confused as I leaned into his side.
"Easy," he said, using one hand to drive the other tracing small circles on my cold cheek. "You're doing great, pal. Almost there. Just keep talking to me okay, Starsk?"
My eyes opened and closed, and I fumbled with my tongue, and my brain, until I could form a word.
"Poof."
"What's that, buddy?" Hutch laughed nervously.
"Huh?
"What'd you say?"
"Twelve." I cringed feeling my pumping heart send more blood out my arm. "Fifty three."
Hutch nodded, I knew I wasn't making sense, but he seemed to understand, as he invited me to continue. "What else, partner. Tell me more. What's the largest hotdog ever made? Huh? I know you know."
I listened to Hutch's soothing tone. He kept questioning me, I think about hotdog trivia, his voice dragging me in and out of blackness.
I answered the best I could. When I did not answer his questions, his voice took on a high note, calm and reason now missing from his tenor.
"Starsk, you're going into shock. Buddy, I need you to keep talking to me."
"Damn frog."
It was the last thing I remember saying before I fell into a deep black hole.