Elevator
"I've told you how I feel about heights. I've told you this, right?" Starsky shouted, tossing the statement over his shoulder before he squeezed the trigger three more times. Rapid fire was one of those bad habits the police academy tried to drill out of its pupils but David Starsky had always been a better shot with three or four bullets flying through the air, as compared to one.
A beautiful brown-eyed, blonde-haired range instructor had once tried to indicate that this meant that Starsky was, in fact, a terrible shot and needed to practice more. Until the range instructor had left town Starsky was more than happy to comply. The fun had gone out of it after Hannah moved to North Dakota.
Detective Sergeant Ken Hutchinson responded to his partner with covering fire, watching the movement of the leather clad cop until he was behind something solid that bullets would bounce off of, instead of go through.
"I didn't set the meet." Hutch insisted, avoiding looking at the walls of the fortieth floor. An easy task given that there weren't any.
Solid steel beams, and thankfully a floor and ceiling, but the walls wouldn't be added to the structure for a few months yet. This provided a breathtaking view of the ocean, a gale of pleasant, sea breezes and the very real possibility of falling to one's death. What should have been incentive for everyone involved to get along, failed miserably once one of the ten bad guys with guns finally put names to the faces he'd vaguely remembered from long ago.
Now the goal was to get out alive, and the means to that goal was a single freight elevator at the end of the building. Unfortunately the elevator was behind the armed bad guys. Starsky and Hutch were being pushed toward the other end of the building. There would be emergency stairs there someday, but at the moment there was only a sheer drop.
The hail of bullets slowed, the bad guys realizing that there wasn't much either cop could do but waste bullets in their direction. The big cheese, a clothing merchant born into a family of crooks, and more than happy to keep the family business going, stopped the shootout with a casual shout and wave of his hand and eyed the cement mixer that he knew sheltered at least one of the cops.
"Seems you picked the wrong day to show up for work, boys, huh?"
Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance, the curly haired cop rolling his eyes to show that the trembling in his gun hand wasn't fear but boredom. Hutch shifted, letting his shoulder land against the strut of the mixer and taking stock of just how close they were to the edge, and what, of very few options, they might be able to exploit.
"Ivan here tells me he owes you boys for the degree he got while he was in the joint. He's very grateful."
"Shame he didn't put it to use! Anybody with a college degree should know bettah than to hang out with you!" Starsky shouted, watching his partner plot.
Seconds later Hutch pointed to a pile of nylon rope and metal slats. It took a moment for Starsky to unravel the pile and realize what it was, but when he did his eyes widened. It looked like salvation. It also looked like a death wish. Starsky gave a reluctant nod of agreement then tilted his head back, inching upward in a crouch until he could see the men scattered across the width of the construction site.
"In fact most of those dummies look like they couldn't tie their own shoes without help."
The baddy, Anton Schultz, grinned with perfectly capped teeth, the white shining like a beacon in a deeply tanned face. "Cheap insults, Starsky. Especially coming from a cop with only two options."
"Sure. I got two options. Option 1-"
Hutch was inching across the floor, careful to make sure that the sound of his movement was masked by the conversation. The rope ladder was easy to reach but not so easy to untangle.
"...shoot all of you and drag your corpses down to the station. Or, option 2-"
The baddies were chuckling, but waiting for the rest of the joke before they interrupted with more arrogant threats. Hutch had unwound the ladder and was inching towards the edge of the floor on his belly. The top of the ladder would hook over the edge making it relatively secure, but not a means of escape that they could use more than once.
Just the thought of swinging out over forty-stories of air with nothing but a little rope and metal to keep him from falling to his doom was making Starsky dizzy. "Option 2...I guess we could spare your lives, and take you in still breathing. But you're going to have to play nice and share the cuffs."
More sinister laughter filtered from the other end of the floor and Starsky used the noise to cover his own retreat, doing everything in his power not to look out, or down.
"Your partner is a real comedian, Stan...or uh...what did you say their names were, Starchy and Husk?"
"No, I'm Starchy, he's Husk!"
Hutch went over first, his gun tucked into the holster, both hands white knuckled on the rungs of the ladder. It swung violently, prompting Starsky to slam a hand down on the struts attaching the ladder to the building.
He was aware, with a lump rising in his throat, that there would be no one remaining to steady the ladder once he descended.
"Real comedians. Real funny for cops that got no place to go. Let me give you your real options. Option 1 is to come outta your hidey holes and let me finish you off quick and easy. Option 2-"
"Hey boss…?"
"What?"
Behind the bad guys there was a metallic click and a groan, then the elevator shuddered and started to descend. "What the-"
A floor below Starsky stood at the button to the elevator, his right hand holding the plastic circle down while the other pointed a gun at the metal safety door. Hutch stood at a distance, covering the other corner of the elevator in a classic firing stance. As the car descended they could hear the confused shouts from above, the sound of someone trying to squeeze into the elevator and withdrawing an appendage with a shout of disappointment and pain.
Questions were screamed back and forth, echoing against the bare concrete and steel, and Starsky grinned as the empty elevator settled on their floor.
"Aprez vouz, Hutch my good man." Starsky said, opening the safety gate and swinging his gun toward the elevator with a flourish.
"Mercy buckups." Hutch said, grinning in return.
Once in the elevator Hutch studied the controls then asked, "Up or down?"
"Eh...down. Let's not press our luck."
"Good idea. Give them some time to cool off. Think about the bad things they've done."
As the elevator began its descent, both men winced and flinched as the volume of the argument above them increased, punctuated by shots and loud crashes.
"Maybe he should spend the night up there?" Starsky suggested.
"May-" Hutch was interrupted by a distant, loud, teeth-grinding groan of something heavy being forced across the floor. "Hey, we're not gonna be charged for the havoc they're wreaking up there, are we?"
Starsky thought for a moment then asked, "You didn't see a jack hammer…"
"No.." Hutch said, shaking his head.
"We should be fine."
Ten seconds later the top of the elevator was punched inward, the car jolted and rocked knocking both men off their feet. Metal groaned loudly, gears grinding until a cable snapped and the car and whatever had hit it, descended the remaining ten floors at three times the speed.
At floor four the emergency brake kicked on, snapping around the double wound cable and reducing the speed of the falling car. The weight of the object that had been dropped onto the elevator was too much for what the emergency brake had been designed for. The car slowed but didn't stop until it hit the bottom of the shaft.
The impact brought the ceiling of the elevator crashing in on the occupants, but the cement mixer that had been dropped onto the car was too big to fall in with it.
Starsky was certain he never actually passed out. He became aware of himself staring up at the metal drum of the mixer trying to decide where he had seen it last, and why the sight of it made him so uncomfortable.
Dust and dirt was filtering down through the hole in the ceiling and Starsky blinked and coughed and tried to sit up. His legs moved ok. His head was throbbing. The left arm worked, but the right arm was on fire.
Starsky choked on a cry of pain and stared at the malicious pimple in the unbroken leather sleeve of his coat caused by the broken edge of bone sticking out of his forearm. It looked painful. Almost more painful than it felt. Suddenly aware that it might hurt less if he couldn't see it Starsky closed his eyes and called for his partner.
A soft grunt sounded from under the sheet of metal that had once been over their heads, something bounced off the metal and another grunt followed, then the metal scraped and Starsky opened his eyes to see Hutch emerge head first.
Blood had started to soak his hair into a patch of blonde and scarlet over his left eye and Hutch looked dazed, but for the moment whole. After a few deep breaths, Hutch focused on his partner and asked, "Was this your plan?"
"They dropped a cement mixer on us!" Starsky blurted, dazed.
Hutch shoved more of the crumpled ceiling away from his frame and stared up at the metal drum. Bigger than a bread box but smaller than wrecking ball. "Good thing it was empty...ah!"
Starsky's brow furrowed in concern and he sat up a little more, focusing on the drops of blood that were collecting on the floor under Hutch's torso.
"D'you get shot?"
Hutch shook his head pulling his shirt away from the blood, exposing a line of small puncture wounds that ran from the lowest rib on his left side to the waistband of his pants. Both men stared at the wounds in silence until Hutch sat up a bit more.
"Oh my god…" Starsky muttered, eyes fixed on the drill bit set that his partner must have landed on at some point.
Hutch picked up the set, staring at the smears of blood on each of the bits, in his mind's eye deciding just how deep each of them must have gone. "I'm complaining to the site boss."
"I don't blame ya. These industrial elevators are death traps."
Hutch tossed the drill bit set into the corner farthest away from him, carefully worked his way out of his jacket, then started to pull his shirt off. The puncture wounds ached, like he'd been punched in the gut one too many times with the pointy end of a hammer.
While Starsky worked his way to his feet, cradling his broken arm close to his chest, Hutch rolled the shirt, tied it over the wounds and slipped back into his jacket, fighting the urge to shiver.
Through the hole in the roof, far above their heads, Starsky could make out a dim face staring down at the elevator. Anton had trapped himself on the fortieth floor as a result of his angry fit. "I wonder if he's happy now."
Hutch, halfway to his feet, clung to the metal webbing that made up two of the four walls of the elevator and leaned out until he could see through the torn ceiling.
"If I'd thrown a temper tantrum that trapped me forty floors up I might be a little mad. Starsk, is that what I think it is?"
Starsky blinked and looked at his partner, then followed his pointed finger back to the sight of the bone tenting the leather of his coat sleeve. "Broke. But I think I like it this way."
Hutch surveyed the tiny space around them then tossed his hand in the air and shook his head. "Can't splint it anyway."
The blonde cop was silent for a bit, resting against the wall with his arm pressed against the long wound on his side. When he opened his eyes it was to reach for the safety door on the car. The surface of the main floor began about twenty inches from the top of the car, leaving enough of a gap that would allow them to crawl through one at a time. If they could get the door open.
"Pull on that side?" Hutch said, breathlessly, sucking air in before he locked both arms against the edge of the door and pushed. Starsky grit his teeth and did the same, pulling until his arm quaked. Neither man relaxed until the metal of the door gave a loud screech and the cage opened about a foot.
Seconds later a series of distant shots were followed by the whang of bullets hitting and careening off the cement mixer. Both men flinched, then put every effort into opening the door the rest of the way rather than duck for cover. The mixer was all the cover they would find unless they could get out of the cage.
The first gun had been joined by a second by the time Starsky fell back against the far wall of the elevator, the door fully open. Without hesitation Hutch squatted, cupped his hands together and looked expectantly at his partner. Rather than argue, Starsky ground his teeth together, stepped into his partner's hands then forced himself head first through the opening.
He landed on his broken arm and forced his legs to move despite the pain, rolling onto his side and thrusting his good arm through the gap until he felt Hutch latch on.
All ten men had to have been shooting into the elevator by the time Hutch yanked his sneakers free and rolled away from the hail of bullets. Neither man could move for a moment, panting in the cement dust coating the first floor.
"These guys….are working real hard...at being unlikeable." Starsky managed.
Hutch sat up with a groan that seemed to come from his toes and cradled his forehead in his hand. "A+ for effort."
"Were were gonna...hang around and let them..try to kill us. Or did you have a plan?"
"We drove your car." Hutch said, pointing over his shoulder.
"I can't drive with this arm." Starsky said, his voice a little more serious.
Hutch shifted at the change in tone, and was surprised to his see his partner's right hand smeared with blood.
"Ok." He grunted, getting to his knees, then to his feet. He straightened carefully then took short steps towards Starsky, guiding him to his feet as well. "I'll drive. Where are your keys?"
"Pocket."
"You dead cop!?" The shout echoed down faintly from above. Both men paused for a moment before Starsky giggled.
"Shh..don't answer him. He's trying to trick us."
"Did you just giggle?"
Starsky cleared his throat and pitched his voice an octave lower. "No...no. I was coughing. S'dusty."
Hutch nodded, taking a step toward the ramp that would lead them out of the building. The step hurt more than he expected and he curled over the wave of pain and nausea, only to have his partner slip under his shoulder and straighten him out again. Together the two moved like a four legged swamp creature, crossing the floor.
Distantly the bad guys were still arguing, each of Anton's men gradually realizing that their boss had trapped them, and that they were running out of the ammunition they might need to defend themselves. Especially if the cops weren't dead. Especially if the cops were able to escape and call for backup.
None of them were watching the parking lot, gathered around the now useless elevator shaft. It wasn't until the Torino's engine roared to life that any of them considered that the cops had not only survived the fall, but managed to escape their clutches all together. By the time they started to open fire on the flashy car the vehicle was easily out of range.
Three hours later a casted, giggling Starsky did his best to explain to Captain Dobey exactly how ten criminals ended up at the top of a secured construction site, resigned to waiting for the police to rescue them.
"So then...so then, Cap….so then Hutch jumps on the ladder and he swings way out into space and the whole ladder just kinda groaned like it was gonna buckle any minute. So I slap my hand down on that sucker cause...well I couldn't let Hutch fall. Am I right...what was your name again, darlin? Judy..Am I right, Judy. I mean what kinda partner would I be if-"
"Starsky…"
"Hmm? Oh. So then it's my turn to get down the ladder. And you know how I feel about heights, Cap. So I'm crawling down this rope ladder and I can hear Anton up at the top threatening to kill me and here I am on this ladder, probably gonna die of being squished to death at the bottom of this building." Starsky interrupted himself with yet another giggle, then caught himself giggling and cleared his throat suddenly dizzy.
Judy, the nurse finishing his cast, noticed the wane in Starsky's momentum and helped guide him back onto the bed that he was supposed to have been lying on anyway.
"Listen, uh, nurse? Is he going to be all right?"
"Yes, captain. We had to give him a strong sedative to get the bone back into place. He'll be fine once it wears off."
Dobey stared at the detective for a moment then said, "I'm going to check on my other man. I'll be right back. Don't let him leave the hospital."
After the captain left the nurse gave Starsky a shy smile. "You wouldn't walk out of this hospital without permission, would you, Detective Starsky?"
A bright smile spread on Starsky's face as he slurred, "Only if you go with me."
Dobey smirked at the final comment he heard before ducking out the door and down the hall. To his surprise he was able to pick up on the story right where he'd left off, as he walked in on Hutch's retelling.
"We rode down in the elevator and got about halfway to the ground floor when Anton dropped a cement mixer on us."
"That sounds like it was dangerous."
"Oh it was, very dangerous. Elevators aren't made to have cement mixers dropped on them."
"Is that when you landed on the drill bits?"
"Oh no, that happened when the elevator hit the ground floor."
"Wow...how did you manage to get out?"
"Well, you know, my partner, Starsky. He'd broken his arm, see, and could hardly stand. I had to use brute strength to get the door to the elevator open."
"I can tell you're very strong."
Dobey cleared his throat quietly asserting himself between the nurse and the detective. "Can I assume that my detective will survive, nurse?"
She was blushing, poor girl, her hips pressed close to the bed. Hutch had an arm snugged around her waist and was keeping her in kissing distance. Dobey quietly wondered how she would work her away free when she was missed on her rounds.
"We should keep him here for observation." The nurse said, stifling a giggle. "But I know he'll be just fine."
"Mmhm."
"Everybody get down ok, Cap?"
"None of them were happy about it. As soon as we tacked attempted murder charges onto the list, most of them started to turn on each other. Seems none of them were willing to help Anton with that cement mixer."
The nurse jumped in surprise then looked to Hutchinson. "Oh...oh there really was a cement mixer!"
Mildly injured by her shock Hutch nodded. "I wouldn't lie to you about a thing like that."
"Oh...oh you poor man."
Dobey rolled his eyes and quietly left the room, satisfied that nothing had happened to his men that couldn't be made right.