Water World
By TLR
Plot: Starsky and Hutch are caught in a natural disaster.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Hutch's POV.
It was a lovely Sunday afternoon and the sparse population on the beach made the day even more relaxing. I was collecting seashells to put with those I had in a clear glass gallon jar back at Venice Place, more for decoration than anything. Starsky was some distance away taking pictures of seagulls and the cliffs. Since the Torino was getting tuned up and getting an oil change, we took my car.
A family with a dog began packing up to leave. They waved at me, and I waved back. The dog was acting skittish on its leash, however. The family could barely keep the dog's attention.
A guy fishing seemed to be having a hard time catching anything today. I started to go over and chat with him, see if I could help or give a few pointers, but that's when everything changed.
First came the trembling of the ground, reminiscent of an earthquake. Then the water began to flow away from the shore.
The few people on the beach began to react by exchanging glances and speeding up their packing process to leave.
Starsky waved my way, but then the tremor stopped, and it didn't seem to be such a big deal. There had been a few earthquake predictions on the radio, but that wasn't unusual for California.
And then something more began to happen.
It looked like a video played in reverse. The ocean drew backward into itself. The few of us standing on the beach were too mesmerized to move at first. It didn't seem real. Until a massive wall of water formed in the distance, rising up like a sea monster as if to lunge, and lunge it did, rushing toward us at alarming speed.
"Starsk!"
I don't know how high the wall of water coming at us was, but it was the highest I'd ever seen.
I began to run down the shore. Slower at first because shock stole my speed and coordination. And then clarity and calm settled in my heart and in my bones, and I ran with the speed of love.
"Starsk!"
Starsky's back was to the ocean. He had no idea. Too busy taking pictures of the cliffs. He'd felt the tremor too obviously, but shrugged it off like the rest of us did.
But the family with the dog saw it, and the fisherman saw it, and they pointed at it, and ran.
"Starsk! Higher ground! Water's coming! Now!"
Emotion stole my voice. I couldn't say another word. I could only point toward the massive wave approaching.
The family scrambled up the white wooden steps toward their car; the fisherman tripped. I helped him up, shoved him toward the steps, and kept running.
"Starsk!"
He dropped his camera. By the time he picked it up and turned toward my voice, then glanced over his shoulder toward the ocean itself, it was too late. The wall of water surged inward, covering me and shoving me...the few still on the sand...toward the cliff, swallowing the beach in a terrifying wave.
I lost sight of my partner. My last vision of him was of him moving toward me so that we could help each other and survive together if we were swept away.
The cliffs acted as a dam in a way. Keeping some of the water out, but not nearly enough.
I was under the water, trying to fight my way to the surface to swim, but the powerful force kept moving me inland, and swimming was useless. The current carried me forward like so much debris, at one point bouncing me off some rocks on the cliff.
I had a feeling Starsky was being batted against the crags like a Nerf ball too.
I grabbed onto a white wooden railing at the top of the steps and hung on, but the ocean splintered the steps like toothpicks and I was left grappling for higher ground.
Looking more inland, down the water-flushed streets, I saw that the family and fisherman had made it to safety in their cars, as had some of those living in beach houses and those that owned shops and restaurants.
They must have heard radio warnings or seen the tsunami coming and evacuated then, or maybe left when the ground shook, but some perished in the rushing watery graveyard of cars, trees, furniture, and people.
My car was floating away, and the water was rising, becoming more congested with debris.
Emergency sirens were going off in the distance.
I found an intact building with a high red roof, and climbed up to safety, and up to a better view for spotting my partner.
My voice was now a scream, but it was no match for the decibels of the roaring waters.
"STARSKY!"
Then, there came a heavy pause in the ocean wave, an interlude, as if it were taking a deep breath preparing for an encore, and I was right.
The water receded again, and I clung to the roof, putting my head down so that I could catch my breath, knowing full well that the second wave could wash me and everything else away.
"Starsk," I sobbed into the roof. "Please live. God, help him."
I hadn't prayed in a long time. Now seemed like the perfect time.
It didn't take long for the second wave to surge in, and it was such a helpless feeling being torn away from the roof like a tinker toy, the water bouncing cars and people and debris around as if we were in a giant washing machine. Then, darkness enveloped me as I was dragged under the water, the pressure bearing down on me from all sides.
I didn't fight the current. I tried to go with it, making my way to the surface again, but when I did, found the unforgiving water thrusting me against vehicles, telephone poles, bookcases, porches, you name it.
When the water finally calmed down a little, I was left gasping on top of another roof, this time a hardware store. My first coherent thought was of Starsky. My heart pounded not just from the exertion but from the fear of not knowing where he was. I staggered to my feet, my body aching, clothes heavy, sodden, and torn, clinging to me like a second skin.
The beach was unrecognizable. Beach houses that once stood proud along the shore were now shattered, their remains floating like bobbers out in the ocean. Bodies floated by. I didn't want to look at them. My insides were shredding at the thought that I would see Starsky among the dead.
Could he have been swept out to sea? The thought was unbearable. The thought that he might be lost to me was a weight too heavy. But I had to know. One way other other, I had to know.
"STARSK!"
This time my voice was a cry. The Coast Guard, The National Guard, the Navy, and local rescue would all come to help, I was sure of it, but it was too late for some. For now, the outskirts of Bay City was a changed world.
Some distance away, in one of the collapsing, crooked houses, I heard my name.
It had to be Starsky. But his voice sounded weak and strained.
"Starsk! I'm over here! Can you get to me?"
No answer.
"Starsk!"
Still no answer.
Knowing he must be hurt or he would have answered or exited the house by now, I called "Stay put! I'm coming for you!"
I watched the parade of furniture, cars, and debris float by, then waded across chest-high water toward the sound of his voice, fighting for balance, pushing aside splintered wood and twisted metal, until I found a broken bay window and swam through, praying power lines stayed intact and wouldn't electrify the water.
"Hutch," his voice came again, this time from the far end of the house.
"Starsk?"
My heart raced as I navigated through the partially submerged house, the water murky with debris and the remnants of shattered lives. The structure was now a dangerous obstacle course.
"Starsk! Keep talking to me!"
I tried to use his voice as a guide through the chaos.
"Help," came his reply, weak with pain.
I realized as I looked around that I was actually wading through the attic part of the house. Careful to avoid getting my feet snagged or wedged in objects beneath me, I pressed toward the apex of the roof, which was right in front of me, and finally saw him.
"Starsky!"
I quickened my steps.
"Can't," he gasped.
I saw the problem. He was trapped in a tangle of shelves, now a twisted metallic creature that had him trapped, his head barely above water.
He couldn't move.
How long could he hold his head out of the water?
If he slipped...if it took him under the surface...
I choked down my tears as I hurried toward him. He had abrasions and cuts, with one wrist swollen and obviously broken.
"Hey," I said, unable to stop myself from smiling with joy at finding him alive. "You sure are a sight for sore eyes."
I checked him out best I could, realizing the shelves were doing the most damage.
"Another fine mess," he breathed with a small smile. His way of telling me he was glad to see me too. "Think an ankle's broken. Got...pounded on the rocks pretty good."
"Hang on, buddy," I said as I examined the shelves to figure out the safest way to extract him. My voice was steadier now as I pushed panic aside and began the painstaking process of untangling him from the metal's cruel embrace.
Each movement elicited a groan of pain from him.
"Sorry," I told him. "Won't be much longer. If we get out of here alive, I'll buy you the biggest burrito in town."
"Sleepy," he mumbled.
"No, don't go to sleep."
"Two Hutches. Is it Tuesday?"
"One Hutch. It's Sunday. And I think you have a concussion. Let's get you out of here."
I gently moved the shelving, and the bars connecting them, and some of my partner, but I finally freed him from his unforgiving prison.
"Gotcha," I said as he sank against me. "Can you stand on your good leg?"
"No way," he murmured.
"Time for a horsey ride then," I said as I carefully draped his arms around my neck and let him rest against my back. "Here we go."
"Nice," he murmured as I waded us back the way I came in.
I laughed gently. He had an endearing way of trying to find humor in the worst of circumstances, to make us both feel better.
Once outside in the street again, I found a sturdy door floating by and snagged it, then laid him on it.
"Stay with me, Starsk. Help should be on the way soon, I hope."
I had no idea how long that would be. I heard helicopters overhead and waved my arms around, and I'm sure emergency services were assembling. But how long it would take for them to move through the water, damaged streets, and wreckage was anyone's guess.
After what felt like an eternity of wading through the debris-cluttered water, nearly tripping and slipping a time or two on some sunken objects, I heard the sound of a motorboat and realized rescue was close. The boat cut through the water toward us with determined speed.
I began to wave one arm, signaling for help, hope rising in my chest.
"Hey! Over here! Help us!"
Relief washed over me as they approached, the crew quickly assessing the situation and lifting Starsky onto the boat in a litter, with me following.
"Thank you," I said shaking their hands. "My partner has a broken wrist and ankle, and a concussion."
"Memorial Hospital isn't damaged," the team leader informed. "Too far inland. But we have a lot of rescuing and recovery to do in this area. You guys don't know how lucky you are."
"Oh yes," I countered. "We know."
As the boat sped towards safety, I kept a tight hold on Starsky, unwilling to let him go even for a second. His face was pale under the scuffs and cuts, but he was alive. And right now, that was everything.
"Hey, partner," I whispered, feeling his weak grip tighten around my hand. The medics tended to him, administering first aid and checking for other injuries.
Starsky's eyes fluttered open, meeting mine with a dazed confusion that slowly morphed into clearer recognition.
His voice was raspy.
"Hutch?"
"Yeah, it's me. You're safe now." I squeezed his good hand gently, mindful of his injuries.
The rescue boat navigated toward Memorial Hospital, the waterway a surreal waterscape of destruction and loss that stretched for blocks.
::
In the days that followed Starsky's discharge from the hospital, as the Bay City communities continued the process of rescue and recovery, we helped all we could. Starsky and I leaned on each other more than ever, grateful we had survived. The tsunami had taken so much from so many, but it hadn't taken us. Amidst the loss and devastation, our bond had only grown stronger, and that's what we held on to.
One thing was certain. Starsky and I would always find our way back to each other.
the end