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Rolling Thunder

by

Karen B

   The mirage of water hovered over the freeway the white line passing by in a blur.  The heat of the day could almost be heard sizzling the pavement.  It had been an extremely difficult therapy session.  Starsky's head lightly bobbed up and down against his chest as he slept deeply. He was still so weak from his near death collision with Gunther, and still had a long winding road of therapy sessions and pain.

   Hutch unnaturally behind the wheel of the red roadster.  He looked solemnly over to his exhausted partner whose head seemed to be doing some sort of native dance as they road down the freeway toward home. Starsky's lax body tilted sideways till he landed against Hutch's shoulder with a thump.  He never woke from the movement and lay still where he landed.  Hutch still holding the wheel with one hand gently guided his friend off his shoulder and down onto his lap with the other. Starsky's body was so limp with exhaustion you could do anything to him. Even dressing him up in doll clothes wouldn't wake him.

   His mind spoke to him.  He knocked himself out. I know what he's doing -- he thinks if he pushes beyond the limits he will recover that much faster; and get back out on the streets with me.  Only thing he doesn't figure on is he is probably setting himself back. Can't rush these things for every three steps he pushes I think his going back four.  Hutchinson look at him lying there a nuclear bomb going off wouldn't wake him up.  Were going to have to have a little partner to partner talk when we get home.  I'm not going to let him go on like this pushing the limits like some sort of Guinness Book Of World Records want ta be.

   The white line slowed the traffic ahead backed up and was trying to go around the construction like cattle being herded into a pen. Terrific, Hutch mused, the air conditioner is out, he's out and, I'm out of my mind for thinking I could get him home faster by going the Interstate.  He wiped at the droplets that had formed above his lip.  The Torino was at a near halt, as the cars ahead seemed to go on in one long unending chain.

   The red Ford crept along like a three-legged dog.  Hutch swore he could smell rubber melting it was so damn hot.  He let his metallic blue eyes fall away from the road for a brief look down to the sleeping lump that lay heavy on his lap.  He raised his eyes back up to the road with a smile on his face letting his right hand rest on the back of his friend.

   He looked to his watch, hell it was time for Starsky's medication and they were going to be stuck here on this sizzling pile of pressed gravel for what looked to be hours.  Radios blasted, horns blew, tops blew, and the sun beat down on the rooftops. Still Starsky slept lost somewhere in a world all his own -- peace etched on his face.  Hutch was thankful, at least he was asleep and not sitting here in pain waiting to exit the highway from Hell.

   Driving along trying to keep cool, and keep his cool, Hutch noticed the gray dented bus sitting in the grassy medium.  As the Torino slinked along farther down Hutch saw the occupants of that beat up old bus.  Prisoners probably from County picking up garbage along the road and others planting seedlings. Part of the "we can reform our convicts" project.  Hutch rolled his eyes, yeah right.  Several guards stood all around with rifles keeping Eagle Scout eyes on the men in dreary gray uniforms that matched the bus.

   Hutch was just about to peer back down to take another mother hen peak to his partner when his eyes landed on a red flashing light on the dash board. SOT! {SAVE OUR TORINO} damn temperature light was on. The famous well oiled; precision tuned tomato was about to turn into ketchup.  A wreath of pungent smoke circled around the hood of the aligning car.  It sputtered and spat and hissed before coming to a complete and dead stop in the middle of the cattle drive.  Well the rest of the heard were less then pleased beeping as they tried to squeeze past the poor red carcass.  

   Hutch slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. "Come on!" he yelled.  He was about to let a few more delicate choice words out when he sucked in a breath and looked down to his lap. His partner still lay unaware of anything going on around him.  Hutch eased Starsky's head down onto the black leather seat.  He reached to the back grabbing an old green flannel shirt and placed it under Rip Van Winkle's curly-Q head. Then he eased himself out and closed the car door softly.  I bet I could slam it shut and he still would sleep.  Hutch rolled his eyes again and muttered in disgust "were definitely having a little talk when we get home."

   Hutch maneuvered the injured car off the freeway onto the medium with a little help from a sympathetic cowboy.  He leaned heavy against the steaming red hunk a junk. Sorry buddy. Now he would have to call in for a tow truck and wait for it to make its way through the herd. He again looked to his watch and then to his partner as he reached in through the open window grabbing the mic.

~~~~~~~~

   Hutch sat on the trunk of the steaming ketchup bottle waiting for the tow truck that would not be coming any time soon.  He wiped at the sweat that streaked down his face.  Hopping down he went and took another henny-penny peek to his best friend.  He quietly cracked open the car door and lay a hand on his partner's face.  He felt a little warm and his face was moist with beads. Hutch pulled out a hanky and wiped Starsky's face.  He decidedly left the car door open fearing it was to hot in there for Mr. Guiness, and returned to his roost on the trunk of the car.

   He looked to his watch a third time this habit beginning to be beyond obsession. He blinked back the drops that fell off his brow.  Sure glad he's still out, it's way past time for his pain medication and were no where near getting to it soon.  

   Hutch had little more to do then watch the snails creep by.  A little boy in a beige station wagon going by had stuck out his tongue with thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers at Hutch. A smile crossed his chiseled face as he saw a picture of Starsky doing the same thing to him one night when pizza with anchovies had been replaced with scrambled eggs. Hutch's attention drifted to the men in gray.  He watched the busload of unarmed convicts, thinking this is an accident waiting to happen.  He watched with suspicion, as some of the men seemed to be skimming by each other with hands out reached. Eyeballing one another like lions stalking their prey.  A few nods and slight of hand gestures that went unnoticed by the prison guards, but not to Hutch's keen sight.  His eyes narrowed as he kept watch of the men -- something was not right. His gut instincts began to churn, the web spun around inside him causing him to slide off the trunk of the tomato and stand leaning against the hot steel. He still wasn't sure what it was that had him so spooked. One very large man in particular had his attention.  Hutch's eyes grew to the size of melons.   He had recognized the man.  Were they crazy letting this lunatic out from behind the safety of caged bars? There was no worse enemy.  His passion for death didn't just border on insanity it swam in it. Simon Marcos roamed around picking up garbage never looking left, never looking right.  Hutch took one uneasy step forward away from the disabled car.  His eyes locked onto the enemy with fierce vengeance.  

   Then he heard it.  Sounded like rolling thunder.  He looked up not a cloud appeared in the sky. The rolling sound growled louder as it neared.  Hutch turned his gaze away from the enemy and looked to his left.  Motor cycles about fifty of them he figured, roared along, passing the parked cars with ease.  Looked like a parade, cycles of every style and color.  Upon them men, and some women even, in black, brown and even pink leather. The fumes of gas hit his nose as he watched them head straight for the inmates. The battle had begun. Hutch couldn't believe his eyes.  He ran to the open car door reaching in over his still-out-of-this-world partner and radioed dispatch explaining briefly where and what was going down.  Then like a soldier he pulled out his
weapon and headed into the danger zone.

   The ambush was executed with an uproar of precision.  Guards were dropping like flies as the inmates used their homemade knives on them.  Most were jumping onto moving cycles and making their great escape.

   Hutch hit one of the bikers in the shoulder, sending him flying off the two wheeler and landing into the grass.  It was complete pandemonium.  Shots were fired in all directions; prisoners and guards flew around the grassy medium like chess pieces on a board.  Hutch had his sights on a prisoner that was about to jump on another rolling bike when he felt the cold familiar metal pressing into his back.

~~~~~~~~

   Starsky stirred slightly.  He heard the distant sound of rolling thunder.  He wiped at a bead of sweat that had dripped down to tickle his nose.  More sounds penetrated through the thick haze that clogged his brain.  He pushed himself upright flinching hard against the pain he felt in his body. "Hutch," he slurred out.  

   "Where?" Oh, the car, he thought.  He shook his head some trying to clear his vision.  Everything appeared to mix together in one big oil painting before his iridescent blue eyes.  Then he heard the rolling thunder again he looked up to the clear sky still shaking his head.  Shots! It finally registered into his thick head, he also heard shots.  He looked out the open car door to the battlefield.  "What the hell?"  He painfully reached to the glove box and pulled out his Beretta. Half pulling himself from the car he headed toward where he knew he would find his crazy shit-for-brains partner. "Hutch  Ya don't just go leave a guy sleeping in his car in some unknown place, and go running off into battle without back up."  He muttered under his breath as he tottered a second before gaining balance enough to move in toward the chaos.

   By the time Starsky got close enough to the crime scene he established most the damage had been done.  Prisoners that didn't manage to escape were cuffed and on the grassy ground. Guards that were wounded were being tended to.  The sound he thought was thunder apparent now as he stepped around a fallen motor cycle.  Starsky scanned the war zone with his eyes. Left to right and left again. "Hutch!"  His scared tone of voice caused several guards to head his way. He pulled out his badge lighting fast and flipped it open barring his gold badge.

   He staggered against the pain he was feeling.  One of the guards grabbed his arm and steadied him.  "You okay, detective?"

   "Just the heat." Starsky pulled away from the grip.  "I'm looking for my partner.  Tall blond lug of a guy with shit for brains." Both guards looked to each other and shrugged, lot of help they were.

   Starsky walked slowly through the field he knew his friend was here somewhere, well, where else could he be? Seeing the bus he trudged toward it as the sun beat down on his head.  He noticed movement inside the gray-sheeted metal. "Terrific."  He turned and ran back for help.  Hutch was seated in the driver seat, a gun to his head, that much he could see.  He couldn't see the bearded beady-eyed demon that held the gun.  

   Starsky instructed the guards as to what was happening on the bus.  The bus was moving now trying to make its escape down the grassy medium. Starsky had somehow managed to tuck his pain away somewhere.  Hutch was the only thing he would allow his mind to hold.  He jumped on the fallen cycle, slammed his foot down to start it and headed down the runway toward the fleeing bus.

~~~~~~~~

   "Well, well we meet again White Knight.  A most unexpected pleasure."  Marcos voice held the tone of a monk, but Hutch knew all too well what this crazed excuse for a human being was capable of.

   Marcos looked out the back of the bus window to see the motorcycle gaining on them.  He knew they couldn't outrun it in this old tin cup.  "Stop." His simple, one-word command, was helped along by a blow to Hutch's temple, with the butt of his handgun.

   Starsky skidded to a stop and let the bike fall to the ground at the same time he flew off it.  Gun in hand he crept up to the back of the bus.  Hutch was led out down the steps and came to a stand still just a few feet away from the bus door.

   Marcos held the gun to his side.  One blast was all it would take to bring down the White Knight. He whispered in Hutch's ear.  "Do as I say, not as I do."

   Damn stop with the riddles already, what the hell is he planning?  Hutch's concern lied with his weak shit-for-brains partner, who had no business out here in the first place.  He caught a glimpse of Starsky behind the bus and his heart fell to his feet.  He's not ready for this.  If he gets himself killed...I'll, I'll kill him. He shook his head that made no sense Hutchinson.

   "Call to him."  Marcos ordered and shoved the gun harder into Hutch's side.  Marcos moved him forward some, toward the end of the bus.  "A heart that stops once is shrouded with sin.  A heart that stops once is held together only by pins.  Shall I pull that pin? Call him now!"

   Hutch could feel his knees shake. How did Marcos know about Starsky's heart stopping, and what did it mean?  This guy's brain was held together with only a little Scotch tape and paper clips Hutch thought.  Better do as he says for now.  "Starsk?" more of a question, "you okay?"

   Starsky held his breath pressed against the dirty bus.  It was like a three dimensional nightmare playing out before him.  Marcos how could that be? And he has Hutch.

   "Starsky, you there?"  Starsky could hear the worry in his friend's voice not for himself but for him.

   "Yeah."  Quick to the point. "I'm okay."

   Marcos was getting impatient.  He moved the gun from Hutch's side and placed it to his own left temple.  He pulled Hutch in close locking their heads together.  "Two for the price of one now get out here now where I can see you," he demanded. "A bullet has no name only direction. Direction through the dark into the white."

   Starsky stepped out into view, but kept to the back of the bus.  Hutch could see the strain on his face and sweat poured off him, damn, he looked like a melting ice sculpture.  Hutch knew he was fighting back the pain.

   Starsky saw the blood that streamed down the side of his partner's face. He shot him a look, you okay?  Hutch gave a slight nod.  Marcos felt the movement. He removed the weapon from his own temple and slammed the barrel of the gun into Hutch's.  He twisted it back and forth never taking his eyes off Starsky.  "Fate has brought us to this moment in time.  The omen is good.  The will of the beast is finally going to be carried out.  By my hand, by my soul, you shall not go." Hutch's eyes connected with Starsky's serving as a bridge between them.  Their only way of communicating without a word.  If ever blinded it would be worse then cutting off their shooting arms.  Their weapon of silent communication better then any man-made molded metal.

   "What if ya let blondie over there go, and take me instead?" Starsky took a small woozy step forward as the what-if game took on an odd twist.

   "What if I don't?" Marcos spat back digging the gun harder into Hutch's temple, causing more blood to stream down his face.  Marcos took a step closer toward the dark haired man.

   Hutch kept his sights on his partner like a tomcat watching a mouse.  

   "What if I lay my gun down at my feet, will you let him go then?" Another step inward.

   Marcos smiled if that was possible he liked this twisted game.  "What if I just kill the white knight here and now?"  He cocked the gun moving again himself and Hutch  forward slightly. Starsky took another step and wavered if he were an ice sculpture he'd be a puddle by now. He forced the pain down more and continued. "What if you get back in that bus and just leave Mr. America where he is?" Starsky held tight to the gun still in his hand.

   Hutch could see his friend was struggling he kept the bridge connected.  Eyes of blue mesmerized by eyes of blue, never breaking, never pulling away.

   "What if I just take Mr. America with me on the bus and use him for my next sacrifice?"  Marcos eyed Starsky.  "Remember how that goes detective?"

   "What if I just shoot you in the head now?" Starsky's voice remained calm while his heart beat like a bongo inside his chest. Another step. Hutch stood still eyes fixed intently on his partner.

   They were nearly on top each other now.  The smell of stench encircled the air around Marcos. He truly was the Devil's son, thought Starsky.  His flaming amber eyes like a viper, his long black hair sticking out like Medusa, and the evil laugh sounding like some sort of mythical monster never before seen by man.  Starsky winced, more at the evil before him, than the pain he felt.

   "What if I just shoot you in the head first? That would take out the problem . Then I am free to do my will with White Knight here?" They were out of steps, one more would cause good and evil to collide. The mixture, not being a good one like, peanut butter and chocolate.  Seemed they were going to collide anyway.

   Hutch was getting nervous, where was his partner going with all these "what ifs"?  He decided to join in the twisted game. "Starsk, what if I take you out myself for being out here?" Hutch was serious on that.

   Marcos grew bored with the game, his finger began to pull down on the trigger.  Starsky with the sights of a zoom lens and the quickness of a cheetah beat Marcos to the punch.  The devil worshiper lay eyes open with a hole between them.  Hutch stood gapping at his partner.  "You could have gotten me killed. What if ya missed?"

   "What if I just stood there and did nothing?" Starsky retorted.

   "What if…oh forget it, Starsk."   Hutch moved the half step it would've took for Marcos to meet the eyes of his partner.  

   Partner to partner they stood.  Both men wobbled Hutch from his head wound and Starsky from sheer exhaustion, they grabbed onto one another and lowered themselves to their knees on the grassy field.

   "Shit for brains." Both men said in a musical tone.  

   "Hutch how could ya leave me in that car out in the middle of nowhere and go off half-cocked like that?"  Starsky's voice cracked some, he was beginning to feel the pain again.

   "Partner I had no choice. I couldn't just stand by and watch."

   "Ya should have woke me up, Hutch. That was no tour bus yeah know." Starsky wiped away at the streak of blood on Hutch's face.

   "Look buddy it's over now, and were both alive.  Let's get you home."  Hutch looked to his watch a fourth time jostling his head. "Partner how ya feeling? It's five hours past your medication time."

   "Fine, just fine, let's get the hell outta here."  Both men pulled each other to their feet and slowly made their way back to the car.  They only stopped once to briefly fill in one of the guards about Marcos.  They would take care of reports in the morning.

~~~~~~~~

   "Uh, Hutch?"

   "Yeah buddy, what is it?"

   "What is my car doing off the road like that with steam coming out the hood?"

   Hutch leaned Starsky up against the injured red car.

   "Overheated, pal."  

   Starsky held his stomach tight flinching against unhealed muscles.  "My car doesn't overheat Hutch, what ya do to her?"

   "Oh come on, Starsk.  Nothing it's 90 degrees out, we were stuck in traffic for over two hours. Damn car overheated."  Hutch rubbed his head some, a headache was coming on. The thud Marcos had given him wasn't bad, but the heat and stress had brought on the pounding.

   Starsky began to argue more but a jabbing pain stopped him in his tracks. His knees crumbled beneath him as he bent over in pain.  Hutch bent in time with his partner grabbing him and hoisting him upright against the car.  "Hey there partner, take it slow.  You've done too much today, starting with therapy and ending up on a motorcycle, bee bopping down the freeway and taking out a mad man."  Hutch moved Starsky back into the still open car door and squatted down in front of him.

   "Short breaths Starsk, let it out slow.  Your okay partner, your okay, just relax."  Hutch could see his friend was in dire need of his pain medication.

   "Okay?" Hutch raised his brows.

   "Yeah, I'm okay blondie. You?"  Starsky's eyebrows rose in return.

   "Your okay, I'm okay."  Hutch looked up at the squeaking rattle noise, finally the tow truck had arrived.

   As the repo man hooked up the Ford the two men waited inside the tow truck to head home. Starsky's head lay on Hutch's shoulder he was out for the count again.

   Hutch whispered into his partner's ear.  "Starsk, you're not getting off this easy, when we get home were still having that partner-to-partner talk on how you better slow down."

   Starsky trembled against his partner's shoulder and an eye crept open.  "Hutch don't worry after today you can just call me Grandma Moses, I ain't goin' nowhere fast. Oh, and Hutch, this car does not overheat, just gets a little temperamental from time to time, is all."

   Hutch let out a breathless laugh. "Yeah like my shit for brains partner.  Thanks mush brain."

   "Anytime...motor mouth.

   They road down the now clear Interstate, Hutch looking to his watch every few minutes and Starsky's head doing his dance.

THE END