Mother Nature vs Father Time

722

The boys are being competitive again.

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Two men walked single file in silence up a hill, following a dusty trail, heading toward Bay City’s Blue Canyon ridge. It wasn’t a popular place to camp, mostly desolate grassland; until you reached the top where a thick forest awaited you. Gentle breezes stirred the straw-like grass that surrounded them.

It seemed a desolate place to Starsky. Filled with an abundance of gray, brown colors, and annoying insects that blundered all around. A mosquito landing on his right arm began to taste his blood. The sting brought his hand down swatting hard, ending her life, but not her venom. His fingers began to scratch vigorously where he’d been bitten.

Starsky looked up hearing Hutch whistling a joyful tune, and he rolled his eyes. It wasn’t a ‘regular, happy, lovely day isn’t it? I have nothing better to do.’ Tune. It was the: ‘I feel so much apart of this, why don’t you join me, mosquito’s don’t bother me at all.’ Tune. To Hutch, weeds were simply flowers that grew in the wild, the color brown went with everything he wore, and bugs were just another piece to the web of life. Starsky frowned, this thing called ‘Mother Nature,’ was the source of Hutch’s strength; for Starsky, it was kryptonite.

Hutch stopped whistling. “This is terrific Starsk, I’m getting some great ideas for remodeling my greenhouse.”

“That eyesore,” Starsky continued to scratch, completely irritated at his partner’s cheerfulness.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on Starsky, stop fighting it. You’ll see. This is going to be good for the both of us. Being alone in the wilderness. We’ll feel more connected, find some harmony.”

“Yup,” Starsky said, the pinprick bite on his arm now bleeding from his constant scratching.

Hutch glanced skyward through the branches of a willow tree to see a hawk circling overhead. “Feel that breeze, smell that air.” Hutch took a breath and sighed. “Trees, rocks, flowers, babbling brooks.”

“You babble enough for all of us,” Starsky’s whispered comment went undetected as he fumbled with his pack that kept sliding off his shoulders.

“Hear that silence, buddy?

“Yup.” Starsky was completely unenthused, still fussing to balance his pack properly.

“I can’t believe how beautiful it is here,” Hutch said with admiration.

“I can believe it,” Starsky groused, kicking at the dusty tinder-dry ground.

“Starsk, this is what real camping is all about. Sleeping out under the stars, it’s, rugged and natural. Compared to sleeping in Dobey’s cabin–” Hutch stopped, hearing Starsky nervously exhale. “Don’t worry, buddy,” Hutch said, “this is a peice of cake–”

“I don’t like cake,” Starsky grunted.

Hutch briefly glanced back over his shoulder wondering if Starsky were really ready for all this. “You know, Starsk, Native Americans called this ‘The Medicine Walk,’ “Hutch began to explain.

“I’m gonna need all the medicine I can get by the time this camping trip is over,” Starsky complained.

Hutch continued to talk, ignoring his partner. “Hiking through the forests Native Americans would seek out nature’s advice. It was how they would heal the body, mind and soul.” Hutch’s pale blue eyes shone bright.

“You don’t say?” Starsky kicked at the dirt again. “Hutch, this has got to be the dustiest road in the history of—in the history of dusty roads.”

“Starsk,” Hutch smiled fondly at his partner. “You gotta give up some Father Time to Mother Nature.”

“For your information, Hutchinson, I don’t think Father Time keeps office hours and Mother Nature is nothing more than a mad scientist if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Ask you,” Hutch said, stopping short and trying not to let his partner irritate him. The small path they were hiking on had ended and before them now stretched an ocean of waist high grass. “Beyond this field is the woods, Starsk.”

“‘Bout time this gloomy stretch of road ended,” Starsky huffed, shrugging his backpack off and plopping down to sit on top of it.

“Look, Starsky, we can still call this whole thing off you know.” Hutch peeked over his sunglasses to scrutinize his friend better.

Starsky looked around. Everything was brown and faded. A one colored world. He waved a hand in annoyance at the abundance of insects that seemed to hold a flight pattern around his head. An arid wind blew across his face, but it didn’t seem to cool the heat of the day. He pulled his canteen from his pack, unscrewed the lid and took a deep swallow of water. Even the grass beneath his feet crackled to the dryness that surrounded him.

“What?” he swiped away a dribble of water off his chin, and replaced the cap. “And lose the bet?”

“We haven’t established anything formally, yet, Starsky.”

Suddenly something thrashed around in the tall weeds off to their left, and a brown blur leapt out onto the dirt path. “What the–” Starsky startled hard, and slid off his backpack. The creatures ears were perked forward and it snorted out its nostrils then quickly darted off.

Hutch laughed. “Easy, buddy.”

“What the hell was that?”

“An alligator with fur.” Hutch grinned.

“Huh?” Worried Starsky.

“It was just a deer, Gordo,” Hutch said, shaking his head, and turning his back on his partner he started to walk toward a cluster of bushes.

“Where you going?” Starsky asked, nervously.

“Bathroom. You mind?” Hutch garbled, having reached his destination and unzipping his fly, he began to water the bush he stood in front of.

“Out here?”

“Yes, out here.” Hutch turned his head slightly Starsk’s way. “Where else?”

“If a snake bites you–” Starsky, squatted next to his pack, now rummaging desperately around. “Don’t expect me to suck out the poison,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?” Hutch zipped his fly backup, and walked back toward him. “What you doing there, Starsk?

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Where’s all the candy?”

“I see a big sucker.” Hutch smirked.

“Where?” Starsky dug deeper and more frantically.

“Here.” Hutch swiped at the curly head, but missed, when his partner ducked.

Starsky shot Hutch a wicked look. “Cute, Hutch. Really cute.”

“Here, Buddy,” Hutch said with a smile, pulling a package from his shirt pocket. “I forgot the candy. How about some granola?”

The hungry man quit searching and eyed Hutch’s outstretched hand. “No thanks.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m trying to quit.” Starsky, forwent the snack hunt and instead wrestled with his backpack’s zipper, finally closing it.

For a moment Hutch quietly studied his partner. “Look, Starsky” he finally said. “If you think you want to back out of this game. If–If you’re afraid you can’t make it to the lake before me, afraid of losing–

“Hutch, any idiot can win at this game.” Starsky stood shrugging his backpack up to his shoulders. “I’m all for it,” he said, trudging past Hutch, and taking the lead through the tall grassland.

“Great. Then how about the idiot and me start with a little pre-game warm up?”

Starsky stopped whirling around to see the sparkle of humor lighting Hutch’s eyes.

“When we hit the tree line,” Hutch continued to lay out the plan. “Instead of staying together and waiting until morning to start the race, we split up early.”

“Huh?” Starsky’s eyes went wide in question.

“You go left, Starsk, I’ll go right. You set up your campsite. I’ll set up mine just over that ridge, beyond that cluster of trees.” Hutch pointed a finger in the direction he intended to go. “In the morning we set out separately for Blue Canyon lake. First one there wins.”

“Wins what?”

“Just wins,” Hutch stated, logically.

“Oh no! Not going to be that easy, Hutchinson,” Starsky challenged, taking two steps closer to his partner. “A bet’s not a bet, unless a guy has something to gain from it,” he reasoned. “Look, Hutch, if I win you get to help me reupholster my leather seats in the Tornio.”

“Shrewd, Starsk.” Hutch glanced downward in thought, then raised his eyes to meet his partner’s. “And if I win,” Hutch smirked. “You get to help me remodel the greenhouse. Shake on it.” Not waiting for an answer, Hutch held out his hand.

Starsky eyed the hand suspiciously a moment, then clasped it shaking firmly. “Deal.”

“Oh, and Starsk.” Hutch pulled his pack off with ease, and dug around in it. “Here.” One at a time he tossed his tender footed partner three very thin paperback books.

“What the hell’–” Starsky caught each one. “Are these for?”

“Call it–call it a handicap.” Hutch laughed, slinging his pack back in place and marching off to take the lead.

Following slowly behind, Starsky read each of the titles out loud. “Losing The Trail. Meditating On A Tree. And: How To Make Friends With Mosquito’s And Other Pesky Things. Hutch!” he yelled, chasing after his friend to catch up. “You’ll see. I’ll be the one cashing in on this.”

*************************************************************************************

Hutch had pitched camp, washed up, and eaten dinner all before the sun ever came close to setting. He spent a little time working on a song he’d been trying to write, but now it was getting dark and he relaxed sitting on a stone near his campfire. Content, and sleepy he watched the sun sink behind the trees. The horizon was now a broad band of twilight that carried the day gently into night. His belly was full of rotisserie cooked Cornish hen, dripping with his own brand of orange and ginger spiced sauce, buttered corn on the cob, and fried potatoes with rosemary. Hutch yawned, picking up his guitar to softly pluck absently on the strings, staring up at the night sky, watching for shooting stars. He could lose himself here, among nature, among the simple things of life. He chuckled hoping he didn’t lose his partner in the process.

“Don’t worry, Starsk, a little fresh air won’t kill you,” Hutch said with a snicker.

Yawning again, he set his guitar aside and went to work on putting out the fire for the night.

Tomorrow would be a beautiful day, and maybe he’d even take his time getting to the lake, let Starsky win the bet. Taking his notepad and guitar, Hutch headed toward his tent, unzipping the flap. Something however told him to stop and take one last look up.

Wide-eyed, Hutch watched a fizzling white streak decorate the sky.

“Sleep well, buddy.”

*************************************************************************************

It took several tries and with not much daylight left Starsky had finally gotten his humble tent, his home away from home, erect, okay half erect, as it appeared to be a little cockeyed. He now sat close to his campfire haphazardly poking it with his stick, and feeling a little lonely, wondering what Hutch was doing. Having had his fill of dinner existing solely of roasted marshmallows on a stick, half of which had caught a flame, he decided to turn in early. Grabbing some sand he tossed it into the flames until the fire was little more than a small smoke signal. Peering through the dark shadowy trees he thought he saw the light of Hutch’s campfire.

“All this fresh air is going to kill me, Hutch,” Starsky grumbled, then stood to dust off his hands.

Tomorrow would be hell on wheels, hiking across this tangle of trees and rocks to get to the lake, and win the game. If he didn’t get there first Hutch would never let him live it down. ‘Course,’ Starsky smiled slyly to himself. He could always go for broke. Play the ‘I’m a rookie’ trump card. He could not comb his hair. Not tuck in his shirt. Smudge a little dirt under his eyes. Drag his foot a little, faking a limp. Maybe Hutch would take pity on him, and call the game. Maybe they’d never climb another dusty hill, see another lake, rock, tree, or campfire ever again.

Making his way to his tent, Starsky unzipped it and poked his head inside. He hesitated, easily picturing himself being eaten alive by giant insects, being attacked by killer bees, or hungry bears, or worst of all, being dragged by the ankles, hanging upside down in Bigfoot’s large hairy hand.

Starsky popped his head out of the tent scouring the area for danger, then something told him to check the sky as well. He raised his eyes to see a flash of white shimmer across the blackness. He stood wide-eyed and amazed for several passing moments, then smiled.

“Sleep well, nature lover,” he mumbled, as he stepped inside and zipped the tent shut.

*********************************************************************************

Starsky woke up sore and stiff. He had stayed awake half the night listening to the moan of the wind and the other half in a standoff against a field mouse that kept trying to burrow its way into his tent. He ran his fingers through his thick curls ruffling them back into place. A twitch in his stomach reminded him of how hungry he was. Gathering up some supplies for breakfast, he strolled over toward his campfire. Suddenly a tremendous squawking caused him to raise his eyes to the blue cloudless sky. It had turned almost black with the flapping of wings.

“This outdoors stuff isn’t even good enough for the birds,” he griped.

Squatting down next to the snuffed out campfire, Starsky set his supplies down. He picked up a tin cup, reaching for the now cold coffeepot, but the smell of barbeque took his attention away. He looked up at the tree line. A football sized lump suddenly settled in his throat. Like the outstretched claws of a huge monster, Starsky watched black ominous billows rise higher and higher in a hostile takeover of the blue sky. Forest fire? He held his breath and bit his lower lip. For a split second his mind sized up as he watched in horror. Flames flared like giant candles and embers flew in every direction like oversized fire flies. ‘Hutch.’ The one word invaded his mind. Instantly his body obeyed the basic command, thrusting from his crouched position up to his feet.

“Oh my God, Hutch!”

Starsky haphazardly tossed his coffee cup into the remains of the campfire. With quick and intense moves he headed toward the general area where he knew Hutch had set up camp. Fear penetrated his heart as he ran. Each step bringing him closer toward the crackling fire. The air began to thin, choking him, and before he knew it a wave of fire was toppling trees, one falling into another as the flames rolled around their trunks eating them alive. Starsky held his arm up to cover his mouth and nose trying to block out the smoke. He was struck with a bizarre thought. ‘Mother Nature was up to her old tricks and Father Time was sleeping on the job. Who would win this odd game? He shook his head, he had to get to Hutch. Starsky hurried almost blindly, fire raining around him. Every one of his limbs trembled with fear. He watched a few deer leap past, they were smarter than he, heading away from the flames. Everything in him told him to follow, but he pushed onward into the exploding swell of orange.

He was sure he was close to where Hutch had said he’d be. Starsky ran down a narrow path. He could feel the heat of the fire on his face. The stakes were at their highest peak. Life or death. The cracking, and splitting of wood jolted him, and his hands continued to tremble, but he ran faster. All the while the smoke got darker, thicker, making him work furiously for breath. ‘He’s dead. Hutch is dead,’ he mused. The horrid thoughts that jangled in his head only powered his feet to move faster.

“Like hell he is!” Starsky shouted out loud to silence his own mind.

Looking up between the tall trees the sky was full of pitch black billows, and a roaring sound came from the exact direction he was headed. The heat became intense, like being in an oven, but he continued to charge forward toward Hutch’s campsite. Starsky began to feel lightheaded, coughing and gagging against the smoke, but he concentrated hard to keep calm and stay alert. He had to get to Hutch. Flames began to flash all around him igniting everything in its path, and easily spreading through the forest. His instincts deep inside continued to tell him to run the opposite way, but his presence of mind would never leave without Hutch safe at his side.

“Hutch!” Starsky called his partner’s name as he finally stumbled into a small clearing. Hutch’s tent. It was a miracle it still stood untouched by the flames “Hutch! No answer. He shouted louder. “Hutch!”

Starsky quickly moved to check the tent, unzipping the flap he popped his head inside. No partner. Stepping backward he stood straight, his eyes stinging and tearing from sweat and dirt, as he scanned the area. The wind began to kick up whirling smoke and ash all around him. Did Hutch make it out already? Had he headed over toward Starsky’s campsite to warn him? Had he missed him in the haze? A weighty decision sat upon his heart. Did he continue his search through this hellfire, or did he turn back?

A whisper of a moan barely heard above the roaring ended that skirmish.

“Hutch! Hutch! Where are you?” Starsky yelled, trying to zero in on the sound he knew he heard. He choked harder as the air around him began to run out, consumed by the raging fire.

“Can’t get out,” Starsky heard his partner’s voice again this time close by. “Up, Starsk, look up.”

Starsky looked upward through the fog of smoke. Hutch was at least one-story up. Caught in-between the fork of a very large and very dead tree. It wouldn’t take the fire long to feast upon the graying leafless bone dry timber. What he wouldn’t give for a fire escape.

“What are you doing up there? This whole place is on fire,” Starsky coughed.

“You don’t say.” Hutch struggled then grimaced, and Starsky could see a red goose egg of a knot just above his left brow. “Saw smoke and came up here to get a better position on it. Guess I slipped. Must’ve blacked out.”

“Guess, so, partner,” Starsky said with sorrow in his voice. He could tell Hutch was hurt. How long had he been up there? A few branches above him were snapped in half from where he figured Hutch must have fallen from. Starsky noted the scratches all over Hutch’s face and arms, as if a wild tomcat had had his way with him. Hutch’s legs swayed, and the awkward way his waist was jammed in tight made Starsky grimace. “Where are you hurt?”

Hutch didn’t answer as he tried to use his hands to push himself free, but he was too weak. Starsky knew there was no way Hutch could climb down or drop down from where he was positioned. Especially in the shape he looked to be in. Visibility was getting bad as the fire grew closer. There was no time. “Hutch, I’m coming up to get you.”

“Starsky, get the hell out of here, in a minute that fire is going to trap us here. I’ll figure something out, just –just you go!”

But in the space of less than a minute Starsky was climbing up the tree, branch by branch. It didn’t take him long at all to get to his partner. Starsky straddled the broad limb that Hutch was wedged between, grateful it was large enough to hold them both. The full count of Hutch’s injuries were not clear, but there was no time for that now. Hearing a creaking sound jump started Starsky into action. He began to break off branches that entangled around him, making his way closer until he finally got to his injured friend.

“Starsky, you’re–you’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” Starsky studied his partner carefully. “Look Hutch, Father Time is running out of seconds, and Mother Nature is about to demolish everything in sight, including this here tree we’re in.” Starsky pulled Hutch upward, sorrow filling his gut when Hutch cried out in pain. If he had all the time in the world he would have checked for injuries. Would have eased Hutch out of the tree, inch by inch, but there was no time. Hutch came to him limp. Starsky held Hutch’s forearms bracing him against the trunk of the tree. “You look like a burnt marshmallow, partner,” he gave a tiny laugh.

“No kidding. You a detective, or some-something? Hutch stuttered, his head wobbling, feeling faint.

“Or something.” Starsky looked down. Flames were unleashed like a monstrous beast and shot every which way. He knew in a matter of minutes they’d both be burnt marshmallows. Hutch was in no shape to do this on his own. “On my back, now!” Starsky yelled above the roar.

“What?”

“Hutch, gotta take you down on my back, come on buddy.”

Hutch hesitated, unsure if this was the best thing. He didn’t want Starsky to end up stuck in the tree or falling to the ground in his attempt to rescue him. “Hutch, hold on to my neck.” Hutch stared at him with indecision on his face. “Come on buddy, we can make it,” Starsky soothed, but the heat of the fire was now burning his back, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “Hutch, grab it!” Starsky insisted with force.

Hutch shook his head, still unsure, but then seeing the determination in his partner’s eyes he wrapped his arms around Starsky’s neck; clinging tight and helping out as best he could. As they began to make their way down, Hutch could hear branches snapping and the whooshing popping sounds of the fire getting closer.

“Not the-the best way to get down out of a tr–tr–tr–tree,” Hutch coughed heavily.

“Beats the hell outta your technique, nature lover,” Starsky laughed, but it quickly turned into a racking cough. “Almost there, Hutch.”

The smoke around them became blacker, and Starsky fought to keep a clear head. His footing slipped several times and he was worried Hutch would fall to the ground, but his partner hung tough. The whole place was lit up like a giant fireplace, by the time Starsky’s feet touched the ground. He carried Hutch a few feet away from the tree. Looking back, Starsky watched as flames shot up the trunk rolling and twisting around it like an orange tornado, until the entire thing was a ball of flame. A few more unsteady steps brought him to the tent. He lowered Hutch off his back to a sitting position.

“We’re in real trou-trouble.” Hutch’s lips tightened.

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

Starsky glanced around the campsite. The path that led into Hutch’s campsite and that would lead them back toward the road was blocked by a wall of fire. Trying to clear his head of smoke and think clearly, Starsky unzipped the tent and crawled inside. Frantically tossing aside the sleeping bag, and other useless items he found Hutch’s pack. Stuffing it with a few essentials he dragged it out with him.

Starsky dropped the pack to the ground and crouched down next to Hutch placing a hand to his shoulder. His eyes stung from the smoke and he could barely see. “We’re running out of time fast, partner.”

“I know,” Hutch choked, his face flushed red from the heat. “Look, Starsk, I saw this thing. Its got us surrounded. The road up here is gone. Our only chance is to try and make it to the lake. ”

Starsky nodded silently then began to search Hutch for injuries. “Starsky, no time. I’m fine,” Hutch said, raising his hand to swat at his partner’s.

Starsky knew the quiver in his Hutch’s voice and the way he trembled, that he was anything but. He gripped Hutch’s hand as it batted his away, and frowned sternly at him. “Hutch!” He demanded.

“Okay, okay, my–m–my side, my side hurts,” Hutch gave in.

Quickly Starsky’s fingers searched pulling at Hutch’s ripped shirt. He could finally see where a tree branch must have cut deeply into Hutch’s flesh in one place, and several smaller cuts in another. He swiftly pressed his hand against the sticky material. With his free hand he fumbled to open the pack and dig around inside. “How the hell did you manage to get into such a mess, Blondie?” Hutch gasped at the pressure, but didna33;t answer. Finding a piece of cloth Starsky replaced his hand with it. “Are you up to a hike, buddy?”

” I–I–” Hutch suddenly began to feel dizzy, his eyes fluttered and his head dropped off to the side.

“No–Hutch,” Starsky yelled, cupping the side of Hutch’s cheek with his palm and pulling his head back upright. “I need you to stay aware.”

Hutch’s eyes opened. “Go, Starsk,” he sucked in a breath coughing hard.

“You won’t make it if you stay here, we gotta move. C’mon, Hutch, hold this for me.” Starsky took Hutch’s hand and pressed it against the cloth on his side. He grabbed the pack and shrugged it up onto his shoulders, then as kindly as he could he hoisted Hutch to his feet.

“Starsk.” Hutch shuddered.

“Here we go, easy now,” Starsky said, pulling Hutch’s arm around his neck and wrapping his other arm around his waist. “Which way toward the lake?” Hutch glanced around, his eyes stung and he was scared as hell, which way was the lake? A long moment of silence passed between them. Everything looked so different now. Burnt, charred and hazy. “Hutch? Which way?”

“I-I-I’m not sure.” He glanced at Starsky. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Hutch, you’re the original medicine walker. Point me in a direction.” Starsky’s voice was full of trust.

Trust. Trust was the glue that held them together. Hutch was afraid that would be the very thing that could tear them apart. If they went the wrong way, they could be going deeper into the fire and they would never make it out alive. Everything, their very lives, rested on this one choice. “Uh…Uh…–”

“Come on, partner!”

Frantically Hutch looked around, his mind racing. “There.” He pointed a shaky index finger.

“You sure, nature boy?”

“Trust me, Starsk.”

*****************************************************************************************

White sparks and cinder gusted all around. If Starsky didn’t know any better he’d have thought it to be rice being tossed at his Uncle Jasper’s fourth wedding he’d gone to last year. Some of the trees were already burnt, and smoldering. The forest was full of a strange silence. No birds. No summer insects. It was far too quiet and it unnerved both men. Only the sound of the wind could be heard as it kept up its supply of oxygen; feeding the flames. Seeing was difficult at best, even though it was daybreak, the heavy smoke darkened the area. The only visible light, the blazing red of the growing wildfire.

Starsky headed them in the direction of the lake as fast as he could. Hutch’s steps were mostly uncoordinated but he tried hard to focus on not falling to his knees. “That’s it, partner, you got it,” Starsky encouraged, tightening his grip around Hutch’s waist.

The further they moved down the path the more smoke had lessoned. Still, Starsky could hear the loud roar behind them and knew it wouldn’t take long for the flames to catch back up. He felt Hutch shudder and his glance slid to the side. Hutch’s face looked pale now, and his eyelids fluttered, his head lolled toward Starsky’s shoulder, and he stumbled.

Starsky body-hugged his partner nearer. “Hutch!”

Hutch’s eyes snapped open. “I’m okay,” he coughed. “Just have a hell of a headache.”

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m going to get us out of this.”

“Starsky, until early this morning my biggest worry was do I want my eggs sunny side up or scrambled?” Hutch tired to smile, but he started to cough hard again. His side ached, as his whole body began to spasm, and he couldn’t seem to make his feet move the way he wanted them to.

“Hang on, Hutch, just another second.” Starsky pulled him over toward a large boulder, both men dropping to the ground when Hutch couldn’t take another step.

“Oh……..” Hutch breathed against the pain.

“Easy.” Starsky got his arm around Hutch and steered him gently so his back rested against the boulder behind him.

“Sorry,” Hutch panted, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the rock.

“Sorry? What the hell for, you idiot?” Starsky coughed hard, his lungs burned from the smoke, and the hard work it took to drag the extra weight of his injured friend through the forest.

They paused to gaze at one another. Starsky knew by the deep crease between Hutch’s brow that he was feeling guilty for bringing him here, for making them split up. He took Hutch’s hand and their fingers automatically interlaced. Starsky shook his head in silent request. ‘Don’t Hutch. Don’t go there.’ Both men could hear the sound of the fire squall behind them. They knew they’d have to get moving again soon.

“Sorry, Starsk.” Hutch broke the silence. He was about to say something else but Starky’s sharp eyed glare stopped him. “Sorry, for forgetting to bring the candy.” He chuckled, but it fell short when his vision spun.

“Be sure you don’t let it happen again.” Starsky played along.

“Starsk.” Hutch’s voice serious. Starsky let go the hand and gave Hutch’s shoulder a squeeze. He shifted then went to change the bloody cloth that stuck to his friend’s wound, not wanting to hear where he knew his partner was going with this line of conversation. The smoke from the fire began to creep in around them, both men coughing more. “The lake’s about a mile from here,” Hutch said, still unsure, but he couldn’t let Starsky give his life because he was injured and couldn’t keep up. “Starsk, please, just go.” Hutch never took his eyes off his busy partner. “Go, head East.” He pointed. “Can’t–can’t let you do this.”

“Do what?” Starsky pressed a clean cloth he’d gotten out of his pack to the wound and winced when it turned red right away.

“Starsky, you’re my partner, and–” Hutch swallowed, he knew he was doing badly, slowing his partner.

‘I know that,” Starsky said, with fury and frustration, taking his attention from the wound, looking Hutch straight in the eye. Aware that he sounded harsh, he softened immediately. “I do. I know partner.”

“You gotta get out of here, Starsk, I’m slowing you down.”

“You stop that!” The tone sharp again.

“You stop.” Hutch argued back, pushing Starsky’s hand away from his side taking over the hold of the bloodied cloth. ” Can’t– stay– here— anymore.” Hutch closed his eyes feeling as though he were floating away.

Starsky gritted his teeth. ‘Like hell he would.’ Hutch knew that. He quickly reigned in his anger. No-way he would leave his partner, even to save his own skin. “Hutch,” Starsky said softly, taking the others face into his hands.

Sleepy pale blue eye’s slowly opened. “Starsk, I can-can’t”

“You don’t have to!” Starsky let go Hutch’s face and in seeming desperation he took Hutch by both shoulders and dragged him up to his feet. The strength was immediately sapped from Hutch’s knees and they bowed deeply. He nearly fell back down to the dirt, but Starsky gripped tighter. “Come on, stay with me, Hutch,” he said pulling the injured man against him. Hutch felt lightheaded, the swirls of smoke around his head seemed to catch in his throat making him feel breathless, or was that fear? He felt his shoulders being vigorously shook, and opened his eyes to find himself staring at his partner. “You with me?” Starsky asked again.

“Hard-hardly,” Hutch wheezed, his head wobbling from side to side.

Starsky gave a curt nod. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, then forcefully propelled them away from the area toward the lake. “Get us both out of here, partner. I swear to it!”

The important thing was to get Hutch out of here. “Let’s go,” he whispered in Hutch’s ear, making his wounded partner walk with him.

The burnt ground crunched beneath their feet. This area had been locked in drought for months and everything in sight was parchment dry. They had to move fast the unforgiving flames were, and would, devour everything in the area, and the ventilation was getting worse. Starsky moved as quickly as he dared, weaving he and Hutch in and out of clusters of bushes, trees and rocks. Hutch fumbled to keep up.

“Tell me about that new greenhouse of yours, buddy?” Starsky urged, trying to divert Hutch’s attention away from the fire and pain. It was a trick they both used many times in the past when danger nipped at their heels.

“Was thinking of putting in a koi pond,” Hutch whispered, gradually leaning more and more against Starsky.

“Koi?”

“Fish, Starsk.”

Hutch’s head drooped, but he brought it back up lethargically, struggling to stay with it. He hoped Starsky was to busy to notice how hard it was for him to keep a grip on which end was up and which end was down.

“Hutch!” Starsky tightened his hold. “Hey, talk to me.” No answer. “Hutch, come on. What else you wanna do with that jungle room of yours?” Hutch’s fingers grasped at Starsky’s shirt, concentrating on keeping himself upward and mobile. “Hutch, I need your help here.” He felt Hutch’s body slipping. “Hutch! Can you hear me!”

“All-all depends–” Hutch sucked in a mouthful of smoke, it seemed to squeeze the life out of him, but he straightened his body best he could.

“On what, pal?” Starsky asked, encouraging his partner to keep talking, completely aware Hutch was loosing ground fast.

“O-on what you’re saying.” Hutch breathlessly tried to laugh, but instead stumbled forward.

“Whoa, buddy, I got you,” Starsky managed to grab an arm hauling him back up. Hutch was clumsy, near collapse, but Starsky kept pushing him, pressing hip against hip. “Just keep going, hurry.” Was all he could say, putting action to his words and dragging Hutch faster along.

Small brush fires ignited around them still they kept moving. The smoke was getting thicker. Sporadically bark and tree limbs began to spring to flame.

“Just a half mile out, Starsk. Lake’s just South East of here. Near Blue Canyon ridge, just beyond these white pines.” Hutch was certain of it this time.

Another stitch in his side made his body contract in pain. It was a bad feeling knowing they only had one way out. He and Starsky always worked as a team. He didn’t feel he was much help, having to be dragged along, slowing his friend down. At least he could point them in the right direction, get them out of this place. Hutch grimaced, feeling heat on every part of his exposed skin. Getting himself killed was one thing, but Starsky……He was a city kid, didn’t even want to be up here. What the hell did he know about forests lakes, and boulders?

“Hutch, which way?”

“There.” Hutch pointed to his right. “It’s the only way out. Not much more.” He shuddered leaning more into Starsky for support.

Starsky let his grim face give way to a thin smile. “With a little luck we’ll make it.”

“You-you gonna stake our lives on luck, Starsky?”

The fire chased them like a man with a gun., the smoke getting thicker, and the whole place lit up. With each step they took, breathing became harder and harder. If they kept their retreat in their current upright position, both men would soon drop from smoke inhalation. “Oh, jeez, Stark. I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Starsky skidded to a stop, releasing his hold on Hutch who managed to stay balanced and standing. “This sucker isn’t about to lose against Mother Nature or Father Time, you got that, Hutchinson?” Hutch gave a silent nod panting hard. Blasts of fire raged all around as the inferno aggressively attacked and ate anything in its path; the roar of it almost deafening. “Hutch, I want you to lie as flat as you can to the ground.” Starsky knew that was their best chance. Keep low where there would be more oxygen. He took Hutch by the biceps and eased him downward well aware of his partner’s injured side and how difficult the request would be. “Stay right beside me,” he ordered, loudly.

“Starsky–” Hutch moaned, letting go the bloodied cloth, and knowing his ability to function was slowly disappearing into the fog.

“Buddy, stay right beside me. Use your elbows. Use your knees. Keep your head down as low as you can. You got it?”

“I got it.” Hutch tried to sound confident but his voice quivered.

They started to crawl along the ground inch by inch. Hutch trying hard not to scrap his injured side along the ground. The heat and flames whirl winded around them and both men tried not to panic.

“Hutch don’t give up. I’m right beside you. You’re doing good. Keep moving!” Starsky shouted.

The pace was slow. It was hard to see and hard to breathe. Starsky could hear the heavy groans and pants coming from his partner as they crawled along. He made sure to keep very close to Hutch, feeling the contact of his arms brush along side his every few seconds. Hutch seemed to be doing remarkably well until a fit of coughing began to rack his body.

Starsky reached over, gripping Hutch’s shirt. “We can make it. Keep going.”

“Go–” Hutch coughed hard trying to match Starsky’s breath with his, but couldn’t, the pain causing him to breathe too fast. He gagged and spit sucking in whirlpools of smoke. “It’s no use. Go.” He groped for a hold of Starsky, but more racking coughs dragged him down and he gasped when he hit the ground, jarring his side. “My wound!” He cried out. His body began to shake as he desperately tried to breathe, but there was a lack of air. He wheezed and gurgled sucking in nothing but thick black smoke.

“Hutch! Hutch! Relax! Come on keep moving!”

But Starsky’s voice faded off in the distance as Hutch’s body sagged, he felt faint, but continued to try and zero in on his partner’s commands.

In a panic Starsky stood trying to pull Hutch by the arms away from the smoke. He too began to feel dizzy, succumbing to the smoke. When suddenly a strange pair of hands came through the blackness. “”What the hell are you two son’s of a one eyed prairie dog doing here?” The voice shouted. “Come on! Quit your scratchin’ in the dirt! Keep hold of his arm. I got this side of him. Rattle your hocks.” Starsky’s feet tangled but he righted himself before falling. “Boy, that means hurry!” Starsky couldn’t see a thing, nearly operating on instinct he did as the disembodied voice directed. “This way! Keep going!”

Hutch could hear the strange tones of someone, he opened his eyes to see the ground rushing beneath him. “Don’t know where in tarnation you two thought you were headed?” The stranger’s voice yelled over the roar of the fire.

“The lake.” Hutch heard Starsky breathlessly answer.

“What!” The voice shouted angrily. “You two were headed for the foothills, you’d be fried chicken you kept headin’ the way you were headin’. The lake’s this way.”

Hutch’s blood ran cold, feeling them do a one eighty. ‘Oh God, stupid,’ he berated himself, feeling something crawl into his throat causing him not to be able to take a breath. All Hutch could do was once more keep focus on the rushing ground, but only momentarily, before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Starsky felt Hutch go limp, but he continued to drag him along dangling between him and the stranger. Visibility was near zero, but through the thick smoke he could just make out Hutch’s blond head that drooped down between his shoulders. Over the roar hear could hear Hutch’s feet dragging the ground. The whole thing was making Starsky feel sick inside.

“That’s it,” the voice called out like a ghost. “Try not to breathe too deep, keep moving, it’s a pot shot from here to the lake.”

Starsky hung everything on this stranger’s voice. Their very lives. He tried not to suck in huge gulps of air. His chest felt tight and he too was near passing out. He gripped Hutch’s arm more firmly afraid of losing his hold on him. He kept moving, kept his feet under him as he followed this man through the overlapping flames, towing his passed out partner along as fast as he could. Finally the smoke cleared and Starsky could see a lake. They kept moving until they were at its bank.

“Lie him flat,” the stranger instructed calmly.

Starsky did as he was told, easily laying Hutch down to his back, and then falling to his side. He tried to help, fumbling to feel for signs of life, but his hacking and coughing near uncontrollably caused him to falter badly.

“Give way,” the stranger said, shoving Starsky aside.

Starsky watched helplessly as the man cupped a palm over Hutch’s mouth and nose checking for breath, then laying an ear against Hutch’s chest checking for a pulse. “He’s got a heartbeat, but he’s not breathing,” the man informed.

“Hutch!” Starsky struggled again to control his coughing trying to move toward his partner, but weakly fell back.

“I got it. I got it. You’re slower than molasses in the dead of winter!” The stranger yelled, bending over to start working on the prone body. He angled the blond man’s head back, then pinched his nostrils closed tight, taking a full breath he blew, puffing a large amount of air to inflate the still lungs.

Still hacking, Starsky managed to get hold of Hutch’s fingers and laced his between them. “Come on, Hutch. I’m right here with you, buddy. Come on,” Starsky choked, trying to encourage his unconscious partner not to give up.

Rushing forward, the stranger puffed another full breath of air into the slack mouth. He pulled back and waited a single second, taking a look at the bluish gray colored skin. “Damn it!” He yelled in frustration. The smoke stricken man lying still on the ground in no way was responding. Quickly the man checked for pulse and breath again.

Starsky now recognized the stranger in uniform, as a park ranger. “Horse feathers, boy!” The ranger grimaced. “You ain’t doing this after I dragged you this far! Come on now!” He yelled into Hutch’s face just before bending over him to puff another complete breath into him.

“Rghhhh….Rghhhh” Hutch’s body stiffened, and gasped, his mouth opening and closing, and throat straining. “Rghhhhhhhh.” Hutch turned his head, sputtering and vomiting nothing but drool.

“Gotcah!” The ranger said, sitting back and swiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. “You son of a gun. He’s breathing, he’s breathing. The rescuer sat further back on his heels, as he watched the blond fight to come all the way back to consciousness.

Starsky gripped Hutch’s hand tight. “That’s it! Hutch! You got it! You got it, babe!”

Barely drawing a breath, Hutch struggled and choked before abruptly taking in a mouthful of air. The ranger thrust two fingers against the singed neck, feeling the once slowing pulse rate quicken. “He’s out of the snake pit. Much better,” he nodded to Starsky his approval.

Starsky, finally getting his own coughing under control, moved to cradle Hutch’s head in his palms, raising his eyes to the ranger in thankfulness.

He then lowered his gaze to watch Hutch’s chest heave in and out, his face full of confusion as he glared up at him. “Star–wh-wh—rghhhh–where?”

“Easy. Easy. Catch your breath.” Starsky took his eyes off Hutch to look at the ranger. “Thank–”

“Name’s Gamble,” the ranger interrupted with a hand in the air. “Russell Gamble. And don’t. Thanking me be like pissing in the wind. It’s my job. Just glad I decided to come up here and clean sweep this area,” he said with a confident smile then he stood. “Get a wiggle on it. We gotta get your buddy there up, and high tail it outta here. That there fire ain’t getting no cooler, and your friend needs to see ol’ sawbones.”

Starsky raised a curious brow. “The Doc,” Gamble clarified, then stood moving toward the lake and pulling his canoe higher up onto shore.

“I’m–I’m fine,” Hutch struggled to sit up.”

“You’re not fine you horse’s ass!” Gamble shouted over his shoulder, the word causing Hutch to quirk a brow.

It was then Starsky took stock of how tall the ranger was. An almost giant size blond version of his partner. His hair was long, thin like straw, and sunflower yellow, a matching mustache under his nose and grizzly beard added to his ruggedness. He moved with determine confidence, yet Starsky could tell he had a gentle nature. Hutch’s soft groan brought Starsky’s attention back to him immediately.

“Hey buddy, how you feeling?” he asked, bending low over Hutch.

“L-like a burnt marshmallow.” Hutch shuddered. How could he feel cold in the middle of all this heat?

Starsky laughed. “Yeah, well you do look like one–”

“You two stop your jawing,” Gamble edged back over toward them through the drifting smoke. Quickly he could see the injured man’s body shaking, and the difficult way he was breathing. “Here.” He undid his jacket and tossed it to Starsky. “Put this on him, then we’ll skedaddle.”

Starsky cupped a hand under Hutch’s head and wiggled him upward slowly, then wrapping the jacket around his shoulder’s and stuffing each arm into its sleeves. “You against a little boat ride, partner?”

“De-define little.” Hutch croaked, a sharp pain causing his brow to pucker.

“What am I? A dictionary?” Starsky patted Hutch’s shoulder in amusement. “Okay, pal, let’s get you up.” Bringing Hutch more fully to him, Starsky took Hutch’s arm and pulled it around his neck, and raised him to his feet. The few steps it took to get to the bank of the lake made Hutch breathe even harder. “You with me so far?” Hutch could only nod his voice and breath momentarily gone. “Take it real easy, buddy,” Starsky said, as he got him settled into the canoe.

Gamble grabbed hold of the paddles and dug them into the water heading them across the lake toward the park station.

*************************************************************************************

Looking back over his shoulder, Starsky watched as the area they just had left went up like a torch. He was surprised that he could still feel the heat. Hot orange embers hit the lake around them like drops of rain, their glow instantly doused by the water’s cooling ripples.

As Gamble paddled them across the lake he asked, “Where you two from and what brought you to these here parts anyhow?”

“We’re cops from Bay City. “I’m Starsky this is my partner Hutch. We were camping when-”

Gamble interrupted. “Bet you two were having a hog killer of a time ’till that fire bushwhacked you.” It was more of an observation than a question.

“A hog what of a time?” Starsky asked

“Fun, Starsk. We were having fun.”

“Oh yeah sure as hell we were,” Starsky mocked.

Gamble eyed Starsky, then peered to Hutch and asked, “Sourpuss there always take a likin’ to belly achin’?”

“You have no idea,” Hutch uttered, then coughed wincing hard.

“Starsky gripped his shoulder. “Hold on, Buddy.” He looked to Gamble. “Can’t you hurry?”

“Don’t get your dander up. We’re two whoops and one holler away.” But Gamble did paddled faster. “Hurts like the dickens. I know. Don’t you worry there blond feller, you’ll be fine as cream gravy -n- biscuits real soon.”

“Huh?” Both detectives uttered.

“I said, you’ll be fine. Doin’ the fandango again before you know it.”

“Are you kidding me? He can’t even dip.” Starsky smiled.

Hutch shivered, and Starsky couldn’t help but notice the slight blue tinge of his partner’s skin, underneath the residue of dirt, sweat, and grit, reminding him of how close they had come.

“I was just kidding about the dipping, buddy.” Starsky softened, forgoing his horseplay, getting serious, and patting Hutch’s arm.

“No–no–” Hutch stuttered, everything was becoming blurry. “No you weren’t,” Hutch breathed, as he passed out.

*************************************************************************************

Tag

A soft breath wafted over his face, and he slowly blinked open his eyes. He was lying flat on a cot, someone sitting on the edge right next to him. Intense blue eyes stared down at him and it took a moment for Hutch to recognize his partner. “Starsk?”

“Well, look who’s awake.”

“Wh–where am I?” Hutch stared up at his friend in puzzlement. He tried to raise his head, but it fell back like lead onto the pillow.

“It ain’t the Presidential suite.” Starsky leaned in closer laughing, as if he said something funny.

Hutch frowned then a sense of unease took over and he tried again to sit up, but he didn’t even make it halfway. He moaned loudly and ground his teeth against the pain in his side. “Fire-the fire,” Hutch mumbled.

“Okay, it’s okay, just lie back and rest, partner.” Starsky picked up a hand and watched Hutch’s fingers automatically clamp around his. “Remember the lake? The canoe?” Starsky quirked his lips. “We’re at the ranger’s station, away from the fire. Gamble called for help.”

Hutch’s confused frown faded, and he slowly looked around taking in his surroundings. It was a cubbyhole of a place. Wooden cross beams. A desk. A chair. A hand radio. A coffee pot. A water cooler. A fishing pole leaning in a corner. Papers and file folders everywhere, cardboard boxes overflowing.

“What about, Gamble?” Hutch sucked in a hiss of pain.

“Marched outta here like Roy Rodgers. Said he had a fire to contain.” Hutch only nodded, laying quietly under his partner’s supervision. “Hey?” Starsky asked. “You doing okay?” Said with uncertainty.

Hutch’s chin quivered, and he turned his head away. They both could have died. If it weren’t for the ranger–“Lovely.” A small whimper left his lips.

“I don’t believe that,” Starsky said, deadpan. “Try harder, Hutch,” he challenged. There was a long stretch of silence, and Starsky watched as Hutch trembled, still not looking at him or answering. “What’s the matter?” Letting the question slide, Starsky instead pulled back the blanket that covered his partner and began to lift his shirt. “Let me take a look at this,” he said, peeling off the white gauze that covered the wound.

Hutch tiredly closed his eyes. “Take your time. Not going anywhere.”

Starsky sighed. The gash probably caused by a tree branch, would need stitching and it still oozed some blood. Hutch would be lucky if it didn’t get infected, but at least they were out of danger. Hutch was tough, but the fire, and near tumble from the tree, had knocked him flat. Starsky was worried. He could see Hutch’s face was an odd color that he couldn’t describe. His eyes swollen and red, smudges of ash and soot tainted his blond hair almost black, and his clothing wouldn’t even be suitable for rags. But most of all, Starsky could see Hutch questioning himself, right down to his toes. His guilt standing out so badly it would have bleed as much as his wound if it could have.

“So,” Starsky said, sensing he’d better start this conversation off slowly. ” I guess neither one of us won the bet?” He half turned taking a washcloth from a basin, squeezing the excess water out, gently patting around the wound. “No greenhouse for you. No leather seats for me, huh?” Hutch didn’t answer still looking away from him. “Maybe next time, right, buddy?” All Hutch could do was shudder and swallow hard. Starsky glared at him harder, cocking his head to the silence between them. He knew his partner. Knew what he was thinking, feeling. Hutch raised a trembling hand to push his hair back off his forehead. “Hutch, you okay.” It was a statement not a question. Starsky placed the cloth down and covered the wound back with clean gauze. No response. Starsky frowned, enough silent treatment. He cupped Hutch’s chin, turning him so their eyes met, and keeping his hand in place. “Hutch?” he whispered softly. “Are– you— okay?” very slowly said.

“No, Starsk, I’m not,” Hutch bit out.

“What is it, buddy?” Starsky didn’t have to ask, but he knew Hutch needed to say it.

“Nothing–just forget–” Hutch coughed hard, everything hurt. His side, his head, his eyes, his nose, his lungs.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s all okay.”

“Wake up, Starsky!” Hutch’s voice cracked, the realization of what could have happened because of his decision was just to much. “It’s not, not okay.” Hutch’s eyes were full of fear, his fists clenched tight. “Could have been killed. I almost got you killed,” he repeated. “If we would have kept going the way I wanted–If Gamble didn’t come along–I told you to trust me.”

“I do!”

“You shouldn’t!”

Hutch tried to wrench his gaze away again, but Starsky held him firmly in place. “Hutch I’ll always–”

“Don’t say it.” Hutch’s breath hitched, and his chest tightened.

A hand slid to unclench one of Hutch’s fits. Starsky leaned in, ducking his head. “Stop, partner, just take it easy.” A tentative touch wiped away at the dark smudges on Hutch’s cheek. Care and love and trust always came first with them. It always overrode everything. “Are you human?” Starsky slyly asked.

“Don’t do that.” Hutch took a quick breath. “We could have–”

“We didn’t. Hutch! Are you human?” Starsky held his hand tighter prompting the proper response. In defeat, Hutch sighed, and nodded ‘yes’. “You made a mistake. Hutch, we’re okay. Nothing in my life ever felt right–” Starsky paused, his eyes saying what his mouth couldn’t. ‘ Nothing was right, until I trusted you. I’ll always trust you, Hutch.’

Hutch finally gave way to a small smile. “Starsky, I’m glad you’re not–” Hutch stopped himself from expressing his love and affection with words as well, for it was just understood, he knew he need not say it. Just as Starsky knew he didn’t need to say it.

“Not what, Hutch?”

“Not a nature lover. I don’t think I could take this every weekend. Bet’s off.”

“I want a rain check.” Hutch’s eyes went wide. Starsky laughed, “What’s the matter, Hutch? You afraid I’d win the bet, and you’d have to pitch in on my new leather seats?”

“Sure as hell not.” Hutch relaxed, closing his eyes. “You’d be spending your weekends in my greenhouse.” Hutch licked his lips. “Fishing for koi.” Hutch peeked open one eye . “Sour puss.”

“Horse’s ass,” Starsky laughed.

Both men seemingly delighted to have new nicknames for one another, compliments of one Russell Gamble.

“Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree, huh, Starsk?”

“Fine with me,” Starsky shook his head. “So how ’bout that rain check?”

“You got it.”

“Really?” Starsky seemed surprised.

‘Trust me.’ Hutch mouthed the words.

“I do.”

“You better.”