Catastrophic Thoughts

178

An earthquake brings Starsky and Hutch’s world crashing down around them.

---

Hutch sat on Starsky’s couch, turning the pages of a magazine absentmindedly. He took another look at his watch and sighed aloud. His partner had gotten out of the shower twenty minutes before, flashing a smile as he made his way to his bedroom with a “Be right there.” It was Saturday afternoon and they had a double date. They were supposed to meet the two young women they’d met only last night in Huggy’s bar at the amusement park’s front gates. In five minutes. Hutch got up and strode over to stand outside his partner’s closed bedroom door.

“Come on, Starsky! We’re going to be late,” he hollered. “They’re not going to wait forever, you know. We’re not that hot.”

“Speak for yourself,” came the muffled reply from the other side.

Hutch shook his head. “Would you please just move it, huh?”

The door opened and the dark haired man stood there, looking pleased with himself. “Well?”

Hutch looked him up and down.

“Well what? I see the same jeans you had on before. In the last twenty minutes you’ve combed your hair and found a clean shirt,” he said, frustrated.

“How do I smell?” Starsky leaned into his partner a little, baring his neck.

Hutch sniffed the air then backed up a step.

“Uh…Starsky, what is that?”

“Brahma,” Starsky replied, twitching his eyebrows up and down. “Guaranteed to attract females.”

Hutch waved the air with his hand as he turned back down the short hallway. “I don’t know about the human kind, but I think it’ll stampede every cow herd in this state, Brahma Boy.”

“You think so?” Starsky’s face fell.

“You smell so.”

“Maybe I should go change. I splashed some on the shirt, too. It lasts lon…”

“Starsky!” Hutch spun around. “We’re late now, just…” He stopped in mid-sentence as an odd feeling in his legs startled him. A wobbly, rubbery sensation rippled up the length of them, then stopped. It had only lasted a few seconds, and Hutch was wondering whether he had imagined it when he looked up and saw Starsky’s expression. His partner stared back at him apprehensively.

“What just happened?” Starsky muttered.

“You felt it too? I don’t know…”

Suddenly the floor shuddered violently under them and both men reached unsteadily for the walls. This time the tremor didn’t stop. Staring at each other in disbelief and horror, they felt the walls themselves begin to quiver under their hands, then shake. They agitated against the movement under their feet. A strange noise, a rumbling grew along with the sounds of things beginning to teeter and fall off of their perches in the apartment. Ornaments in the living room crashed to the floor, glasses and dishes clattered as they slid out of shelves in the kitchen.

“Let’s get out of here! Now!” Hutch yelled. He turned and was stumbling towards the living room when he looked quickly over his shoulder then stopped. Starsky was still standing where he had been, the light fixture from the ceiling laying at his feet in pieces. He gazed blankly at Hutch, swaying with the tremors, but no longer holding onto the wall. Suddenly a thin red line of blood appeared and raced swiftly down his forehead. It slowed at the corner of his left eye, then continued its pace again down his cheek.

“Starsky?”

Just as the first crimson drops fell onto his shirt, Starsky blinked slowly back at Hutch then crumpled to the floor.

“Starsk!” Hutch made his way back along the wall as quickly as he could to where his partner lay on his side. A violent shake sent him tumbling to the floor and he landed almost on top of the still form. Hutch raised his head to look at the face that was so close to his. Starsky’s head shook slightly back and forth with the rhythms of the earthquake. Blood dripped onto the carpet. Hutch reached to touch his face when a loud crack, then another, made him look up in horror.

“Shit!” Struggling to his knees Hutch crawled behind Starsky and grabbed the unconscious man under his arms. He got back to his feet and started to drag Starsky back into the bedroom. The jarring vibrations were worse now, and with Starsky’s dead weight his progress seemed agonizingly slow. Just as he got into the corner of the room there was a loud snapping sound over his head.

“Oh God,” Hutch moaned as he fell back against the wall. He tried to cover his friend as the ceiling started to rain, then pour down on them.

******

In less than half a minute it was over. The mad shakings had disappeared, leaving an exhausted stillness. What had been a frightening clamor was gone and now only an uneasy silence filled the air. The first thing Hutch was aware of after opening his eyes was the white dust rotating slowly in the shaft of light above him. He squinted up at, puzzled. The second thing he became aware of was the pain in his leg.

“Uhh,” he groaned and looked down. Oh God. Starsky. His arms were still wrapped around his friend whose back was pressed up against his right side, quiet and motionless.

“Starsky?” He nudged him with a gentle push from his body.

“Come on, Starsk. Wake up,” he rasped, but got no reaction.

He shifted his weight to sit up straighter, grunting with the pain in his right leg, a hard throbbing just below his knee.

Hutch looked around.

They were lying in a small space, surrounded by chunks of plaster and splintered pieces of wood. About five feet above their heads a huge beam from the roof of the building itself reached out of the debris and ran downwards, beyond their feet, into the rubble again. Hutch’s eyes ran the length of it, realizing it had deflected some of the fallout from the ceiling. And had created the tiny, narrow crawlspace they were in now. The corner walls had held behind the two men, saving their lives. There was a small, chimney-like passage over them, and peering up through it, Hutch made out a small patch of blue sky. Light filtered down, giving a gray cast to the dust-filled air. Their teardrop shaped cocoon was only about four feet across at the floor which was littered with rubble.

“Mmmm…” Starsky moaned and slowly turned his head. Hutch looked down at the dark, dust-coated head resting on his chest.

“Starsky. Do you hear me, buddy?” Hutch gently squeezed one of the arms he was holding.

“Uhhh…” Starsky stopped moving then Hutch felt him take in a sharp breath.

“Hutch…?”

“Right here…right behind you.”

Starsky started to twist around when he let out another moan and sank back again.

“Ohhh…my head.”

Hutch reached up to touch the wet, sticky hair and carefully part it, searching for the cut in the gloomy light.

“You got pretty hard hit on the head, Starsk. Got knocked out for a few minutes.”

Starsky moaned again, then jerked when Hutch’s fingers found the wound. Blood still oozed out, but slower than it had before.

“Sorry.” Hutch brought his hand back down. “Hurt bad?”

Starsky didn’t answer as he began to take in his surroundings.

“What happened?” he muttered finally.

“Looks like we had an earthquake.”

After a moment’s silence, Starsky asked quietly, “Where are we?”

“At your place…do you remember?”

“Umm…” Starsky continued his inspection around him.

“Starsk?” Hutch asked. “Can you move? Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Starsky slowly pulled himself up straight and away from Hutch. Just as slowly, he turned to look at the blond man.

“No….just my head,” he mumbled. “You hurt?”

“I think my leg got hit…nothing serious.”

Hutch looked for the first time at Starsky’s face. The dark red trails of blood contrasted with the pale skin. Hutch wasn’t sure if it was the thin coat of dust everywhere that made his partner so pale, or the blow he had taken to his head. His eyes were dull and heavy.

“Starsk,” Hutch sat up straighter himself, “don’t move around.”

Starsky’s eyes left him and traveled over the wall of debris only a little over a foot away from his face. He looked at the pieces of the wreckage that reached out to him in odd angles. He twisted around in the rubble underneath him. Another barricade loomed behind.

Hutch followed his path over the macabre scene enclosing them, then back at his partner. “We’re in your bedroom. Or we were.”

Starsky didn’t reply. Slowly his gaze found its way up to the hole of light, its top out of reach, and stared at it a moment. Then, looking back down, he put his hands on the ground in front of him and tried to rise.

“Starsky…don’t.” Hutch leaned over and grabbed his arm. “Don’t move. We’ll figure something out. Just stay still for now.”

“No,” Starsky answered. “We’ve gotta get outta here.”

“We will.” Hutch tightened his hold on the arm. “But let’s think about it first. We can’t just start digging and cave everything in.”

Still trying to stand, Starsky got off one knee then groaned and weakly fell back against the wall behind him. A few pieces of plaster broke loose and dropped to the ground.

“Starsky!” Hutch hissed. “Don’t do anything!”

Starsky dropped his head down into his hands as Hutch released his grip.

“Look…we can’t panic, buddy. And you’ve got to try not to move around. Are you dizzy?”

The dark head came back up and Hutch watched as he took deep, long breaths, slowly scanning up and down the dark walls again.

“We’re buried,” Starsky whispered.

“Just for a while.”

“We were in my apartment?” Starsky looked back at him, perplexed.

Hutch nodded. “Uh huh. Getting ready to leave and it hit. You don’t remember any of it?”

“No,” he answered then suddenly winced hard and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

“Oh God…”

“Starsk?” With a grunt of pain Hutch awkwardly hauled himself up to crouch beside him. He put a light hand on his shoulder.

“Hey…you okay?”

He waited a moment till Starsky dropped his hand back to his lap. Hutch looked at the wet smear of blood on his hairline and the pinched face.

“Damn,” Starsky replied hoarsely, “…helluva a headache.”

Pulling his shirtsleeve over his hand, Hutch used it to dab at the bloody forehead and face.

“The hallway light fell on you. You probably have a concussion. I don’t want you to move around, Starsk,” Hutch stressed. “You’ll make it worse.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“Right now we have no choice. I don’t want to try digging yet, partner. The whole rest of this place could come down on us. Not to mention that beam.”

Starsky squinted up at the beam as Hutch eased himself down beside him, straightening his leg out as far as he could before it reached the opposite wall.

“We’re stuck here for a bit,” Hutch said. “We just have to wait for help.”

Starsky was examining the shadowy rubble again. His eyes wandered over the walls when, dreamily, eerily, they started to contort. They swelled slowly outward then drew back again. Out, then in. And each time they drew in they were closer, malevolently reaching to embrace him. Starsky felt the thickening in his throat, the hardening in his chest.

“I can’t wait, Hutch,” he gasped.

********

Hutch watched his partner’s expression as he gazed slowly around him.

“I can’t wait,” Starsky repeated.

“You can. We have to.”

The walls seemed to be breathing, contracting, closer and closer.

“Starsky…listen to me.”

Starsky turned his way, real fear in his eyes.

“Oh God, Hutch. I’ve got to get out,” he whispered desperately.

“We will, partner.”

The dark blues eyes returned to the walls. Hutch reached out to put a hand on the side of his face, turning him back.

“What is it?”

“It’s too small in here,” Starsky answered in a low, wavering voice. He swallowed hard. “I can’t stand it.”

His chest started to rise and fall rapidly as panic rolled down his features. Hutch put his hands on his friend’s shoulders.

“Just try to relax…try to calm down.”

Starsky pressed his eyes shut.

“Take deep breaths…come on. Slow down.”

For a long moment he fought the mounting anxiety then his eyes flew open.

“No!” He pulled back and away from Hutch.

Hutch grabbed at him and missed. Before he knew it Starsky was on his knees, grabbing onto the wall to balance himself as he rose. Thick white dust fell with pieces that clattered to the ground. Hunched over under the short ceiling, he began to claw at the debris in the small passage.

“Starsky!” Hutch lunged and caught him by the back of his shirt, yanking him back down. Starsky fell onto Hutch’s legs and bits of wood and plaster followed him, sprinkling over them both.

Hutch gasped and clutched at his leg as spasms of pain raced up and down it. It was a moment before he opened his eyes again to see Starsky was sagged, panting, against the other wall.

Trying to catch his own breath, Hutch studied him. Starsky had made known to an aversion of small spaces before. If an elevator was too crowded when the doors opened, he would wait for another. He got squeamish when sitting between two people in a car, and whenever Hutch had flown with him Starsky had insisted on First Class, telling his partner he liked the foot room. But Hutch hadn’t realized how severe his claustrophobia was until now. Maybe Starsky hadn’t either.

“Starsk?”

“Uhhh?”

Bracing himself, Hutch pulled the aching leg back and crawled over to him. He leaned a shoulder carefully on the wall to face Starsky. His face was even paler than before and his eyes were open slits. His breaths came fast and shallow.

“Hey,” Hutch whispered.

“My head…” Starsky’s words were barely audible.

Hutch reached up and put the back of his hand on the side of Starsky’s face. It was cold, and clammy with perspiration.

“Close your eyes, Starsky. Just stay still and rest. I’ll get us out of here, partner.

He watched as the eyelids shuddered downward. Hutch ran his hand lightly over the dark curls.

“Keep your eyes closed. I’ll get us out, I promise.”

He felt the warm slickness in Starsky’s hair and looked at the dark shadow on the palm of his hand and glanced quickly away in frustration. Feeling helpless, all he could do was rub up and down Starsky’s arm as he listened to the respirations gradually slow and lengthen.

Suddenly Starsky leaned over sideways, taking a long breath and holding it.

“Feel sick?” Hutch asked as he moved his hand to Starsky’s back.

Starsky only moaned back, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. After moment he sat back up again, resting his head against the wall.

“You okay?” Hutch asked.

Starsky looked at him, looked through him, bleary-eyed. “Yeah.”

Hutch held up two fingers in front of his friend’s face.

“How many fingers am I holding up, Starsk?”

Frowning at the hand, Starsky was slow to reply. “Two.”

Hutch closed his hand into a fist and held up two fingers again.

“How many now?”

A pause.

“Three now.”

Hutch dropped his hand, trying to keep his expression even. He glanced up at the shaft above them.

“I’m going to stand up and yell for help,” he said. “I want you to stay where you are. Okay?”

A small nod was his reply.

Hutch worked his way up to crouch under the light shaft, hobbling on his good leg. Peering up he began to yell.

“Help! Someone help us! In here!”

Hutch continued shouting for a long time, taking quick glances down at his partner. Starsky stayed huddled back against the wall. When his voice started to rasp with the yelling and the dust, Hutch sat down again. He placed a hand on Starsky’s shoulder and peered at the down turned head.

“How you feeling?”

“It’s better,” Starsky mumbled.

“Good. I’ll get up again in a minute.”

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey…” Hutch squeezed the shoulder and smiled weakly. “You start this earthquake?”

Starsky lifted his head and looked at Hutch.

“You know what I mean,” he said quietly.

“I don’t like it in here either, Starsk. Close your eyes.”

Suddenly their ears picked up a distant sound. A siren. It was far off but soon grew louder and louder. They looked hopefully at each other then Hutch awkwardly stood back up. He started calling, then pausing, and calling again. Starsky stared up, his face frozen. The siren was so loud now that Hutch gave up his yelling and waited for it to stop. They listed to the wailing as it paused, so close by, then begin drift away and fade. The siren grew fainter and fainter, till there was nothing. Hutch dropped his head to his chest in disappointment.

Starsky’s voice broke the silence. “Oh shit…oh shit, oh shit…” he mumbled as he clumsily rose to one leg then tumble back down, only to try again.

********

Hutch dropped to Starsky’s side just as he was frantically trying to rise and grabbed his arms. Starsky’s eyes were crazily racing around the dark confinement again. Every terrified glance brought a quick intake of air until he was gasping loudly. Seemingly unaware of Hutch, he continued his attempt to get off the ground.

“Starsky! Starsk!” Hutch shook him. A quick wince of pain but Starsky kept up his futile struggle.

“Starsky! Look at me!”

Hutch put his hands up to hold his partner’s head and firmly turned it towards him.

“Look at me, buddy…” he cried. “Look at me!”

But Starsky only twisted his head away, clawing and tugging at Hutch’s arms.

Hutch dropped his hands to Starsky’s shoulders and shook them as he called his partner’s name again. Starsky flinched hard at the jarring. His eyes squeezed shut and his struggling ended, only his chest still heaving.

Hutch’s heart fell.

“Oh God, Starsk…I’m sorry,” he whispered as he slid a trembling hand back up to his face. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re trapped, Hutch.”

“I told you…we’ll get out.”

“Oh no.” Starsky leaned away with a groan. “What’s happenin’ to me?”

Hutch caught him and locked his arms around him.

“Listen to me, partner.” Hutch’s voice shook as he held him close. “Close your eyes and listen to me, okay?”

Except for his panting, Starsky was rigid in his embrace.

“Close your eyes. Listen to my voice. You can get through this, Starsk. I’ll help you… just stay with me.”

Starsky pressed his face into Hutch’s neck and Hutch felt the quick, hot breaths.

“Alright, I know it’s hard. But I’m right here…you just focus on me. You can do this.”

“I can’t…” Starsky gasped.

“Yeah, you can. Concentrate on me. Fight it, Starsky…come on, we’re outside somewhere.” Hutch paused just for a second. “Remember when we were at the airport, watching the planes take off?”

Starsky quivered as mad rushes coursed through his mind and body. They began a tug of war with Hutch’s words, seizing at him and pulling him backwards. The words faded away as the madness pounded at his heart, flew crazily through his head. Then the voice, distant, familiar, called his name. He searched for it, trying to push away from the grasping terrors.

“You remember, Starsk? Clear night…all the stars were…”

The voice was leaning out to him, offering a hand.

“…lying on the car…whole wide sky above us…more than our eyes could take in.”

Starsky clambered towards it.

“Think about that. It was warm out, a beautiful summer evening. The stars were endless, everywhere.”

The possessive spasms began to let go and the frightening disorder chasing him slowed. Air entered his lungs again.

“There was a quarter moon, not much, but even it was so bright. We talked all night. Remember?”

Hutch felt the tense muscles drop a little, the ragged breathing begin to even and the hands that were trying to push him away a moment ago were now clinging loosely to the back of his shirt.

“Yeah,” came the small reply.

Relief flooded over Hutch. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his own breath, till the rush of air escaped him.

“We’ll do it again…soon, huh? I want to do that. ”

Another shiver ran through Starsky, and he stirred in Hutch’s arms. Hutch felt the quiver and ran his hand up and down the length of his back.

“You’re alright, Starsky. Got you right here. Won’t let anything happen.”

They sat that way in silence, Hutch all the while his kneading his back, rubbing it, using the constant physical motion as an anchor now instead of his words.

Starsky stayed there, silent, resting heavily against him. The anxiety attack had drained him, Hutch knew. Had taken away what little reserves he had left. Dammit, Hutch swore to himself, not only are we trapped in this god-awful hole, he’s hurt and I can’t do anything for him.

Starsky stirred.

“You okay now, Starsk?” Hutch asked in a light voice.

Starsky took a long, deep breath and let it slowly out. He pushed himself back from Hutch.

“That’s never happened…I mean…not like that.”

Hutch’s smile was thin. “Probably never had an opportunity like this before.”

Starsky turned his exhausted face away.

“Hey,” Hutch said, “it happens to a lot of people.”

Not answering, Starsky shifted on his seat till he was leaning back against the wall. Hutch started to move too when he suddenly hissed and grabbed at his leg.

“Hutch?”

“It’s nothing,” Hutch said through clenched teeth. “Just if I move it the wrong way.”

“Think it’s broke?”

“No…wouldn’t be able to move it all then.” Hutch waited for the pain to pass then gingerly pulled himself over to sit against the opposite wall. He sighed and they looked at each other without saying a word, Starsky dropping his eyes away first.

After a short silence, the deep blue eyes turned back to Hutch.

“Well, could’ve been worse than an earthquake,” Starsky said.

“Yeah?”

“You could’ve been riding a Ferris wheel with me.”

Hutch laughed under his breath.

“You weren’t going to get on that thing?”

“Piece ‘a cake.” The strain on his face belied what little bravado was in his voice.

Hutch studied his friend.

“How’s your head?”

“It’s okay.”

Hutch knew he was lying by the drowsy eyes and the pallid skin.

He watched his partner’s eyes run over their dark enclosure and was just about to say something to draw him back when Starsky let out a shaky sigh.

“My place…all my stuff.”

Hutch paused before he answered. “I’m sorry, Starsk. Provided I still have a place, you know where you’ll be staying, huh?”

Starsky nodded.

“I’m going to yell again.” He began to rise.

“I’ll yell.” Starsky started to follow when Hutch looked down.

“No. You stay put.”

Starsky didn’t argue. His head pounded with the movement and another wave of nausea threatened to wash over him. He slumped back down. Through the dim light, he saw the walls slowly begin to lean in again. He felt their pressure on his chest and looked to Hutch, keeping his eyes on him.

They heard them again. The sirens approaching. Many of them now. Hutch said a silent prayer that this time they would be found. Resting his sore leg, he awkwardly leaned against the wall and he and Starsky stared at each other as they listened. Hutch once again waiting to shout for help. The racket, the wailing increased, louder and louder.

Loud enough that they never heard the groan from the beam over their heads.

********

Soon the air was shrill with the sound of sirens. And this time they did shut off, very near. Hutch kept his expectant face upwards and just as soon as it was quiet again he started to shout.

“Help us! We’re in here! Someone…we need help!”

This time there was an answer.

“Where are you?” came the distant voice.

“We’re…” he paused and muttered, “how the hell?” then shouted again. “Follow my voice!”

“Keep yelling, we’ll find you.”

Hutch beamed down to his partner.

“We’re home free now.”

Starsky stared at him uneasily.

“It won’t be long,” Hutch said more softly.

Starsky nodded slightly.

“Okay.”

A man’s voice called down again.

“Alright, we’ve found the opening! We don’t want to come any closer. We’re going to try and start clearing stuff away. And there’s some more help on the way. Can you hang on longer?”

“Yes! But my partner is hurt.”

“How many of you are down there?”

“Two of us,” Hutch shouted up.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hutch sighed and rested against the wall, then looked at Starsky. His partner was rubbing his hands on his legs then held them up to watch them violently tremble. He clenched them tightly.

Hutch returned to sit by his side. He saw the beads of perspiration, red with blood, run down Starsky’s forehead and wiped them gently away.

Starsky took a deep, trembling breath.

“I just want to get outside, Hutch…out of here.”

“I know…I know. They’re here, buddy. You’ll be outside soon.”

Starsky’s chest started to rise faster. Hutch took one of the shaking hands in his own.

“Starsky. Close your eyes again and think about being outside. You will be real soon.”

Starsky obeyed and shut them, but not for long. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I can’t help it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Starsky took another big swallow and Hutch could see him begin the fight against the swift-rising panic. He squeezed Hutch’s hand hard as he squinted ahead, concentrating. But all too soon his mouth was gulping for air. “Can’t breathe.” He gasped.

“You can…come on, deep breath…”

Starsky suddenly reached up and tore at the leather choker around his neck. It held as he roughly jerked and yanked at it. Hutch grabbed his hand and pulled down.

“Easy, Starsk…take it easy.”

A man’s voice called down.

“We’re working up here. We’re going to get you out as fast as we can!”

Hutch peered into Starsky’s face.

“Hear that? Huh? Just hang on.”

Starsky violently shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. One spasm, then another tore through him.

Oh God, not again, Hutch thought as he quickly pulled him into his arms.

“Okay, we got through this the last time, Starsky. We’ll do it again.”

A hand grasped his arm as Hutch whispered into his ear.

“Stay with me, buddy…listen to me and I’ll get you out of this.”

Hutch continued talking, remembering past experiences, reliving them, trying once again to draw his friend back. But there was no let-up in the trembling and with every worsening spasm Starsky dug his fingers painfully into Hutch’s arm. Hutch’s voice rose as he desperately tried to break through.

Then a loud sound, a long, mournful creaking, interrupted his desperate monologue. He stopped in mid-sentence and squinted up through the falling dust. The beam glared back down at him. A horrible dread rushed over Hutch.

Another quiver in his arms.

He clutched his partner closer.

“Oh God, Starsk,” he pleaded, trying to keep the panic out of his own voice. “Please…please fight this.”

White dust filtered lightly down on them.

“Hey!” Hutch shouted up to the patch of sky. No one answered.

Then, with a feeble cry of pain, Starsky suddenly went lax in his arms. The hand that had been clutching Hutch’s arm slid slowly down. He sank against Hutch, the only movement, only sound, his painful intakes of air.

“Starsk?”

Hutch pushed him gently up by his shoulders. Starsky’s face was ghostly pale now, his eyes half shut.

“Hey, pal?” Hutch asked softly, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice.

Starsky raised glassy eyes up to him for just a second then they fell again as he breathed out Hutch’s name. Hutch eased him back against his chest. He lay half-faint against him, his breaths slower now but so shallow, his hands laying open and limp.

His head, Hutch thought. The only reason Starsky’s panic attack had been cut short was because it had been too much strain for his head injury. He watched in dismay as Starsky’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“Hey…stay awake, buddy,” Hutch said. “Don’t be going away.”

No response. He gently shook Starsky’s shoulder.

“Come on, Starsk. You’ve got to try. Got to stay awake.”

A little movement.

“You going to try, huh?”

A small nod of the head.

Small bits of plaster, slivers of wood fell. Hutch cursed to himself as he gazed ahead.

“Alright, I’ve been doing all the talking. It’s your turn.”

Quiet.

“Come on, Starsk.”

Hutch waited.

“Ask…” came the weak voice.

“Yeah? Ask what?”

“Ask ’em…’bout my car.”

A small smile passed over Hutch’s face.

“Okay. I will.”

Another pause, then, “Are they comin’?”

“They’re digging. They’re close.”

Hutch waited, but Starsky remained silent.

“Stay with me, Starsk. Tell me something.”

“Mmm…what?”

“I don’t know…tell me about…about when you’d set fire to the street. When you were a kid.”

Starsky tried to take a deep breath but flinched against Hutch.

“Okay, take it easy,” Hutch soothed.

“Don’t feel good…”

“You gonna be sick?”

Another pause, and Starsky shook his head no.

Hutch glanced expectantly up to the small patch of sky then down again.

“You and your friends got some gasoline…tell me, Starsk.”

“We…we got some gas and…went to the top of the street.” He stopped.

“Okay, then what?”

“Uh…” Starsky’s voice was barely audible. “We poured it down…”

Just then a tumultuous crack startled them and chunks of debris dropped from the ceiling. Hutch huddled over Starsky and gasped when a weight hit his injured leg. Smaller pieces followed with clouds of dirt. Then all was calm again. They were coated in dust and covered in pieces of wood and plaster.

Hutch took in the scene around him, anger in his eyes, when his partner’s quiet voice reached him.

“We’re not gonna make it, are we?”

********

Hutch hesitated at Starsky’s question. The hopelessness he heard in it.

“Sure we’ll make it, buddy…we’ll make it,” he said. “You know we like to cut it close, huh?”

“Not this close…”

Hutch grimaced at the quickening weakness in Starsky’s voice.

“I’m going to call up again, okay? Don’t mean to yell in your ears.”

He shouted up a few times till someone called back.

“How are you doing in there?”

“This place isn’t going to hold up much longer,” Hutch yelled.

“We’re moving fast up here. Lots of people working at it. Hang on.”

“There’s a beam over us…it won’t take any more weight.”

“I see it. We’re working to the side of it, we’ll be careful.”

Hutch paused, then said in a lower voice, “Please hurry.”

The man’s voice also softened. “We’ll get you out. Don’t worry.”

Hutch’s attention went back to his partner, laying so quietly against him.

“Starsk?”

“Uhh…”

“Come on, open your eyes. Let’s talk some more.”

Slow to reply, Starsky finally murmured, “No…dizzy.”

“It’ll help, buddy.” He rubbed Starsky’s arm. “Talk to me.”

Hutch waited.

“Starsky…I’m not going to let you fall asleep, so you’re going to have to try. You were telling me about those little experiments with arson when you were a kid…remember?”

“Wasn’t arson…” Starsky mumbled.

“Okay, your boyhood pranks with fire?”

Hutch thought Starsky was fading off again when his weary voice reached him.

“Hutch?”

“Uh huh?”

“If everything falls…I don’t wanna be buried…no more of this.”

“Starsky…” Hutch whispered.

“I just…wanna go quick.”

“Hey, this isn’t our time. I know it isn’t.”

Hutch searched the air for more words of assurance, of encouragement…of false promises. He stopped and looked down at the man in his arms. And thought of their years of friendship.

Resting his chin lightly on Starsky’s head and pulling him closer, Hutch spoke again.

“If the worst happens, buddy,” he said quietly. “I won’t let go…you’re right here with me.”

Starsky reached around to grasp the side of Hutch’s shirt.

Suddenly a resounding crack, as loud as a gunshot, jarred them both.

They waited, clinging to each other, not breathing.

And waited.

Hutch barely heard Starsky’s frail voice.

“Did ya ever think…we’d go like this?”

Hutch took a shaky breath and, raising his head, studied the crumbling ceiling and the awful beam.

“No…I more envisioned you finally wrapping us around a pole with your car.”

When Starsky didn’t respond at all Hutch prodded him gently.

“Hey…Starsk.”

A board slammed to the ground beside them.

Only Hutch jumped this time.

“Starsky…?” Hutch fought to keep his voice level.

Smaller pieces followed, the air swirled darkly with dust.

“Hutch…”

Hutch lowered his head to hear the faint words.

“It’s always been a blast, Hutch…ya know?”

Tears sprang to Hutch’s eyes.

“I love you too, buddy.”

The hand clutching his shirt let go and Hutch watched as it slowly fell away. He knew he should wake his friend up, drag him back from unconsciousness. Talk to him. Keep him talking.

Another menacing groan from the beam, more pieces clattered noisily to the ground.

He ran his hand through the dark hair, finding the sticky, blood-crusted curls. He put a finger on the cold temple and felt the even pulse. He felt the rhythms of breath against him, as they slowed and deepened.

He should wake him.

Hutch closed his eyes as he pressed his face into the curls.

He heard the debris hit the ground.

“Go to sleep, buddy.”

He felt the thick dust land on his head.

“Go to sleep. I’m right here.”

********

Under the rubble of the building, in the dark, cramped space, two figures huddled together. One still and silent, the other tensed with fear.

Hutch remained hovering over his unconscious friend. Shards of wood, pieces of plaster fell, some hitting with force, others trinkling softly to the ground. Then all was still again, eerie and quiet.

“Oh Starsk…” he murmured.

It crossed his mind that at times like this people went back over their life, their family and friends. Remembering everything one last time. So he concentrated, tried to picture all the people who had meant something to him, but the images were blurry and they flashed by. The present, so clear and terrifying, stole his attention.

The sickening, yawning sound of straining wood filled the room.

Hutch froze, listening to it.

It waned, then died away and nothing more happened.

“Hey, pal,” he whispered, “don’t mind telling ya I’m really scared. I’m terrified. This waiting…”

He scanned the walls, then looked down again. He studied his friend’s peaceful face. The dark lashes on the pale cheeks, the mouth slightly open.

“You know what? If you hadn’t been down here with me…I wouldn’t have been too cool at all about this. I should have told you that.” He paused. “You’re my rock, Starsky. Always have been.”

Trying to take a calming breath, he brushed dust off his friend’s shoulder and arm.

“Should have told you a lot of things. But…we never do, do we? People don’t walk around wearing their hearts on their sleeves. So…I don’t regret not telling you everything cause I think you knew…” he pressed his eyes shut, “…you know how I feel about you.”

He paused in the heavy silence.

“I always had it easy, you know. Things fell in my lap. I would have gone on contented with what I had…before I met you.”

He smiled sadly.

“But I met you. I wasn’t content anymore. I woke up in the morning…eager…alive. I still look forward to…”

Without warning a slab of cement slammed to the ground at their feet. Dust billowed up from its sides.

Hutch forced his stare away from it.

“My life started the day you came to me, Starsky.” His voice shook. “And it’ll end when you go…so if this is how it’s got to be…”

He gasped as a grinding, screeching sound began. Wrapping himself further over Starsky, he whispered.

“I can do it with you here, Starsk. I can do it.”

His heart hammered against his chest, it pounded in his ears.

The terrifying noise grew in volume.

More debris dropped noisily to the ground.

Then quiet.

“Hey!” A voice called, clear and close.

Slowly, Hutch raised his head. He squinted at the bright light pouring in.

A gap, wide and blue, over them. An out of focus face peering through it.

“You alright?”

He still gazed up.

“Come on,” the stranger urged, “let’s get you out of there.”

As relief finally began to flood through him, he looked back down.

“We made it, Starsk.” A smile spread slowly across his face. “We made it.”

Surprised, he watched the fingers curl into the fold of his shirt.

“Piece…” came the slight voice, “…cake.”

 

EPILOGUE

The sun, like a giant red eye, watched them as it set over the ocean. It sank low, leaving in its wake long ribbons across the sky and water. Ribbons of crimson and orange. Yellow and gold. Even the sand on the beach wore a soft hue of pink. Water lapped lazily on the shore.

Hutch sat on the long piece of driftwood, watching his friend walk along the beach.

Jeans rolled up and barefoot, Starsky slowly sliced through the cool water at its edge. As he got closer, he looked up and smiled at Hutch.

“Wanna go for a swim?” he called.

“Of course I don’t.”

Starsky returned to settle on the log beside him and they looked out over the water.

“Well,” Hutch said, “back to the grind tomorrow.”

“Yeah…all good things come to pass.”

“Desk duty,” Hutch replied. “Guess we have to start somewhere.”

“With your leg and my head, I don’t think we’d get far chasin’ down a little old lady on a walker right now.”

Hutch laughed and a silence fell over them for a moment.

“Hey, Starsk,” Hutch asked. “Have you called that number I gave you yet?”

“Not yet,” came the slow reply.

Hutch looked over at him.

“They know how to help you deal with stuff like anxiety attacks, panic…”

“I know. I know.” Starsky waved him off.

“Just call them. Do it for me.”

Starsky shot him a hurt glance.

“I don’t plan on being stuck like that anywhere, anytime soon again, Hutch. If I am, and you’re stuck with me…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Starsky’s tone softened. “I’m sorry. It just ain’t something I’m proud of, okay?”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Come on, Starsk…”

“Look, I’ll call them, okay?”

“Okay.”

Head down, Starsky dug his feet back and forth in the sand.

“I didn’t make it very easy, did I?” he said softly. “Goin’ off like I did.”

“Starsky…there’s only one thing about being trapped down there with you that I’ll never be able to forget or forgive you for.”

The deep blue eyes shot up to him, aghast, frightened.

“Brahma,” Hutch said. “Never, ever wear that stuff near me again.”