The dream came often, in the days after the desert. Unable to stop the images once asleep, Hutch was forced to watch a parade of empty eyed assassins who looked like Terry drift past…
Originally published in the SHareCon 2014 zine.
The dream came often, in the days after the desert. Unable to stop the images once asleep, Hutch was forced to watch a parade of empty eyed assassins who looked like Terry drift past.
Lub-dub
Joe went down.
Lub.
The Torino in the far corner of a parking lot, gleaming red in the meager glow of streetlights.
Dub.
A fire bomb.
Starsky went down. Heat and smoke.
Starsky lying beside Hutch, weightless and pulseless.
Lub-dub.
Breathe. Damn you. Breathe.
Every night, Starsky waked to hold his hand. “I’m here, go to sleep.”
Lying beside him, Hutch exhaled, feeling Starsky’s heartbeat.
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