Times Change

446

A Starsky and Hutch crossover with “The Sentinel.”

When Jim and Blair are accidentally transported through time to 1978, only Starsky and Hutch can help get them back where they belong.

---

Part 1

“Wait up, Jim!”

The Sentinel eased his pace and looked over his shoulder. “If you insist, old man.”

Blair huffed and pushed his legs harder, shifting his backpack higher. “Funny. You know, hiking ten miles up hill is not my idea of relaxing.” He slowed his pace, struggling to steady his breathing. “For someone who eats the kind of junk you do, it’s a miracle your arteries let you get this far.”

Jim stopped and turned to face his friend. “That should tell you something, shouldn’t it? Maybe you should lay off those weird algae shakes and indulge in the good stuff more often.” He grinned and looked toward the sky, taking a slow, deep breath. “Come on, Chief. Smell that air. It’s a welcome change from Cascade.”

“Hey, my algae shakes are good. And we can sit and enjoy the clean air just as well — better, actually, since our lungs won’t be struggling to supply the molecules to the muscles which you insist on overworking…”

Jim feigned a dramatic sigh. “Okay, five-minute breather.”

“Thirty minutes.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “You must be getting really out of shape, Professor.”

Blair glared at the detective, a hint of mirth in his eyes softening the scowl of his brow. He jerked his hand up with the middle finger making a prominent appearance. “Shove it, Ellison.”

Laughter spilled from Jim, and he slapped Blair’s shoulder. “Okay, you win half-pint.”

“I’m warning you, baldy…”

Jim’s head tilted and he held up a hand. “Do you hear that?”

Blair rolled his eyes. “What do you think the chances of that are, oh Great Sentinel?”

Jim ignored the comment and turned around, peering over the side of the path. The ground sloped steeply toward a small valley. “It’s weird. Like a low hum or vibration. Strange. I can’t quite tell if it’s a sound or a feeling.”

Blair moved reluctantly closer to the edge and peered down to the valley. “No, I don’t hear or feel any–”

The ground began to shake. Slowly at first. Alarm registered on Jim’s face a second before the rumbling started. It sounded far off, as though it were traveling toward them, then it hit, and the ground revolted.

The tumult threw Jim and Blair off their feet. With a strangled scream, Blair hit the edge of the slope and went into a bouncing roll toward the valley.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pain thudded at the base of Blair’s skull. “Oh man.”

“Chief?”

A hand lightly touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes — or thought he did, but impenetrable darkness remained.

“Jim?”

“Yeah. You okay?”

Blair struggled to sit, but a restraining hand on his chest held him flat.

“Don’t try to move yet. You took a nasty fall. Anything hurt?”

“Just my head. Can you see anything?”

“Nope. There’s not even enough light for my eyes.”

Blair closed his eyes again and relaxed against the cool earth. “Where are we?”

“We tumbled down the slope, but at some point the ground gave out beneath us. This is an underground cavern, or something.”

“There should be some light then from the hole we fell through? Unless…” Blair swallowed and tried to keep his voice even. “Is the opening still there? Do we have a way out?”

“I can’t see anything. I don’t know. I’d guess not if light’s not getting through.”

“Oh man.” Blair took a deep breath. “We’re trapped?”

“Looks like it… Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s starting again.”

“Aftershock?”

Jim didn’t get the chance to reply. The shaking started, this time accompanied by a mechanical hum and vibration. Soil rained down upon them, and Blair clenched his eyes tight and held his breath, trying not to panic as his heart beat a wild rhythm in his chest.

Fortunately, the quaking died down and the dust settled. Blair’s lungs burned, reminding him to start breathing again. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, relieved beyond measure to be able to see his surroundings. Light was coming from somewhere, caressing the clay walls of the cave.

“You okay, Sandburg?”

Blair looked at the Sentinel. Jim stood in front of one of the walls, his hand resting lightly on the surface. His eyes held Blair’s for a moment, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, Jim. I think so.” Carefully, he sat up. “What are you doing?”

“There’s something behind this wall, I think. It’s humming — kind of.”

“Humming?” With a grunt, Blair shifted his feet beneath him and pushed himself to unsteady feet, the backpack hanging from one shoulder.

“Yeah, I –”

A sudden crack was all the warning they got.

“Watch out!” Jim lunged for Blair, tackling him hard and sending them both to the ground.

The wall collapsed, rock and dirt raining down over them. Seconds later, the chaos subsided, and Blair squirmed beneath his friend’s heavy mass.

“Jim?”

“You okay?”

“I will be as soon as you get off of me. I can’t breath.”

Immediately, the weight lifted and Blair rolled to his back, looking up at Jim. His eyes shot passed the detective to the unbelievable sight now revealed. “Oh my God.”

Jim’s brow furrowed curiously, and he turned around, his spine going rigid when he saw it. “What on Earth…?”

Blair swallowed hard. “Jim, man, I’m not sure that thing is from Earth.” He rose slowly to his feet, moving past Jim to stand in front of the thing. It looked metallic, rising from the floor to some indefinite point beyond the roof of the make-shift cave and extending beyond the confines of the cave in width. Hieroglyphic-type markings lay etched in the otherwise smooth, luminous surface. They were not Egyptian, of that Blair was certain. They did look vaguely familiar, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen those exact symbols before.

The “metal” itself seemed to give off a soft light, but Blair had no idea what was providing the power for that light. Now that he stood close to the thing, without the buffer of the soil wall, he could sense the hum that Jim had mentioned. It wasn’t a sound, exactly, but not a feeling either.

Whatever it was, it was strange. Very strange.

“Oh, man.” His heart thudded with excitement. “This is so cool.” His right hand rose slowly to the thing, and his fingers brushed over the script. It felt warm, and he thought he could detect a faint vibration. When his fingers passed over a circular, spiral-like symbol, a faint click sounded and part of the metal bulged outward.

Blair jerked his hand back, but overcame his surprise quickly.

“What’s that?” Jim asked.

Blair shrugged, leaning closer to inspect the object. It looked like an ordinary grayish stone. Carefully, he touched it.

“Blair, watch –”

Jim’s warning was cut off when the thing exploded to life, filling the cave with a blinding light and an agonizing, high-pitched sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, another Sunday on the job. You think your theory about how there’s no crime on Sundays will hold this time?”

Starsky shrugged, steering the Torino around a corner. His lips twitched upward in a smile. “Hey, it’s not my theory. I read it. And, ‘sides, it ain’t my fault the criminals in this city don’t follow the stats. Lunch?”

“Sure, but no grease pits this time.”

Starsky pressed on the accelerator and sped through the intersection, beating the yellow light. “‘Kay, how ’bout just The Pits, then?”

“Don’t you think Huggy’s had enough of us this week?”

Starsky flashed a grin at his partner. “Maybe, blondie, but his new waitress hasn’t.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “I have yet to figure out which is bigger, Starsk — your stomach or your libido.”

The radio cackled to life. “All units, shots fired at the corner of Sixth and Welbourne. Officer down.”

Hutch grabbed the radio. “This is Zebra 3. We are responding.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Light. Sound. Pain. Then darkness.

Some time later, he opened his eyes to a clear, blue sky. The warm solar rays stung his cheeks. His head pounded, and he raised his head just as a high-pitched scream slammed against his eardrums. He winced, the throbbing in his head exploding to agony.

Two quick gunshots blasted to the right, and he jerked into a sitting position, forgetting the pain in his head. Another scream — a woman. He saw a uniformed police officer laying in an expanding pool of blood on the sidewalk. The vacant black-and-white sedan lay parked at an angle nearby, its driver-side door hanging open while the siren lights revolved lazily.

“Come on!”

Blair looked up to see a fair-skinned, balding man grab a frail woman by the arm. He carried a gun in his free hand and took off at a run, dragging the woman behind him as he turned a corner and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~

The red Torino with the blazing white stripe screeched to a halt next to the squad car, the siren cutting off with an indignant wail. Both doors flew open, and the detectives crouched behind them cautiously, scanning the area. A crowd was slowly gathering around the fallen man, his victim’s blue uniform slacks visible amidst the onlookers.

Starsky shot to his feet, tucked his gun in its holster, and pushed his way through the spectators. Hutch followed close behind, an audible curse exploding from the younger man when he saw the officer.

Starsk crouched next to the man and felt along his neck for a pulse. Swallowing hard, he looked up at Hutch and shook his head. Anger swelled in his chest, making his jaw tight and his eyes hooded. Slowly, he rose, his eyes floating over the now-silent crowd.

Hutch leaned closer to Starsky, his voice low. “I’ll call it in.” With a pat on his partner’s shoulder, Hutch turned and headed back to the Torino.

“Did anyone see what happened?” Starsky asked the crowd.

A young woman in the front raised her hand. She looked no more than twenty, with chestnut hair and dark, brown eyes. “I… I didn’t exactly see what happened. I heard the shots and I looked out the window.” She pointed to a small diner across the street. “There was a man running down the sidewalk with a woman. I saw the officer down already. Another man was sitting a few feet away from the officer. He looked kind of dazed and got to his feet — all shaky and stuff. He stumbled off that way.” She pointed in the direction of the squad car. “The same way the man and woman went.”

Starsky pulled out his small notebook and patted his jacket pockets for a pen. Coming up empty, he looked up at the woman, an embarrassed smile gracing his face. “Uh…”

A pen appeared in front of his face from another bystander. He snatched it and mumbled a “thanks” then wrote the information on the pad. “Can you describe them?”

The woman shrugged. “I only saw the man and woman from the back. The man was about your height, the woman a couple of inches shorter. The guy had blond, stringy hair and real old clothes, like he’d shopped at a thrift store and then slept in them for three nights. You know what I mean? The woman wasn’t much better, dark hair, skinny.” She shrugged again. “That’s all I can tell you about them.”

“What about the other guy?”

“A little bit shorter than you maybe. I’m not sure. Kind of thin, but not scrawny. Long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had a tan backpack, and he was wearing a black jacket and jeans.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh… Hell.” Jim reluctantly opened his eyes.

He saw dirt. In fact, his right cheek was pressed into it. With a moan, he lifted his head and used his left arm to roll himself onto his back. Doing a quick scan of himself, he realized the only thing that hurt was his head. Fortunately, the pain was manageable. Carefully, he sat up, taking a better look at his surroundings.

A paved country road stretched as far as his eyes could see — which had to be pretty damn far. He was sprawled on the side of the road amidst a cluster of pine trees.

Blair was nowhere to be seen. “Sandburg?” He rose to his feet, extending his hearing. The only sounds he heard were those of various wildlife in the brush.

His partner was nowhere nearby — at least not alive. His chest tightened, fear rising to his throat. He didn’t know where he was or what exactly had happened, but his first priority was finding Blair — hopefully safe and unharmed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair’s head was killing him. He’d stumbled after the duo, vaguely looking for a phone as he kept an eye on where they headed. His years of working with the police had instilled in him a particular sense of duty toward the men in uniform, a concept he would have laughed at before he met Jim.

Not that he’d ever been ‘anti-cop,’ but as his mother had never been too fond of “the pigs,” some of that attitude had rubbed off on him, especially during his adolescence when he’d engaged in protests. He’d been hassled by the cops on more than one occasion during his ‘sit-in’ and ‘tree-hugging’ days.

But now he was working with the police — unofficially partnered to Detective James Ellison. Ironic and a bit scary at times, but he wouldn’t change it for anything.

The two suspects soon got far ahead of him, and, finally, he lost them. He did, however, spot a payphone up ahead next to a newsstand. Taking a deep breath as he tried to ignore the pounding in his head, he hurried to the phone.

As he grabbed the receiver, he took a good look around. Where the hell was he, anyway? And what had happened? He remembered going hiking with Jim and… and… falling. They’d fallen into some kind of cave and found a…. something. Then there had been an explosion of light and sound. And then he’d found himself sprawled on an unfamiliar street.

What exactly had happened? He didn’t recognize the streets or buildings, and he knew Cascade pretty well. The cop car had been black-and-blue, but Cascade’s squad units were mostly blue and white.

He punched the 9 on the phone, then stopped when a headline from one of the nearby newspapers jumped out at him —

Jonestown Cult Commit Mass Suicide

“What the –” Blair dropped the receiver and wandered in a near-daze toward the newspaper. The proprietor of the newsstand gave him a strange look but said nothing.

The headline decorated the front page of the Los Angeles Times. He read the article, confused. Was this a retrospective? Why talk about something that happened over twenty years ago? It wasn’t even the anniversary of the tragedy, was it? Jonestown had happened in… uh… 1978, if he remembered correctly. He’d been about 9 years old at the time. His eyes skimmed over the first paragraph.

Four hundred and eight American citizens committed suicide yesterday at a communal village they’d built in the jungle in Northwest Guyana. The community has come to be known as “Jonestown.” The dead were all members of a group known as “The People’s Temple” which was led by the Reverend Jim Jones.

Blair’s brow furrowed. Yesterday? His eyes darted to the issue date of the paper, and he gasped.

November 19, 1978.

~~~~~~~~~~

A somber mood filled the Torino as the two detectives headed back to the station to get started on the paperwork for the shooting. A newscaster’s disembodied voice floated faintly from the speakers, talking about traffic… then sports… then news.

When Starsky heard the word “Jonestown,” he stiffened, his fingers gripping the steering wheel more tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hutch throw a concerned look his way.

Starsky cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “What are you looking like that for?”

Hutch looked out the window. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Starsky felt a twinge in his chest. Had he snapped? He’d thought he’d sounded casual enough, but Hutch’s reaction told him maybe his question had come out a bit too harshly.

“S’okay, buddy. If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, stop thinking it. Marcus and his groupies are long gone, and just ’cause there are other crazies out there making cults don’t mean nothing to me.” He glanced over at Hutch, surprised to meet the concerned blue eyes. He’d expected Hutch to still be glancing out the window. It was a lot easier for him to do the bravado stuff if he didn’t have to look into those eyes…

Hutch smiled slightly and nodded. “Okay, partner. I know that.”

“I hardly even think about it, anymore.”

“Okay.” Hutch looked back out the window. “Hey, we never did get lunch. You wanna stop on the way to the station?”

Starsky frowned. Seeing a dead cop and then hearing more about the Jonestown stuff had driven his appetite away. “Sure, if you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit.” Blair was hurting. His head seemed ready to explode, driving most rational thought from his brain. He needed pain killers and a place to sleep before anything else. He couldn’t think until he got rid of the pounding headache.

Squinting against the bright daylight, he stumbled into a drugstore and headed for the health aisle. Excedrin Migraine — that’s what he needed. Although he didn’t normally like to take drugs, right now he’d shoot himself to stop the pain, so he figured popping a few pills would be somewhat healthier.

He searched for the familiar red and black box, but didn’t see it. His headache screamed, and he rubbed a hand over his face and then resumed his search. He spotted something labeled Excedrin Extra Strength — which he knew was identical to Excedrin Migraine — but in a container he didn’t recognize. Impatient, he grabbed it and turned toward the front of the store.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he stumbled a couple of steps backward, nearly colliding with a display of maxipads. Reaching out, he steadied himself on the shelf and closed his eyes, taking several slow, deep breaths. The backpack weighed heavy on his shoulders, and he vaguely tried to remember what he’d packed, but the pain prevented him from focusing.

He opened his eyes and headed for the counter, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. Fortunately, there was no one in line, so he stepped right up to the cashier and slapped the box on the counter, then pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

He barely looked at the cashier, noting only that it was a dark-haired man — until the guy slammed the bill back on the counter and leaned forward.

“Look, mister, what are you trying to pull? I don’t take no play money!”

Blair winced at the loudness of the cashier’s voice, raising one hand to rub at his temple. “Huh?”

The cashier grabbed the twenty and waved it in front of his face. “This! Now, you got something in there that’s real, or dontcha?”

Blair squinted at the money. It was one of the newer twenty dollar bills with the off-centered face. The man had obviously never seen it before.

God, could it really be 1978?

Too exhausted to think, he simply grabbed the twenty, stuffed it back in his wallet, and pulled out an older five dollar bill with a traditionally-centered face.

The guy mumbled something, took the money, and then handed over a heap of change. Blair frowned, figuring the guy must have thought he’d been handed a ten, but was too tired and in too much pain to even attempt to correct the error. He didn’t even glance at the money as he stuffed it in his billfold and returned the wallet to his pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim managed to focus through the pain enough to lower the dial on the headache, but the throbbing still persisted in the background. For the moment, he ignored it and yanked his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He punched the POWER button, but his jaw clenched when he read the “NO SIGNAL” message.

With a sigh, he shut off the phone and tucked it back in his pocket, then began a slow and weary trek down the road toward what he hoped would end up being civilization.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, after typing up their respective reports, Starsky and Hutch hit the streets again. They didn’t have much to go on except for three vague descriptions, so they decided to canvas the area and see what they could find.

After speaking with local shop owners in the vicinity with no luck, they finally extended their inquiries to neighboring streets. They found a lead with a newsstand proprietor.

Starsky held the pen poised over the pad. “Okay, Mr. Mallie, I’ve got him down as late twenties, medium height, medium build, with long, dark hair, and a tan backpack.” He scribbled the information. “That right?”

“Yes.” The proprietor nodded. He was a short, balding man in his fifties. “I noticed him because he looked kind of strange. He staggered up almost like he was drunk, then headed for the phone, but he never completed his call. He just let the receiver drop and then stared at the newspaper.” He pointed to the Los Angeles Times. “His clothes were dirty, too, and he looked a bit rough around the edges.”

Hutch casually inspected the items proffered in the newsstand. “Which way did he go?”

Mr. Mallie pointed east. “That way. He stepped into the drugstore across the street.”

Starsky noted that information on his pad and then walked over to the phone, peering at the receiver. “Has anyone used this phone since him?”

“Uh, yeah.” The proprietor shrugged. “Lots of people.”

Starsky sighed. “Great.” Officer Polaski, he’d discovered, had been the fallen officer. He’d had a wife and a young daughter. They needed to get some leads on the suspects. He wouldn’t let them get away with killing a brother in blue.

Hutch placed a gentle hand on Starsky’s shoulder, and Starsky almost smiled. His partner always could read him.

“Thank you, Mr. Mallie.” Starsky closed his notebook and slid it into his jacket pocket. He glanced at Hutch. “Let’s go check out the drugstore, buddy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair swayed, grabbing onto the counter for support. The clerk looked up at him, apparently unfazed by Blair’s condition. His reaction said a lot about the quality of the motel’s regular clientele.

Blair took out his wallet. “A room, please.”

“Single or double?”

“Single.”

“Pay up front.”

Blair withdrew the $100 dollar bill he always kept in his wallet. Since the twenty was useless, the hundred was all he had to work with.

“One night for now.”

The clerk’s eyes lit up as he took the hundred. “Sure thing, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky, once again with notepad in hand and a borrowed pen, leaned on the counter as he took the clerk’s unofficial statement. “And how long ago was this?”

“A couple of hours, I guess.”

“And the twenty dollar bill — you’re sure it was counterfeit?”

The clerk barked a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure. It looked like play money. Wasn’t even close to the real thing. I was kinda reluctant to take the five, but I don’t get paid enough to play with trouble, you know? And the guy definitely looked like trouble.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He was squinting like he was hurtin’. Looked like maybe he’d been in a fight, too, or something. Who knows what he was on, but I just wanted him out.”

“What did he buy?”

“Huh?”

“The guy — What did he buy here?”

“Oh. A bottle of Excedrin, I think.”

“Just that?”

The clerk nodded. “Yeah. So, uh, what’d he do?”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances. Then Starsky flipped the notepad closed leaned back. “Right now we just want to question him about a shooting.”

“Shooting?” The clerk’s eyebrows rose. “You think he had a g–?”

Starsky interrupted the clerk. “Did you happen to see which way he went?”

“Not really. I think he turned right when he headed out the doors.”

Hutch moved away from the counter. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been most helpful.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim finally made it to the outskirts of the city. His first stop was a payphone at a small gas station. Stepping into the booth, he fished in his jean pocket for some change, prepared to deposit thirty-five cents. He felt for a quarter and a dime, but then spotted the “10 cents” displayed prominently next to the coin slot.

Ten cents? He shrugged and withdrew a dime, then slid the coin into the slot. He could barely remember the last time he’d only had to use a dime at a payphone.

First, he dialed Blair’s cell phone number, using the area code since they had gone hiking outside of Cascade. A voice came on the line and informed him he did not have enough money for the long distance call. That didn’t surprise him, so he fished out seventy five cents worth of change — just to play it safe — and deposited the money, then tried again.

This time, the line rang and a woman answered. “First National Bank. This is Deborah speaking. How may I help you?”

He frowned. “Excuse me? Is this 555-3432?”

“Yes it is.”

“Uh… Sorry, I guess I have the wrong number.”

“No problem, sir.”

Jim hung up the receiver, his brow lined with confusion. He pulled out his wallet and withdrew his calling card, then tried a call to Major Crime. This time the operator’s voice told him he’d made an error.

Frustrated, he slammed the receiver on the cradle and scrubbed a hand over his face. This was getting ridiculous.

Okay, collect. Can’t go wrong there. Taking a deep breath, he once again grabbed the receiver and, this time, dialed the operator and placed a collect call to Simon’s direct office line.

He listened as the operator dialed the number, but it came back as having been disconnected..

“I’m sorry, sir,” the operator said. “Are you sure you have the number correct?’

Jim sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.” He hung up the receiver.

What the hell is going on here?

He had only one other thing to try. 911. Quickly, he punched in the numbers. The line remained silent for several long seconds. Then it rang. After two rings, an operator answered.

“Operator. Can I help you?”

Jim looked heavenward. What was with this telephone? How could 911 not work? Still, at least he now had a live person on the line who could help him. Finally! “This is Detective James Ellison with the Cascade Police Department. I was hiking with a companion near Bolder Path outside of Cascade. The phone I’m dialing from is….” He looked at the number above the hook and nearly dropped the phone. The area code was one he didn’t recognize.

Just where the hell am I?

“Sir?”

Frowning, he rattled off the number, his brain straying from the conversation as he tried to make sense of his situation.

“Are you injured?”

“Uh… I’m not sure. I don’t think so. My head hurts, though. Look, can you just send a unit out here? I’m not sure what’s happened, but my companion is missing. We were hiking and there was an earthquake. We took a tumble down…”

“Sir, there have been no earthquakes in this area.”

Jim’s frustration grew, and his headache flared a few notches higher. “Look, I don’t know what happened. Earthquake or not, there was a shaking and we took a tumble. The ground caved in… ” He paused, struggling to remember the details. “I’m not sure what happened after that. There was some kind of an explosion… I think… Maybe.” He shook his head and leaned against the booth. “I’m not sure, exactly. But, look, I was hiking with a friend, and he’s now missing.”

“Okay, sir, I have your location. Just stay there and I’ll send help out right away.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh thank you, God. Blair collapsed hard on to the saggy motel mattress. The impact kicked his headache into high gear, and, with a groan, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, trying to find a handle against the pain and nausea.

He needed to call someone. But in a minute. He just needed a minute to rest and give the pills a chance to do their stuff.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, what next?” Starsky slid behind the wheel.

Hutch closed his door and looked at his watch. “Well, we’re officially off-duty in ten minutes.”

Starsky started the engine. “Yeah, but if we’re gonna track this guy, the sooner the better. By mornin’ his trail could be cold.”

“How ’bout we head on over to Huggy’s for a bite and some information.”

“Sounds good to me, partner.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Huggy Bear set a plate of hamburger and fries in front of Starsky and a chicken sandwich in front of Hutch. “So what can I do for you, gentlemen?”

Starsky grabbed the ketchup bottle and tried to untwist the cap, grunting slightly as it initially resisted his efforts. “Just… uh…” the cap gave with an audible pop. “There was a shooting on Welbourne today. A cop got hit.”

Huggy nodded and plopped into the vacant chair. “Yeah, I heard.”

Hutch leaned over his plate, his eyes focused on the eccentric black man. “Know anything about it?”

“Hey, man, I just heard, that’s all. I don’t know who did what.”

Starsky munched on his fries. “You know a guy about medium build ‘n height with cuwy, dark, lnnng hair? Wearin’ a black ‘acket and carrying a tan backpack. Late twenties, caucasian.”

Huggy shook his head. “Nope. Nobody comes to mind off-hand.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Starsk.”

The older detective straightened indignantly. “Hey, Hugs understood me.”

Huggy chuckled and slapped a hand on Starsky’s arm. “That I did, my man, but only because I’m used to your mumblings by now.”

“That may be, but I don’t like to see your food in its initial stages of digestion.”

Starsky smiled and popped a fry in his mouth. “It’s all part of nature’s circle. I thought you were into that stuff. From the plate, to the mouth, through the –”

“Thank you very much,” Hutch interrupted. “I understand the process just fine. I just don’t want to have to watch it while I’m trying to eat.”

Starsky tossed one of his french fries at Hutch, then quickly turned back to Huggy, ignoring his partner’s mumbled threats. “How ’bout a man and a woman? Guy has stringy, blond hair. Scrawny. The woman is thin with dark hair.”

Huggy shook his head. “Hell, that could be half the people in this town.”

Hutch nodded, frustration showing in his eyes. “I know.”

“Well, Huggy, if you see any of them, will you let us know?” Starsky asked.

“Sure thing, as long as you leave me a nice tip.” He rose from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be getting back to my entrepreneurial duties.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair woke some time later. The room lay in a shroud of darkness, and he searched for the clock on his nightstand. When he didn’t find it, he sat up, awakening the headache in his skull. He winced, and memory returned suddenly. He wasn’t in his room at the loft. He was in a motel room, in a strange place, maybe even a strange time. If he could just get his brain around that concept….

Fortunately, the pain remained at a low, tolerable level. The Excedrin must have done something, but it obviously hadn’t been enough to kick the thing. He’d take two more and hope for the best. At least he didn’t feel sick to his stomach, anymore.

“There must be a light here somewhere,” he mumbled, his voice thick and drowsy.

With a groan, he rose to his feet and moved slowly toward where he remembered the door being. It was amazing how dark it could get in a hotel room. The thick curtains obviously were meant for privacy.

He bumped into the wall and came to an abrupt halt. Reaching out with his hands, he felt for and found the light switch. When he hit it, light immediately flooded the room, stinging his eyes and making him wince.

He spotted the phone on a small bureau next to the bed. He shuffled over to it, pains in his back and ribs making themselves known. He hadn’t felt anything but the headache before, but now, after a dose of headache pills and a few hours of sleep, stiff, sore muscles were making themselves known. He wondered if he’d hurt anything in his tumble down the mountainside.

Easing himself on the mattress, he picked up the receiver and dialed Jim’s cell phone number. After two rings, an unfamiliar male voice answered.

“Yeah?”

“Hello?”

“Who is this?’

“Uh… sorry, wrong number.” He slammed the receiver on the cradle. Okay, Jim’s cell phone number isn’t his cell phone number. That was another fact he filed away to help his brain come to terms with the idea that he just might not be in his own decade.

One more try. He picked up the phone and dialed the loft. If it was 1999, the machine should answer. If it was 1978….

After two rings, a woman answered, her voice breathless. “Hello?”

Blair closed his eyes. “Wrong number. Sorry.”

Damn. He hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands. What the hell was he going to do? Well, think of something. He opened his eyes and scanned the room idly, and his gaze rested on the television. It was a small, older model, perched on top of the bureau. He looked around, but didn’t see a remote. Rising from the bed, he switched on the television and flipped through the channels until he found a news station.

Sinking back on the bed, he listened as the reporters described the current events… Jonestown. Inflation. Upcoming local Thanksgiving ceremonies and celebrations.

And a shooting. The blonde reporter, her hair straight and hanging to her shoulders, stared somberly at the camera as she finished her report on the incident. “Officer Polaski left behind a wife and young daughter. Police are still investigating the shooting, but are on the lookout for three persons spotted at the scene of the crime….”

Blair sat in stunned silence as he listened to the descriptions and realized he was, in fact, a suspect.

Great. He swallowed hard and fell back on the mattress, closing his eyes. What now?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim sat in the open back of the ambulance, his head propped against the wall as he tried to stay focused on the conversation with the search and rescue coordinator.

“You sure you can’t give us a better time estimate?”

Jim sighed. “I told you. I was unconscious for awhile.” He raised his wrist. “My watch got smashed in the fall. It stopped at one-thirty.”

“It’s about seven, now. I guess that’s what we’ll have to go with.”

Jim leaned forward. “I’m coming with you.”

The rescuer shook his head. “No, sir, you –”

“Detective. James Ellison. Cascade P.D.”

“We checked that out already. Cascade P.D. has no record of you or Blair Sandburg.”

Jim suppressed the urge to hit something. Instead, he yanked out his badge. “It’s right here, see? And that gun you confiscated is my duty weapon. And this –” He pulled out his license, “is my I.D. Now –”

“Wait a minute…” The rescuer peered at the license. “What are you trying to pull here? That’s a fake I.D. if I ever saw one. And, according to the birthdate, you’re not even old enough to vote yet.”

Jim straightened. “What the hell are you talking about? It says 1962. Can’t you add?”

“Yes, I can. It’s now 1978. That makes you sixteen according to your I.D.”

Jim’s jaw went slack. “What?”

“Look, Mister –”

“Detective James Ellison.” A flare of anger tightened Jim’s chest. He was rapidly loosing patience. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but if he didn’t get some answers soon, he’d pop someone.

“Yeah, sure. Look, if you and your friend were getting high on something out here –”

Jim had two fistfuls of the man’s shirt in his hands. “Listen you –”

“Back off!” Hands grabbed him, prying his fingers open, and he finally released his grip.

Jim looked at one of the men holding him, and he forced himself calm. In a low, even voice, he asked. “What’s the date today?”

The young man answered without hesitation. “November 19.”

“The year?”

“Uh….” His brow furrowed, and he glanced uncertainly at the other men. “It’s 1978, sir.”

The breath left Jim’s lungs suddenly, shock making his hands cold. “1978?”

“Yes, sir. Uh, why don’t you just get on the stretcher? We’ll take you down to the hospital and get your head looked at. You probably banged it up pretty good in the fall.”

“Yeah.” Jim nodded absently. Whatever was going on, he needed to play it cool or else he’d end up either in a padded room or a jail cell, and he couldn’t afford risking that, not with Sandburg missing.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Will you be careful? You’re getting coffee on my seat!”

Hutch threw a glare at Starsky from the passenger seat. “Well, if you wouldn’t drive like this car was a go-cart, maybe I’d be able to drink this without getting drenched.”

“You couldn’t wait ’til you got home for another cup of coffee? You have any idea how hard coffee stains are to get out?”

“Fine!” Hutch guzzled the last of the warm liquid then tossed the cup in the backseat.

“Hey!” Starsky slammed on his breaks at a red light, twisting to peer at into the back seat. “Look at that. Why you gotta make a mess in my car?”

“Your car’s already a mess back there.”

“Because of you!”

“Well, we could drive my car more often.”

Starsky straightened in his seat. “Not a chance. We’d never catch any of the bad guys in your junk heap. Not to mention what being seen in that disaster would do to my image.”

“Zebra three come in.”

Hutch grabbed the radio. “This is Zebra 3.”

“Captain Dobey requests you return to base.”

Starsky groaned. “We’re off-duty!”

Hutch pressed the button and replied in a more professional tone. “Ten-Four. We are returning to base.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, Captain, what’s this about?” Starsky fidgeted impatiently in front of Dobey’s desk. “It’s Sunday. We been on all day. It couldn’t wait ’til morning?”

Dobey rose from his seat. “No, it couldn’t wait until morning!”

He tossed a file at Starsky, who caught it deftly against his chest. Hutch remained wisely quiet in the background.

Dobey sank back to his chair. “Some guy called in off of Route 15 earlier today. Says he was hiking with a friend and took a tumble. He described his missing friend as a Caucasian male in his late twenties with long, dark hair, wearing jeans and a black jacket and carrying a tan backpack. Sound familiar?”

Hutch straightened. “That’s one of our suspects.”

Starsky opened the report and skimmed through it. “Blair Sandburg.” He looked up. “That’s the name of the guy we’re looking for?”

Dobey nodded. “Possibly.”

Hutch peered over Starsky shoulder at the file. “Uh… Wait a minute, though. This area of Route 15 is quite a ways from the crime scene. According to the time frame reported here, the guy shouldn’t have been at the crime scene this morning. According to this, he was hiking with his friend at that time.” He reached over Starsky and flipped the page. “This Jim Ellison guy says his watch got smashed and stopped at one-thirty, hours after the shooting.” He looked up at the captain. “This can’t be our guy.”

“Maybe, but that’s not all that’s strange about this. Turn to the next page.”

Starsky complied, his eyes skimming over the page. “Says he had a gun, a fake ID with a bad date, a fake badge, and some weird gadget on him.”

“He claims it’s a phone, but it looks more like something out of Star Trek. And Cascade P.D. never heard of him or his friend, Blair Sandburg. We even called Rainier University where this Sandburg guy is supposedly working on his PhD, but, again, they haven’t heard of him. Anyway, he’s in the hospital now, getting his head checked out. Apparently, he’s changed his story a bit since they brought him up. Now he claims he hit his head pretty hard in the fall and just got confused about certain things. But, other than that, he’s not talking.”

The phone rang, and the captain snatched it up. “Captain Dobey here….” His brow furrowed, and he shot out of his chair. “Well how the hell did that happen?! How long ago?… Damnit! Hold on a minute!” He looked up at Starsky and Hutch. “Ellison’s turned up missing. Seems he escaped from the hospital. He knocked out the cop on duty and stole his gun..”

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair woke up hungry, the buzz of voices filling the small room. He’d fallen asleep with the lights and television on, and, again, it took him a couple of seconds to remember where he was and what had happened.

He sat up and pulled his watch from his pocket, then realized that it was probably wrong about the time. He glanced at it anyway and saw that it had stopped at one forty-five. With a sigh, he stuffed it back in his pocket and rose slowly to his feet.

His headache, at least, was gone. His back felt a bit stiff, but he didn’t think it would get much worse. All things considered, he felt like he was in pretty good shape now that his head no longer pounded.

First on his list was food. He shuffled to the window and pulled back the drape. It was dark outside, but that’s all he could tell about the time. Still, there were always 24-hour places in these type of cities. Maybe he could find a Denny’s and grab a hamburger. He’d eat anything at this point.

Moving to the bureau, he tried the top drawer and found a phone book. Yanking it out, he plopped on the bed and rifled through the RESTAURANTS section. His eyes found a listing for THE PITS, an oddly named restaurant, but the address told him it was just a few blocks away, on the same street as the hotel. Located beneath the name, the ad read “Open Late.”

Perfect. He still had no idea what was going on, but he couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d witnessed a cop’s murder and was now a suspect.

He couldn’t let himself be grabbed by the cops — at least not until he figured out what was going on. Was he really in 1978? If so, the only explanation that made sense had to involve that thing he and Jim had found in the cave. But, where was Jim now, and how the hell could he get back to his own time?

He had no answers, but he could start by grabbing a bite to eat — once he did something about his appearance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair stopped in front of the entrance to The Pits, eyeing the run-down squarish structure apprehensively. His stomach growled, as if in reminder, and he adjusted the furry cap on his head, making sure the ear flaps were in place. Jim always laughed at him when he wore the hat, but it kept him warm through Cascade’s chilly winters. Right now, he couldn’t care less how he looked in it, as long as it hid his hair, which he’d pulled back in a tighter ponytail and stuffed beneath the hat. He was thankful beyond measure that he’d tossed the hat in his backpack before heading out on the trail with Jim.

He’d left his jacket back at the hotel since he’d been wearing it at he crime scene. The night wasn’t that cold, which told him for sure that he wasn’t in Cascade. The phone book back at the hotel had been for Bay City, but he’d never heard of the place. However, most of the car license plates he’d seen were from California, so he guessed he was somewhere in the Golden state.

He walked into the dimly-lit establishment and noted the well-stocked bar. A scrawny black man stood behind the counter. He was hard to miss dressed in a tacky hat, a blue vest over top a fluffy, white shirt, and a bright orange scarf. Blair’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Either the bartender was blind or this really was the 1970s.

Suppressing a snicker, Blair headed for a small booth located in a far, inconspicuous corner. He’d give his order to a waitress and then just sit back and do what he did best — observe.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair finally left when the place closed, reluctant to go back to his lonely hotel room. He’s spent the hours sitting in the booth, sipping slowly at beer after beer, trying not to let the knot of fear about his circumstances consume him. At the very least, he was now positive he really was in 1978. Half the customers in The Pits had been wearing bell bottoms, and, now, as he hailed a cab to go back to his motel room, he studied the passing vehicles. All the models were of the 70s and earlier, and he’d even seen a Yugo.

A Yugo. Man, he’d forgotten those things had ever even existed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim Ellison woke to a bright day. Birds chirped overhead amidst the canopy of leaves. It took his sleep-muddied brain only a second to remember where he was, and he shot to his feet.

He’d returned to the area in which he’d woken up to search for Sandburg under the cover of darkness. If any cops or rescuers remained in the area, his Sentinel senses would give him a huge advantage in evading them before they got anywhere near him.

Fortunately, they’d all apparently gone home because he’d encountered no one — not even Sandburg. He’d spent almost the entire night searching, but he hadn’t so much as found a clue to his partner’s whereabouts.

He tried to suppress the knot of frustration and fear in his gut and told himself that, at least, he hadn’t found Sandburg’s dead body.

But the thought occurred to him that maybe the rescuers had beat him to it. Maybe he hadn’t found anything because they already had.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair walked into the public library. He’d spent the morning shopping. Although he knew he needed to conserve his dwindling cash supply, he also needed to change his appearance. So, he’d purchased some cheap, used clothes, a wig, and an old, denim backpack at the thrift store.

He thought he looked ridiculous in the curly blond wig, but it was the only thing he could find that didn’t look like a wig when he wore it. It gave him a somewhat Einstein-like appearance, especially since he’d put on his glasses.

Jim would bust a gut if he saw me now. A pang twisted in his chest at the thought of his partner, but since he had no idea where Jim was — or even what decade he might be in — he could only hope the Sentinel was okay.

His laptop weighed heavily in the backpack, and Blair shifted the burden on his shoulders as he walked up to the counter. A young red-headed woman stood behind the counter, her head down as she skimmed over some papers.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?” He spotted the morning paper on a desk behind her and paled when he saw the headline about the officer’s death.

She looked up at him with a smile. “Yes?”

Tearing his eyes away from the newspaper, he managed a smile. “Can you tell me where the anthropology books are? Or ancient language? Hieroglyphics? Mythology? That sort of thing.”

“Sure. All the social science type stuff is on the second floor at the east end of the building.”

“Thank you.”

He spun around and hurried to the stairs, eager to get started on his research. He also intended to locate a copy of that paper to find out whether the police were still looking for someone matching his description as a possible suspect and whether they had located the other two spotted at the scene.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ring!

Huggy snatched up the phone as he continued to wipe the counter. “You have reached The Pits, the finest establishment –”

“Huggy, Biggs.”

“Hey, Biggs, my man. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. It’s what I can do for you.”

Huggy dropped the rag on the counter and leaned against the wood. “Yeah? I’m all ears.”

“I have some information for you about that cop-killer.”

“I’m listening.”

“Is it worth some money to you from those two cops… uh… ”

“Starsky and Hutch. Yeah?”

“Will this square us? You and me?”

Huggy sighed. “Yeah, okay. Even Stephen, my man. Now give.”

“A guy checked in here yesterday. Could be him. I read about it in the paper this morning, guy matches the description. Checked in with a hundred dollar bill.”

Huggy smiled. “What room?”

“Two-oh-seven.”

“Thanks, Biggs. Gotta go.” Huggy hung up the phone, then dialed the police station.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I just don’t understand how a cop can be shot in broad daylight and we end up with nothing.” Starsky slapped the desk half-heartedly, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. “We got squat. Two useless descriptions of possibles and one description of someone who ain’t turning up.”

Hutch looked up from the typewriter where he was working on finishing a report. “Yeah, well, a cop gets killed and the only people who care about it are other cops. We’re not exactly popular on the street unless we’re waving green around, Starsk.”

“Yeah, well, we better hit the bank because I want these punks.”

Ring!

Hutch grabbed the phone. “Hutchinson here….” His eyes shot to Starsky as he listened to the caller. “Yeah… Yeah… Got it.” He snatched a loose pen from the desk and quickly scribbled the information on the nearest paper he could find. “Thanks, Huggy. Consider the check in the mail.” Slamming the receiver down, he shot to his feet. “Come on, Starsk. Huggy just got a tip from a motel clerk about our guy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim leaned forward to adjust the scanner and bumped his head on the roof of the VW bug.

“Ouch. Goddamnit!”

He hated the car, but it was the only thing he could afford at the moment, and he needed transportation. He’d had $200 in his wallet, and, thankfully, they’d left it with his clothes back at the hospital, so he’d had no trouble reconfiscating it. The VW bug had cost him $60, and that, more than anything, told him he was really in 1978. How else would he find a $60 car that ran? Okay, so it didn’t run well, but it ran. Unfortunately, it tended to stall when stopped at lights and signs, and it had no backseat, no radio, no air conditioning, and the passenger door was crumpled.

It was also too damn small. He felt like a large sardine stuffed in a very tiny can.

The cackle of the police band scanner drew his attention from his car woes. He’d spent another $40 on the equipment, but it was well worth it. He needed to find Sandburg while avoiding the police, and this would give him the edge he needed.

“All units, A.P.B is still in effect for possible suspect/witness to shooting, possibly known as Blair Sandburg.. Caucasian male, late twenties, long, dark hair. Last seen dressed in a black jacket and carrying a tan backpack.”

Jim stiffened. His head smacked the roof again. “Damn!” Gingerly, he rubbed at the sore spot as he listened to the information repeat, his stomach churning anxiously. How the hell had Blair become a suspect in a shooting?

A few minutes later a message came in from “Zebra 3.” Jim again heard Sandburg’s name mentioned, along with a location, and he started the engine. It sputtered as he shifted to first, then evened out as he gunned it into second and barely made the light at the intersection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair set the book carefully on the bed. He hated having to steal from a public library, but he needed the book, and he wanted to be able to use his laptop in conjunction with the text — something he couldn’t do in public since personal computers were still only a dream.

The machine purred quietly on the mattress, and he opened his ARTICLES folder. He itched to get on the internet, but that, too, was still years away. Fortunately, his subscriptions to various journals almost all came with internet access, and he had made it a habit to download articles of interest and save them to his hard drive.

He’d never suspected such a habit would end up serving him so vitally. He turned to the page in the book where he’d found the symbol — the same circular, spiral-like symbol he’d seen on that thing in the cave. His heart thudded excitedly in his chest, and he shifted to face the laptop screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

He had several alphabets from various cultures all over the world stored in his laptop, but he’d have to search through them individually to see if he could spot a similar symbol. He was pretty sure none of the languages he was familiar with used such a symbol, and the book he’d found it in was a mythology book, of all things.

But many myths had roots in fact.

This particular myth came from a primitive village in Bali about nightwalkers who wandered the land at night searching for something. It was a tale parents used to keep their children from wandering too far after sunset, because the nightwalkers, while they kept to themselves, would not hesitate to kill anyone who stood in their paths.

According the the story, each nightwalker wore a medallion around his or her neck that looked very much like the symbol Blair had seen in the cave. However, he didn’t see any way the story could help him in his current predicament.

Knock! Knock! “Police! Open up!”

Blair jumped at the sudden pounding, his heart kicking into overdrive. How the hell had they found him? He slammed the laptop closed and looked toward the window, rising to his feet.

That’s as far as he got before the door burst inward, the frame splintering. Two figures flew through the doorway, one in a low crouch and the other high, both with guns held firmly in front of them.

The dark-haired man who’d gone low rose slowly to his feet, his gun trained on Blair. His partner, a blonde man, let the barrel of his gun drift toward the floor as he took a look around the room.

The dark-haired one jabbed his chin toward Blair. “Hands up and don’t move!”

Blair complied instantly. “What’s going on here? You got a warrant?”

The blonde man pulled a badge from his jacket. “I’m Detective Hutchinson and my partner here is Detective Starsky.” He moved over to the bed, his eyes falling to the open book and the closed laptop. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I asked you if you’ve got a warrant. You can’t just burst in here like this.”

Hutch raised his eyebrow and looked to his partner. “Warrant do we need a warrant?”

Starsky shook his head, his gun never wavering. “Nope. Not unless he has something to hide.” Starsky met Blair’s gaze. “Do you have something to hide?”

Blair swallowed nervously, keeping his hands high. “You have no right to be here. I want you to leave now.”

Hutch moved closer to the bed, stooping to pick up the laptop. “What’s this?”

Blair intercepted, grabbing the computer before Hutch could get a look at the machine. All he needed was a futuristic piece of technology falling into 1978 hands to disrupt the time-space continuum, or whatever time-space thing got disrupted in the movies when stuff like that happened.

As soon as his hands closed around the computer, a force tackled him from behind and slammed him face first into the wall. Hands patted him down, conducting a quick but thorough search of his body and clothes. Then a hand grabbed his wrist and painfully twisted his right arm up and back. A cry escaped his throat, and he pressed himself harder into the wall to ease the pressure on his elbow and shoulder.

“I said don’t move, punk.”

Blair managed a reply through clenched teeth. “Stop it, please. You’re gonna break my arm!”

The pressure on his arm eased, but Starsky still kept him in a firm hold. “Where were you yesterday morning at about nine-thirty?”

Blair closed his eyes, his legs suddenly weak. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I know my rights. And I know you have no right to knock down my door and search this place.”

Hutch grabbed the laptop, and Blair tensed, his eyes tracking the detective.

“I asked you what this was.” He hefted the item dangerously, then shook it, dislodging the ac adapter.

Blair took a deep, calming breath. “Please put it down. It’s very delicate.”

Hutch smiled. “Okay.” He tossed the item on the bed, and it bounced a few times, then slid off the edge and hit the floor.

Blair winced, praying the machine hadn’t been damaged.

“Oops.” Hutch shrugged, then grabbed the book, feigning interest in the contents. “Interesting reading.” He looked up at Blair. “You wouldn’t happen to know a man and a woman, would you? The guy has blonde hair, the woman dark. They were both seen running, along with you, from the scene of a shooting yesterday.” Hutch walked around the bed, peered down at the floor, then stooped and came up with Blair’s tan backpack. “You were seen carrying this.” He smiled and dropped the pack to the floor, then returned his attention to the book.

“I told you to get out of here! I don’t have to tell you anything, and you broke in here illegally.”

Hutch ignored Blair’s outburst as he leafed casually through the pages. “Oh this is very interesting.” His fingers grabbed a corner of one page and ripped it out violently. “Oops!” Crumbling the paper in his fist, he looked up at Blair and let the rolled ball fall to the floor. “Clumsy me.”

Blair swallowed, struggling to keep his voice steady. He needed the information in that book if he had any hope of getting home. “Please don’t… That’s… That’s a library book. I have to return it.”

Hutch looked to the inside cover. “Oh. So it is.” With a sigh, he tossed it back on the bed, then looked at Starsky. “Why don’t we invite our friend here down to the station where we can continue this conversation?”

Starsky nodded. “Yeah, and maybe he can tell us about a man named James Ellison.”

Blair tensed, his heart leaping to his throat. “What?”

“James Ellison,” Starsky explained, his voice flat. “You know him?”

“Uh…” Blair swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He desperately wanted to know what they knew about Jim — and how they knew it — but since he didn’t know what situation his friend was in, he didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing. He battled with the conflict for a few seconds, but, finally, his need to know about Jim won. “Yes, he’s a friend of mine. What’s happened?”

Starsky ignored the question. “How long have you known him?”

“A few years. Why do you ask? Is he okay?”

A third voice answered. “I’m fine, Chief.”

Starsky and Hutch spun around, their guns poised. Blair almost collapsed when released, but the wall held him upright. Slowly, he turned around to see Jim standing in the doorway, his gun trained on Hutch.

Relief washed over Blair, and he smiled, his eyes stinging at the welcome sight of his friend alive and unharmed. “Jim, man, am I glad to see you.” Absently, he rubbed the arm Starsky had twisted.

Jim raised an eyebrow, but his eyes never wavered from Hutch. “Same here, Chief. You want to get your stuff so we can get out of here?”

“You get no argument from me, man.” Blair cast an uncertain glance at Starsky, then slid past the man, who remained poised like a statue with his gun trained on Jim.

Moving quickly, Blair stuffed his computer, cord, and book into the tan backpack, leaving the denim pack and his wig on the floor. He used his good arm to swing the backpack over his shoulder, then shuffled slowly past Hutch, who also had his gun locked on Ellison, and moved to Jim’s side.

Jim used his free hand to reach into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a key and handed it to Blair, whispering so that Starsky and Hutch couldn’t hear. “There’s a blue VW bug parked out front. Get behind the wheel and start the engine. Be prepared to make a fast take-off. It’s a funny stick, though….”

Blair nodded. “I can handle it. The rig thing… remember?”

“See ya in a couple of seconds.”

Blair turned toward the stairs, then glanced back at Starsky and Hutch. He whispered low enough for Sentinel ears only, “Uh, you’re not going to hurt them, right?”

Jim shook his head. “Of course not, now go!”

“Be careful.” Blair took off at a run down the stairs.

Jim waited, tracking Blair’s hurried footsteps to the lower floor and then out to the sidewalk. He heard the car door open then slam and, finally, the engine start.

Starsky and Hutch remained poised for action.

“We’ve both got you covered.” Starsky held the gun steady. “You shoot him, I shoot you.”

Jim reached into his jacket pocket. “I know.” Moving with the speed and grace of a cat, he leapt backward, kicking the door shut, and snatched the small, trial-sized bottle of dishsoap he’d purchased at the corner store. It took him less than a second to pop the cap and squirt the contents on the floor as he fled toward the stairs.

The door opened after he’d made it only three steps. He heard a thud and muffled curses as one of the detectives slipped. It sounded like the other one merely stumbled but managed to retain his footing. Still, they were both slowed down enough for Jim to hop in the Volkswagen just as Blair slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

The VW bug didn’t make the most spectacular take-off. It sputtered a couple of times, threatening to stall, but then caught and roared away from the scene a second before the two detectives burst onto the sidewalk. Jim watched in his sideview mirror as the dark-haired detective ran around to the driver’s side and stopped abruptly, then slammed his fist on the roof and kicked the front tire.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Damnit!” Starsky hit the roof again. “I just put new tires on this thing!”

Hutch peered around the front of the car at the flat tire. “Great. Just great.” With a frustrated sigh, he moved back to the passenger side and opened the door, grabbing the radio and reporting the situation to dispatch.

“Did you get the plates, Starsk?”

“A48B839. Blue VW bug.”

Hutch relayed that information, then replaced the radio. “You got a spare?”

Starsky threw his hands up and stormed to the trunk. “Yeah, of course I got a spare! What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”

Hutch trotted back around to the front tire. “I’m going to reserve comment on that one.” He stooped to inspect the tire more closely. “Hang on with the spare, Starsky. It doesn’t look like he slashed it. Probably just let the air out. You got a pump?”

Starsky looked up from the open trunk. “Uh… No.”

Hutch raised his eyebrows. “No air pump? You were saying something about being an idiot?”

“Shut up!” Slamming the trunk closed, Starsky spun around and stalked toward the corner store. “I’ll be back!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Watch out! Watch out!” Jim braced his arm against the dashboard as Sandburg swerved the car around a daredevil bicyclist.

“Whoa! Ouch!” Blair winced, but gripped the wheel tighter as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did we lose them?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Jim threw an incredulous glance at Blair. “Yeah, I’m sure. An old lady with cataracts could spot them in that tomato. Besides, we never actually had them. I saw the siren light on their dashboard and let the air out of the front tire before I went into the hotel.”

“Really?” Blair seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. “Oh man, I’ve never run from the police before.”

“Yeah, well, me either. Slow down, Evil Knievel, before we get pulled over by a traffic cop.” He looked over at the young man. “How’s your arm, by the way?”

Blair eased off the accelerator. “It hurts. He really did a number on it.”

“Okay, pull over. We gotta dump the car, anyway.”

Blair pulled the car into an empty parking spot along a sidewalk, then turned to face Jim. “Okay, now what? You okay, by the way? Where have you been? What happened to you?”

Jim smiled. “I was about to ask you all the same questions. What’s this about a shooting?”

Blair slumped in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “Oh man, I don’t know how it happened. It’s all kind of fuzzy. After the cave-in and the… the… I don’t know what that was…. An explosion?”

“I’m not sure, but go on…”

“Well, I woke on the sidewalk. There was a cop laying on the ground bleeding, and a man and woman were running away. I had this pounding headache, and I didn’t know what the hell was going on, so I ran. I went to call the police, but then I saw this newspaper about the Jonestown Massacre. The article said it had just happened. I looked at the date, and –”

“Found out it’s 1978.” Jim tilted his head back and sighed. “I can’t wrap my brain around this. How–” Sirens caught his ear and he straightened, focusing on the sound to fix their location. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got cops about a mile to the east.”

 

Part 2

“Well, there goes our only solid lead.” Hutch ripped the report from the typewriter and threw it onto the desk. “Now what? Any ideas?”

Starsky swallowed the last bite of his donut and leaned back in his chair. “If they’re smart, they’ll leave town.”

“They’re smart.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Most dumb crooks don’t read the kind of book I saw. I wasn’t really reading it, but I saw enough to know it was a highly academic text. It had a lot of jargon, too. I didn’t really understand it.”

“What was it about?”

Hutch shrugged. “Mythology. Anthropology. Something like that.”

Starsky shook his head. “And you ripped it up. Tsk, tsk. Destroying public property. That was a library book. You’ve deprived kids all over the community from bettering themselves. You’re heartless.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they intended to return the book to the library, Starsk.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What about you?”

“I got checked out at the hospital.” Jim placed his hands on Blair’s shoulders and pushed him into sitting on the edge of the bed. “Now, let me take a look. You took a nasty fall down the side of the mountain, not to mention almost getting buried in a cave-in, and then having your arm nearly twisted off by that cop.”

Blair sighed and slipped out of his flannel shirt. “Okay, but don’t slap anything like you did the last time you wrapped my ribs.”

Jim smiled, but it faded as soon as he spotted the dark bruises along Blair’s side and back. Gently, he slid his fingers over the area, using his sensitive touch to probe the depths of the injuries. He didn’t think anything was broken, and although his fingers weren’t as diagnostically useful as an x-ray machine, Jim reassured himself that Blair probably wouldn’t be walking around so well if he’d cracked a rib.

“How much does this hurt?”

Blair shrugged. “Not too badly. A little.”

“Well, I guess you’ll live.” Jim moved in front of Sandburg. “Now, how ’bout the arm?”

Blair rubbed his offended wrist. “My wrist, elbow, and shoulder are a bit sore. It hurt like hell when he put it in that hold.”

Jim nodded. “I’ll bet. It’s a very effective hold.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Here, let me check it out.” Jim reached out and carefully grabbed Blair’s forearm, using his other hand to lightly probe the wrist. He felt no signs of serious injury, then moved to the elbow and, finally, up to the shoulder. “Feels okay. I think there’s some swelling in your wrist and shoulder, but I’ll get you some ice and Tylenol. That should help.”

Blair shook his head. “No, man. Just stay in here. You go out in public and you’re likely to be spotted.”

“I won’t be spotted. I’ll go out after dark and keep an eye and an ear out for the cops. And if anybody recognizes me, his heartbeat will give him away.”

“No, way.” Blair eased himself back on the mattress, releasing a small sigh as he let his head sink into the pillow. “If you get that keyed up, you’re likely to zone, and if I go with you, we’ll only be that much for conspicuous.”

Jim sighed and dropped into the only chair in the hotel room. “Look, I’ll only be ten minutes. We need supplies, anyway — food and water, for one. It’s better to do it at night than wait and have to go in broad daylight.”

Blair pursed his lips, his brow furrowing uncertainly, but finally nodded. “Okay. Just be careful, man.”

Jim smiled. “Chief, I’m a trained cop with special forces experience. I think I can handle a run to the convenience store.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“… and the search for the three persons spotted leaving the scene still continues. One of the men may be known as Blair Sandburg. Again, their descriptions are…”

“Oh man, Toni, they’re not letting up. I told you the cops are gonna be all over this thing.” The woman shook her head violently. “You shouldn’t have shot him…”

“Shut up, already!” Tyler Markell paced the small apartment anxiously. So far, the heat had stayed off of them because, according to the news, none of the witnesses had gotten a good look at him or Angie.

But who the hell was that third guy? Angie had gone off about how she’d seen the man “appear out of thin air” like something out of Star Trek, but she’d been dusted at the time.

Whoever the third person was, he would be a liability if the cops ever caught him. As it stood, the long-haired stranger was the only person capable of identifying him and Angie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ring!

“Starsky here.”

“Hey, Starsk, my man. It’s Huggy. Got some news for you.”

“Oh yeah? Something good, I hope.”

“Something very good. Got a make on that shooter you’re looking for.”

Starsky straightened in his chair. “Who?”

“Tyler Markell. Friend of a friend of mine overheard the man — who was very drunk at the time — arguing with his lady about the incident. Woman musta been high on something because she was hysterical. Kept saying something about someone popping in from thin air like God sent an angel to punish them for shooting the cop. Tyler finally popped her one and dragged her out.”

“Oh Hugs, you’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well, remember this with the tip — I even have a last known address for you.”

Starsky punched a joyous fist in the air, flashing a smile at Hutch across the desk. “Huggy, we owe you one.”

“Hey, you owe me more than one, but you’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How much you got left?” Jim kept his head cocked in the familiar listening pose as his eyes scanned the late-morning streets.

Blair flipped through his money, ignoring the useless twenty dollar bill. “Thirty-five dollars.”

Jim sighed. “And I’ve only got ninety. If we don’t find our way back home soon, we’re gonna have to get ourselves a nice, sturdy cardboard box to live in, Chief.”

Blair managed a half-hearted smile. He had no idea how the hell they were going to travel in time again and make it back to their home time. “I’m working on it.”

“What do you have so far?”

“Not much. Just a symbol. That cop ripped out a page that had some useful information on it, but, fortunately, nothing vital. Anyway, we better move. We’re kind of conspicuous out here.”

“No one’s made us yet.” Jim remained on alert. “But let’s get going.”

Blair nodded. “Right. I wonder how much the cab ride is going to set us back?”

Jim shrugged as he continued to scan their surroundings. “Well, just be thankful we got transported into the past rather than the future. I’d hate to see what inflation up to the year 2018 would do to our wallets.”

They’d decided to return to the woods where Jim had woken up. Even though the thing that seemed responsible for sending them into the past had been — or would be in the future — located in Cascade, Washington, Blair figured there had to be a reason why the ‘drop’ point (as he’d come to call it) ended up being Bay City, California.

He had no idea why he and Jim had been dropped off at two different spots, however. Still, the woods were a lot less conspicuous than the scene of the shooting, which happened to be in the middle of the commercial district. With Jim’s sentinel abilities, they could conduct a speedy and efficient search of the wooded area and, hopefully, find something that shed light on the mystery. Maybe there was even another ‘portal’ leading back home.

Somehow, though, he figured it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever was.

~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky and Hutch plastered themselves to either side of the wall.

Starsky slid his hand toward the door and knocked on the wood. “Police! Open up!”

Sounds of footsteps and the creak of a window filtered through the door. Starsky looked at his partner. Hutch went high, kicking the door open and going into a roll. Starsky followed behind, going low, his gun poised. The room appeared empty, but they both saw the open window.

Hutch took off at a run, following the fleeing suspect down the fire escape while Starsky stayed back long enough to look in the bathroom. Satisfied that the apartment really was empty, he took off after Hutch and the suspect.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim sat quietly in the backseat next to Blair as the cab drove them to their destination. He kept his hearing extended, listening for signs that the police were nearby. The sound of the gunshot echoed loud in his ears, and his hands flew up to cover them.

“What?” A hand rested gently on his arm. “You okay, man? What did you hear?”

Jim held up a hand, trying to locate the source. He heard another shot, but he’d expected it so it hadn’t hurt like the first one.

Angry voices met his ears. “Put it down!”

Another gunshot. “I didn’t shoot no cop! It was that… that… other guy! That Sambug guy.”

Jim sighed. “Damn.”

Blair gripped Jim’s arm tighter. “What? What is it?”

“Trouble. There’s a gunfight, and I think the cops got the guy who shot that officer cornered. Sounds like he’s trying to finger you.”

Blair’s hand fell to his lap. “Where?”

Jim pointed to the east. “Somewhere that way.”

“Just great. This is terrible.” He leaned toward the cab driver. “Hey, take a right up here, will ya?”

Jim grabbed Blair’s good shoulder and pulled him back. “What the hell are you doing? We’re not going to show up.”

“We need to check it out, at least. I mean, we’re foreigners in this…” He glanced at the driver and lowered his voice, “…in this time. Our presence has already changed things. But take this shooting — If I hadn’t been there, the cops wouldn’t be looking for a third person. That’s taken them somewhat off-track. They might have found the other two sooner. Or, maybe this other guy will get off because they think I did it. Or maybe one of these cops gets shot now when they wouldn’t have before. Who knows? But it could change history.”

Jim thought he followed that argument. Still, it gave him a headache, and he raised one hand to rub at his temple. “Look, Chief, this is all speculation. We don’t know what should be happening and what shouldn’t be happening, so there’s no use interfering.”

The cabbie looked over his shoulder at them. “Where to now?”

Blair looked at Jim. “Well?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jim sighed and leaned back against the seat. “Make another right at the next turn.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Drop it, Markell!” Starsky remained crouched behind the trashcan, eyeing Hutch, who was positioned across the alley behind a stack of boxes.

They had Markell pinned in the alley, but he was holed up behind a car parked at the back, and he seemed unconcerned about wasting his ammunition.

A bullet ricocheted off the brick an inch above Starsky’s head, and he ducked instinctively, then quickly popped his head over the top of the trashcan to fire off another bullet.

“Starsky!”

He looked over at Hutch, who was peeking over the boxes and pointing to the roof of the single-level building. Starsky followed the line of direction until he spotted the lone figure hunched on the roof above Markell.

Who the hell is that?

Before Starsky could contemplate that question further, the newcomer dropped from the roof and slammed hard into Markell.

“I’m going!” Starsky yelled, bolting from his protected position and running as fast as he could toward Markell and the stranger.

An unfamiliar voice shouted a warning behind him. “Watch out!”

Starsky turned and rolled to the right. A gunshot sliced the air, then another.

A man yelled, “Blair!”

A sudden silence descended. Starsky rose to his feet and tried to make sense of what had just happened. He saw two crumpled figures laying at the head of the alley . One was a man with long, dark hair who he recognized as their third suspect in the shooting. The other appeared to be a woman in her late twenties with dark, shoulder-length hair. A gun lay just outside her limp, open hand.

“Hold it!” Hutch pointed his gun in Starsky’s direction.

“What?” Starsky turned around to see the figure — Ellison, he realized — standing with his hands at his side and his eyes glued to the fallen young man. Markell lay unconscious behind him.

Ellison’s cold blue eyes turned to Hutch. “That’s my partner. I’m going to check him out. You can either shoot me or let me go, but I just saved your asses back there,” he jabbed his head toward Markell, “so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t shoot me.” Without waiting for an answer, he resumed a fast walk toward the unconscious young man.

Starsky lowered his weapon, but kept it in his left hand. He glanced at Hutch, nodding slowly, and his partner did the same thing.

“Blair.” Ellison crouched next to his friend. Blair lay motionless on his stomach, blood oozing from a wound in his right shoulder.

The two detectives moved up behind Ellison, and Hutch knelt next to the woman, placing his fingers along the side of her neck.

After a moment’s pause, Hutch looked up and shook his head. “No pulse.” He rose to his feet and holstered his gun. “I’ll go call for some units, an ambulance, and a coroner’s wagon.”

Starsky nodded and crouched next to the two men.

Ellison gently rolled Blair onto his back. He slipped out of his shirt and rolled it into a ball, then pressed it against the wound. With his other hand, he brushed the hair from the young man’s face and then lightly tapped his cheek. “Chief? Come on, open your eyes.”

A small groan slipped from Sandburg’s throat, and his eyelids parted a fraction.

Ellison rested his palm on top of his friend’s head. “That’s it. You’re gonna be all right. It’s just a shoulder wound, buddy.” He glanced meaningfully up at Starsky, then back at Sandburg. “The ambulance will be here soon. Okay?”

Starsky swallowed. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but, as he glanced back at the gun laying next to the woman, he thought he had a good idea. “Can you explain to me what happened here? Why were you on the roof? How did your friend get shot?”

Ellison maintained the pressure on the wound, his eyes focused on Sandburg. “We heard the commotion. We came to help. Sandburg was supposed to stay back, but I guess he spotted the woman with the gun. I saw her taking aim at your partner when he shouted a warning. She spun and shot him. Your partner shot her. That about sums it up.”

Hurried footsteps pounded against the pavement seconds before Hutch appeared, huffing slightly as he trotted over to Starsky. “Help’s on the way.”

Ellison nodded, his attention fixed on Sandburg. He lifted the bloodied shirt to inspect the wound, then resumed the pressure.

Starsky got to his feet. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Hutch took a deep breath. “I heard him shout off a warning. I turned just as she fired. The bullet hit him in the shoulder and spun him around. She turned back toward me with her gun held high. I fired. That’s pretty much it.”

Starsky nodded, looking down at Ellison. “Well, your stories match. I guess we owe thanks to both of you.”

Ellison didn’t look up. “You can thank us by not taking us into custody.”

Hutch frowned. “Sorry, we have to — at least for questioning. You escaped custody and your friend was spotted at the scene of a shooting.”

Ellison nodded. “So I figured,” he sighed, “but it was worth a try. Considering my friend just took a bullet for you, though, can I ask a favor?”

Starsky raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, you can ask. If we can do it, we will.”

“Will you let me go to the hospital with him? You can question me there, and I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

Starsky nodded slowly. “Okay. Sounds reasonable.”

Finally, Ellison looked up at the two detectives. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A white, styrofoam cup appeared in front of his face, and Jim looked up into the face of Detective Hutchinson.

“Thanks.” He managed to lift his hand high enough to take the cup, then let it rest on his knee.

Blair’s tan backpack sat lopsided on the floor, partially braced against the leg of the coffee table. Jim had grabbed it from the ground just before hopping into the ambulance.

He shifted against the cushions of the waiting room’s couch and watched the steam swirl above the dark liquid. His hand remained clutched around the hot cup, and he focused on that heat, hoping it would ease the coldness in his gut.

Starsky sat on the other end of the sofa, silently watching Hutch as the younger detective sank into the cornering arm chair.

Jim knew they were itching to ask their questions. He could practically feel the tension between them, the conflict between their duty and their humanity. He decided to spare them from making the decision.

Looking up, he met Hutchinson’s eyes. “Go ahead. You can ask away.”

The blonde detective’s shoulders sagged a bit with relief, and he managed a small smile. “Well, we’ve got nothing to do but wait, anyway.”

Starsky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at Jim. “I guess we’ll start at the beginning. You told the rescuers you and your friend had been hiking. Right?”

Jim nodded and set the cup on the coffee table. “Yes. We’d gone hiking and we both took a spill down the side of a mountain.”

“Then how’d witnesses end up seeing your friend running from the scene of a shooting?”

Jim shrugged. “Only the descriptions match, right? No one has personally identified him.”

Starsky nodded. “That’s true, but then how’d he find his way from the woods to the city? The rescuers didn’t find a sign of him, and the hotel clerk said he checked in the same day — before you even made your call for help.”

Jim released a low sigh and raised one hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. He really had no way to explain the situation. Sandburg was the expert in creative obfuscation.

He was too tired to even try, but telling the truth would be pointless. They wouldn’t believe him, of course. If he were in their shoes, he wouldn’t believe him.

“Well?” Hutch prompted, his voice gentle but tinged with impatience.

Jim heard the clank of footsteps against tile heading their way and suspected he’d be granted a temporary reprieve from answering. His suspicions solidified when the door leading to the waiting room opened and a white-clad doctor approached them. He was an older man with graying temples and thin, round glasses.

“You’re here for Mr. Sandburg?”

All three men rose to their feet, but Jim stepped toward the doctor and nodded. “Yes. How is he?”

The physician extended his hand, and Jim shook it absently. “I’m Doctor Zimmerman. Mr. Sandburg will be just fine. The bullet went all the way through.”

A smile sprung to Jim’s face, and he pumped the doctor’s hand more enthusiastically. “Thank you, Doctor. Can I see him?”

Doctor Zimmerman nodded. “For a few minutes. Follow me.”

Jim picked up Sandburg’s backpack and headed after the doctor.

~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky and Hutch accompanied Jim to Blair’s room, both still acting the cop and making sure Jim didn’t try to make a run for it. He wouldn’t, of course. There was no way he’d leave Sandburg behind.

His ears found his partner even before the doctor pointed out the room and then headed off in his own direction. Jim focused on the familiar heartbeat and slow, steady breathing that indicated sleep. Stopping in front of the door, he peered in through the glass and confirmed with his eyes that Blair was indeed asleep. The young man lay motionless on the bed, an IV hooked to his left arm and a spattering of electrodes attached to his chest, the wires peeking out from beneath the sleeves and collar of his blue hospital gown.

Jim’s hand closed on the knob. He glanced at the two detectives and raised a finger to his lips. Hutchinson nodded his understanding, and Jim pushed the door open, walking quietly inside with the detectives at his heels.

Jim sank into the empty chair, letting the backpack drop to the floor. Hutch stood near the foot of the bed, and Starsky remained near the door. They each gazed quietly at the pale, young man for several seconds, listening to the regular beeping of the heartmonitor.

Hutch finally broke the silence. “He didn’t shoot that cop.”

Jim shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”

“A man who risks his life to save a stranger… to save me, a cop…. ” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense that someone who’d do that would shoot a cop.”

Jim scooted his chair closer to the bed and spoke in a low voice. “He doesn’t even like guns.”

“So then what’s up with you two? Explain the fake ID to me with the obviously wrong birthdate. And the weird phone they found on you? And how you claim to have gone hiking with him, but he ends up in the city while you’re still stranded in the woods? And if neither of you have anything to hide, why’d you run from us?”

Jim took a slow, deep breath and rose from his chair, moving to stand directly in front of Hutch and using his height advantage to make an impression. He spoke slowly and deliberately. “I know things don’t make much sense to you, but you wouldn’t believe the truth if I told you. You’re a good cop, I can tell, and, as a cop, I’m sure you’ve found yourself in situations that you were not at liberty to explain to anybody.”

Hutch nodded slowly. “A few.”

Jim continued. “I’m in that kind of a situation now. I know your department checked the Cascade P.D. and they said they have no record of me, but I’m telling you the truth. I am a detective. Blair Sandburg is a civilian, but he works with me. How and why we’re here is not something I can tell you. But I promise you that neither of us have committed any crimes — well, besides my knocking out the guard at the hospital and stealing his gun. And I did that only out of necessity. I needed to find my partner and make sure he was safe. I’m sure you can understand that.”

Starsky stepped forward. “Why don’t you try us? Whatever your situation is, I’m sure we can help.”

Jim shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips from the sincerity he heard in the other detective’s voice. “I wish you could, but, like I said, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Starsky raised his eyebrows and glanced at the sleeping figure in the bed. “You friend risked his life to save Hutch.” He looked back at Ellison. “Maybe we can even the score. You tell us — unofficially — and we’ll take it from there.”

Jim held Starsky’s gaze for several long seconds, gauging the man’s sincerity. He focused on the detective’s heartbeat, finding it somewhat elevated but steady. There was a subtle quality in Starsky’s gaze that urged Jim to trust the man — it was the same almost child-like genuiness that Jim often saw in Blair’s eyes.

But even so, he knew neither detective would believe his story — not without some kind of proof. Still, if they really wanted to know…

His smile grew a fraction larger, and he shifted closer to the bed, placing his hand on the rail and glancing down at his sleeping partner. “Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. You won’t believe it, and you’ll think we’re crazy, but it’s the truth and, if you give me a chance, maybe there’s some way I can even prove it to you.”

Starsky nodded. “We’ll give you that chance.”

“If we can,” Hutch added, glancing apprehensively at Starsky.

Jim looked back at the two men. “My name is Jim Ellison. I was born in 1962. My partner, Sandburg, was born in 1969.”

Starsky’s raised his eyebrows and Hutch let out a disbelieving breath, but neither man interrupted him.

“I know that makes us both too young for 1978. That’s because we’re not in the right time.” He swallowed, having difficulty getting the words out. It all sounded even crazier now that he’d given voice to their predicament. “We’re from the future by about twenty years. We were on vacation, hiking, and there was an earthquake. We took a tumble down the side of the mountain and ended up falling through part of the ground into a subterrestrial cave. Inside the cave, we found something I can’t really describe. There was an explosion of light and some kind of weird sound. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the woods alongside a road. I walked until I found a payphone and called for help. I still thought I was in 1998… until one of your rescuers took issue with my ID.”

He paused a moment, taking in their expressions. Hutch looked like a man humoring a small child who’d just come to him claiming that the boogeyman was in her closet. Starsky, on the other hand, looked both skeptical and awed, like a little boy wondering whether the mall Santa Clause was real.

Jim cleared his throat and turned back to look at Blair. “At any rate, all we want to do is find our way home.”

An awkward silence followed, and, finally, Hutch spoke, disbelief obvious in his tone. “And just how are you planning on proving this to us?”

Jim looked up at the detective. “I was into sports as a kid. There’s something I remember about this date. It’s, what, November 20th today?”

Hutch nodded. “Yeah.”

“Tomorrow, Brave Bob Horner will edge out Padre Ozzie Smith to win the NL Rookie of the Year Award.”

“I got one….” A weak voice interrupted.

Jim spun around, his eyes dropping to his partner. Blair’s eyes were open, and a small smile touched his lips.

“Hey, man.” Blair paused to clear his throat, his voice rough. “I go unconscious for a bit and you decide to jump off the deep end? What’s going on?”

Jim smiled. “Call it a tactical decision, Chief. Maybe if we can convince these two of the truth, they’ll be able to help us get back home… or, at the very least, they’ll stop trying to arrest us.” He looked back at the two detectives, but neither looked convinced. Not that that surprised him.

Starsky moved closer to the bed and looked down at Sandburg. “What’s yours?”

Blair cleared his throat again. “Francesco Tricomi is a famous mathematician. He died on November 21, 1978… or rather, he will die.”

Hutch stiffened. “Now, wait a minute…”

“Of old age,” Blair added. “He’s… uh…” His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember. “I think he died at eighty-one.”

After a moment’s pause, Hutch turned to Starsky and gestured toward the door. “Can I see you out in the hall for a moment?”

Starsky nodded and flashed a reassuring smile at Blair. “Be right back.” He turned and followed Hutch out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Jim watched the two men through the glass, their words filtering easily to his sensitive ears.

“What are they saying?”

Jim threw a mildly-annoyed glance at his partner. “One sec and I’ll tell you.” He cocked his head, focusing more solidly on the conversation.

“… and what if the predictions come true?”

“Starsk, don’t tell me you actually believe their story?”

“I’m not sayin’ I believe it. I’m just sayin’ we ought to at least go until tomorrow before we decide what to do next. I told him I’d give him the chance to prove whatever it was he was going to prove. How was I supposed to know he’d be trying to prove something like THIS? But that doesn’t matter. A promise is a promise.”

“And I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that they’re LYING about it all? Maybe they’ve got something planned for tomorrow and they’re just trying to stall.”

“With this kind of a story? You don’t think they’d come up with something a bit more believable than ‘oh, and by the way, we’re from the future?'”

“So you don’t believe them?”

“Hutch, all I’m saying is that we give ’em the chance. That Sandburg guy saved your life. Took a bullet for you, buddy. Dontcha think that deserves something?”

Hutch sighed, glancing into the room. His eyes settled on Blair, who had drifted back into a light sleep. “Yeah, okay, Starsk. We give them until the end of tomorrow. No later.”

Starsky nodded. “Okay, then. That just leaves one more thing.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Your place or mine?”

Hutch furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“They gotta stay some place, right? I mean, we ain’t gonna just turn ’em lose and expect ’em to show up tomorrow. We gotta keep tabs on ’em.”

Hutch groaned. “And what are we supposed to do with them while we’re on the job?”

“Look, how ’bout we finish up our shift for today and call in sick tomorrow? We got tons of sick time we can use.”

“Both of us just happen to be sick?”

Starsky shrugged. “Hey, you can go in and do some paperwork if you want.”

“What about the two we just busted?”

“They can wait. Demente can take care of the prelim stuff.” Starsky leaned closer to his partner. “But what are we gonna say in our reports? I mean, we gotta explain how the lady got shot, and all.”

Hutch sighed, looking more and more anxious with each passing moment. “Hell, Starsky, this is never gonna work. The units and ambulance that arrived know we picked up these two. I don’t think it’s gonna work. We’ve gotta turn them in.”

Starsky grinned knowingly. “No, it’ll work. Look, all we’ve got on these two are descriptions that match. You know when they ran the fingerprints, Jim Ellison came up a blank. So, at the moment, they can’t even prove he exists. We just tag him as a witness for right now and take his ‘statement.'”

Hutch nodded slowly. “Okay, we might be able to work it out that way for now, but if we do end up bringing them in, it could be our asses when Dobey finds out.”

“We can stall for a day, Hutch. Sandburg’s still in the hospital and we’ll just say he ain’t being released yet. Nothin’ we can do about that. Doctors orders, and all. And, anyway, we got nothin’ on him. Just a description as a possible witness, right?” Starsky shrugged and smiled. “We can do this almost by the book and get away with it.”

Hutch nodded. “Maybe. But we’re not going anywhere near the station tonight. We’re gonna have to let the paperwork sit until after tomorrow. We’re both sticking with them until we see whether their predictions come true. Just in case they try something, I’d rather have it two-on-two then one-on-two, even if that Sandburg guy has his arm in a sling. And, even if they don’t outright try something, one guy can’t keep tabs on them both all the time. One trip to the bathroom and they could take off.”

Starsk nodded curtly. “Okay. It’s a plan.”

Jim turned his attention back to Blair when he saw the two detectives turn toward the door. They entered the small room, and Starsky hovered near the doorway while Hutch approached the bed. The blonde detective managed a smile as he looked up at Jim.

“Well, we’ve decided to wait and see whether your predictions come true. For tonight, you can stay at Starsky’s place.” Hutch’s smile widened to a grin as he glanced back at his partner, then returned his gaze to Jim.

Jim shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll stay here tonight.” He glanced at Blair, who seemed to be following the conversation, albeit with drooped eyelids. “Considering everything that’s happened, I think it best that Sandburg and I not split up.”

Hutch’s smile dropped. “Uh, well, you see… We’d like to get some sleep tonight, and we can’t exactly leave you alone. You’re still in our custody, but it’s not official until your 24 hours are up.”

Blair shifted in his bed, his eyelids opening wider, making an obvious effort to look more awake. “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t have to stay the night here, or anything. I can rest on a couch as easily as I can in this bed. So, get me out of here and we can all go back to Detective Starsky’s place.”

Jim pursed his lips. “That’s not a good idea, Chief. It’s best for you to stay the night here.”

Blair shook his head. “Look, you’re not going to leave me here alone, and they aren’t going to leave you here alone, which means we’ll all end up staying the night at the hospital and getting zero sleep. That makes no sense. Let’s all just go back to an apartment where I can rest and, uh, you know…” He glanced at the two detectives. “Well, hell. I guess I can say it front of you two now. I’ve been looking into a way to get Jim and I back to our own time. That’s what that book you ripped up in my hotel room was for.”

Hutch fidgeted uncomfortably, a hint of shame touching his cheeks, but his eyes still held skepticism. “If your predictions come true, then I guess I owe you an apology.” He straightened suddenly, glancing back at Starsky briefly, then looking up at Ellison. “We’ll wait until tomorrow. Here, or at Starsky’s place, or mine. It doesn’t matter. But we can’t let either of you out of our site. If you’re really a cop, I’m sure you understand just how much we’re already bending the rules for you.” He looked back at Sandburg. “But since you saved my life, I guess it’s the least I can do.”

Jim nodded. “I do. And I appreciate it.” He looked down at Blair. “What do you say, Chief? You still want to blow this joint?”

Blair nodded. “Oh yeah. And can we stop for some real food on the way?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, here we are.” Hutch pushed his door open and gestured inside, allowing Jim and Blair to enter first. Then he threw a glare at Starsky standing just behind him. “How do I let you talk me into these things?”

Starsky grinned. “Hey, your place is bigger than mine and more –”

“– secluded. I know.”

“And you’ve got more good stuff in the fridge.”

Jim’s voice interrupted their argument. “Are you two coming in, or are you going to whisper in the hallway all night?”

“And, not to be rude,” Blair interjected, “but I’m starving, and since we all voted for pizza…”

“All right. All right.” Hutch swaggered in in front of Starsky and hung his jacket on the rack. “What kind of toppings?”

Blair eased himself onto the couch, sighing as he settled into the cushion. His right arm hung in a sling close to his body. “I’m too hungry to care guys. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

Jim remained standing just behind Blair, a white bag of prescription medications clutched in his hand. “Anything but Hawaiian. And no anchovies.”

Hutch nodded. “No anchovies. Okay.” His gaze darted to Starsky. “And I suppose you want extra pepperoni, extra cheese, and extra sausage, Gordo?”

Starsky grinned. “I’m touched you know me so well, Blondie.”

“You’re touched all right,” Hutch muttered as he picked up the phone receiver and began dialing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Forty-five minutes later, one large pizza with extra pepperoni, cheese, and sausage and one large pizza with peppers and olives arrived. Starsky set them on the coffee table in front of Sandburg while Hutch placed a stack of paper plates next to the boxes. Starsky snatched a slice of the pepperoni one. Hutch grabbed a couple of slices of the peppers and olives, and Jim took one of each.

Sandburg, however, had fallen asleep half an hour ago and remained oblivious, his head tilted against the back of the sofa. Jim again grabbed one slice of each, set them on a paper plate, and sank onto the cushion next to Blair. Gently, he placed a hand on the kid’s left shoulder and shook him gently.

“Chief, wake up. Food’s here.”

“Hmm?” Blair’s head bobbed up, his eyelids opening lazily.

With a smile, Jim held the plate of food beneath Sandburg’s nose. “Pizza.”

Blair straightened, instantly alert, and grabbed the plate with his good hand. “Thanks.”

Hutch moved to the refrigerator. “Drinks?”

Starsky’s chin shot up. “Beer,” he said around a mouthful of pizza.

“Same here if you’ve got enough.” Jim reached forward to grab his plate from the table. “Otherwise coffee or water would be fine.”

Blair yawned and settled back against the sofa, his plate resting on his lap. “Water or tea will be fine. Thanks.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The hot throbbing in his shoulder pushed him awake. With a groan, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear the blurriness from his vision. An off-white ceiling hung above, totally different from the red brick and yellow pipes of the loft. A jolt of disorientation brought him further awake, and he lifted his head, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

He was in a strange room. A flutter of panic kicked his heart into high gear, and he moved to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder flared angrily, and the room spun. He dropped back to the mattress, breathing hard from the exertion, and tried to clear the fog from his brain. Where was he? How did he get there? What happened to his shoulder?

“Mornin’, Chief.”

Jim? Relief flooded through Blair as memory and realization returned. He was in Detective Hutchinson’s house. Turning toward the voice, he saw Jim standing to the left next to the bed.

The Sentinel smiled. “How’s the shoulder?”

Blair threw the covers off and slowly swung his legs over the edge of the mattress as he sat up. “It hurts.” His arm still hung immobilized in a sling, held close to his body. He gave into a deep yawn and blinked the resulting tears from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon. Hungry?”

Blair shook his head. “Not really.” The pizza from last night still hung heavy in his stomach.

“Well, you need to take your antibiotics and painkillers, and it’s best to do that with a meal. How ’bout I whip you up some toast and milk?”

Blair nodded, managing a small smile. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Hey.”

Blair looked past Jim to see Detective Starsky. The ‘bedroom’ was really more of a section of the house with a door to outside set in one wall. To the left lay the living room, completely visible as that side had no wall. Beyond the living room, curving again to the left, Blair could see part of the kitchen.

It was a nice, spacious house, immaculately kept. Idly, Blair wondered if all cops were neat freaks. He suppressed that thought, his eyes darting to Jim, then returning to Starsky. “Nice place.”

Starsky grinned. “Yeah, ain’t it?.” He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “It belongs to the bum in the kitchen.” He took a step back and turned toward the kitchen. “Huuutch! We need some toast and juice over here! And a coupla slices of leftover pizza!”

Blair raised his eyebrows. “Uh, no more pizza for me. My stomach’s had all it can take.”

Starsky smiled. “The pizza ain’t for you.”

“Ah.” Blair returned the smile and pushed himself to his feet. “I see you and Jim have the same taste in breakfast food.” He ducked a swat from the Sentinel and flashed another smile. “Can, uh, someone point me to the bathroom?”

Starsky gestured to the left. “Thatta way.”

“Thanks.” Blair shuffled off toward the living room. He spotted Hutchinson in the kitchen, leaning on the open refrigerator door. “‘Mornin’, Detective.”

Hutchinson looked up and offered a lopsided smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Shoulder hurts a little, but it’s manageable.” Truthfully, it hurt like hell, but he wasn’t about to complain in front of three tough-as-nails cops, one with special forces experience. Bullet holes to them were probably all badges of honor, or something.

Hutch pulled out a loaf of bread and set it on the table. “Two pieces of toast okay?”

Blair nodded. “Yeah.” His eyes drifted over the kitchen, coming to rest on a microwave. “Oh, wow. A microwave. Guess I was too young, but I don’t really remember having microwaves in the seventies.”

Hutch raised his eyebrow, the skepticism returning to his face. “Yeah, well, uh, after countdown, if your predictions prove true, I’d love to hear about what things you do have in the future.”

Blair cleared his throat. “Well, uh, that might not be such a good idea. You know, space-time continuum, and all.”

“You sound like something out of Star Trek.”

“More like the Twilight Zone,” Blair muttered. “Uh, bathroom. This way?” He pointed to another door on the far wall.

Hutch nodded. “Yep. Clean towels, too, if you need them.”

“Thanks.” Blair shuffled into the bathroom. It was larger than the loft’s bathroom, but not overly spacious.

He eyed the toothbrush perched in a holder on the sink and suddenly became aware of just how pasty his mouth felt. Damn, and he didn’t have a toothbrush. His finger and some mouthwash would have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And Bob Horner of the Braves beat out San Diego Padre Ozzie Smith to win the NL Rookie of the Year Award. Horner batted .266 with 23 home runs in just 323 at bats.”

Jim, seated on one end of the sofa, threw a smug glance at Detective Hutchinson, who was sitting in the armchair, leaning forward and riveted to the television.

Hutch shook his head. “Well, I’ll be…”

“Hah!” Starsky smiled. He was slouched at the end of the couch, next to Blair.

“So?” Blair scrubbed a hand over his face. “You believe us?”

Hutch looked at Blair, his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Lucky guess? After all, Horner’s a good player.”

Blair looked heavenward. “Oh, come on. It could have just as easily been Ozzie Smith.”

“C’mon, Hutch,” Starsky pouted, “we said we’d give ’em a chance. Now, they’re one for one. We gotta find out if that math guy died.”

“Francesco Tricomi,” Blair elucidated.

Hutch sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Okay, so how do we find out? Is he in the United States? How do you know it’ll even make the news?”

“He’s Italian, and he died in Torino, I think.” Blair gave into a brief yawn before continuing, “I did a paper on him in high school.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “And you remember all that?”

Nodding, Blair flashed a brief grin. “Yeah, it was a project where we had to pair with another student.” His grin returned. “My partner was Amy Marters. We, uh, had a lot of fun working on the project.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Jim glanced heavenward. “Figures.”

“Anyway,” Blair continued, his expression growing more serious, “Tricomi’s a pretty famous mathematician. They even have an equation named after him that’s important in describing an object moving at supersonic speed. So, I’m betting his death will make the news. Maybe not ’til tomorrow morning, though.”

Hutch nodded reluctantly. “Okay, we’ll wait another day.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim studied his partner for a moment. Blair sat hunched on the living room sofa, his arm still held immobile in a sling. His laptop was perched on the coffee table and a book rested open on the cushion next to him. Hutch and Starsky had been casting interested looks at the laptop all morning, but Sandburg had shooed them away each time they got too close. Apparently, he really needed the laptop, but he didn’t want them exposed any more than necessary to futuristic technologies.

At least, Jim mused, Hutchinson’s skepticism seemed to be dissipating every time he looked at the laptop. Computers in the 1970’s were far from developed, and the idea of lightweight, portable computers was still many years away.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jim saw that it was well past lunch. Hutch had encouraged him to help himself to the refrigerator, so he’d scarfed down a sandwich. Blair had refused anything at the time, waving a dismissive hand in the air as his eyes remained glued to the book. That was over three hours ago.

“Hey, Chief.” Jim walked up to the back of the couch. “You want me to make you something to eat?”

Blair looked up, his glasses perched on his nose. “Huh?”

“Food, Chief.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, thanks, man.”

With a satisfied nod, Jim shuffled into the kitchen. Starsky and Hutch were seated at the kitchen table, idly playing a card game. Opening the refrigerator, he took out the bread, cheese, mayonnaise, and lunchmeat, then set them all on the counter and began fixing the sandwich.

He spared another glance toward the living room as slapped the lunchmeat on the bread. He was feeling pretty useless. Blair seemed to believe that something in that book could explain the symbol he’d seen on the thing that had apparently sent them back in time. Since Jim had already searched the area he’d ‘arrived’ at for the device — if that’s what it was — and found nothing but trees and birds, he had nothing to do but wait and hope that Sandburg found an answer.

If Blair didn’t come up with something soon, though, Jim figured their best bet was to head back to Washington and revisit their camping area in hopes of finding the device and figuring out how to get it to send them back home.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Aha!” Blair shoved the newspaper page toward Hutch, who was sitting at the other end of the kitchen table. “Right there.”

Jim sat to the side of Blair. He sipped at his coffee, eyeing the newspaper with modest interest. “So we’re two-for-two?”

Blair nodded as Hutch took the paper and read the headline. His eyes scanned the text, and after a few seconds, he set the paper on the table and looked up at Blair. “Okay, you were right.”

Starsky strolled out of the bathroom and headed straight for the coffee pot. “Ah, I’m kind of enjoying our downtime.”

Hutch gestured to the paper. “It may be over. That mathematician guy died, and it’s in this morning’s paper. He was eighty-one, just like Mr. Sandburg said.”

“So now what?” Blair looked back and forth between the two partners.

Starsky sank into the empty chair to the left of Blair. “Well, Hutch, we did say we’d give ’em a chance. They were right about both things. And that computer Blair’s been using isn’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

“Yeah.” Hutch sighed, a hint of residual skepticism touching his face. “But from the future?” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “It’s a little hard to believe, you know.”

“We know,” Jim interjected. “Try it from our side.”

Hutch eyed the two men warily. “One of you could just be psychic. Not that I’d normally jump to that conclusion, but it’s a bit more believable than time travel.”

Blair rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! What about the laptop?”

“You haven’t really let us look at it that much.”

“Because I don’t want to muck up history! This is a first-time for me, guys! It’s not like they make a manual on how to time travel without screwing up the time-space continuum thing.”

“Show it to him, Chief. We need to convince them because we need their help.” Jim took another sip of his coffee. “You’ve got a video game on that thing, right?”

Blair narrowed his eyes. “And how do you know that?”

Jim took another sip of his coffee, his expression blank. “Lucky guess.”

“Uh-huh.” Blair sighed and rose from the table. “Fine. Come on. You’ve got nothing in your time like what you’re about to see.”

A spark of glee flashed in Starsky’s eyes as he rose from his chair and followed Hutch and Blair into the living room. Jim stifled a smirk as he took another swallow of his now lukewarm coffee. Blair sat on the sofa, and Starsky and Hutch took positions on either side of him. He leaned forward and touched the mousepad. The dark screen flared to life.

“Hey! That’s pretty cool.” Starsky pointed to the screen. “Look, Hutch, it’s like a typewriter on a TV screen.”

Jim shook his head and smiled. God, he remembered 1978. It was amazing how many little things had developed that he now took for granted.

“Okay,” Blair’s voice filtered into the kitchen. “This is, like, an adventure game. You’ve gotta go through various mazes and solve a bunch of riddles to get the prize…”

Jim listened absently as he grabbed the newspaper and slid it toward him. Setting his mug on the table, he flipped to the front page and began reading the headlines. There were a few Thanksgiving stories. Jim’s eyebrows rose when he saw that Andy Kaufman was riding a float in the Thanksgiving Day Parade. He shook his head in wonder. There were so many people alive at that moment who wouldn’t be…

He stiffened. He had been about sixteen years old in 1978… was sixteen years old. Right now, he could look himself up… Before he joined the army. Before his chopper went down in Peru… before all those men died.

He could change things. Stop it from happening. Save his team. Maybe…. Just maybe….

~~~~~~~~~~

“Amazing.” Hutch shook his head and sank into the chair at the kitchen table.

Starsky and Blair took their seats. Jim looked up from the paper. “So?”

Starsky broke into a huge grin. “So…what’s it like in the future?”

Blair cleared his throat. “Um…Uh-uh. No can do, guys. Sorry. Space-time continuum and all that.”

Jim shrugged and tilted his head toward Blair. “He’s the boss.”

“Yeah, right,” Blair snorted. “So, Jim, you said you checked out the area where you came to?”

“Uh-huh. Nothing.”

Blair frowned. “I don’t understand how we ended up in Southern California.”

Starsky set his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “Why not? If the thing can make you travel in time, getting you from Washington to California seems like a piece of cake.”

“That’s not the point.” Blair leaned forward. “The question is ‘why?’ Traveling through time is different than traveling through space. We should have just ended up in 1978 but at the same location, just outside of Cascade, Washington.”

“Oh.” Starsky looked confused. “So, uh, maybe it goofed.”

Blair gave a tolerant smile. “Maybe.” He looked back at Jim. “You’re being awfully quiet, not that that’s really a change for you, I guess, but don’t you have anything to say? Ideas?”

Jim shrugged as he glanced up from the paper. “This is more your area than mine.”

“Time travel is not my area, man!”

“What about that book? Did you find anything useful?”

“I did find the symbol, and it seemed to be tied to a myth about nightwalkers. Maybe they were, in fact, aliens who had visited our planet long ago. But that doesn’t really help us much.”

“So, I guess we head back to Washington and try to find the thing that sent us here. or we could just hang out for the next twenty-some years until we get there naturally.”

Blair frowned. “Uh, no thanks.”

“Or we could look ourselves up and warn ourselves.”

“No way, man!” Blair’s eyes went wide. “That could be potentially disastrous! You don’t mess with stuff like that, Jim.”

“And how would you know, Blair? Time travel a hobby of yours?”

“No, but don’t you watch Star Trek? Back to the Future?”

Jim leveled a tolerant look at Blair. “You’re basing your theories on a 1960’s television show and a movie about a teenager and a car?”

“You ever read H.G. Wells, Jim?”

“Not all of him, no, but I get the picture, Sandburg. You’re forgetting something, though.”

“What?”

“H.G. Wells was a novelist, not a physicist.”

“Okay then, Einstein.”

“What about him? Did he write a how-to manual on time travel?”

“Not exactly, but…”

“Face it, Sandburg, all we’ve got to go on is a bunch of guess work. This is all new territory. So who’s to say what we should and shouldn’t do?”

“I can’t believe you, man!” Blair slapped a palm on the table top. “We need to be careful here. You’ve gotta realize the danger of changing the future.”

“The future isn’t written yet, Sandburg.”

“Exactly!”

“So what makes you think the future turned out the way it should have?”

Blair’s eyes narrowed. “Jim?” He dropped his voice, shooting a glance at Starsky and Hutch, then leaned closer to Jim. “What are you getting at? If you’re thinking… Man, you can’t. C’mon, Jim. What? Peru? Jack? Danny? You can’t start messing with that stuff.”

“Did I say I was going to?”

“Not in so many words, but I can tell something’s up with you.”

Jim looked back down at the paper. “Nothing’s up with me. You asked for my opinion, Chief.”

“Look, guys,” Starsky smiled weakly, “why don’t we work on getting you to Washington? You got any money?”

“A little.” Jim looked up at the detective. “Maybe enough for bus or plane fare, depending on what the rates are in 1978.”

“Uh, look you two,” Hutch spoke up, “even if I concede that you’re from the future, there’s still the little matter of our murder investigation. A cop was killed, and you,” he looked at Blair, “were seen running from the scene of the crime.”

Blair sank lower in his chair. “I was kind of out of it, but I remember trying to get to a phone, then I spotted the newspaper and saw the date.”

“C’mon, Hutch, what are we gonna do? Book ’em? Use them as witnesses to testify in court? Two guys who aren’t even old enough to vote yet right now? Technically speaking, of course.”

“What are we gonna say–”

“We just say we never found the curly-headed guy.” Starsky threw a smile at Blair. “We got the two really responsible. What’s more important? Going’ by the book or making sure justice gets done?”

“Look, Starsk–” A ringing phone interrupted Hutch. With a sigh, he rose from his seat. “I bet that’s Dobie about to chew us out for not coming into the station. If we don’t do something soon, we may find ourselves facing IA, Starsk.”

“We’re really sorry, guys.” Blair looked back and forth between the two partners. “I know this is putting you out, and…”

“Awww, don’t worry about it.” Starsky waved him off. “We’ll figure out something.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair found their flight on the airport DEPARTURE board and confirmed that the plane would be leaving on time. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together and turned to the three men behind him. “We got enough time to grab something to eat.”

Jim nodded. “Sounds good.” He looked at Starsky and Hutch. “You two don’t have to use your sick days to come with us. There’s no point.”

“Uh, yes we do.” Hutch smiled politely. “No offense, but I believe you…about 99 percent. It’s the one percent that has me here, but, either way, I suppose you might need some help. If you are telling the truth, then we need to come with you to help. If you aren’t telling the truth,” his smile brightened, “well, then we really need to come with you.”

Starsky leaned forward and grinned. “You’ll have to forgive my partner. He’s got no sense of wonder.” He threw a slanted look at Hutch. “Besides, I wanna see this thing, if it exists.”

Blair sighed tolerantly. “I suppose my saying that you guys coming with us might alter the course of history still won’t persuade you?”

“You’ve already changed things here,” Hutch interjected.

Starsky nodded. “In for a penny… You know, what they say.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, the four men found themselves just outside of Cascade, Washington, heading up to the campsite in a rented Jeep courtesy of Detective Hutchinson, since the airfare had taken up most of Jim and Blair’s remaining cash.

“Okay, far enough. Just pull it over to the side.” Jim pointed up ahead to a small camping area to on the right with a small building and signs that indicated restrooms and a payphone. There were a couple of RV’s and vans already parked there, and a handful of people occupied the area, some just resting, others eating.

Pulling the Jeep next to a brightly-painted van, Hutch turned off the engine. “How far from here?”

“About five miles. We were halfway through our hike when we found it.”

“five miles?” Starsky’s eyes went wide as he twisted in the passenger seat to look back at Jim and Blair. “You walked this for fun?”

Blair snorted. “I wanted to take the two-mile flat trail, but Mr. Ranger here had to have a challenge. It’s mostly uphill.” He looked to Jim. “And you still owe me pizza and a week of first dibs on the shower for agreeing to that hike. In light of where it got us, I think that should end up being two weeks.”

Jim pursed his lips. “A week and a half.”

“Deal.”

With a look heavenward, Jim sighed. “Okay, let’s go. Bathroom break, then we head off.”

“You got it.” Blair unbuckled his lap belt. “You know, you guys really should wear your seat belts.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Do you know that 83% of accidents–”

“Come on, Chief.” Jim opened his door. “Those statistics aren’t even good yet.”

Blair frowned, considering that. “This really sucks, you know.”

“Sandburg, that’s the understatement of the year. Now, hurry up.” He jerked his chin toward the building as he slid out of his seat. “Let’s get business over with and get on the trail.”

“Trail.” Blair huffed. “Is that what you called that route you picked out for us?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim eyed the entrance to the men’s room as he picked up the payphone’s receiver. He remembered the number vividly. It had only changed once in the time his family had lived in that house. Depositing the change, he dialed and listened to the line ring. On the third one, a familiar, strong voice answered.

His father.

Dad.

Taking a deep breath, Jim scrubbed a hand over his short hair. “Uh, Mr. Ellison?”

“Yes?”

“This is Robert Carson, Tommy’s Dad.” Jim was finally thankful that his father had never spent enough time at his football games to get to know the other parents well. “Can I speak to Jimmy?”

“What about?”

“I just need to ask him if he, uh, wants to mentor a Pee Wee.”

“Oh, all right. Hold on…. Jimmy!”

There was a moment of silence, and Jim extended his hearing to listen to the faint noises over the line. He heard his own younger voice asking who was on the line, then tracked the approaching sound of footsteps.

“Hello?” the boy’s voice asked.

“Jimmy, I need to tell you something that won’t make much sense right now, but remember it. In a few years…”

“Jim!”

Jim jumped, nearly dropping the phone, and spun around to see Blair standing a foot away, his arms crossed and his eyes wild with anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” Blair lunged forward and slapped his hand on the hook, ending the connection. “Man, I can’t believe you! We talked about this! How the hell could you –”

“Damnit, Chief!” Jim slammed the receiver on the hook. “You think this is all just some textbook theory! I’m talking about men who died. Good men who shouldn’t have died!”

“Yeah, I know that, Jim.” Blair’s face darkened with pain. “I’ve lost people, too, you know. I know what it feels like, but we can’t change things. By saving those men, you’d be killing others who had lived. Think about it. If your chopper hadn’t gone down, you wouldn’t have been trapped in Peru for those eighteen months. You wouldn’t have had your Sentinel abilities come online. You might never have become a cop. All the lives you’ve saved being Detective James Ellison, Sentinel, will be null and void, man. All those good people dead! Hell, if you hadn’t stopped Brackett and Alex, the death toll with them alone could have been devastating.”

Jim looked away, his gaze going to some distant point on the horizon. “Maybe.” He closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I guess.”

“No guesses about it,” Blair said gently, placing his hand on Jim’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get going. Starsky and Hutch are out of the bathroom and sort of eyeing us strangely from afar. I guess they sensed this was a private conversation.”

Jim looked over his shoulder and, sure enough, the two detectives were sitting at a small picnic bench, casting quick glances their way.

“Okay.” Forcing a shallow smile on his face, Jim patted Blair’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

With a sigh, Blair nodded, throwing a lingering glance at Jim and then heading toward the picnic bench.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We should be just about there, shouldn’t we?” Blair adjusted the backpack on his shoulders and glanced at the edge of their trail to where the cliff dropped off.

“I sure hope so.” Starsky wiped his brow. “You had to hike up hill?”

Jim turned to face the two detectives, a large camping pack hung high on his shoulders. “It might go easier if you two took off your leather jackets. Why you needed them in Southern California is beyond me, but even now that we’re in cooler temperatures, if you’re going to be working up a sweat, it’s probably best that you not do it in leather.”

Hutch glanced at Starsky. “The man has a point.”

“I like my jacket,” Starsky pouted.

“Fine.” Jim turned and resumed his trek. “But don’t expect us to stop if you collapse of heat stroke.”

Blair chuckled. “At least he’ll look cool when he passes out.”

“Ha. Ha. Hold up.” Starsky stopped as Jim and Blair turned back to face him. He slid out of his jacket and tied it around his waist. “How much farther do you think?”

“Like Sandburg said, we should be about there,” Jim answered.

Blair nodded and looked around. “I think we’re just about at the place where we fell. The trail was pretty monotonous for a while, so I can’t be sure. Have you tried to…” He glanced at Starsky and Hutch, “uh, you know? See if anything’s familiar to you?”

Jim raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “It’s hard to say. I don’t hear anything.”

Blair’s eyes widened. “Uh, right.” He flashed a smile at Starsky and Hutch. “It made a strange humming noise.” Turning around to face Jim so that Starsky and Hutch couldn’t see his expression, Blair threw a warning glare at Jim then brushed passed him to look carefully over the edge. “I’m pretty sure we’re almost on top of it, if it’s here.” He pointed out over the expanse. “There’s that small valley. Yeah, we’re definitely in the area.”

“Great, Chief, so how do we find it?”

“Beats me. You’re the one with the, uh, you know…special ranger skills.”

“Special forces.”

Blair waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah.” Under his breath, he mumbled, very softly, “Geez, you want me to give it away, here? Use your hearing again. Just focus a bit harder.”

A smile quirked Jim’s lips, but he kept his gaze on the expanse of valley below them. Tilting his head, he remained silent for several seconds, then shook his head. “I think we should try to find a way to descend. We fell down a slope, so if we can just find something a little less steep, we should be able to… Wait. I hear something.”

Blair stiffened. “Yeah?”

“What?” Hutch glanced at Starsky. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Me either,” Starsky commented.

“Shhh.” Jim raised a silencing hand, then, after a moment, said, “Yeah, Chief, that’s it. The same strange sound I heard before, more like a vibration.”

“So it is here.” Blair’s brightened. “Man, I am so glad to hear that. The thought of being stuck back here… Well…”

“I hear ya, Chief.”

“So, you think it’s, like, on all the time, or did we somehow activate it?”

“I have no idea.” Jim shrugged. “It’s such a subtle sound… but not really a sound… that it’s barely noticeable.”

Starsky leaned slightly toward the ledge, his head tilted. “Uh, I still don’t hear anything.”

“I think we’re right on top of it.” Jim slid out of his pack, letting it fall to the ground. “Instead of trying to find more even ground to make our descent, it might be easiest for us to climb down.” Opening the pack, he pulled out two 9.9 mm climbing ropes and two pairs of aluminum ascenders. “We’ll tie off here.” He rummaged through the large pack again and withdrew two harnesses. “Sandburg and I will climb down and try to locate the machine. Here.” He tossed a walkie talky to Hutch. “If we find what we’re looking for, we’ll let you know.”

“Uh, Jim, man,” Blair peered over the edge, raising his hand slowly, “You know, I kind of vote for finding a nice, semi-level way to walk down.”

Jim looked up at the young man. “Chief, don’t worry. With this gear, it should be a piece of cake. It’s not even a straight drop off, just a steep hillside.”

“Piece of cake,” Blair huffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Sure.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh man, oh man, oh man. Blair gripped the rope tightly with his gloved hands and looked over his shoulder at Jim below. The hillside sloped steeply downward, but the harness kept him fairly well tethered to the rope. Jim, the show off, had opted to do the climb without the harness, and he seemed to be having little trouble making the descent.

In contrast, Blair thought he was doing great just hanging on to the trail mix he’d scarfed down an hour earlier. He hated heights. Yet, with Jim, he kept finding himself in very high places. He just prayed the rope held. He could picture it, just like in the movies, fraying against a rock until it snapped, sending him crashing down the much-too-steep hillside.

“It’s not a straight drop-off,” Blair muttered mockingly under his breath. “It’s just a steep hill.” Uh-huh, Jim, you and I are gonna have to have a long talk about your talent for understatement. Maybe to a former ranger, an eighty-five-degree from level ground angle wasn’t exactly a straight drop-off, but for normal, non-superhuman anthropologists, it was close enough.

“You doing okay, Chief?” Jim called up to him.

Blair took a deep breath. “Not really,” he yelled, sarcasm permeating his voice. “Thanks for asking.”

“Just a little farther. I think we’re getting closer to the vibration.”

“Great!” He continued his descent, focusing on keeping hold of the rope and watching where he put his feet. Blair had made it about half way down the slope when he felt the tremor. “Jim…!”

“Shiiit!” Came the alarmed cry from below at the same time the rope jerked roughly.

“Jim!” Blair twisted his head to look down, but, although the rope was taut, there was no sign of Jim. Several yards below, the line seemed to disappear into the mountainside itself. “Jim!

No No No! Blair closed his eyes briefly, swallowed hard, then pushed off the mountain and loosened his grip on the rope, putting himself into a near free-fall as he ran backward down the mountain. His feet slid against the rock as he struggled to keep his legs moving at the same rate as the rest of his body. The rope remained taut, keeping him from bouncing, and he arrived quickly at the drop-off.

Sending a silent prayer above, he leapt backward over the edge. The world became dark for a moment, and he realized he had closed his eyes again. He opened them just as his fall came to an abrupt and painful halt. His legs hit, and he crumpled hard onto a solid surface.

He lay there panting hard for a second. Then the ground began to shake, and he opened his mouth to scream Jim’s name when the rocky surface beneath him caved, sending him once again into a free-fall.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jim groaned. His head pounded and his right ankle throbbed with hot pain.

“Jim!”

He heard Sandburg scream his name, but it echoed through the cavern, and although it sounded like it came from above, Jim couldn’t quite localize the source.

Moments later, a dark figure fell from the darkness above, landing with a hard thump and a surprised grunt.

“Sandburg!” Jim pushed himself to his knees, slid out of his pack, and crawled forward.

Blair stirred, struggling to sit up, and Jim carefully grabbed the young man’s arm and helped him up.

“Jim?” Blair blinked at him, his blue irises practically glowing against the whites of his eyes in the darkness.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t see a thing.”

Jim gave a smile that was lost in the darkness. “I can.”

Blair took a breath. “Right.” He coughed as some of the dust from his fall settled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I think I wrenched my ankle a bit, but it’s not bad. How ’bout you?”

“Okay, I think. Where are we?”

Jim focused on penetrating the dimness. He saw rocky walls all around them.

“I think this is the same place,” Jim commented, pushing himself to his feet. He limped forward, standing in front of the wall. “If I’m remembering this right, after some shaking, one of these walls gave way to reveal a metallic surface. You touched it, didn’t you? Then there was a light.”

A crackling sound echoed through the walls of the cavern. “Hutch to Ellison and Sandburg. Come in.”

Jim turned and saw Sandburg grab the radio from his belt. “Sandburg here.”

“What happened to you two?”

“I think we’ve found the cavern. We’re okay for the moment. Uh, out.” Blair looked up at Jim. “Yeah, to answer your questions, that’s how I remember it, too. But the walls are all intact right now.”

“Not for long.” Jim knelt by his pack, unzipped it, and pulled out the small pick.

~~~~~~~~~~

Blair wiped the sweat from his brow as he used his own pick to hack away at the rocky surface. They’d been at it for an hour, going slowly to avoid damaging whatever might lay beneath.

“Hold up, Chief. I hear something.”

“What?”

“Shhh!”

A low rumble started and the ground began to quake.

“Watch out.” Jim yanked Sandburg away from the rocky wall just as it collapsed, revealing a smooth, metallic surface etched with symbols.

“Oh, man,” Blair breathed as the trembling subsided. A soft glow emanated from the thing. “Here it is.” Blair’s fingers hovered over a spiral symbol. “This is what I touched before… you know.”

“So, do you just touch it again?”

“How would I know?”

“C’mon, Sandburg, this is your area.”

Blair through Jim a skeptical look. “Right. Aliens are my area? I don’t think so.”

“What makes you so sure thing is alien?”

Blair cocked an eyebrow at Jim. “Well, it has a weird glow, it’s etched with symbols that are mostly unrecognizable, and, uh, oh yeah, it sent us back in time.”

The glowing steadily increased, accompanied by a high-pitched whine.

The radio cackled again, and Blair grabbed his from his belt. “Hutch? Hello?”

He got only static. Shooting a look at Jim, Blair hooked his radio back onto his belt and turned his attention to the device. “Jim, I’m not sure this is the right thing to do, but here goes.” Taking a breath, Blair touched the symbol.

The shaking began again, nearly knocking Blair from his feet. The glow turned to bright, white light as the high-pitched whine rose to a scalding scream. Jim yelled, placing his hands over his ears and dropping to his knees.

“Jim!” Blair lunged toward his friend just as rocks rained down upon them.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hutch!”

Starsky saw fingers gripping the ledge and hurried forward. He looked over and saw his partner staring up at him, his face lined with worry.

“You okay?” Starsky grabbed Hutch’s wrist and helped him up.

“Yeah.” Detaching himself from the rope, Hutch sighed. “I didn’t find them. There’s nothing. The rope’s been cut, but I didn’t see any sign of either of them.”

“So, you think we should call search and rescue?”

Hutch shrugged. “I guess so. I hope Ellison and Sandburg found what they were looking for and that there’s nobody to rescue, but yeah, Starsk, I think we’d better play it safe.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Simon chewed his unlit cigar as he turned the page of that morning’s newspaper. His eyes strayed to the sleeping detective, then slid to the unconscious grad student in the other bed. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair.

A groan brought his attention back to Jim. Pushing out of his chair, he set the paper on his seat and moved to his friend’s bedside. “Jim?”

Blue eyes cracked open, and Jim squinted up at him, his forehead creased. “Simon?” He coughed and lifted his head. “Where’s….”

“Right there.” Simon pointed.

Jim turned his head to see Blair laying still in the bed next to him. Dropping his head back to the pillow, Jim closed his eyes. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He’s got a concussion and a few scrapes, but he’s going to be fine. Both of you were suffering from dehydration and hypothermia when we found you.”

“What happened?”

Simon shrugged. “The Cascade area got hit with a modest earthquake, and we figure you guys took a tumble off the mountainside during your hike. They found you unconscious in a cavern with a couple of backpacks and an old walkie-talkie. If it hadn’t been for the search and rescue dogs, they never would have found you two there.”

“Did the SandR teams find anything else, sir?”

“Like what?”

Jim sighed. “Never mind. It’ll sound crazy.”

“Try me.”

“Jim?”

The weak voice pulled Jim’s attention to the other bed, and he smiled when he saw Blair gazing at him with bleary eyes.

“Are we back?” Blair croaked, then cleared his throat.

“Yeah, Chief, we’re back.”

“And you damn well almost didn’t make it back.” Simon grumbled.

“Jim?” Blair asked weakly. “You think they’re still alive?”

“Who?” Simon placed his hands on Jim’s bed rail. “Are there other people trapped?”

“No. No.” Jim quickly reassured the captain. “Nothing like that. Just… Uh. While Sandburg and I were trapped, we started talking about looking up a couple of old friends.”

The End