Blood Brothers
Chapter Eight
The ancient wooden hull creaked under the partners' feet as the boat shifted under them. They were two days out of port and well out to sea, but the ride wasn't all that fun anymore.
"Hutch, I don't think I've seen you green before! I thought you were a sea scout!"
"Well, you look green too, partner; and none of the boats I've ever been on have felt like they were on the verge of falling apart either!" There was no mistaking the worry in the blond's eyes, though.
"Think about somethin' else!" Starsky ordered, forcing his partner to turn from the rail of the ship. "Think about the wonderful send-off the Bolts gave us!"
"Yeah," Hutch smiled, "they were pretty nice. Big party, lots of food, all the girls being so nice. Makes you wonder if they thought we weren't coming back!"
"I got news for ya, partner. They don't!" Starsky lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I overhead Jason talkin'. Since we're takin' the cargo to Port Angeles," he said, making a face at the strange term for his home city, "they half expect us to be homesick and stay there."
"Makes sense," Hutch agreed, looking thoughtful. "And maybe more. I wonder if Josh talked us into this trip just to give us a chance to get home. Remember, our story was always that we were working for the Bolts until we could earn enough money to go home. This could be their way of taking care of that for us."
Starsky nodded his head. "I'm surprised you figured that out. After all, I have always been the brains of this outfit. But I can't argue with ya. The problem is, we don't know any more about Port Angeles than we did about Seattle when we first landed there."
"So?"
"So, I vote we come back to Seattle with Clancey when this delivery is made. I know at least one little brunette that wouldn't mind seein' you again." He grinned lecherously, watching Hutch wince.
"I'm afraid that wasn't goin' anywhere, Starsk. She only liked me because I reminded her of Josh. She realized it and explained it to me at the party. And now that he's...."
"Now that's he's had a little awakening of his own, you're on the bench."
"You could put it that way." His partner looked embarrassed and sad, so Starsky tried to cheer him up.
"Well, there is one very strong reason for leaving Seattle for good!"
"What's that, Starsk? I thought you loved it there!"
"I did. All but one little thing." Starsky stood back, putting on his funniest, wide smile and changed his voice to a high cackle. "Dave!! Oh, Dave!!! Don't you want to take a walk with me?? Don't you want to have dinner? Are you going over to Lottie's?" Hutch couldn't help it, laughing out loud at Starsky's fairly good imitation of Biddie.
"Now there's a voice I won't miss. Even if we go back to Seattle, at least we got this respite from it!"
"Suppose there's any chance she'll be married by the time we get back?" Starsky looked hopeful.
"I'm afraid not," Hutch muttered, laying an arm across Starsky's shoulders. "But if you're really lucky, maybe she'll have found another victim by that time."
They weren't sure how long they stood chatting at the railing, the time going so quickly that it seemed to be mere moments.
From nowhere, the boat rocked abruptly, knocking both men against the side of the boat. "All hands on deck!" they heard Clancey yell as he struggled with the ship's huge wheel.
Stampeding feed joined them very shortly, fastening down everything on deck and fighting at the same time to stay on their feet. The waves had suddenly taken on huge and menacing proportions, tossing the large mule boat like a raft. "Get everything battened down, then get below deck!" Clancey called again, maintaining his cool like a true sailor. It surprised the pair how adept he was for a man who spent most of his time so drunk he couldn't walk straight, let alone steer a ship.
"I think we'd better take the Captain's advice," Hutch recommended, trying to pry Starsky's hands from the rail. "C'mon, Starsk! Let's get below decks." They looked up into the rain, which was suddenly pouring down, to see the rest of the crew headed for the doorway that would take them into the bowels of the ship.
"I'm with you, partner," Starsky yelled, his fear matching Hutch's, as they clasped hands to keep from getting lost in the gale force winds. Where the hell did that come from?!
Both Starsky and Hutch realized they had made what could be a fatal mistake when they hadn't gotten below deck when they had the chance. Each step they took forward was exchanged for two they were pushed back. Before long, they were plastered to the side of the ship.
"Get as close to the deck as you can!" Hutch yelled, trying to push Starsky down into the corner. "Get your body below the rail!" Starsky couldn't hear his screams, though, so Hutch had to use both hands to force the brunet to his knees.
No amount of rain could conceal the horror in Starsky's eyes when the boat suddenly rocked, no longer level on the ocean's surface. Hutch, still standing in his effort to secure Starsky's position, was suddenly thrown over the edge of the boat, catching the edge with only his fingertips. "Hutch!!!!!!!" Starsky cried, terror-stricken.
"Starsky, stay down!" Hutch responded, only too aware of his hold sliding on the slick surface.
"No!" was the only response he got as his partner, equally wet, grasped his hands in an effort to pull the heavier man back aboard the boat. He was making good headway, the blond bent at the waist over the rail, when the inevitable happened. Another wave hit the boat, throwing Hutch back over the edge. This time, the only thing he had to grab onto was Starsky, who was pulled over with him.
In the split second before the pair hit the water and became unconscious, they shared a single thought. At least they'd be going out together, even if it was over one hundred years in the past.
*************************
Starsky came to as strong hands pulled him aboard a smaller boat. He was numb from the cold, but realized that, while it was still raining, the sea was no longer churning like an evil nemesis. He also realized that Hutch was being pulled aboard too, only he was unconscious. How many times can a guy get knocked out before there's some kind of permanent damage?/=* Starsky wondered fleetingly. He felt disjointed from everything around him except for his partner, whom he latched onto with a single hand and would not let go.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked him, shining a light in his face. "Are you Sergeant Starsky?"
"Too bright!" Starsky exclaimed, batting the light away as he began to shiver from the cold. A blanket was wrapped around him, and a second around Hutch's unresponsive form. The light was deflected, but he still couldn't see those behind it. "Who are you?"
"This is the coast guard, Sergeant Starsky. We got a call of a sailboat capsizing and came as soon as we could. The storm kept us from getting here any sooner."
"Sailboat?" Starsky repeated dully. Then it dawned. "Did you call me Sergeant? You know who I am?"
"Yeah. When the girls who stranded you out here as a joke found out about the storm, they called us so we could look for you."
"Well, it looks like you were a little late," Starsky muttered, dragging himself over to where Hutch lay. His partner looked like a blond drowned rat, and he had a nasty cut on the side of his head, but he was breathing regular, and that was enough to satisfy Starsky. "Can you get us home?"
"Well, we could," a male voice said, "but I think the hospital might be a better choice. At least overnight for observation and so your buddy can get his head looked at."
Starsky nodded that he understood and agreed, then sank down next to Hutch, too exhausted to do anything more than sleep now.
**************************
"Y'know . . . ." Starsky began, sitting opposite his partner in Hutch's apartment. After a day and a half in the hospital, he felt great, and while he still sported a bandage around his head to cover the stitches, Hutch also seemed to be back to his normal rigorous nature.
"What?" Hutch asked, trying to find a comfortable position that wouldn't aggravate a few remaining aching muscles.
"When we were knocked out in all that water, I had a dream you'd never believe!"
"It couldn't be any stranger than the one I had, partner. But you go first. What was yours about?"
"Do you remember once showing me that photo album of yours? The one with your ancestors from Seattle?"
"Yeah, I remember," Hutch said, his tone slightly stunned. "You're not telling me that you dreamed you were back there, are you?"
"That's exactly what I dreamed, partner. It was weird. We met that Josh guy who looked just like you, his brothers, and even . . ."
"....and even helped him when he got his leg caught in a bear trap," Hutch finished, shocking his partner. "I had the same dream, Starsk."
"You did?" Starsky questioned, trying to understand. "How can we have seen the same things?!"
"I don't know," Hutch admitted, obviously stunned as well. "As a matter of fact, I've been itching to get a look at that album since I woke up. I even went through the closet and found it. I needed to see those faces." Hutch tried to define the impulse drawing him to the album like a lifeline. It was so strong, but he couldn't explain it. He pulled the book out from under the chair where he sat.
Starsky could see the worry in Hutch's eyes, as if something was going to reach out and pull him into that unreality. "It was just a dream," Starsky said, for once being the realist. "I'll admit that it's weird that we shared it, but it's still just a dream." As he spoke, Hutch began flipping the pages in the album.
The first one he came upon was the picture of Joshua Bolt and his wife; it hadn't occurred to either man when they'd been in Seattle that this was the same woman, the same "Peggy", that they had met. That girl was very young, with a child's face and hair style. This woman was the same woman, but she'd aged so beautifully that it was hard to believe it was the same woman. That was, until you looked at those eyes. There was no doubt when you studied the round, soulful feature as she posed looking at her husband.
All the photographs were just as they had been before, with one exception: a group shot of the Bolt Brothers' logging crew. Almost one hundred men lined up for a rare group shot, and there, in the center of everybody, were two very familiar faces.
"Starsk, look at this," Hutch said, stunned, pointing. The brunet circled around to look over his partner's shoulder. The blond man could have been Joshua Bolt - probably was, Starsky thought. But the curly-haired man who stood next to him, his arm flung protectively over the blond's shoulders, was unmistakable.
"If I didn't know better...." Starsky mumbled.
"Don't say it, Starsk!" Hutch exclaimed, cutting him off. "It's been a long week, and I don't think I'm ready to deal with this!"
"But, Hutch..." Starsky was worried at how shook his best friend looked.
"I have a headache, buddy, and it's getting worse. I'm not up to this." Suddenly, Hutch jumped from his chair, putting the album on the table as if it had bitten him, and heading for the bathroom. "I need to get some sleep. Maybe we can figure it out tomorrow."
Starsky knew his partner when he was this way, and knew it wasn't a time to push. "Okay, we'll work on it tomorrow. If it can be explained at all."
"It has to be explainable," Hutch insisted. "Just not tonight."
Starsky took the hint, and got up to head home to his own apartment. "Get some sleep, buddy," he said, squeezing his best friend's arm and pushing him toward the bathroom. "I'll see you in the morning."
The door shut gently behind the brunet, and after brushing his teeth and switching from the day's dirty clothes to his favorite orange robe, Hutch headed for bed. But before he turned in, he couldn't resist one more peek at the amazing photograph. "Night everybody," he whispered to all the men he knew in the picture, feeling foolish but doing it anyway. "Starsky won't give up, but I've got a feeling we're never gonna explain you." And with that, he disappeared behind the partition and to his eagerly-awaited bed.
THE END
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