Eagle’s Flight

An additional scene to “Bloodbath”

by Brit

 

š ›

 

“What took you so long, huh?”

 

There was a huge amount of relief in his voice, but I heard his fear.  Or rather felt it.  Not that he tried to hide it from me; he didn’t need to.  Perhaps he couldn’t have anyway, considering the shape he was in.  This time it was so close—too close.  I would have had a hard time releasing Starsky’s grip from my jacket if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t.  I wasn’t going anywhere, and there was no way I was letting him out of my sight any time soon.

 

“Nice looking nightgown you got there.”

 

He eventually choked out a laugh, most likely for my benefit.  The girl at his legs shifted and clung a bit tighter.  She was a surprise.  I can’t begin to tell you what it was like breaking into the clearing and seeing my partner bound by his wrists to the framework of an aviary.  Seeing this woman standing in front of him with a butcher knife raised, the rest of the whackos all but salivating, ready to¾  No; push it back, Hutchinson.

 

Minutes before, I’d had my gun out with her in my sights, my finger at that split-second before pulling the trigger.  I would have taken her out if Starsky’s body hadn’t twisted where he hung, blocking a clear shot.  I remember at that instant thinking his arbitrary movement saved her life, but would cost him his own.  Once the fighting started in close quarters, my gun was useless anyway.  If we hadn’t got there in time, I…

 

No, don’t dwell on that right now.  Not ever.  It’s just that the pictures of Marcus’s other victims were burned into my memory.  What was left of them no longer human, just indistinguishable masses of flesh and bone.  No amount of whiskey will wash those images away.  To think if we hadn’t gotten here in time, Starsky would have been one more of them…

 

Stop it!  Focus on what’s in front of you.

 

I was shocked when the woman had cut Starsky’s bonds rather than following through with the strike.  I’d thank her later, after I took care of my partner.  She released her hold on Starsky’s leg and withdrew out of my line of vision.  Starsky began to tremble—I think everything was catching up with him.  That, and I had no way of knowing what he’d been through the last twenty-four hours.  I was going to get him to a hospital regardless of how much complaining he’d predictably do.  As gently as I could, I held him at arm’s length so I could get a better look at the extent of his injuries. 

 

I was about to ask him how he was doing when I heard his sharp intake of breath, and the next thing I knew, Starsky was pulling me down beside him and forcing the two of us to roll a few feet away.  “Freeze, police!” came from one of the uniformed officers, and I pulled my gun and made it up on one knee, looking for the threat.  One of Marcus’s followers had recovered.  He was only a few feet from us, and he had clutched the redheaded woman in front of him like a shield.  His left hand was clenching her jaw, forcing her head painfully to one side.  The other hand held a kitchen knife, the blade pressed up against her throat hard enough to cause a trickle of blood.

 

“Put the knife down!”  The freak’s inverted cross was dead in my sites.  I could have taken him out—should have taken him out—right then and there.  This guy was maniacal, but even if I nailed him, it wouldn’t necessarily save the woman.  Honestly?  It would have given me at least a moment of satisfaction for him to provoke retaliation.  My nerves were as taut as a piano wire, and I had a lot of anger just begging to be released.  The patrolmen and Dobey had their weapons drawn and weren’t standing down, either.  There was no reasoning with him, but I had to try.  Starsky whispered my name, a plea to help her.

 

“Look, you’re already in enough trouble.  Don’t add murder—”

 

He just shook his head.  His eyes were out of focus, like he was demented or on some sort of trip.

 

“Simon didn’t dream this…Simon said he’d be released if there’s a sacrifice.” The mumbling stopped and he focused on us.  “Simon dreamed your death, Starsky!”

 

The woman sobbed, begging to be released.  I had a bad feeling this wasn’t going to end well unless something hap—

 

That something happened before I could even blink.  I reacted on instinct the second I saw his arm move, but it was too late.  The blade ran across the woman’s throat in one vicious stroke, laying it open, her blood splattering both Starsky and me.  My gun went off in the same instant, but not before the damage was already done. I felt Starsky go boneless and slump against me.  It was too much to take in, too much to comprehend.  I would have been sick right then and there if Starsky still hadn’t needed my protection.  The uniforms had the other sickos covered, so I put my gun away and eased Starsky onto his back.  His breathing was shallow, but steady, so I left him long enough to scramble over to the woman. 

 

She never had a chance.  I was at her side just in time to see the light fade from her eyes, and I knew there was nothing that could have been done for her.  After the nightmare I could only guess she’d been living, I hoped death was a merciful thing.  As gently as I could, I closed her eyes.

 

As for the man with the knife, I won’t go into detail, but if anyone would even want to mourn the scum, they’d have to have a closed casket.

 

Dobey was kneeling next to Starsky, barking out orders and demanding the ETA of the ambulance we had called for en route to the zoo, not knowing what we were going to find.  I hurried back to my partner—I just couldn’t slow down, even now that we’d found him—and slipped, none too gracefully settling beside him.  His eyes fluttered open, and his hand groped toward me.  My hand locked onto his, and I again felt the trembling in his arm, far beyond fear or shock.  I wondered how long they’d had him strung up by his wrists. 

 

“Gail?”  His voice was raspy.  I automatically shifted, blocking her corpse from his view.  I didn’t have the words to tell him, so I just shook my head.  Starsky blinked a few times before closing his eyes, and nodded, compartmentalizing his grief.  At least for the moment, survival was taking up all of his energy. 

 

Dobey cleared his throat.  “Starsky, how bad are you hurt?  What do you need?”

 

He drew in a breath and shook his head, then opened his eyes.  His rage was gaining ground and overriding the horror.  Starsky pushed himself up awkwardly, and we helped him to sit, angling him so his back was to the gruesome sight behind us.  The bodies had to be left as they were until the ME and crime lab did their thing.  I swallowed hard and focused on the huddled figure next to me.  Dobey had been given a blanket and was draping it over Starsky’s shoulders. 

 

He accepted the blanket and clutched it around himself to his chest.  His head drooped in exhaustion for a second before it jerked back up as if he had been stung.  He nearly toppled over as he tried to get to his feet.  I grabbed him by the arm to steady him.  “What’s wrong?  Just hang in there for a few more minutes, Starsk, the ambu—”

 

“Get this—”  He was struggling so hard to stand that I scrambled to my feet and, with Dobey’s help, got him upright. “Get this damn robe off me!”

 

The inverted cross stood out like a bloody welt on the robe.  I wouldn’t have wanted it against my skin for a second longer, either.  Still, I had no idea where his own clothes were and he didn’t care.  Starsky couldn’t muster the strength in his abused arms and shoulders to pull the robe over his head, and looked at me wildly, desperately.  I didn’t need further convincing to take hold of the rough material and pull it off over his head.  The captain quickly picked up the discarded blanket and held it open to shield Starsky’s body from the other officers, but my partner never noticed and didn’t care who saw what.

 

My heart stopped when I saw the bruises.  There literally weren’t more than a few inches anywhere on his body that weren’t marred, evidence of the beatings he’d taken.  The burn below his right eye was still damp, and a bloody wound along his hairline wept.  His wrists were raw, and his hands had a bluish tint from the lack of circulation.

 

I helped Starsky wrap the blanket around him and steered him to the front seat of the nearest squad car.  Dobey was a step behind us, anger in his eyes.  “The ambulance just got off the highway; should be here any minute.”

 

Starsky surprised me by just nodding.  That told me a lot, and my rage swelled up inside me again until I felt like I was going to explode.  Focus, Hutchinson.  Focus on what he needs right now.  “Starsk…hey, buddy?” 

 

Trying to keep it together, Starsky exhaled and looked at me, trusting me to care for him.  The leather straps they had strung him up with were cutting off the circulation to his hands and were swelling now that they were no longer above his head.  “I need to get these off, okay?” 

 

My jackknife was out of my pocket, but I didn’t open it until he nodded.  Not that Starsky was in that fragile a condition; I just didn’t want to push things since minutes ago he was surrounded by blades and maniacs.  He kept his eyes glued to my face while I slipped the knife between the leather and his skin.  The bindings were tough and took some effort before I was finally able to cut through them.  It didn’t take long before Starsky grimaced, the circulation returning to his numb hands.  We remained there until the stretcher was beside us, me kneeling next to him, rubbing his hands as circulation was painfully restored. 

 

Starsky needed help getting out of the squad car.  He stood for a moment and looked around—again taking in the aviary where he had been a heartbeat away from being one more victim, one more sacrifice to whatever god Simon Marcus worshiped. 

 

Without a word, Starsky sat on the stretcher and was quickly loaded into the ambulance.  I scrambled in after him and we left Hell behind us.

 

Or so I thought.

 

š ›