“Heart Sight”

Chapter Six

I must have closed my eyes. If I had kept them open, I would have seen Starsky’s face change in a heartbeat, the same instant he pulled his shot, firing into the ceiling. The snowfall of plaster was lost in the smoke billowing into the dining room.

How he knew it was me I’ll never know, but I wasn’t gonna question it.

“Starsk!” I barked out, my voice going hoarse from the smoky stairway. It wasn’t as bad yet here, but the smoke was growing increasingly thicker as the flames licked up the stairwell. Starsky made his way out from behind the bar and took a few tentative steps in my direction, following the sound of my coughs. I took him by the arm and led him back toward the stairs. “They set the place on fire. We’re gonna have to make a run for it down the stairs, then blast our way out of here.”

I felt Starsky stiffen, but his steps never hesitated. The flames were growing increasingly higher, and I knew the stairs would soon be impassable. When we reached the landing, I helped Starsky shrug out of his jacket and draped it over his head. His features were pinched with fear, but he never doubted that I would take care of us both. “You ready?”

Starsky nodded and tried to say something, but the smoke caused him to cough hoarsely. I could only imagine what it was doing to his still-healing throat, lungs and eyes. I knew we couldn’t wait any longer, so I gripped his elbow and stepped onto the now burning stairs. Starsky adjusted his weight to follow behind me when a sound like a falling tree startled us both. I felt the stairs beneath me buckle and pitch, throwing me off balance.

I don’t know how Starsky sensed what was happening, but the arm I had been gripping shot out and latched onto my forearm, hauling me back onto the landing and we both backpedaled. The smoke stung my eyes as I watched the freestanding stairs crumble before us. I wasn’t so sure the landing wasn’t next, so I steered Starsky back into the now inflamed dining room and rushed back toward the kitchen. Starsky began coughing in earnest now, almost doubled over with the effort to breathe. We made our way to the back door, and I tried in vain a second time to force the door open. Using the butt of the Python, I smashed open the small window and stuck my arm through, but I simply couldn’t reach the two-by-four jamming it shut.

I rushed to the sink and wet down two dishcloths, trying to calm my racing heart as I gave one to Starsky, then guided his hand to hold the cloth over his mouth and nose. We scrambled back out into the dining room, and I cast desperately around the room, looking for any inspiration as to how to get out of this. It was such a cruel irony to look out the wall of windows, past the reflection of the fire dancing on the glass, onto the serene waterscape before us.

Water.

I cursed myself as four kinds of fool. “C’mon, Starsk. We’re outta here.”

Starsky coughed again and raised an eyebrow comically in my direction: // About time you figured a way out of this. //

I led him to the far wall, picking up a chair as I went. I turned his back to the panes of glass as I heaved the chair against it, shattering the two-foot-wide pane. The chair dropped sixteen feet and crunched against the rocks below before rolling into the channel and sinking. I felt the blood drain from my face. The water seemed deep enough, and any water would be better than hitting the ground. Still, we would need to jump out far enough to miss the rocks acting as a barrier between the channel and the foundation of the restaurant.

A second chair was used to knock away the remaining glass. Starsky’s eyes were watering continuously now and his breathing was sounding worse. Over his shoulder I could see the flames engulfing the walls on either side of the archway and the far end of the mahogany bar. We didn’t have much time left.

“Okay, Starsk, you’re the one who said we should go out like Butch and Sundance. So, now’s our chance. It looks like our only shot is to take a swim.”

That brought up his head in an instant. His mouth opened and I expected a protest, but he quickly closed it and swallowed, then croaked out, “What’s the plan, Sundance?” I managed to grin as I coughed.

I grabbed his left hand and led him to the window. I was yelling to be heard over the fire. “The opening’s only about two feet wide. We’ll go together, one in front of the other. Just don’t let go of my hand. We’re gonna have to clear a few rocks, so don’t hesitate when we go, pal. Think you can do it?”

Starsky coughed again and nodded, then gave me a quick thumbs up with his right: // Piece o’cake. //

I grabbed the window frame with my left hand. “Let’s do it then. On three.” Again, Starsky nodded, bending his legs in preparation. I squeezed his hand once. “One…”

The explosion knocked us both forward. Later, I realized I had forgotten about the gas stove in the kitchen. Hindsight. The blast knocked me out the window and Starsky into the window frame, his arm shooting through what was left of the pane next to him. The rest of the window’s glass came raining down with me. I didn’t quite clear the rocks in my descent, my right leg slamming into one of them. The pain was incredible, but I managed to swim out far enough to get a good look up at the second floor. In the distance I heard fire trucks. Finally.

“Starsky!” I bellowed. I could see him extract his arm from the jagged remains of the window and stagger to his feet, shaken. The flames were within feet of him, and the smoke pouring out of the restaurant ebbed and receded, occasionally obliterating him from my view. Still, I could make out fresh blood above his right eyebrow. Another blow to his head…what would the damage do to the blood clots? What if…

Get a grip, Hutchinson, you can worry about that later…if there is a later.

“Starsky!” I called out again, hoping that he could hear me above the roar of the fire. The palms of his hands went up to his head, grinding them into his eyes. The pain he must be experiencing…

I can’t describe how scared I was for him, up there, alone--and there wasn’t a blasted thing I could do to help him. It was all up to him now.

“C’mon, partner!” I was treading water now and beginning to tire. My right leg was completely numb and the weight of my clothes kept dragging at me. I didn’t know how deep the water was here and didn’t want to find out. “Starsk!”

He finally heard me, coughing fiercely, and turned in my direction, his face searching for me. “Starsky, jump! I’m right here, you can do it!”

He placed a hand on either side of the windowpane, but hesitated, undecided. He knew if he jumped, he would have to clear the rocks, have to go under, have to surface to stay alive. Behind him the flames were almost on top of him. Blinded, hurt, fighting to breathe…alone. I can’t remember feeling this helpless when he needed me the most.

I could see the fear on his face, the anguish, the indecision, and I knew it was going to cost him his life. “Starsky!”

He looked in the direction of my voice, then back toward the fire, weighing the odds of trying to make his way out some other way, the odds of someone coming to rescue him. I tried the only thing I could think of. “Starsky!” For the love of God, hear me! “Starsky! It’s ‘who do you trust’ time!”

He must have heard the desperation in my voice, because he turned back toward me. “Starsky! Do you trust me?”

His head came up like a startled stag’s. I took a breath to yell again, but as the smoke billowed out of the window, Starsky disappeared from my sight.

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Chapter Seven