The Storm

by Brit

Ó 2002

The Storm

Brit

Chapter One

It was getting to the point where this trip made the one to Pine Lake seem like a Boy Scout overnighter. The state park and campsite had been idyllic: only two cratered dirt roads leading back through the mountainous terrain, and it was still early in the season, so there were very few campers in a fifty-mile radius.

The March weather had been unseasonably warm, and the partners had an entire week off to themselves. It should have been a good time for a little R and R.

Should have been.

It was bad enough when it started to storm, forcing the men inside after only two days of the excursion. It was bad enough when the wind whipped through Hutch’s old tent, rending a tear at the center seam and letting in the torrential rains. It was bad enough to sit through Starsky’s litany of grousing at the cold and damp, then, as expected, his hacking, sneezing and wheezing after spending a sleepless night drenched to the skin.

But when Starsky stopped complaining about every minute detail of the trip, Hutch’s guilt set in and he admitted defeat. The gear was packed in apologetic silence, and the ten-mile hike back to where the Torino waited in the camp’s parking lot began.

I’d rather listen to you grouse, partner. Hutch shifted his backpack higher on his shoulders and shook the wet strands of hair out of his eyes. Glancing behind him, Starsky was the very picture of abject misery. A wet Starsky was not a happy Starsky. “Hang in there. Just another mile and a half and we’ll be at the general store. Then we’ll get you into some dry clothes.”

“But all my clothes are drenched, no thanks to that sieve you called a tent.” A sneeze punctuated Starsky’s statement.

“So, we’ll pick up something for you to wear home at the store, all right?” Hutch fought to keep his patience. After all, it’s not as if he had asked for the unexpected storm. The reports had forecasted the spring weekend was going to be perfect, and that the inclement weather shouldn’t have hit until the middle of the following week, long after the two men had returned to the city.

“Terrific. Stiff farmer jeans and a flannel shirt.” The sodden man spat out “flannel” as if it were an epithet. Starsky shook water out of his curls, while glaring at the back of his partner’s head.

Hutch smiled in spite of himself and pushed forward up a muddy embankment. The path was like walking uphill on ice, but he managed, using a nearby branch for leverage. He didn’t think twice as he let go of the tree upon reaching the summit and paused at the top long enough to check on his partner’s progress. Starsky was seated in a mud puddle at the bottom of the rise, a red welt rising on his left cheek.

“Starsk, you okay?”

The look Starsky gave told him he was everything but okay, though he never uttered a word. A murderous glare transfixing his partner, Starsky gingerly got up from the puddle, mud sticking to his legs, hands and backside, and thrust his index finger forward. “Go.”

The remaining mile was uneventful. A tiny brass bell heralded the detectives’ arrival into the small store that appeared to be frozen in time from the forties. The grocery also doubled as an overnight lot for campers’ vehicles, and the waiting Torino was a welcomed sight. The minute Starsky cleared the store’s porch and slammed open the door, he dropped his backpack and stomped over to the meager assortment of clothing and gear. With a scowl, he snatched up a pair of jeans and, as predicted, a red flannel shirt. As he continued his stomping, he passed the storeowner and paused only long enough to jerk his thumb at Hutch, growling, “He’s buying.”

The old man grinned as Hutch rolled his eyes and moved to the pigeonholed shelves of clothing. Selecting a change of clothes for himself, socks for both him and Starsky, and some cold and flu tablets, Hutch made his way to the counter and pulled out his billfold.

A pair of kind gray eyes examined the sodden detective from behind his glasses. “Well, you did say he wasn’t much of the outdoors type.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” Hutch shook out the damp bills before handing them over.

That earned a chuckle from the storeowner. “I’ve got boots there in the back if you’re interested. Let you have them at a good price—kind of a ‘rainy day sale’.”

Hutch gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, but we’ve both got our tennis shoes out in the car. Storm came up a bit early, didn’t it?”

“I’m not surprised, this time of the year. That trough of cold air came down quicker’n they forecasted. Warm weather we had before sure had the rivers running with the snow melt off the mountain, and now with all this rain…”

The bell over the door rang again as a young woman hurried through the door, a toddler in one arm and her other arm draping her coat over both their heads.

“Well, Janie! My word, girl. What are you doing out in this storm? I thought you would have enough sense to stay inside until it passed over.” The storeowner threw an apologetic look at Hutch.

“No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Hey, Mr. Wittiker.” The young woman’s face brightened. “Richie ’n me couldn’t stand being stuck in the cabin anymore. Right, Richie?” The eighteen-month-old grinned back at his mother, then at the familiar storeowner, but upon seeing Hutch shyly buried his face in the nape of her neck. The mother grinned at the drenched man and shook her head. “Half the time I can’t get him to stop talking. Nobody understands a word he’s saying, but it doesn’t bother him any. He just keeps on talking.”

Hutch chuckled. “Sounds like somebody I know.”

Janie shook out her jacket and crossed over to the wooden counter to set her son down, fussing with his miniature bib overalls. “I just stopped in to leave a note for my folks. My phone line went down, and I know they’ll check here with you when they can’t reach me back at the cabin. I’m heading back to San Diego.”

“Oh, now that’s wonderful! I knew you two could work things out.”

Hutch felt awkward, standing in the midst of such an intimate conversation between two obviously good friends, but the out-of-the-way store didn’t have any changing rooms, and his miffed partner had locked himself in the only bathroom. He wandered away from the counter and examined some of the local newspaper clippings tacked up on a bulletin board.

“It wasn’t an easy decision, but…I love him. I knew that I had to give it just one more try.”

“Does Brad know you’re on the way back?”

“No. I tried to call him at the base, but the lines went out just as they were putting me through. And, well…I just can’t wait any longer to see him. Now that I’ve made up my mind to make this marriage work, I can’t stand being away from him.”

Mr. Wittiker smiled at her impatience. He had known Janie since she was a toddler herself, and it seemed that once she had her mind set on something, there was no changing it. A rumble of thunder renewed his concern, and a quick glance out the window showed that the storm was returning to its former fury. The old man pulled a pretzel out of a glass canister on the shelf and offered it to Richie.

“Now, Janie, I know you’re determined to head out, but don’t you think you should wait until the storm passes? Bob over at the ranger station said the river was getting pretty high, and it won’t be long until the south fork is impassible.”

“Then we’ll just have to take Logan’s Road is all.” The blonde smiled gently at the concern in Mr. Wittiker’s eyes. “I’ve been through these woods every summer since I was two; I know what to look out for, and I’ll be careful.”

The storeowner nodded, though not reassured. His gray eyes sought out Hutch’s when the detective looked on the tableau with some concern of his own.

“Excuse me?” Hutch crossed over to the counter. “I’m sorry to have eavesdropped, but it’s a small store, you know.” He was grateful that the young woman didn’t seem offended. “I heard you mention that you know these roads pretty well. My partner and I were going to head back into the city, too, and I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind if we followed you.” He threw a knowing glance back at Mr. Wittiker. “This way, getting lost won’t be one more thing that goes wrong with this trip.”

“Partner?”

“They’re cops,” Mr. Wittiker volunteered. “Detectives from the city.”

“And if any of us should run into trouble along the way, we can use our radio to call for help.” Hutch smiled ruefully and produced his badge. Losing a bit of his shyness, Richie reached out for the gold shield.

“What’re ya bustin’ the kid for? Pretzel theft?” Starsky’s congested voice mocked Hutch from behind.

“Starsky, this is Janie…?” Hutch hesitated.

“Thompson,” she confirmed as Starsky stuffed his wet clothes, including his socks and shoes, into Hutch’s arms and shook her hand, then waggled his fingers at the little boy contentedly destroying his pretzel.

“And Richie. My partner, David Starsky.”

“Nice to meet you.” Janie smiled, shaking his hand. She then turned back to the blond. “And you’re…?”

“Oh!” Hutch grinned broadly, attempting to mask his embarrassment as his partner snorted. “Hutchinson. Hutch. Ken. I mean, Ken Hutchinson.”

“But you can call him Hutch. Everybody does. Even his mother.”

“She does n—” Hutch trailed off when he caught his partner’s mocking smile. Starsky snatched a pair of new socks from his partner’s load, as Hutch began a stumbling retreat toward the vacant bathroom. “I’m going to get out of my clothes now. I mean…that…I’m going to change out of my wet clothes. Into these dry ones. In there. Now.”

The three adults standing at the counter watched in fascination until the blond finally made it to the small room and slammed the door. They continued to watch as the door opened marginally to retrieve the shirtsleeve trapped between the door and the jam. The door slammed shut a second time.

“And they let him carry a gun,” Starsky murmured under his breath. A relieved grin plastered his face as he turned back to Janie. “So, what’s this I overheard about an escort back to civilization?”

˜ ™

The Torino crept along Logan’s Road less than a car length behind Janie Thompson’s El Camino. Drops of rain and hail pelted the car’s hood and roof, setting off a small calliope of sound inside. Even with the wipers operating at their highest speed, the rain sheeted down the windshield, making visibility next to impossible. Mist surrounded the landscape, casting everything beyond a ten-yard parameter into a haunting gray. Starsky let loose an explosive sneeze at the same time a burst of lightening illuminated the dark interior of the car.

“Bet you couldn’t do that again if you tried,” Hutch mused over the rumble of thunder.

“Shut up, I’m trying to drive here.”

The next few minutes passed in tense silence, both men’s eyes fixed on the blurred taillights ahead of them. A flash of green off the side of the road caught their attention.

“What’d that sign say?”

Hutch shook his head, keeping his focus on the red lights ahead. “I couldn’t make out the name, other than it’s the ‘something’ river fork. I think that means we’re getting cl—”

A flash of lightning, striking close enough to blind both men, interrupted the thought. An enormous thunderclap immediately followed, marking the proximity of the bolt. A second cracking noise rose above the din of the rain.

“Starsky, watch out!”

The scene before them was a blur of colored movement. Starsky slammed on the brakes as the dark form of a charred tree fell from the side of the road, blocking Janie’s path. She reacted instinctively to the obstacle that seemed to come out of nowhere and cranked the steering wheel a hard left. In her panic, Janie stomped on the accelerator rather than the brake, plunging the sedan off the embankment, where it tumbled the twenty yards to the teeming river’s edge.

Without a word, Starsky slammed the car in park, and the two stunned men threw themselves out of the vehicle and raced down the riverbed, sliding through the wet brush to the now-destroyed car. The two-door sedan had miraculously landed upright, though its right side was submerged halfway up the door. As soon as the partners came to a sliding stop, experienced eyes assessed the situation. The river, now milky gray from the churned mud and debris, continued to rage and pull at the embankment. The small sedan shifted as the river pushed against it. They could see the form of Janie, slumped across the front seat. Hutch rushed to the vehicle and began pulling against the jammed driver’s door.

“Where’s Richie?” Two steps behind his partner, Starsky quickly peered through the webbed back window and could make out the toddler, still strapped in his carrier, wedged on the floorboards between the seats. The little boy wasn’t moving.

Starsky cautiously made his way into the fast current and around the back end of the car. The spring mountain water sent slivers of ice into his legs and thighs.

“Be careful!” Hutch called out, still trying to force the driver’s door open. Frantically, he began calling out to Janie, hoping to rouse the still woman.

The passenger side door was in worse shape than its mate, and no amount of tugging would release it. The window was partially broken out, and Starsky quickly stripped off his flannel shirt and wound it around his hand to pull off what remaining shards he could. Knocking the pieces of glass inside would land on the two passengers, and though it probably wouldn’t have hurt Janie’s back, with Richie’s exposed face at risk, Starsky wouldn’t try it. As soon as he was able to clear away most of the shattered window, he leaned into the car and gave Janie’s shoulder a gentle shake. When there was no response, Starsky twisted to the back and attempted to lift Richie’s carseat out, but the carrier was wedged in too securely between the two seats. He could make out a darkening blue spot above the boy’s right eye, but was somewhat reassured by the rise and fall of the toddler’s chest. “The seat’s wedged in tight, and the buckle won’t release.”

“Cover him. I’m gonna break the window.” Hutch had picked up a large stone off the bank and gave Starsky a moment to pull himself out of the car and shake out his shirt, then lean back in to drape it over Richie’s still form. As soon as his partner was clear, Hutch struck the driver’s side window to finish shattering it, then quickly tapped out the rest of the glass.

Another wave from the raging waters flowed over the hood of the sedan, raising the water level to Starsky’s hips and shifting the car. Brief eye contact between the partners confirmed their fears: they would have to get them out, and fast.

Starsky threw himself across the jagged window frame a third time and frantically pulled at the carseat. Under the shirt, Richie began to show signs of returning to consciousness, twitching under the jerks and tugs at his carrier.

Hutch reached through the now open window and grasped Janie by her left arm and under her torso. He knew it wasn’t the best way to move an accident victim, but the threat by the rising river didn’t allow for caution. Slowly, he pulled the young woman into a seated position. Hope fled along with his initial adrenaline: Janie’s blue eyes were open i7n death, as her head hung at an unnatural angle. Hutch still checked her carotid artery for the absent pulse, then slowly leaned the body forward against the steering wheel. Stunned, he rested his forehead on his arm for a moment, then took a deep breath and shook the rain from his eyes. Movement to his left caught his attention.

“Starsky!” Hutch only had a second to call out a warning before a rotted tree trunk slammed into the sedan, narrowly missing his partner. The impact was still enough to jar the El Camino, and Starsky lost his balance, throwing all of his weight against the car door and window frame.

Starsky gasped as a shard of glass too large for him to have cleared tore into his side, slicing through flesh and muscle. Clenching his teeth, he found his footing and pulled himself away from the source of his pain, then refocused on the nearly awakened toddler. He looked up to where Hutch peered anxiously at him through the broken window. “Janie?”

“She’s gone. She must have broken her neck when the car rolled.”

Starsky looked up to meet his partner’s stare, blue eyes twinned in anger and regret. Another surge of the rising river jarred the sedan, and the two could feel it slip farther into the murky water.

“Hurry, Starsk!” Hutch reached in farther and grabbed Janie’s body under the arms. With effort, he was able to slide her dead weight from the car and lay her high on the embankment. He quickly scrambled back to the car to help his partner before the river claimed its prize.

Starsky pulled himself farther away from the window frame, his side pulsating. He could feel the odd contradiction the warm blood made against his chilled flesh. “Hutch! Try and pull the seat forward!”

Hutch nodded once then leaned back into the car, blindly feeling for the release mechanism. When he finally found the lever under the front seat, he gave it a viscous tug, then jerked the bench forward several times unsuccessfully. “Can you push against it?”

At Starsky’s nod, Hutch counted quickly to three. A grinding noise marked the seat’s movement an inch and a half, just enough to allow Starsky to yank the carseat free. Hutch retrieved the diaper bag from the floor of the front seat, which he tossed farther up the embankment. He then quickly scrambled to the back of the car to accept the burden Starsky handed up to him from the edge of the river, the water level even higher up his hips. Richie chose that moment to wake and begin squalling in reaction to the crash and Starsky’s damp flannel shirt still draped over him.

As Hutch shifted the child carrier in his hands, he noticed blood along the handle just before the rain washed it away. His concern escalated when he extended his hand to help his partner out of the water, noting Starsky’s pale complexion and the bluish tinge around his lips. Hutch’s fears were confirmed when Starsky reached out the hand that had been clutching his side, and small rivulets of blood trailed down his outstretched arm. Starsky gasped as the severed muscles protested, and he swayed in the forceful current, clutching his side. Hutch set Richie down and was beside Starsky in an instant, supporting his climb out of the freezing water. Once the two struggled onto the bank, blue eyes locked together for a moment—one glazed in pain, the other bright with concern—before Hutch gently pulled his partner’s hands away from the wound. Flesh and muscle were laid open in a four-inch gash, and Hutch wondered how close it had come to completely piercing the delicate internal organs. Hutch quickly stripped off his shirt and wound it into a single length, then wrapped it tightly around Starsky’s middle.

Starsky gently pushed Hutch’s hands away and clutched his side over the flannel. “It’s not safe down here. Get Richie up to the Torino. I can make it by myself.”

“Don’t be stupid—”

“I’m not. The quicker you get up there, the quicker you can call in the cavalry.” Starsky’s expression softened. “I won’t get lost, I promise. Just go.”

Hutch afforded himself one more moment to ensure that his partner could last until he returned, before giving Starsky’s shoulder a brief squeeze and hurrying up the hill with his burden. The picture of blood already soaking through the flannel shirt propelled him forward as nothing else could.

Starsky knew he should be still and wait for Hutch’s return, but instead pushed himself unsteadily forward. He paused for a moment before Janie’s still body, then began his own trek up the steep bank, numb against the blood darkening his soaked jeans.

˜ ™

Hutch finally found the ranger’s channel on the Torino’s radio. “California State Ranger Station Twelve, this is Detective Hutchinson from BC Metro, do you copy?”

The static on the line gave Hutch a cold moment of flashback to the empty silence that taunted him in Topanga Canyon years ago—trapped, desperate, dying. “California Ranger Station Twelve, do you copy?”

“Station Twelve, we copy, Detective Hutchinson.” The line was broken and filled with static as another volley of lightening struck nearby.

“A tree went down on Logan’s Road, just north of the bridge. It looks like part of the bridge is damaged. I can’t be more specific than that.” Hutch shook the water from his eyes as he peered into the shroud of mist. “A car rolled down the embankment. The driver’s dead. Her little boy might be hurt, and my partner…my partner’s hurt as well. We need an ambulance—stat. Copy?”

Hutch heard the ranger swear on the other end of the line. “We’ve got a problem, Hutchinson. There are only two routes in and out of this forest, and now they’re both impassible. The south fork’s bridge is already under four feet of water. There’s no way I can get an ambulance in and out of there right now, and with the storm, Aero-med can’t come in for a pickup.” The pause on the radio was long enough for Hutch to think he had lost the ranger. Another burst of thunder and lightening rolled through and the radio came back to life. “…if you can get here, we can do what we can and wait out the storm, copy?”

“No, dammit! Repeat that, over!”

“If the tree isn’t too big, I can bring a chain saw and we can get it cleared out as long as the bridge is stable. If not, you can get here to the station, we can do what we can for their injuries and wait out the storm ’til help can fly in, copy?”

“The tree…” Hutch looked at the large trunk of the still smoldering tree. Not only was the mammoth tree blocking the road, the sheer weight of it had reduced a good portion of the wooden bridge to splinters. The whole structure looked as if it could give way at any time. There was no way Hutch was going to risk crossing it, even on foot. “The tree’s about three and a half…four feet in diameter. There’s no way we could get through that thing and move it ourselves, and I don’t think I’d trust the bridge. Tell me how to get to you. You have medical supplies, over?”

“We’ll do what we can. Just get here.” The ranger gave Hutch clear directions to the station and relayed that he would meet them halfway at an obscure turnoff so they wouldn’t miss it, leading them the rest of the way in. He also told Hutch to mark the location of the accident so he could come back and retrieve the driver’s body, since Hutch had placed it far enough away from the river that it wouldn’t be lost in the angry waters. Initially Hutch protested, disturbed at the thought of leaving Janie behind, but then saw the wisdom in allowing the ranger to return and care for it until it could be transported properly.

He was grateful there was only one corpse that needed to be retrieved.

After hanging up the microphone, Hutch double-checked Richie before scrambling back down the embankment to help his injured partner. A bottle had been found in the diaper bag, and the toddler was frantically nursing, more out of the need for comfort than for nourishment. His blue eyes were still wide with fright.

Hutch knew that his own eyes shone with the same fear.

˜ ™

Chapter Two