“I think it’s safe to move up a little now. It’ll be light soon, and we’ll need to make our move.” Starsky took his friend’s arm and guided him toward the cave opening.
“So, what's the plan?” Hutch asked, as they inched their way forward in the darkness.
“I thought we’d double back and head for the highway. I’ll hot-wire their car, and we’ll be outta here before they know what’s hit ‘em.”
Hutch smiled, pleased with Starsky strategy. He hated that it would mean going right past the burned out Torino, knowing it would be hard for his partner. But he expected no less. Starsky was being his normal, resourceful self, doing whatever it took to get them out of this mess.
When they were a few feet away from the opening to the cave, Hutch eased down into a sitting position, and leaned his back against the cool rock wall. There, he’d wait for sunrise. He hoped that resting the past several hours in the darkness of the cave had given his eyes time to recuperate. He’d spent most of the night awake, staring into the black void, praying things would be back to normal by morning.
Having gotten Hutch situated, Starsky looked around for Sam, ready to let the dog out for his morning constitutional. “Sam? Sam, Come.” He peered toward the dark end of the cave. When the dog didn’t come, Starsky immediately turned and checked the pile of brush and limbs that covered the cave mouth. That’s when he saw the hole, not large enough for a man, but certainly large enough for a dog Sam’s size to slip through. “Damn!”
“What?”
“Sam. He’s gone again. I swear, I’m gonna—”
“Going to what?” Hutch asked, in an amused voice. “Starsky, the dog’s just like you. He’s hardheaded and follows his instincts without even thinking about it. Sam’s nothing more than a canine Starsky, especially since he’s been living with you. Can’t you see the similarities?”
“What? I'm not like that. I think things through,” Starsky argued defensively. Hutch noticed he hadn’t denied the ‘hardheaded’ part.
“All I’m saying is, he thinks with his heart more often than with his head. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took off after those men, thinking he could take on both of them by himself. You saw how riled he was the whole time they were out there.” Hutch’s voice grew more serious, as he considered the implications of what he’d just said. He hoped, at least this once, he was wrong. “Maybe his need to stay close to us will make him turn around and come back.”
Starsky ran a nervous hand through his unkempt hair. “I don’t even know where to look. And besides, we don’t have time. If we don’t make a break for the car pretty soon, they may get tired of looking for us and double back too.”
Hutch heard the anguish and indecision in his partner’s voice. “Starsky, I love Sam just as much as you do—and I hate to say it—but, you’re right. We’ll have to move out soon. His sense of smell is thousands of times greater than a human’s. He can find us, he can track us back to the road. I think we’ll have to go, whether he’s back or not.” In the darkness of the cave, Hutch couldn’t see Starsky’s face, but knew his expression was grim.
“Right...” he finally uttered.
Starsky slipped the shoulder holster back on, and set about clearing the entrance of the cave. The sky was already lightening to a dull gray, in preparation for sunrise. Just as he stacked the last limb on the pile, he heard something crashing through the bushes about twenty feet in front of him. Drawing the Magnum, he pointed it in the direction of the sound, ready to fire, if necessary. Sam’s big head came into sight, as he cleared the bushes and plodded toward Starsky, enthusiastically.
“Sam!” Starsky lowered the gun, holstered it, and stood, feet apart, sternly glaring at the rottweiler.
Oh no, in trouble again.... It seemed to Sam that he’d spent the majority of this trip making his humans angry. At first he approached Starsky cautiously, his head lowered a fraction, waiting to see if he’d be reprimanded. But then, never being one to dwell on unpleasant possibilities, the big dog threw caution to the wind. By now, he’d learned that more often than not, his human was only pretending to be mad. He loped up to The Dark One exuberantly, and gave his body a vigorous shake, slinging water all over Starsky, wetting his clothes and everything else within a two foot radius. Realizing what this meant, Starsky reached for the dog and felt his coat. Sam looked up, his cavernous mouth set in a canine grin, happy to see Starsky didn’t seem inclined to chastise him further.
“You’re wet! Hutch, he’s wet!” He lifted the dog’s head and saw tiny beads of water clinging to his whiskers. “There must be water close by. Is that why you left, Big Dog? To look for water?”
Sam’s whole body wagged, elated that he seemed to have done something good. He didn’t know what the heck it was, but intended to enjoy the praise while it lasted.
“Can you show me where the water is, Sam?” Starsky squatted down to Sam’s level, looking him in the eyes. ‘Where’s the water, Sam?”
Water. Now, that was a word he knew! How many times had his humans asked if he wanted some water, then lowered a bowl of the cool, wet stuff before him, to indulge? Maybe Starky wanted some water. Well, good! That, he could handle.
Sam barked loudly, turned tail, and tore back into the brush, Starsky close behind. “Wait here, Hutch! Stay in there, outta sight! Sam’s tryin’ to show me where he found the water!” he shouted.
Sam ran ahead, jumping over fallen trees, patches of bramble, and other impediments that Starsky couldn’t maneuver nearly as fast. Occasionally, the dog would look back impatiently to see if his human was keeping up. When he’d lose sight of Starsky, he’d stop and wait, curious as to why humans couldn’t jump and run as fast as his kind could. As Starsky climbed over one last tree trunk and spotted a small, shallow creek, it occurred to him that Sam had led him through the most obstacle-laden, treacherous path to the water, while there appeared to be a fairly clear footpath parallel to the route they’d taken. Had they used the path, they would only been a few hundred yards from the creek.
Starsky leaned over, hands on knees, trying to slow down his breathing. He laughed to himself. What could he expect? Ever since Sam had begun training to compete in the obstacle course sport of Agility, he’d actively sought out the most difficult route to any place he wanted to go.
Once he’d gotten his breath back, Starsky joined the rottweiler, who was now eagerly lapping the cold, fresh, running water, while balancing his two front paws on the rocks along the edges of the creek bed. Starsky knelt down, cupped his hands, and scooped up some of the refreshing liquid to slake his own thirst. After drinking his fill, he splashed water on his face, clearing his mind with its invigorating chill.
“How’re we gonna take some back to Hutch?” he asked Sam, as though he expected a response. The dog cocked his head to one side, trying to understand what Starsky had asked. He recognized Hutch’s name, but couldn’t decipher the rest of the question.
“No canteen, no thermos.” Starsky looked around, then stood up and walked downstream a little way. The creek bed narrowed and became shallower as he went. He spotted an empty, family-sized, plastic Coke bottle lying beside the rocks, most likely left behind by a careless camper. He lifted the abandoned bottle from where it nestled, half submerged in the water, and emptied the muddy contents. After filling the bottle, shaking it vigorously, and dumping it several times, he decided it would serve his purposes just fine.
Sam stood by, pondering why The Dark One was so intrigued by an old bottle. But then, he was always puzzled by what his humans seemed to think of as their treasures. For example, he thought it especially odd that neither of them owned a ball (with the exception of that great big brown one, that he couldn’t wrap his jaws around), or a single rawhide chew-toy.
“This’ll work great!” Starsky beamed, filling the semi-clean bottle with the fresh creek water. He bent down and drank thirstily, one last time. “Come on, boy. Let’s take this to Hutch, then we’re goin’ home.”
By the time Starsky and Sam returned to the campsite,
streaks of pink and mauve had begun to light the sky, making way for
sunrise. As the clearing came into
sight, Starsky was alarmed to see Hutch sitting on the ground just outside the
cave. He eased the Magnum from the
shoulder holster and signaled Sam to wait, while he scanned the area for intruders. Not seeing anyone else, he signaled the dog
to follow him. Oddly, as he and Sam
left the cover of the trees, Hutch seemed oblivious to their presence.
“Hutch?” Starsky
slid the Magnum back into the holster and knelt down in front of him. “What’s wrong? Why are you out here? Did
somethin’ happen?”
At first, Hutch didn't answer. He only stared straight ahead, seeming to focus on something that
only he could see. "It didn't come
back…"
"What? What
didn't come back?"
"My sight...it didn't come back. I…I can’t see anything now, Starsk. No
shapes, no shadows, nothing."
Starsky ran a worried hand down his face. He knew they'd been optimistic to expect any
improvement in a few short hours, and kicked himself for not having gotten an
earlier start back to the highway.
Hutch's impaired vision would, without doubt, slow them down. Sympathizing, Starsky reached over and laid
his hand on Hutch's shoulder.
“Hutch, listen to me.
I know you’re scared right now, and you think this is never gonna get
better, but it will. I believe
that...and you got’a believe it too.
Like I told you last night, once we get outta here, we'll find a doctor
who can help you."
Hutch shook his head, a sad smile softening his face. "You know, I'd just about convinced
myself that you and I were invincible.
Somehow, we’ve always managed to pull it out in the bottom of the
ninth. But this time, I'm afraid our
luck’s run out."
“Hey...don’t you even think about quitin' on me, Blondie.
That ain’t your style.” Starsky hoped
his voice sounded more reassuring than he felt at the moment. “We just need to
move outta here fast, before those turkeys decide to double back, and catch up
with us. We got this far without you
being able to see too good, so we'll make it back to the highway." Starsky watched an array of emotions flit
across Hutch's face. The smile faded,
to be replaced by grim determination.
“I’m not going with you.” Anticipating a storm of objections, his hand closed like a vice around Starsky’s forearm. “Hear me out.” True, he couldn’t see Starsky’s face; but after all these years, he knew every emotion, every inflection, every familiar expression, well enough to imagine the pain in his friend’s eyes at this moment. Starsky’s false bravado hadn’t fooled him for an instant.
“I’ll only slow you down, and be a liability to you. If you and Sam leave right now, you have a good chance of staying ahead of them. Your plan to steal their car is a good one, but you’ll have to move fast...faster than I can.”
“Hutch—“
“I said, hear me out.” His voice brooked no argument. “I’ll hide out here in the cave until you get help and come for me. It’s our best chance, and you know it.”
The muscles in Starsky’s jaw hardened. Torn between insult and anger that Hutch could think he’d even consider such a course of action, Starsky took a deep breath and answered calmly, "No way. You know I'd sooner cut off my arm, than leave you behind. That ain’t the way it works with us, Hutch. You know, and I know, if the tables were turned, you wouldn’t leave me either.”
The dark-haired detective rose, bringing Hutch to his feet as he did so. “Now, we went all through this last night, and we’re not havin’ this conversation again. You said you’d trust me to get us outta here. I don’t know why you think you can break your word, 'just like that'." Starsky snapped his fingers to emphasize Hutch's disregard for his promise. "Don’t you have any faith in me? Is that it? Huh?"
"Yes, I do, but—"
"The subject's not open for discussion, pal,” Starsky interrupted, determined to put an end to this lame-brained argument. "Now, let’s quit wastin’ valuable time arguing, and get the hell outta here before
it’s too late.”
Not really surprised by Starsky’s reaction, but still convinced they’d be better off if he stayed behind, Hutch cleared his throat and made one last effort. “Starsky, you’re not being practical. I think this is a mistake.”
“Yeah? Well, duly noted. If it is, then it’s MY mistake.” Starsky’s voice went up a decibel, as his patience began to wear thin. He knew every minute counted, and they were quickly slipping away.
“And what if they come back this way? Huh? Ya think that pile of trash I had coverin’ the cave last night’s gonna fool ‘em in the daylight? It’ won’t! You’d be a sitting duck, in that cave, waitin’ to be picked off.”
Hutch opened his mouth, but was cut short, by Starsky’s incensed recitation. “I’ll get us back to the road—and when we get there, it’ll be all three of us!” He took Hutch by the elbow and decisively marched him from the clearing. “Wait here.”
Sam quickly joined Hutch and sat at attention, not particularly wanting to be on the receiving end of The Dark One’s tirade. It appeared to the big dog that Hutch had been put into a ‘sit stay’—just like in obedience class. Confused by this notion, Sam considered Hutch with serious eyes, wondering why his two humans were so cross at one another. Maybe The Light One didn’t like sit-stays anymore than he did.
Starsky scattered the stack of greenery he’d used to camouflage cave entrance, then picked up one of the discarded branches and carefully brushed away their footprints. He quickly scanned the area for any other signs that would reveal they’d spent the night right under the noses of the two gunmen. “No point in makin’ it easy for ‘em,” he mumbled when he rejoined Hutch and Sam.
Belatedly, Starsky spotted the forgotten container of water he’d abandoned at the edge of the clearing a few moments earlier. Retrieving the bottle, he took it to Hutch. “Sam found a creek. And I found this plastic bottle to bring you some water back in.” He reached out and took Hutch’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the bottle. “It’s good, fresh water. Drink some, then we’ll move out. Okay?”
Watching Hutch carefully encircle the bottle, his fingers hesitant and unsure, Starsky felt the anger that had been boiling up inside him moments earlier dissipate, leaving behind only regret that he’d lost his temper.
Overcome by thirst, Hutch lifted the bottle to his lips and drank greedily, the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. “Drink all you want,” Starsky encouraged him. “Sam and I filled up at the creek.”
Once his thirst was quenched, Hutch handed the nearly emptied bottle back to Starsky. Sam moved in closer, bumping Hutch’s thigh with his big head. Reaching down, he patted the dog, inexplicably comforted by the animal’s touch.
Starsky watched the tender exchange, grateful once again the dog had come into their lives. Ashamed he’d lashed out at Hutch earlier, Starsky offered contritely, “Listen, before we head out, do you need a minute...I mean, ya know...a little privacy...” At Hutch’s puzzled expression, he continued, “I could lead you over there behind the bushes.”
Hutch scowled. “Good grief, Starsky...we aren’t in grade school. For a minute there, I didn’t know what the hell you were getting at. Thanks, but I already took care of that while you were gone. I’m blind, not crippled.”
Relieved to see a little of the old Hutch spunk surfacing, Starsky grinned. This was a good sign. “Oh. Okay. Just thought I’d ask. So, what you say we get this show on the road?”
Hutch nodded, resigned that there would be no reasoning with Starsky on this issue. Hooked-up to their human leash again, the two men began backtracking their way toward the scene of the accident. Sam forged ahead, happy that he and Hutch had been dismissed from the sit-stay, and that his two friends seemed to have settled their differences. Humans were such strange creatures! If he lived to be twenty, he’d never understand them.