Under the
best of circumstances, walking against the torrential downfall would’ve been
difficult; but half carrying Starsky and keeping out a watchful eye out for
Copeland made the task nearly impossible.
Hutch knew Starsky was in pain.
With each step, the injured man’s right arm reflexively tightened around
the back of Hutch’s neck, in an involuntary effort to counteract the
lancinating pain.
“You doing okay, buddy?”
“Yeah,” Starsky winced, “terrific. I can’t imagine why we haven’t tried this before.”
“Right,” Hutch chuckled. At least Starsky still had his sense of humor and he seemed alert. Maybe the bleeding had slowed down.
Bits of debris churned through the air all around them, stinging their faces and hands as the tiny projectiles pelted them from all sides. Wind whipped and bleeding, they trudged on. “It can’t be much further to the shelter!” Hutch shouted over the wind. “If we can just get there, maybe there’ll be someone who can treat your leg!”
“I’m fine, Hutch!” Starsky shouted back. “Let’s just keep movin’, okay?”
Hutch nodded then lowered his head against the wind and pulled Starsky closer, shouldering more the injured man’s weight. With renewed determination, they pushed on faster than before. Starsky focused on keeping up, each step a small victory. Soon the sound of the wind became only a faraway roar in his head, separated from the action around him—a continuous hum, growing louder as this thoughts grew more nebulous. In the distance he heard Hutch's familiar voice—but felt disconnected and unable to answer.
“Starsky!”
There it was again...calling his name.
The roar was louder now.
“Starsky! I see a light! Can you
keep going? Just a little further!” Why can’t you just leave me alone?
Tired...I’m so tired.... He could
say the words in his mind, but couldn’t seem to put them to voice.
“Starsk! Hold on. Just a little further...”
I’m tryin’, Hutch...I…just can’t seem to move my legs…can’t go another step… It was the last thing he remembered.
cc dd
Hutch felt
Starsky’s body go limp, his arm slowing slipping away from Hutch’s neck. As the unconscious man slid to the ground,
and into the mud, Hutch followed him, battling to keep them both upright and
moving. Knowing their only hope was to
make it to the storm shelter, Hutch rose to his knees, struggled to his feet,
then, none-too-easily, scooped Starsky
up like a sleeping child and began the last laborious steps to safety. Dead weight in his arms, Starsky was
oblivious to the pounding rain and the brutal wind. Hutch knew he was on his own.
Ignoring the
burning in his lungs as he strained against the punishing wind of the
hurricane, almost incapacitating fatigue, and the dead weight of his
unconscious friend, he stayed focused on the light ahead. Hutch shouted Starsky’s name again, tried to
reassure him that they were near help.
But even the sound of his own voice was now drowned out by the deafening
roar of Debbie as she bore down on them with the fury of a personal
vengeance. Hutch, beleaguered, and
nearly defeated reached the door of the shelter and collapsed on the stoop,
carefully easing Starsky to the floor.
Wearily, he raised his arm and pounded on the wooden door. It opened only a crack, sheltering the
occupants within from sheets of rain and wind.
“Javier! It is two men! Help me get them inside!”
Hutch closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion.
cc dd
“Can you hear
me, señor? Please...señor…”
Hutch opened
his eyes with a start, immediately aware he was no longer being pummeled by the
wind and rain. The shelter. They’d made it
to the shelter. He bolted upright,
looking around for Starsky and spotted him stretched out prone on a canvas
folding cot only a few feet away.
“How’s my
partner? His leg—he has a bad leg
wound.”
“Do not worry
about him right now. He is fine. How are you?” The dark-haired man who spoke
with a heavy Hispanic accent was at least twenty years Hutch’s senior. He spoke softly, while wringing out a cloth
he dipped in a basin of water, then continued trying to clean the scratches on
Hutch’s face.
Not
listening, Hutch absently pushed the cloth away, rose from the cot, and in two
strides was standing over Starsky.
Beside him sat an older woman, her gray hair swept back from her face in
perfect waves, accentuating the graceful lines of time and experience etched
around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Hutch’s first impression was that
it was a kind face. He squatted down, coming to eye level with
Starsky’s colorless face.
With dark,
sympathetic eyes the woman looked at Hutch, and in the same heavy accent she
told him, “Do not be so worried, my friend.
I just changed the bandage. The
bleeding seems to have slowed down now.”
Hutch pulled his eyes away from Starsky’s pale face and smiled at her gratefully. "Has he woken up, asked for me?" he asked hopefully.
"I'm afraid not," she answered. "My name is Ina. Would you tell me what happened to the two of you?"
Hutch glanced around at the sea of faces, wondering just how much he should tell these people. Many were obviously already frightened. Adding the threat of an escaped, convicted murderer would only escalate their fear. And knowing that he and his partner were partially responsible for putting them in even more jeopardy, just by being here, would not likely endear them to the refugees. "My name is Hutch. Starsky and I are detectives, here on assignment. While we were trying to get back to the mainland, a tree fell on our jeep," he answered honestly—deciding it would serve no purpose to say more.
"Mother of Mary,” she whispered. “Then I would say you are lucky to be alive.”
Taking in his surroundings more carefully, Hutch realized they were in a small, public building of some sort. “What is this place?” he asked.
“The old train depot. It has been here since the turn of the century and endured many huracans´. Once the railroad was the lifeblood of the Keys. Now it is only a landmark. But we knew it would provide us safety.”
“You haven’t
had any other late arrivals, have you?” he asked, his eyes scanning the room
once more. Only a few families were spread about the room, sparse collections
of personal items gathered around them, stacked on the portable, folding
cots. Some looked frightened—others
just bone tired. In one corner, a small
child fussed and squirmed as his mother tried to soothe him with a bottle of
formula.
“No. You are the first since we got here,” she answered. "Why? Did you see others?"
"Uh…no…I just figured there could be. I’m surprised there aren’t more evacuees here.”
“There are only fifteen of us,” she answered. “These are the families who refused to leave when the officials came around and evacuated the others. Most do not speak English and didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.” She reached down and tenderly blotted the perspiration from Starsky’s top lip. He flinched, then calmed and resumed his shallow breathing.
“My husband, Carlos, and I finally convinced them to leave, but the storm had grown so fierce by then, this is as far as we got. Only we and Javier have automobiles, so we crowded everyone into them and came here.” Hutch's attention quickly shifted when Starsky began to stir again, his eyes fluttering open, then back shut again.
“Starsk? Starsk, wake up, buddy.” Hutch leaned over and touched Starsky’s forehead, damp with perspiration and moist, clinging, dark curls. To Hutch, it felt unusually warm, and when he looked up at Ina, she seemed to read his mind.
“Yes, he is running a fever. I wish we had medicine to give him, but there is nothing here except this basic first aid kit.”
Hutch reached up and rubbed at the worry lines creasing his brow. He supposed he should be grateful that he had at least gotten Starsky out of the rain and that the bleeding had slowed down. Carefully lifting the blanket, he looked at the bandage, watching the gauze slowly turn pink, as the blood seeped from the gash in his friend’s leg. Ina had apparently re-situated the tourniquet and found the right location to stop the blood pumping from Starsky’s body at such an alarming rate. Hutch knew he had to clear his mind and figure out a plan. Not knowing much about hurricanes, he had no idea how long they could expect this siege to last.