Chapter 5

 

It was the pain shooting through his left leg that brought Hutch to full consciousness. Shifting in his seat, he sucked in cold air as he tried to straighten up. Careful not to move too quickly, he concentrated on where else he hurt—his head was throbbing, his neck hurt. But, thankfully, he didn’t think anything was broken.

 

Where was he? Blinking rapidly, trying to clear his fuzzy brain cells, Hutch tried to figure it out. He certainly didn’t recognize anything. It was dark, making it impossible to see very far. Or at least not beyond the snow-covered branches lying across the hood of his car. Branches? Why branches?

 

A moan to his right made him turn suddenly, but regretfully. The throbbing in his head increased, and he felt something wet above his right eye. Wiping at it with his coat sleeve, he knew it was red even though the darkness turned everything into shades of black and gray. There was a second moan. Starsky! He shifted, gentler this time, and reached out a hand. Pulling the inert body toward him, he realized it wasn’t Starsky. Confused, he watched the moonlight play across the girl’s face. Who? Memory returning, Hutch recognized the girl from the restaurant. Two things then hit him simultaneously—if the moon was out, the snow had stopped; if this was Brit, where was Starsky?

 

Brit, head resting against the back of the seat, opened her eyes and tried to focus on the confused face watching her. Slowly pushing herself upright, Brit blinked and whispered, “Hutch?”

 

“Yeah, how are you doing?”

 

“Okay, I think. My head hurts. What happened?”

 

Sitting silently for a moment, Hutch replayed what had happened in his mind. “I was concentrating on the icy road, when a red pickup truck pulled up behind us. It rammed us….” Hutch stopped and ran his left hand across his face.

 

“Hutch, you sure you’re okay?” Brit, concerned when he stopped in mid sentence, reached out her hand to touch his arm.

 

“I’m fine. It’s just that…I remember this pickup trying to push us off the road…” Hutch replied, then leaning back in the seat, he let his hands fall into his lap. “Starsky!” Hutch, twisting too quickly as the pain shooting through his head and leg reminded him, turned toward the back seat. “Starsky, are you okay?”

 

Hearing no response, Hutch, despite the pain constricting his body, turned to view his partner’s condition. “Hey, buddy?”

 

Confusion flooded Hutch, as he realized Starsky wasn’t lying on the back seat. The seat was empty except for the white snow piling up as it blew in through the open doorway. Worried, Hutch looked up at Brit “Where’s Starsky?”

 

Brit, turning at Hutch’s sudden intake of air, saw the empty seat. “I don’t know. Maybe he went for help?”

 

“He’s sick…he isn’t dressed for this weather.” All sorts of scenarios played through Hutch’s head—Starsky, feverish, wandering in the snow; Starsky, hurt and bleeding; Starsky, freezing to death, unprotected in his windbreaker. Anxious, Hutch gripped at Brit’s shoulder “How long we been here?”

 

Wincing, Brit shook her head, confused. “I don’t know.”

 

Hutch reached for his pocket watch and snapped it open. Finding it difficult to read, he held it out, wiggling it—hoping the moonlight would catch it just right. Think, Hutchinson, he berated himself. Figure out how long Starsky’s been out there. Out there in the cold, alone, maybe injured. Maybe…

 

Frantic, Hutch yanked at his seatbelt, but it wouldn’t give. Pulling on it repeatedly, he sighed in relief, as it finally popped loose, and he shoved the door open.

 

“Where are you going, Hutch?”

 

“To find Starsky.”

 

“But where—?”

 

“I don’t know where!” Hutch yelled, instantly sorry as he saw Brit pull back from him. He was hurting and worried about Starsky, but he didn’t mean to take it out on her. Rubbing his right hand back and forth through his hair, he took a deep breath, trying to regain control. “Look, I’m sorry, but Starsky’s out there somewhere and he’s sick, probably hurt.”

 

“The door’s hanging off its hinge. Do you think he was thrown from the car or that he walked away?”

Hutch, mesmerized by the tiny, white crystals lightly collecting on the seat, remembered their earlier conversation. Hutch, this car is a piece of junk! “It’s my fault…”

 

“It isn’t your fault, Hutch. We slid off the road. Come on, we’ll go find him.” Moving into action, Brit tried pushing her door open, only to find it stuck in a snow bank. “I can’t get out this way. I have to come out your door.”

 

Feeling like he was moving in slow motion, Hutch gingerly stepped out of the car, his left ankle protesting the sudden weight. He pulled his coat tight against the cold. Glancing up the side of the mountain, he watched the trees’ shadows playing across the glistening snow, the moon peeking out from behind the clearing clouds.

 

“How far down the mountain do you think we are?” Hutch asked Brit, reaching out to help her as she slid across the seat to exit through his door. Leaning against the doorframe, Hutch shifted as the pressure he unconsciously placed on his leg painfully reminded him of what had returned him to consciousness.

 

Seeing him wince, Brit frowned and reached out, touching him on the arm. “Are you okay?”

 

Shrugging her arm away, Hutch nodded impatiently. “I’ve got to find Starsky. He’s out there hurt…alone….”

 

Starting up the mountainside, Hutch sank knee deep into the snow. Struggling to move, he continued slowly up the hill. “STAR-R-R-SKY-Y-Y!” Hutch yelled, pausing to listen to the name echoing into the night.

 

Using bushes and branches for leverage, Hutch and Brit slowly trudged upward. Stopping to catch his breath, Hutch’s eyes strained to see through the darkness. Blinking back the wind and the tears threatening to form as his desperation increased, Hutch suddenly called out, “Starsk!” Spying what looked like a navy blue windbreaker lying in the snow, Hutch took off as fast as the accumulated snow and his injured leg would allow. Slipping, Hutch caught himself and, ignoring the icy numbness of his hands, scrambled to his partner’s side.

 

“Starsk,” he whispered, as he dropped to his knees and gently began brushing the snow off his partner’s motionless body. Carefully running his frozen hands up and down Starsky’s body, Hutch turned to Brit. “I don’t think anything’s broken. But he’s been lying here for a while. I almost missed him; he’s half buried in the snow. He’s got to be frozen.” Biting his lip, Hutch turned back. “Starsky, can you hear me? C’mon, buddy, answer me.”

 

“There’s some blood on the snow under his head,” Brit pointed out. “He must have hit it in the fall.”

 

Hutch carefully lifted Starsky’s head and turned it slightly. “It doesn’t look too bad.” Frantically looking around, Hutch said, “We’ve got to get him out of the cold. Any idea where we are?”

 

“Not really,” Brit admitted. “But we can’t be too far from a town or a house. Somebody’s got to live out here.”

 

Hutch nodded his head and began searching the horizon, thankful that the sky was now almost cloudless, the moon providing them with light. “Look!” he said excitedly. “I see a chimney through the tree tops. Maybe four hundred feet or so past the car and to the left. It’s downhill, but that’ll be easier than trying to carry Starsky uphill. Maybe we can get help there.”

 

“It could be farther than it looks,” Brit warned. “Maybe we should check it out first.”

 

Hutch shook his head. “That’ll only delay getting out of the cold, and I’ve got to get him warm as soon as possible.”

 

As Hutch bent down to gently flip Starsky onto his back, Brit asked, “Are you sure you can carry him that far? You’re hurt, Hutch, and your leg is bleeding.”

 

Glancing down, Hutch stared at the blood soaking his pant leg as though it belonged to someone else. Returning his determined gaze to Brit, he insisted, “I’ll be fine. Let’s go.” As Hutch leaned down to lift Starsky, he was both startled and pleased when a moan escaped from his friend. Brushing back the wet curls on Starsky’s forehead, he whispered encouragingly, “Don’t worry, Starsk. Everything will be fine.”

 

Afraid of internal injuries, Hutch carefully slid his arms under Starsky’s back and legs. Struggling to lift him, he realized carrying Starsky was going to be more difficult than he’d first thought. He was already favoring one leg with his own weight, now he had to add Starsky’s. Hutch started downhill through the snow, carefully straining to keep his balance. Nearing his beat-up car, stuck and damaged in the snow, Hutch paused to balance against the hood as he caught his breath and shifted Starsky. “Brit, our bags are in the trunk. Can you grab them? We’re going to need dry clothes. Fish the keys out of my pocket.”

 

Hutch shivered in the cold night breeze, his wet clothes clinging to him. He could feel Starsky’s body heat through his own clothes, despite the cold. Next time, buddy, you better dress appropriately for the weather, Hutch silently admonished his partner. Don’t know how many times I’ve gotta tell you that. As Starsky suddenly began coughing, Hutch struggled to hold him closer, wincing at the sound.

 

Hutch again started down the hill, afraid if he stopped, his legs would refuse to take another step. Should’a been there by now, his aching muscles screamed at him. Holding his body taut, afraid a misstep would send them both into the snow or rolling down the hill, Hutch felt his arms shaking from the tension of holding his partner close.

 

Stopping to shift the overnight bags on her shoulder, Brit suddenly yelled, “There it is!”