warning : strong language and ugly scenes

The reporters outside had nearly driven Starsky nuts – that and the weirdoes and dope-heads chanting “Simon”. He and Hutch were on their way to the courthouse to hear Simon get his just desserts. Hutch was walking slightly ahead of him when Starsky felt the familiar pressure in his bladder. “I’ll see ya in there.”

He went into the John – there were two other cops in there; one was just zipping up and ready to leave. Starsky noticed that one of closed stalls was taken too. He stepped up to the urinal and opened his zipper; the guy to his left glanced down and then caught Starsky’s eye in the mirror. The expression on his face was one that Starsky had seen on a few women’s faces in the past.
Size ain’t everything; but if he’s jealous what do I care?

He was in full flow; pissing like racehorse, when the door behind him opened.
Holy fuck
The last thing he saw was a cloaked figure walking up behind him.

Hutch had already explained his partner’s absence to Dobey when the clerk brought him the note. “Where’s Starsky?”
Simon turned and smiled that strange cold smile and Hutch’s felt his flesh creep. He jumped up and ran to the John.
“Where are all the cops?” he asked himself as he pushed the door open.
He went into the white-tiled silent (silent?) facility and looked around. The place was empty and the mirror had the next note written on it.
Big red dripping letters: STARSKY.

Hutch steadied himself and the reached out to touch the red liquid. He knew it wasn’t ink and he was pretty sure it wasn’t paint. He rubbed thumb and forefinger together.
Oh my god…blood!

In the general confusion outside the building nobody noticed the dull black van that pulled away from across the street.

What the hell? Where the fuck am I?
He tried to focus his aching head and figure out what was happening.
He was blindfold and his hands tied behind his back.
We’re moving. Sounds like…a van, Chrysler maybe…some kind of delivery thing or a camper…that’s not the original engine though – too powerful for this kind of thing.
He listened again. He could hear someone speaking.
Sounds like he’s sending a radio message.
More silent examination of his plight.
Smells of sweat in here; they use it for mass transportation. No…smells of something else…some guy lives in this thing and fucks in here too. Great, I’m being transported in some guy’s funky fun wagon. Now where are they taking me?
He concentrated on the vehicle’s movements. It had already taken a right turn – that’s what woke him up.
Took a left there…only a couple of blocks….another right…a lot of traffic on this street…seems to be keeping with this one, must be heading north….sounds like a freeway nearby (must be the Pasadena)…took a left there…and a right…seems like we’re there; engine’s slowing…dirt road…the old zoo I guess…

The vehicle stopped and someone opened the rear door. Strong arms pulled him out of the van and dragged him along.
Got me between two of them… better make it harder for ‘em...
He let his body relax completely so that the dead weight of his 170lbs dragged on his assailants arms.
“Don’t try to be cute, Starsky. We are in control here. Simon has dreamed.”
Simon! Fuck him and his dreams. I’ll give him nightmares
He tried to let himself fall; but they were too strong for him. He pulled against them and received a heavy blow across the head. As mists swirled into his brain he felt himself being lifted like a baby.

Hutch was frantic. Simon had told him nothing. Now here he was in an old store trying to get some kind of reasonable response from these freaked out kids in hooded cloaks.
“Simon. Simon. Simon…..”
He went from one to another as his desperation and panic rose. Each blank face with an inverted cross scarred on the forehead simply stared back at him and the only answer to his questions was “Simon. Simon. Simon.”
He left in disgust and went to find the Captain back at headquarters.
“Any news, Captain?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m going back to talk to Simon.”

Starsky had been in worse situation. But this ball game was not at all to his liking. For one, he resented being the ball.
Someone had thrown him to the ground – he landed awkwardly on his left shoulder and fought to keep the pain at bay. His hands were still tied behind him and the blindfold was tight around his eyes. He challenged them to untie the blindfold. He swore at them and told them that they couldn’t get away with it.
He heard a deep hollow laugh.
“Simon has dreamed and we obey.”
The first kick got him in the gut. The second one echoed in his kidneys. He tried his best to protect his vulnerable solar plexus. He hoped that the guy from the John wasn’t there and jealous.
Struggling to get to his feet he felt a sharp rock under his face and the trickling of blood as he cut himself.
A strong hand pulled him up to his feet and pushed his forward.
He felt himself falling forward and his head hit rock.

Hutch was back at the station. A fruitless trip to the ranch had ended in a wild goose game of hide and seek with the black van. He was tired and worried and coming to the end of his tether.
Simon’s words were echoing out of the tape recorder. Huggy and Dobey were doing the best they could; but somehow Hutch was convinced that he would never see his partner alive again.
Huggy opened the Venetian blind and a new day poured into the office
Oh Starsk; I hope you lived to see this sunrise. Hang on in there buddy; wherever you are.
Huggy said something and tired as he was Hutch dragged his brain into gear and concentrated on what he was saying.

Starsky was groggy. His arms were pulled up and attached above his head; both shoulders hurt like hell. He could feel the blood on his face and another wound on his chest. The cool air was going to give him a chill.
Somehow he’d managed to sleep despite the chanting and the pain.
Someone removed the blindfold. She was a pretty enough girl, but Starsky was hardly in a condition to care. She was holding the kind of knife that belonged in a restaurant kitchen.
He smiled and tried to turn on the charm.
“Hope you know how to use that thing…”
Hope she doesn’t

He tried to sound nonchalant as she came towards him; the blade came close to his face.
Oh fuck; now what?
“You have to take a bath”
“I prefer a shower”

She started to cut the buttons from his shirt and when she had finished she ripped the shoulder sleeves and pulled it off to reveal a firmly muscled hairy torso. Starsky noticed the familiar look in her eye and tried to keep the charm flowing; it didn’t work quite as he expected.
She started to work on his jeans.
Not my idea of foreplay…but it takes all sorts, I guess.
Starsky was finally naked and ready for his bath. He allowed her to lead him to a big half barrel and climbed in obediently – the blade was dangerously near to his privates.
The girl poured a bucket of water over his head – and a second; then left him to soak.

Starsky wiggled his hands; the water had loosened the ropes. He checked around him and climbed out of the bath tub; grabbing a towel to warp around his waist.
A black robe hung conveniently on an outcrop of rock. He swung it around him (the movement caused a twinge of pain in his strained shoulders, but too bad.)
If my momma could see me now….
Shit these stones are sharp
He made his way into a cave.

Behind the rocks, three cloaked figures watched as Starsky walked into Simon’s dream.
“Are you sure that stuff worked?”
“It always works. He will follow the pre-ordained path. Simon has dreamed it”
“Yes, but remember how he stared Simon out? That guy has something that Simon couldn’t resist.”
“Simon knew that you would be weak. You are no longer of use.”
A shot rang out and Starsky stopped in the middle of the rocky passage and listened carefully. He waited a couple of beats and went on.
I always wanted to know how the animals saw us……….

Hutch, Dobey and Huggy were playing word games.
Starsky was playing hide and go-seek and the prize was his life.
Simon was playing chess inside his head; but something told him that he was not going to be the one to call “check mate” this time. He began to regret choosing Starsky as the victim; Hutch was not enough of a challenge…but Starsky…no-one had ever out-stared Simon before. But he had dreamed it this way and now Hutch was trying to work out the clues. And Starsky was already making his endgame moves.

The bear was bad enough; the flame torch close to his eyes frightened him far more. His already light-sensitive eyes felt burned and sore. He was sure that the old wound was somehow activated. He squinted at his captors.
His feet were barely touching the ground – putting all his weight on his tortured shoulders.
He could no longer feel his hands.
This time they had him attached to some kind of frame.
An old well…must be in an old water-animal enclosure…
They were standing in a circle and chanting as usual. “Simon. Simon.”
Is that the only song they know?
He tried to look at each of them in turn.
Got to keep on my toes….got to keep them from killing me.
He shouted at them; warned them of the consequences of killing a cop.
“Simon. Simon.”
Sounds like one of them is saying ‘Semen’. (He laughed silently)

The girl with the knife was back; in front of him; holding the blade like a dildo. He tried to keep her in his gaze.
You do not have to do this.
“You don’t have to kill me.”
“I will make the first blow then the others will finish it.”

He looked at the others – one had a chain; another held a hammer.
“The four hundred blows” Hutch would appreciate the irony I guess.

The knife was coming closer.
Hanging by his wrists he tried to turn away.
She reached up and the blade passed in front of his face.
The chanting increased in speed and in volume.
She faltered for a second and Starsky fixed her again with his deep blue eyes.
“You do not have to kill me”
He sensed a new presence…some way behind the others…and prayed that it was not too late.
Hutch! Please God let him get to me before they do……..
The knife cut the ropes and he felt himself fall…
…Hutch caught him just in time;
Starsky bowed his head against his partner’s chest and wept tears of pain and relief.
Uniformed officers rounded up the strangely docile followers of Simon.
Hutch crouched on the ground and held Starsky close to him; he stroked the wild curls and put a hand on the nape of Starsky’s neck in the age old gesture of protection and re-assurance. He said gently : “Ready to go?”
“Yeah. Help me up willya?”
He tried to grab Hutch’s collar but his hands failed him.

Hutch helped the robed figure to his feet. “I don’t know about the cross Starsk; but the dress suits you.”

Hutch hit the siren and sped towards Memorial Hospital. Starsky sat silently beside him; he was staring at his hands. The wrists were re-raw from the ropes; his hands were still white with lack of circulation and looked strangely lifeless.
Hutch looked at him.
“I can’t feel them Hutch. Nothing. They could be two bunches of bananas for all I know. I’m scared.”
The tears were still pouring down his face.
“I didn’t think you’d to me in time. I was terrified that you’d be to late…but you made it.”
“Relax, buddy. It’ll be OK”
“And if it isn’t? “ He looked at his hands again.
Hutch pulled up in front of the Emergency entrance and helped Starsky out of the car.
The emergency staff had seen some pretty crazy sights; but Starsky in his black robe; holding white hands out in front of him was one of the craziest for a while.
A junkie stared at him and called out “It’s the ghost of the future…don’t let him get me!”

Dobey arrived while Starsky was being examined by the neurologist.
“How is he?”
“His hands are numb; the neurologist is with him. They tied him so tight the circulation had near enough stopped. He’s scared Captain; and this time even Starsky is willing to let it show!”
The door opened and Hutch went over to the doctor.
“There’s no nerve damage. The circulation was pretty well stopped but he’s getting a little feeling back already. We’ll keep him here over night; we’ll know more tomorrow. He’s had a sedative – he was very distressed”

Hutch pushed past the doctor and went into the room. Starsky was asleep. His eyelashes were beaded with tears; but his face was peaceful. His arms were straight by his sides and Hutch noticed that his hands were bandaged to hide the wounded wrists.
Hutch sat down and prepared himself for yet another all night vigil.

Somewhere in the prison Simon heard Starsky’s voice in his dreams.
“Check and Mate!”

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