SquidgeWorld Archive

Starsky turned over restlessly. With his eyes still closed, he let out a wrenching yawn, struggling from the deep sleep he had fallen into shortly after the movie he had stayed up for had ended.

Feelings of disengagement surrounded him as he pulled and clawed his way back to wakefulness. Opening his eyes slowly, Starsky felt like he was floating above the bed and watching himself from afar. It was a weird feeling, one he hadn't experienced since the shooting.

The sheets he had managed to untangle from his body felt hot and damp to the touch from the heat he had generated from his body while he slept.

Starsky stared up at his reflection in the mirror he had put above his bed. And couldn't help but notice the blood-shot eyes staring back at him, his own tired worn-out eyes and body.

This terrible heat wave was taking its toll on everyone. Trying to sit up and failing miserably, Starsky thought how much his body felt like dead weight sinking ever deeper into the firm mattress, being sucked in and devoured.

Starsky knew he had to make a move, but failed yet again to make it out of the large bed that held him hostage. A sigh escaped his parted lips. Dragging his hand down his sweaty chest, Starsky could almost feel the adrenalin pumping through his body.

Finding the strength from somewhere, Starsky turned back over, burying his face in the moist pillow and moaned, "Damn, what a night."

Groaning, Starsky made an extreme effect, and this time managed to pull himself out of bed and slowly padded into the bathroom.

"I guess I just can't handle the pace," he said to himself and would have laughed out loud if only he had the energy. But the heat had sapped it out of him. His mind went to the night beforeâ€"the horror movie marathon, and pizza and beersâ€"and that on top of working twelve hour shifts. He knew exactly what his partner would say later on the subject.

Starsky couldn't suppress the smile that crossed his lips the moment that his partner crossed his mind. He could see the blond lug rolling his eyes and lecturing him all day on the error of his ways.

Grabbing a quick shower, Starsky let the cold spray roll off his flattened hair and down his body, finally reviving himself for the day ahead.

He rubbed off the excess water with a towel, letting the air dry his naked body on the way back to the bedroom.

Starsky picked out the thinnest clothes he could. He was already feeling hot and clammy again, unable to shake this feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that that stayed just out of his reach of understanding.

Once dressed, Starsky walked into the kitchen and got a cold soda from the fridge, loving the icy feel as it travelled down his parched throat. Grabbing his gun and keys Starsky then left his apartment for the journey to work.

***************

The awful, everlasting heat wave was the most extreme that anyone remembered. It had been the lead story on the news the past few days as lots of the old and very young had been rushed to the emergency room suffering with dehydration. It was also making everyone irritable and edgy. Like some terrible thing was hovering, waiting to pounce, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The mysterious thick smog that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere didn't help. It was different, deepest black, and seemed to leave a stale rotten meat smell in its wake. It blanketed the whole city, seeming to want to suffocate everything in its path.

As Starsky drove through the streets, he started noticing how deserted it was. Not one car on the road, not one pedestrian on the sidewalks. "Thank God people are staying in. Maybe we will have a quiet day." Starsky thought as he leaned over turning the air conditioning up a notch. He started to hum nervously as his eyes scanned the streets.

From what he could see through the thickening smog, all the shops gave the impression of being shut. An eerie feeling swept through him, making the little hairs on his neck all stand to attention. Just like when he and Hutch were cornering a perp in an ally, his pulse raced faster, pumping his blood through his veins. The sweat dripped from his hair and into his eyes making things misty.

Starsky pulled the car over and shut the engine off. Then wiping his eyes to clear them, he sat and listened. Not a sound, nothing. No talking, no birds, dogs, cars...nothing. It was as if Bay City had become a ghost town overnight.

His detective radar went off full force. A voice in his head screamed out something was wrong, very wrong, as an ice cold chill travelled down his spine. Shaking, Starsky turned the engine over again, the Torino's roar echoing through the empty city as he pulled into the street. Desperate to get to headquarters and find out what the hell was going on; he drove as quickly as he dared.

He turned on the radio; maybe something on the news would enlighten him on what was going on. Maybe while he slept some kind of heat advisory had gone out and people were taking it to heart for once. But all Starsky got for his trouble was static on every station. He tried the police band only to be met with yet more static.

Okay, this is getting seriously weird now.

Finally arriving at Metro, Starsky had the pick of parking places as no one else was around. Parking the Torino, he made his way up the steps and through the doors. Starsky noticed how the smog appeared to follow him, even into the building. It floated up the corridor ahead of him giving an eerie impression. The lights above his head flickered and gave off a soft glow as he walked.

Walking through the hollow corridors, Starsky observed how empty the place was. He had never seen the station completely deserted - not one person was around, no fellow cops, no perps, not even someone from the cleaning crew. Pressing the button to the elevators, Starsky let out a frustrated sigh; they didn't work. Getting increasingly discouraged at how this morning was going, Starsky pulled himself up the stairs, his sweaty hands slipping on the handrails.

By the time he reached the first floor Starsky was already breathing heavily from the effort it took to climb the steps. The corridors were littered with paper and documents. Guns and handcuffs either lay on the desks or had been discarded on the floor. File drawers were open and coffee sat half drank next to half eaten jelly doughnuts.

The smog deadened the sound around him. Even Starsky's own footsteps were silent in the deserted corridors.

Busting through the double doors into the squad room, Starsky expected everyone to yell 'surprise'. Because this had to be a practical joke, one of Hutch's; the blond would know he would be spooked by this weird situation and see his chance at playing a prank. But he stopped dead in his tracks. There wasn't a soul around, not even the night shift. Bringing a shaky hand up, Starsky wiped his forehead. The blue shirt he put on only an hour or so ago was soaking wet already.

Fear gripped Starsky tightly as from the corner of his eye he spotted Hutch's magnum laying on the floor. Picking it up, he felt the cold metal in his hand. He spun the chamber slowly; it was empty, all its ammo spent. Looking at the walls, he saw no evidence the powerful gun had been used. No holes. Whatever Hutch had aimed at he had hit, but there was no blood, no dead bodies, and no evidence at all.

The sickening feeling that had lain in the pit of his stomach since leaving his apartment started to rise now, lodging in his throat.

Moving across the room, Starsky knocked on Dobey's office door, almost certain that he wouldn't get an answer. He pushed the door and it swung open with a low creak that sounded louder in the deathly silence. He poked his head round the frame before finally entering the dimly lit room. The same disarray met him in the small office. Papers and files all over the floor and desk along with a half cup of coffee and an unwrapped candy bar.

Dashing back out into the squad room, Starsky nearly tripped over a chair in his haste to reach the desk and grab the phone, dialling the familiar number of his partner. Letting it ring ten times Starsky dropped the receiver, frustrated. "Come on Hutch, where in hell are you? Where is anyone?" The loneliness and desolation took hold and started to strangle him.

Starsky turned and made his way back down to the parking lot, needing to find Hutch. His panic for his friend's safety becoming stronger, Starsky ran outside.

The smog was at its thickest now. Starsky was alarmed to realise that he couldn't even see the car; the faithful Torino had been consumed by the ever growing smog. "What the hell is going on here anyone? It's not funny any more." Starsky yelled at the top of his voice, over and over until his throat hurt. Only an eerie silence answered him, his voice seeming to echo right back at him as it bounced off the walls.

Feeling his way slowly, the smog still creeping through the windows and doors behind him, he made his way to the entrance of the parking lot. Heading back through the streets, walking this time, the detective found cars abandoned with their doors left wide open. Shops that earlier looked closed he now saw were just emptied of people: doors open, lights on, shopping baskets lying discarded on the floor.

If there had been some kind of biological catastrophe or anything like that, surely there would have been bodiesâ€"something.

"Hello? Anyone around? Can anyone tell me what's happened here?"

Again silence was his only answer.

After walking over two hours without thinking and unable to see clearly, Starsky found himself outside of Venice Place, as if some mysterious force had drawn him there.

Climbing the steps, Starsky saw the door to Hutch's apartment was open, swinging in a nonexistent wind, banging against the wall every now and again. Entering the apartment, Starsky saw the light in the bathroom was on and he could hear the sound of running water from the shower. "Hutch?" Starsky called from the doorway. His relief was short-lived; he got no reply. Drawing his gun, Starsky moved towards the light and cautiously entered the bathroom.

The shower was running at full blast and Starsky stuck his hand in, testing the water. As he had suspected it was ice cold, showing it had been left for some time. He reached in and turned the faucet off.

Moving into the sleeping area, Starsky was met with the sight of Hutch's bedside lamp lying broken on the floor. A bottle of beer was spilling its contents onto the rug. Clothes lay scattered in a mess all over the floor.

The front door suddenly slammed shut, Starsky jumped and dashed back into the front room. Hearing footsteps slowly descending the steps, Starsky pulled the door open, looking for what made the noise.

Gulping loudly at the spooky goings on since awakening, but undeterred in his bid to find his friend, Starsky dashed down the stairs and out into the street: still nobody around. "What the hell?" Confused, Starsky strained his eyes trying to stare into the smog. A slight tremble took hold of him as he slowly made his way back up the steps to Hutch's apartment, still searching for some kind of clue as to what might have happened. Finding none, he made his way back down the steps thinking, Hutch where are you? What has happened to the city? The questions rattled around in his dazed mind, but there was no one around to answer them.

Starsky was at a loss: what the hell was he to do?

******************

Starsky started walking through the city, through the smog, finding it increasingly hard to breath. His chest hurt more with every step. It was as if the mist was sucking his life's energy right out of his body.

Maybe that's what happened to everyone; they just got sucked into the smog.

The lone man shivered at the notion that the smog was doing all this; it was like one of his horror movies or a nightmare. Only this was real, very real, and he was still the only one around.

After walking for what seemed like hours, Starsky stopped to catch his breath exertion raked his body. He called out "Hello!" then tipped his head to the side, thinking he heard a faint noise. "Hello!" he called again

"Help me, Starsk."

Starsky turned to the direction of the voice. It sounded like Hutch calling him. Adrenalin pumping through his veins, Starsky tried to move towards the familiar voice that seemed to come from far away.

"Hutch, where are you?"

"Help me, Starsk!"

"Tell me where you are. I'll help you but you gotta help me find you."

"Starsk..."

Wiping his face, Starsky could hear the strained sound in Hutch's voice and he sounded so far away.

"Huuuuutch"

This time there was no answer, not another sound. As tears of anger and frustration prickled at his eyes, Starsky started running, hoping and praying he was going in the right direction. This smog was disorientating him. With no further response from Hutch he had to trust his instincts.

Starsky knew one thing for sure: Hutch needed him now and he would find his friend if it killed him.

Halfway down the street, his foot caught on something, sending him flying. Landing hard on the ground, Starsky yelled from the shock of it. "What the fuck?"

This close to the ground the smog was thinner and Starsky could see what he had just fallen over - a body. Or, what had once been someone's body; it had been ripped apart, piece by piece. Blood was everywhere, but taking a closer look, Starsky recognised the running shoes: the body was Hutch.

"HUUUUUUUUTCH!"

Starsky shot up in bed, heart racing like a colt. His curly hair was plastered to his head as the sweat ran down to his face and neck. Darting his eyes around, Starsky got his bearings and realisation dawned as he took in the sight of his own bedroom. "Nightmare... It was only a nightmare. Oh, shit..."

Slumping back in bed with a sigh, Starsky slung an arm over his eyes and waited for his heart to slow down. Raising his hand in front of him, he watched as it shook slightly.

Wiping his hand down his sweaty chest, Starsky climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. With a sense of déjà vu, he took a leak then had a shower to cool himself down.

On the way back to the bedroom, he glanced through the window, noticing with horror the thick smog all around.

He dashed to the phone and dialled Hutch's number, waiting to hear that familiar voice. He was soon rewarded with Hutch's greeting at the end of the line.

"Hutchinson."

Starsky felt the tension drain from his body and momentarily couldn't find his own voice as he relaxed to the soft speech at the other end of the line.

"Hutchinson here. Who is this?"

Suddenly Starsky felt stupid and didn't know what to say. How could he say he'd had a bad dream and he needed to hear his partner's voice for reassurance? How could he confess it was the fault of movies he had stayed up late to watch in spite of Hutch's warning about nightmares?

But Hutch must have sensed it was his partner. "Starsk, is that you? What's wrong? Talk to me."

Hearing the concern in Hutch's voice, Starsky now felt like a real heel for worrying his friend.

"Nothing. Just wanted to remind you you're picking me up." He heard the tremble in his own voice and knew Hutch would hear it too.

"Starsk, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Blintz, I'm fine now. See you later."

"Okay, partner. See you in a while."

"Drive carefully, babe." Starsky said to the dial tone.

Placing the receiver back down Starsky went over and switched the radio on. After several attempts at trying to find some good music to take his mind of the nightmare, Starsky gave in and settled for the news. The voice that came over the radio stopped Starsky in his tracks on his way to the kitchen.

"...Police remain baffled as four bodies found this morning appear to have been literally torn apart..."