This story is an amateur publication and does not intend to infringe upon copyrights held by any party. No reproductions without permission. Originally published in the Starsky & Hutch zine Half You, Half Me 2, in 1987. A longtime fan generously donated digital scanning, typing and proofreading for the archive. Enjoy! Comments on this story can be sent to Flamingo who will forward them to the author.

Cheryl M.

I knew something was wrong when I saw Hutch standing on the sidewalk wiped and confused. He didn't transmit the next address, so I looked around for the trouble. Oh shit! Man in green car with a rifle aimed at...


I saw Hutch jerk and spin around, falling through the glass door at the same time that I heard the sound of the rifle. He's dead. Oh God, he's finally bought it.

Back on the bike, riding through the deserted streets, riding blind through the night looking for taillights. Gotta get the sniper. Damn, he's comin' at me. No time to get outta the way. Lay the bike down, pull out my sixteen... The growing ball of liquid orange lit up the Saigon sky better than all the neon lights in the world. Two less gooks to shoot at. I was back on the bike and heading away when I felt the concussion from the blast.

Where the hell did all the people come from? Little while ago the streets were empty, now the gooks are comin' outta the woodwork.

"Get outta the way...Get outta the way..."

There he is, sitting up hanging on to what's left of the door. There should be blood everywhere, but there's not? What the...?

"I thought you were dead."

"Bullet proof vest..."

"Oh, yeah."

Sirens. Where was that patrol car when Hutch was being shot? Too tired to get up...too glad that he's alive to ask...

"Who the hell are you guys?"

"Hutchinson..." Hutch still had his badge in his hand. "What happened to them?"

''They're finished.''

"Terrific, the only ones that can tell us where Joanna is..."

"We still got one shot..."

Oh great, Hutch. Your psychic, Sorry, babe, I think he's a dead end and the girl's dead, too but, if you wanta try, what the hell have we got to lose?