Murdock stares into the distance; this isn't an uncommon thing for him to do. He usually sees parades or UFOs, typical stuff; he's never one to see very disturbing things, an occasional octopus is okay but not dead people, not fairly recently dead people.
"How're those steaks doin', Murdock?" Faceman's voice interrupts the lunatic's musing.
"Ahh, zee steaks are en flambé," he replies, flipping a piece of meat and leaning away from the fireball that jumps from the grill.
"Excellent my good man!" Face calls, walking decisively away from the explosive cooking.
Murdock looks to the distance, again, the ghost he saw in the shimmering heat wash is gone.
"The dead should stay dead, Billy," he murmurs to his invisible dog.
"Hey boss?" Murdock says, approaching Hannibal in what could be considered a shy manner.
"Murdock? What's up?" the Colonel asks, nodding to Face and B.A. The two men understand the tone in the pilot's voice and excuse themselves. Murdock nods to them without looking up.
"I think I'm seeing dead people, Boss."
Hannibal regards the pilot carefully while chewing at his cigar.
"That would be a new one," he says slowly, "who did you see, Captain?"
"I think I saw Sophie," Murdock replies quietly, his eyes wide and fearful.
Relaxing in their tent, shootin' the breeze, Face talks about a new conquest, B.A. tries to grab Murdock's puppets before they launch into another aria and Hannibal mulls over the details of the next plan. Everything is as it should be. A figure darkens the open flap of their tent, even this, though, is expected; it should be the General coming to discuss the objective of the next mission.
The friendly banter slowly fades, questioning glances shooting between Face, Baracus and Smith. Though he's in the middle of an arpeggio, the changing atmosphere is not lost on Murdock, he swivels around in his chair. His clear notes transform into a wild shrieking, the pilot leaps from his seat, back pedaling away from the open flap of the tent. He crashes into the map table, his teammates yelling, yelling something.
"Stop, drop and roll," Murdock cries, falling to the ground and rolling across the hard packed floor. He rolls right to the wall of the tent and forces his way under it. His babbling screams trail off as he runs blindly through the camp away from that unknown figure in his team's tent.
"What the hell was that about?" B.A. shouts, turning to the still silent visitor.
"Don't just stand there, boys, get after him," Smith roars, sending his men after their unstable pilot. He, too, glares at the visitor as Face and B.A. fly from the tent.
"Hetch?" the stranger says.