Disclaimer: all non-original characters are property of their respective owners. For entertainment purposes only. No harm, no foul, 'kay?
As I've mentioned before, my muse doesn't do things all nice and orderly. This A-Team story is contained within my arc and falls between "Because It Is Bitter . . . " and "Two Dates". Apologizes for confusion and heartfelt kisses for anyone who's been keeping up with this! :)
Enjoy!
Murdock was driving, which would have enraged B.A. to no end—but B.A. was delirious and couldn't be trusted to name the planet he was on, let alone complain.
Face's fever was reaching those proportions too. The moans from the back of the van reminded Murdock of the VA hospital. It made one of the voices in his head—one in the dusty padlocked chest he tried to keep under a rock in the corner of his mind—wonder if he was just in the hospital, that the moans were cutting through from reality and he was actually just laying in a bed with his wrists in leather restraints attached to the steel frame to prevent him from reaching out and grasping air like he was driving a van—
"Murdock, it's not too much further. Can you get us there from here?"
"Absolutely!" Murdock answered Hannibal.
The Bossman wasn't quite as sick, yet, but he didn't remember the pilot had a photographic memory when it came to maps and directions.
Hannibal groaned and pitched forward. Murdock shot an arm straight out to catch him before he pulled a header into the dashboard. The van swerved.
"Come on, boss—stay with me! You said you were gonna call Stella, let her know what's up!"
He shoved the older man back against the seat.
Before he started going downhill—after the other two, but before he realized how quickly the plague was going to get him too—Hannibal said that Stella could help, Stella had been a nurse, they needed to get to Stella's.
It would be fewer questions than trying to get into a doctor's office or hospital.
It was only an eight hour drive.
Murdock, against his better judgment, agreed. He helped the increasingly ill ex-Colonel load the other two men into the back of the van, and they started out.
There were no sing-a-longs, no soliloquies, no games of "I Spy" or road poker, no familiar cigar smoke, no Face to tease and no B.A. to complain that he never shut his damn fool mouth. Just hard driving, straight through, with moans and coughing in the back that made him not want to turn around in case this was a horror movie and his friends were now zombies.
And Hannibal promised to call Stella, but hadn't.
Murdock addressed him again. "Hannibal, man—Stella awesomely cool and all, but jumping in at her with both feet and a van full of pestilence isn't polite."
Oh my god, the voice in his head said. Pestilence? Hannibal is Conquest, B.A. is War, Face started this Pestilence, and that means we're Death?
"Fuck you!" Murdock mutter-screamed to the voice inside his head.
"What, Captain?" Hannibal managed to ask.
Murdock shook his head, and hoped the voice rattled to oblivion. "Help me, Bossman. Call Stella right now!"
At the order, Hannibal managed a nod. With an exaggerated motion, he extracted his cell phone. With the same exaggerated care, he punched a few buttons, and then looked blankly at it. Murdock picked it out of his hands as he heard Stella's voice on the other end.
"Hello? . . . hello?"
"Stella!" Murdock shouted, since the phone wasn't quite at his mouth yet. "Stella, Hannibal said this time it would be all right to call you, he's sorry about it but he can't trust a hospital. I thought maybe one of those MedExpress places—"
"What is it, Murdock?" she interrupted with a no-nonsense tone.
"We've got some problems. Everybody's sick! Real sick. High fevers and chills—" and my fingertips are bleeding with the tenacious hold I'm trying to keep on reality, he added in his own head, "—and coughing! Hannibal's the third, he's not quite as far along yet—"
"Get here, Murdock. The garage door will be open."
"Great! We'll be there—" he tried some quick calculations in his head, but the moans from the back and the rabble of voices between his ears merged too loudly. "—soon! We'll be there soon!"
He flipped the phone shut and plugged his ear with his finger to try and block out the noises before he realized he hadn't thanked her.
