Keeper of the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Chapter 7

As B. A. and Face entered the motel room where Hannibal sat monitoring the listening device, they both noted the tension in their leader's expression.

"Did you hear anything, Hannibal?" Face tried to act nonchalant but he knew the older man wasn't buying the act.

The Colonel shook his head. "I think Murdock's new friend Luke put the glasses in with the rest of Murdock's things but I can't be sure. There's absolutely nothing coming over the receiver. What about you? Did you find something you can use, B. A.?"

"I'm all ready ta move when I need to. All it needed was a li'l weldin' an' tinkering." The Sergeant moved toward the bathroom as he spoke. "Gonna get cleaned up. Let me know if ya hear anything new."

The con man waited until B. A. shut the door before he commented. "A little?" Face said with deadpan seriousness. "He made a half ton pickup almost look like an Army tank." The con man folded his arms.

"And you pinpointed the hut where Murdock is?" Hannibal kept his eyes on the tabletop in front of him.

"We're not sure but we think so." Face raised an eyebrow as he took a seat across from the Colonel. "Were we that obvious?"

"It's what I would have done if my CO told me to wait and I thought one of my men . . . or friends . . . was in danger." The older man fixed his gaze on the con man. "We'll get him out of there alive. But we will also complete the mission."

Face took in a breath and let it out as a frustrated sigh. Silently he sank into the chair opposite the receiver and leaned forward to listen.

oooooo

The temperature inside the hut wasn't stifling hot but the combination of stale air and murky darkness was getting under Murdock's skin. And that combination made him jumpy and more likely to do something that would tip Barger and his men off.

But ain' that th' whole purpose b'hind sensory deprivation? T' trip your prisoner up so he makes a mistake?

Quietly humming the tune to 'Bohemian Rhapsody', the pilot listened for any indication his guide . . . or captor, as he was starting to think . . . was returning. He let Billy sing the words to the song.

His spirit brother had just finished the chorus "Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me" when Murdock thought he heard something tap the outer wall of the hut. His muscles tensed as he strained to listen for any more sounds.

"Shhh! Ya gotta sing a li'l softer, Billy. We don' want Brother Luke t' hear us." Murdock put a finger to his lips and then stifled the sudden urge to laugh. "I forgot . . . ya can' really see me in th' dark in here, can ya?"

Billy stopped singing long enough to answer. I can see ya jus' fine, brother. 'N' I'm keepin' my ears open. When he comes back, I'll be quiet.

"I guess ghosts don' need light t' see, huh?" Murdock sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "I'm kind o' tired o' singin' anyway. I wonder how long b'fore he does come back. It sure seems like more 'n an hour."

Billy didn't answer this time. For a few seconds the pilot panicked, thinking his spirit brother left.

Then he heard footsteps approaching the building. He could almost taste the blue skies and fresh breezes as he waited for Brother Luke to open the door and release him.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Where else would I be?

"I thought I heard someone humming. That wasn't you, was it?"

Murdock rolled his eyes. No, it's th' Mormon Tabernacle Choir singin' White Christmas. Course it's me!

He barely resisted saying that out loud. "Jus' passin' th' time, Brother Luke."

There was a resigned sigh on the other side of the door. "That's what I thought. I should have told you before that making any kind of sound delays the emptying process. You'll have to stay in there a while longer now."

Longer? Rats!

"When will ya know I'm ready?" Murdock held his breath as he waited for the other man's response.

"When you're willing to give away all your possessions and follow Reverend Barger in the path to truth."

The pilot would have smirked if the prospect of staying in this tiny space wasn't so disheartening. He chose to clarify Luke's statement. "All of them? Even my Gramma 'n' Grampa's land?"

"Everything of value." Luke sighed again, this time with frustration evident in the sound. "Look, Merle. Jesus had only the clothes on his back. He asked the same of his disciples. And the first Christians in the book of Acts sold all they had and shared with all of their church brothers and sisters. Reverend Barger isn't asking anything that doesn't have an example in the Bible."

"But everything?" Murdock remembered his Gramma's sacrificial offerings to the church and how sometimes it meant they couldn't afford new clothes or finer food. Thinking of that, it made some sense to him.

But Barger d'mands everything?

"A part of your heart is enslaved to whatever you hold onto. You have to let go of everything to fully embrace the truth. An empty hand can hold more coins than one already full." The words sounded sincere but without seeing Brother Luke's face Murdock couldn't tell for sure if the guide really believed it.

As the pilot mulled over the things the other man said, Brother Luke spoke again. "Fasting is also part of the process. Jesus was in the wilderness forty days and nights without food or water. To be emptied and ready for the infilling of the Truth, you must deny your physical body its lusts and desires."

Murdock gulped. Food was one thing. In the POW camp, if it hadn't been for Lin Duk Coo, the camp cook, and the bread he sneaked to the prisoners they would all have starved to death. And when Lin couldn't find a way to get bread to them, they ate many things that would sustain life . . . like rats or snakes. Even when they had nothing to eat, they somehow got through. But water . . .

Even in the camp, where the water was so dirty that dysentery was as common as catching a cold, they drank it anyway to survive.

He remembered something he read. The human body can last only three to five days without water. He could survive a few days longer than that . . . maybe . . .

"But ain' that dangerous?" he protested.

He listened for a reply but the footsteps were already moving away. "I'll be back in an hour, Brother Merle."

The use of the word 'Brother' with his alias brought a little encouragement to Murdock.

Maybe Brother Luke's thinkin' I'm jus' 'bout ready t' sell my Gramma for some food 'r water. But he ain' gonna let me outta here, not yet. So how long b'fore th' guys figure somethin's up 'n' they bust in t' find me? 'R will I go nuts b'fore then?

"Billy? Gonna need ya t' keep me grounded," Murdock muttered, shutting his eyes. "Ain' gonna make it through if ya don'."

oooooo

Even though Brother Luke came back at regularly spaced intervals, Murdock was losing track of time.

As the guide walked away from the hut after asking questions designed to determine if the recruit was "emptied of himself," as he put it, the pilot tried to remember if it was Luke's fourth or fifth visit.

His stomach grumbled a protest. Murdock had stopped whispering to Billy a while ago. He could barely choke out answers to Brother Luke's questions. His mouth was too dry to even lick his lips. He longed for a glass of water.

For a few minutes he reviewed his guide's questions and tried to figure out how he should respond the next time so he could be released. Realizing he couldn't think as clearly as he wanted, he gave up with a sigh.

Guess I know now how a maniac like Barger can get people t' follow him. 'N' I ain' even got t' th' place where I start hallucinatin'.

Shifting in the chair, wishing there was enough room to stretch his legs, he wasn't prepared for the tiny tapping sound on the outer wall to his right. A pause of a few seconds and then it happened again.

The tapping was too structured to be caused by anything in nature like a wind-blown branch.

Tap-tap. A small pause. Tap-tap-tap. Another pause. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap. After a very long pause, the tapping repeated.

He recognized it as a pattern, not Morse code, but familiar. Very familiar. It had been years since he had to use that code for sending or receiving messages. But with all the practice he had using it in the POW camp, he knew it very well.

H . . . I? Hi?

Frowning, he hesitated before tapping out an answer. If he was right, there would be a response.

Five taps, two taps for the letter 'W', two taps, three taps for 'H', three taps, four taps for 'O'.

The answer was slow in coming, mainly because it was such a long word to relay by the tap code.

As his visitor answered with taps, Murdock mouthed the letters. "F . . . R . . . I . . . E . . . N . . . D. Friend?"

The pilot didn't know whether to be suspicious or relieved.

He had to know who the person was that knew the POW camp code and risked communicating with him.

Squeezing tightly against the wall where the taps originated, Murdock tried to speak softly to his 'friend.' His voice was rusty from disuse but he managed to croak the three words out.

"Who are ya?"

There was silence for several seconds.

Did I scare him . . . 'r her . . . 'way?

A low voice, decidedly young and male, answered him. "We can't talk for long. My mother'll be looking for me."

Murdock heard movement near the floor of the hut and quickly glanced down, expecting a rat or snake had found a way in. A rectangular patch of dim light illuminated his feet. Looking more closely, he noted a hole in the wall where a board had once been. A hand holding a bottle of water emerged through that hole.

"Here. Take a few swallows and give it back."

Murdock did as instructed, swishing some of the water around in his mouth before swallowing it. He took two more gulps before recapping the bottle and passing it back through the hole. As refreshing as the water was, he had to know who his mystery benefactor was.

"Now who are ya? 'N' why're ya helpin' me?"

"Not now. I have to get back to the kitchen. I'll try to sneak over here again soon." There was a pause, then a hurried encouragement. "Don't give up. Don't let them break you."

The rectangular light disappeared with the sound of a board being fitted back into place. Murdock listened intently but he heard no more sound, not even that of someone walking away.

Well, whaddya think o' that, Billy? We got a friend.