Ahh! I always LOVE posting a new chapter. It sort of gives me a rather accomplished feeling (and I guess I need that from time to time). And this time you didn't have to wait a whole month for an update.
I enjoyed writing this chapter, but am looking forward to writing the next one because: Action time!
Thanks, as always (broken record, I know) for the new reviews. I love each and every one of them as they are a little highlight to my day when I receive them.
Please enjoy this new chapter:

Chapter 10: Life Saver

B.A's breath hitched as he woke up from a restless slumber. He had been dozing off and on during the night, even though he'd tried his best to stay awake and stay focused. But it was getting harder and harder.
Opening his eyes slowly, he tried to concentrate on his dim-lit surroundings. For a moment he felt confused.
But then the recent events came back to him like a frightful nightmare, and an ice-cold shudder ran down his spine.

"They killed the fool... They're gonna pay!" was a thought that kept repeating in the back of his mind.

The muggy room they were holding him captive in had the looks of a disused cellar. It was dirty and coated with a thick greasy layer of dust. Besides some shelving units, there was no other furniture in the room. Not even a chair to sit on. Just some empty, moldy cardboard boxes in a corner, and a lot of cobwebs.
A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling and was sending some pale light into the thick darkness, making the room look rather gloomy.
B.A had managed to gather some of the boxes and flatten them so he didn't have to sit on the stone cold floor. But it didn't help much. The shivers that raked his body kept coming.

The big guy had settled himself on the floor in the darkest corner of the room. He was leaning heavily with his back and left shoulder against the two adjoining walls to help him sit up straight. Laying down was showing weakness, and B.A didn't plan to show those crooks any sign of weakness if he could help it.
But he was allowed to lean, and he rested a weary head against the cool stones while his dark brewing eyes stared into nothingness. Pearls of sweat dripped from his cheeks and beard.
Though you wouldn't tell from his calm demeanor, B.A was in a lot of pain.
The bad guys had really done a number on him this time.
The injury of his shoulder was okay. The bullet had only grazed him and it had bled enough to disinfect on its own.
Luckily for him, he'd been wearing a sleeveless shirt that day.
His leg, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The violent throbbing of his thigh told him as much.
Observing the swelling of the stab wound, B.A already knew an infection had started to spread.
The fabric of his light blue dungarees was spanning uncomfortably around his swollen and stiff thigh. He'd already torn open the trouser leg to allow for some space, but he knew he needed immediate treatment. At least the wound had stopped bleeding after he'd clumsily applied a tourniquet from a handkerchief with his still bound hands. The skin of his wrists felt raw due to the sharp tie wraps the crooks had used on him.
But it all didn't matter much to him.
B.A felt eerily empty inside. Like something had died from deep within him. He'd just witnessed the violent death of his best friend, and something had simply snapped.
The only emotion he seemed to feel right now was rage. Pure and all-consuming rage, and it was building up to a cooking point.
He wanted revenge on the man who'd killed the fool. There had been no warning. No nothing!
Just a simple bullet, a pull of the trigger, and BAM, it was all over.
B.A could still picture the empty expression on the fool's face.
'Murdock's' face, he corrected himself.

B.A wasn't a person to cry. He'd stopped doing that decades ago.
After the death of his father when he was still a young boy, life had become tough, and there had simply been no place for crying in that world. Instead, he directed all his pain and remaining emotions into anger.
Right now, he was savoring it for the moment he would take revenge on the killer. The second he got an opening to do so, he would strike... and he would strike hard.

Suddenly there was a sound of footsteps in the hallway. B.A blinked and pricked up his ears while slowly moving his feverish eyes toward the door. He had no idea how long he'd been spending in his cell and wondered if it had become morning already. When they'd thrown him into the room, they'd left him alone for what felt like hours. Without water, or food, and no indication whatsoever to know how much time had passed.

A bolt was released, and the old wooden door creaked open revealing the person B.A wanted to see least of all. Or perhaps... most of all...
He felt his blood boil at the sight of the sneering man who entered the room and observed him with obvious amusement on his face.

Don had taken off his parka and hat, and was entering the room wearing a simple leather jacket. On his waist he carried his gun in a holster, his hand resting on the weapon in case B.A would try something. In his other hand, he held an arm-long metal rod.
Behind him, staying in the door-opening, stood one of his accomplices, Lee, whom B.A recognized from their trip into the woods. He was carrying a tray in his hands.

B.A glared at both men. He was breathing laboriously, but other than that, staying quite still.
Don observed the wounded man with a watchful eye. The black man sat slumped down against the wall, looking battered and ill. His dark skin had a greyish unhealthy shade to it, and there was a sheen of sweat visible on his face and arms. It was clear that he wasn't doing so well.

"Good," Don thought as he slowly approached his prisoner.

Baracus hardly moved his head, but his dark eyes followed Don viciously like a tiger watching his prey while waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. Don had seen the man's scowl before, but it had never held the menace that it seemed to be holding now. He wondered what the man would do if he wasn't bound and wounded like he was right now. Don chuckled coldly.
The thought actually amused him.

"Not doing so fine, are we?" He mocked at B.A.

"Looks infected," He added while poking B.A's thigh with the rod.

B.A hissed in pain and instantly struggled to get back to his feet to launch at the man. But Don was faster.
He swiftly took a step backward and pressed the rod into B.A's windpipe, effortlessly forcing the man down to the ground. All B.A could do was gasp for air and sulkily obey.
Panting hard and fuming inside, he glared at the man and even growled! But Don didn't seem to be too impressed.
Afterall, he had everything under control.

"There, there. You don't seem to be much without your friends now, do you?" He said tauntingly.

"But don't be afraid. It's for the better that I am removing them one by one from your life...like I did with that halfwit, whats-his-name-Murdock?.
And let's face it, Baracus. Life will become so much easier without that idiot walking in your way, am I right?"

B.A, who hadn't said a word until that moment, couldn't hold his tongue anymore.

"You killed him!" he shouted with so much venom in his voice that he didn't even recognize it himself.

"Technically...? ..yes!" Don admitted while meditating over B.A's words.

"But I guess it depends on the way you look at things, Mr. Baracus.
All in all, I thought I was doing you a favor. "

B.A looked up at the man with a quizzical expression on his face.

"You were the one telling the man to shut up after all," Don went on, now crouching down in front of B.A with the rod gripped firmly in his hands. He calmly examined B.A's face, who scowled back at him.

"So I shut him up for you...," Don added with a sly smile. "For good!"

At this, B.A's eyes twitched ever so slightly. The big guy concentrated on keeping his face empty from any emotion that would show off as weak, but he knew he'd failed. He glared into the cold grey eyes for a moment, using all the anger he could muster and sending the man a wordless message that said; "You're gonna pay..."
He didn't want to show the despicable man in front of him that he'd struck a nerve. But he definitely had.
And Don had seen it...A wicked grin that didn't quite reach the man's eyes appeared on his thin face.

"Anyway... Let's patch you up a bit, shall we? We don't want you dead... yet..." Don said with a bored voice.

He stood up from his crouch and gestured to the other man to enter the room.

Lee walked forward with the tray that contained a small bottle of water, a wrapped sandwich and a roll of bandages. There wasn't any antiseptic. He placed the items on the floor next to B.A, sending him a cautious look, and left the room with the tray.

"You can eat and drink, and try and take care of that leg for now. "Don said.

"And cheer up, man! You won't be lonely for long. Your remaining friends will soon join you."

B.A ignored him and looked away.
The way the man had put his emphasis on the word 'remaining', stung deeply. But B.A simply stared at the opposite wall while taking no more notice of the piece of shit in front of him.
Don sneered and turned around on his heels, finally leaving B.A alone. He bolted the door at his way out.

Suddenly the big guy was alone again and a deep foreboding silence descended on him.

B.A uttered a shaky sigh. His eyes stung and he vaguely wondered if it had anything to do with the wrenching pain in his body or maybe... maybe something else. Even though he knew that the words coming out of the crook's mouth were poisonous, he couldn't help but wonder if some of it was true. Maybe B.A 'was' the reason his friend was dead. Maybe they would've let Murdock live if he hadn't been screaming at him to keep his mouth shut.

With these thoughts, he slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. The water, sandwich and bandages lay untouched and forgotten on the floor.
He couldn't care less...

*Bump-Crack!*

"ARGH!"

Murdock hit the breaks hard for the second time that morning.
Clapping a weary hand over his eyes, he let out a low groan.

"I've crashed Hueys better than this van..." he muttered as he realized he'd parked the van's bumper quite eagerly into a large square-shaped (and rather solid) concrete planter that was situated next to the parking spot he'd picked. Billy whined at him in sympathy while the green plants still shook on their stems.

"Can't be helped...," Murdock said apologetically while opening the van's door to get out.

It was still early in the morning. The sky was slowly changing from bright orange and pink into blue.
Murdock looked around and noticed there was only one car on the parking lot of the somewhat shabby looking diner. He'd also noticed (to his own slight embarrassment) that there was only one planter on the whole parking lot, and he'd managed to hit it with flying colors.

Even though the place looked deserted, the lights in the building were on, and Murdock hoped that the place was open.
His plan was rather weak and basic, but it sure was better than nothing. He would go in and ask directions to the Silver Creek Mill museum, desperately hoping that they would know of it, and most important of all: that it was close by!
Time was pressing on him, and the driving and concentrating on the road had been quite exhausting. He didn't want to think what those crooks would do to his golden friend if they didn't even hesitate to shoot him down like a clay pigeon.
After finding the freeway, it hadn't taken him long to spot a diner down the road called B.B's Place. Murdock had abruptly maneuvered his way down the exit lane, completely oblivious to the honking cars and shrieking tires around him.

It was time for action!
The crazy man jumped out of the van, almost stumbled over an untied shoelace, ignored it, and finally headed for the entrance in a hurry.
To his relief, he spotted the 'We are open' sign on the door-window when he stopped dead in track.
Still with his hand on the door handle, he gazed at his own reflection in the dust-stained glass. He could see that his face and shirt were both covered with something dark. Was it blood?
Obviously...
Murdock had just enough sense to turn on his heels and hurry back to the van to clean himself up while muttering "shit, shit, shit!" under his breath.
He forcefully opened the van's door, jumped down in the driver's seat with clear frustration on his face, and sneaked a peek into the rearview mirror...
Confirmative! That was blood alright. He'd forgotten about that.
The right side of his face was all covered with it. Streaks of dark red smeared part of his face, neck and his right ear. His hair was matted, and his clothes had dark stains.
That might explain the occasional odd stares he got from fellow drivers on the road.
Damn! He had no time for this! But he also couldn't just barge into the diner like this without drawing all kinds of attention that he didn't want. It was still too early for Halloween.

Feverishly scanning the van, he spotted the bottles of water and grabbed one. He stumbled to the back of the vehicle in the hopes of finding his duffel bag.
Instead, he found a big shopping bag with an ugly flower print that looked somewhat familiar to him and opened it. It was a relief to see that it seemed to be his bag, as it contained fresh sets of clothes, a dress and wig that he couldn't place, his meds, and even some toiletries.

Murdock moved as quick as he could. With stiff arms, he slid the pilot's jacket from his shoulders.
Even though it was harder to notice on the dark brown leather, it was clearly covered in blood, as well as his flannel shirt and t-shirt. Murdock huffed impatiently. He knew head wounds could bleed badly, but he thought he'd kinda over-exaggerated it a bit this time. Such a drama Queen...

Even his pants were a mess, though that was because of the mud. Murdock undressed hastily, fumbled his dirty t-shirt into a ball, soaked it with water from the bottle, and, while sitting on his knees behind the back seats, hurriedly tried to mop away the blood from his face, neck, and upper torso.
Billy just sat there, staring at him with a curious expression on his face.

"You think it's gone?" Murdock asked his dog after thoroughly rubbing his head and neck and examining his now somewhat flushed face and red nose in the rearview mirror.

Billy barked and wagged his tail at him.

"I sure hope you're right," Murdock mumbled feebly. He hoped he'd cleaned up well enough because he very well didn't want to waste any more time on it. He'd made sure to avoid the throbbing head wound though. It had stopped bleeding, but for what he could see, it didn't look very good.

The crazy man clumsily changed into a clean dark-blue t-shirt and put on a fresh pair of khaki pants. He didn't bother to grab his flannel shirt nor his jacket at this point but decided to put his baseball cap back on since he hadn't been able to clean all the blood out of his hair. That would at least hide it slightly.
Last but not least, he tied his shoelaces (very tight this time while thinking of B.A) and stood up with a deep sigh.
He gave Billy a pat on the head and said:"Let's go!"
Billy barked and followed him in pursuit.

Entering the diner, Murdock had to adjust his eyes to the light and blinked a couple of times. The place was dim-lit and looked deserted.
A welcoming sign said, Welcome to B.B's Place - Try our B. B. Burger today."
There didn't seem to be any folks around yet, and Murdock screened the place carefully.

"Hello?" He said hesitantly.

A very very tall woman, roughly a couple of years older than Murdock, with strong arms, broad shoulders and a dark brown ponytail, emerged from behind the counter with a big cardboard box filled with cans of Campbell's soup.
The name tag on her shirt read 'Betsy.' She had a kind face but looked like the kind of girl you wouldn't want to mess with. Murdock felt slightly intimidated by the woman who was clearly taller than he was and gulped.

"Can I help you?" The lady-giant inquired while examining the slightly gaunt-looking pilot.

Betsy looked Murdock up and down.
The lean man who'd entered her diner this early in the morning had a disheveled look about him.
His clothes were clean but untidy, his eyes didn't seem quite focused, and he stood there slightly swaying on his feet while cautiously rubbing his lanky arms as if he was feeling cold.
For a minute, she thought he was going to drop to the floor, but just in time, he seemed to steady himself.
She wondered what type of man would wear a t-shirt with the words 'Have you seen my marbles?' written on it.

"Probably another drunk with a hangover..." she thought airily while placing the box on the shiny wooden counter without looking away from the man in case he was up to something.
However, she didn't worry too much. She'd dealt with drunk men before.

"T..The silver Creek Mill Museum.." Murdock stuttered, still feeling a bit flabbergasted. "Do you know the place? I need to get there fast. It's important"

Murdock shrank a little under the scrutiny of the woman and hoped she wasn't going to chase him out of the place without giving him any information.
He sent her a sheepish smile, in the hopes of making the situation a little less awkward.
Betsy however, looked at him with a curious glance on her face and raised an eyebrow. The man's words slurred a little.

"The Silver Creek museum? Why on earth would you want to go there?"

Murdock felt his patience falter slightly, and it took him some effort not to snap the words 'None of your business!' at the big woman. His head felt heavy and he started having trouble focusing again. 'Not now! Not now!"

"Er.. Appointment.." he answered gruffly while rubbing his eyes. "Do you know how to get there?"

"There is no Museum in Silver Creek," Betsy said.

Murdock lowered his hand and looked up at her. He felt an ice cold dread entering his stomach. Desperation started to fill his mind.

"But t-there has to be..." he said with a voice that couldn't quite hide his sudden distress.

His head was throbbing violently now, and his surroundings slowly darkened around him. His legs started to tremble.

"I.. I really need to get there fast... It's important," he added.

Murdock felt a sudden wave of giddiness hit him.
Just as his knees started to buckle, he could feel a pair of strong arms gripping him and pushing him hard-handedly onto a bar stool.

"Sit down," The lady said briskly while making sure Murdock was seated properly and wasn't going to drop to the floor instead.

Murdock blinked in surprise and managed to steady himself while holding on to the table top.

"You're quick as a bunny," he said with clear awe in his voice.

"And strong as a bear," Betsy said. "They don't call me Big Betsy for nothin' here,"

Betsy made her way behind the counter and poured him a glass of water.

"You okay?" She asked while roughly pushing the glass in his direction.

"Just tired," Murdock said dismissively while composing himself and willing away the spell of dizziness. Dark edges were intruding his field of vision, and he tried hard to fight them back.

With trembling fingers, he reached for the glass of water and took a grateful sip. Once more, the water did its work and helped him clearing his head a little. It also helped him calm down.
Then he looked up at the woman, and smiled.

"Big Betsy, right? Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," Betsy said with a small twitch of the corner of her mouth.

"Call me B.B... Everybody else does,"

Murdock chuckled and took another sip.

"Almost sounds like my buddy, he's called B.A,"

At that, his eyes darkened, and the expression on his face hardened as if he remembered something bad.
Betsy looked at him. She wasn't sure what to think of the man.
While helping him on the bar stool, she'd seen the dark stains on the right side of his cap and what looked like smudges and small traces of blood behind the man's ear.
She hadn't said anything and decided it was none of her business.

"He's just another drunk who'd gotten himself into a bar fight, that's all," she thought to herself.

Though, she was wondering why she didn't smell any alcohol on the man's breath.
If there was one thing she'd learned while running her diner on her own; it was that you didn't ask questions, and you didn't meddle in someone else's business. During the years, she'd developed a certain insight into people, and she liked to think she was a good judge of character.
However, her curiosity was triggered now, and she couldn't help herself.

"So Silver Creek Museum, huh?" she said, "It doesn't exist anymore, but I can show you how to find it..."

Murdock, who had looked rather sullen and beat, suddenly looked up at her in surprise. So it did exist?

The look in his wide eyes was so intense and hopeful that Betsy had to look away.

"I used to go there often as a kid because my grandfather worked there," she continued while looking for a pen and a piece of paper.

Murdock's eyebrows lifted slightly as a happy grin spread on his face. Small world...

"Silver Creek ain't really a town anymore. Nobody actually lives there. Not even when the museum was still in business," Betsy went on. "But it 'did' have a Silver mill..."

Murdock rose on his bar stool while listening intently and as quiet as a mouse.

"I have no clue why you'd want to go there though," Betsy added as she started scribbling lines on the paper.

"As far as I know, the place has been closed and boarded up over ten years ago. They say it went bankrupt or something."

Murdock followed the movements of her hand as Betsy started to draw a simple map for him.

"My granddad lost his job and I haven't been there in ages. But I still know how to find it. It's not even that far from here." Betsy went on. "I don't have a real map for you, but I think this will do."

She drew one last line, examined her scribbles, nodded approvingly and then pushed the paper over to Murdock who immediately started screening the paper.
Then, without a warning, he jumped from his bar stool, hopped behind the counter and gave the startled Betsy a crushing hug before leaping to the diner's exit.

"Thanks, thanks, THANKS so much. You can't believe how... I mean. You're so kind! Thanks!" Murdock said while stumbling over his words and opening the door.

Without further ado, he sped out of the diner, muttering a "Come on, Billy" and was gone.

Betsy blinked a couple of times. Not sure what had just happened (and who the heck was Billy?)
She was about to shrug it off and continue unpacking the box with Campbell's soup when she heard the tingle of the door again and saw Murdock's head peek around the corner.

"Before I forget. Did I mention you're a life safer!?" he said hurriedly. "Or at least, I hope you are! Thanks, Gracias, Merci bien, Bye!"

Before Betsy could answer, Murdock's head had vanished again. The big woman walked towards the door and peeked through the window. She saw a big black van hurrying out of the parking lot and wondered for the second time what the hell had just happened.

Murdock sat behind the wheel, suddenly feeling energized. He'd already memorized the simple map and knew exactly where to go. A sudden rush of adrenaline had kicked in, and without realizing it, he was humming to the tunes of 'You are my sunshine' while entering the freeway.

TBC