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 10
"My name's Brother Amos. Brother Luke's gone to let Reverend Barger know that you're recovering from your Season of Preparation. He left me in charge of showing you your new quarters." The robed man got to his feet. Looking down at Murdock, he said in a grudging tone, "Of course, only when you think you're able to stand up."
The pilot considered his options as he looked up at Amos and blinked a few times in feigned confusion.
If I get up right 'way he's gonna know I was fakin'. But I gotta get those glasses back 'n' start lettin' th' guys know 'bout th' layout o' this place . . . 'n' try 'n' get in touch with Aaron . . .
"Give me a few secs." Murdock mumbled his answer as he rubbed his eyes with both fists. "Still a li'l fuzzy in th' head."
"Take your time. I got all day." Brother Amos crossed his arms and scowled at the pilot.
Well, ain' you Mister Sunshine.
Murdock slowly moved to dangle his legs over the edge of the cot. Gripping the mattress with both hands, he staggered to his feet.
With a weak grin, he muttered to Amos, "So far, so good. Show me th' way."
As he watched, the robed man scrutinize him up and down before striding to the door and opening it, the pilot mentally assessed the guide's physical strength. Yeah, Murdock could probably give Amos a good fight but the robed man was taller by a couple of inches and brawnier.
Mus' be all that homegrown spinach they eat . . . or Brother Amos's int' weight-liftin'.
"You coming?" the Keeper snapped impatiently.
The pilot squinted in the direction of the door and put out both arms as if to feel his way toward the other man. He took a few faltering steps and purposely bumped his shin hard against a folding chair.
"Ow!" he yelped and bent to rub his leg. "I can' really see where I'm goin' without my glasses. A'most blind without 'em."
Grudgingly, Brother Amos opened a large manila envelope and dug around in it until he found what he was looking for. "Here, Brother Merle. Forgot about these. Sorry."
Reaching out for them, the pilot noticed the Keeper seemed to be watching for him to make a mistake. Murdock felt around in the air futilely for a few seconds before Amos took one of his hands and placed the frames in the pilot's palm. Slipping the glasses on, Murdock breathed a fake sigh of relief. "There. Now I can see ya better."
Not that these improve yer looks any. Yer still plug ugly.
"How's your head. You dizzy?"
The pilot adjusted his black robe around him and shook his head carefully. The truth was he was still a little dizzy from his ordeal but he wanted desperately to get to the barracks and out of Brother Amos's presence as soon as possible. Something wasn't genuine about the man.
He's as much a seeker as I am a ballerina with th' New York City Ballet. He's gonna be trouble for us when all hell breaks loose.
And Murdock was certain all hell was going to break loose . . . when he cleared the way for Face and Hannibal to sneak in and created a distraction so the guys could single out Barger and anyone else who was part of the property-grabbing scheme.
Jus' gotta make sure Aaron ain' in the crosshairs o' any enemy fire.
"I'm okay. Jus' don' wanna walk too much 'til I get some water in me. Lead the way, Brother Amos." Murdock forced his rubbery legs to move as the two men left the building and headed across the compound.
oooooo
Face noticed Hannibal's attention to the receiver became even more intense as soon as he heard the crackle of transmission.
Here, Brother Merle. Forgot about these. Sorry.
The con man frowned when he listened to the voice. "It doesn't sound like they suspect anything. At least whoever this is called Murdock 'Brother.' He's managed to keep up the act so far."
There. Now I can see ya better.
That was Murdock's voice coming in clearly.
"They musta gave the fool his glasses." B. A. looked almost relieved. It was difficult to tell with him.
How's your head? You dizzy?
All three men leaned in to hear the response.
I'm okay. Jus' don' wanna walk too much 'til I get some water in me. Lead the way, Brother Amos.
Face breathed out a sigh of relief for all of them. "So where is this Amos taking Murdock now?"
"Shhh." Hannibal held up a hand to silence his Lieutenant.
Now that you've ended your Season of Preparation, you must remain silent until you've finished listening to a series of tapes recorded by Reverend Barger for your further enlightenment. The other Brothers will be there with you and tend to your physical needs for food and water but they . . . and you . . . will not speak to each other.
"How is he going to communicate with us if he can't talk out loud?" Face muttered.
Murdock's voice answered the one they now knew was Brother Amos.
Kind o' like what a guy goes through t' get t' be a monk? A vow o' silence? Do ya make a cut in our thumbs 'n' make it a blood oath? 'R maybe we spit in our hands 'n' do a secret handshake? 'R what?
Face wasn't sure Murdock was babbling for the sake of calming his nerves or if he was serious about what he just said. It could have an undesired effect . . .
Like pissing Brother Amos off, the con man thought, hoping his best friend would try to keep his comments and questions to himself.
No, Brother Merle. The other brothers will not break their silence and breaking yours will only serve to prolong the time you have to listen to the tapes. You do want to be a member of this community and start to work alongside us, don't you?
"Fool never knows when ta keep his mouth shut. Don't know how it's gonna change now," B. A. mumbled under his breath.
Yes. Yes, I do, Brother Amos. Zippin' my mouth 'n' givin' you th' key right now. See? Here it is.
Face could almost picture his buddy's hand making the motions. The Sergeant grunted his usual disdain for the Captain's jabbering.
They all heard the sound of a door creaking open and indistinct conversation which stopped abruptly.
Brothers, this is Merle. He has just finished his Season of Preparation. He needs water and some soft food, a little at a time. You know what to do. Brother Ryan, show Merle to his bunk. Give him the headphones and start the tape for him.
Face groaned slightly when he heard Murdock clear his throat.
B. A. muttered, "Tol' ya so."
Uh . . . jus' a quick question b'fore I shut up for a while? What d' I do if I gotta . . . you know . . . visit Missus Murphy . . .
Hannibal suppressed a smile and murmured, "Good question, Captain."
'Visit Mrs. . . . ? Oh. The latrine's over there. The small building.
"But will he be allowed to go alone?" Face mused.
As if reading his mind from afar, Murdock asked,
So I don' hafta have someone go with me t' . . .
No.
"And knowing Murdock, he'll take that opportunity when he's alone to give us some information." Face smiled for the first time since his friend left them to begin his part of the mission. "Good job, buddy."
Now get comfortable, Brother Merle, and slip these headphones on . . . that's right . . . the volume is preset so you won't have to adjust it . . . now relax and open your mind to the Truth . . .
"Brother Ryan, I assume," Hannibal muttered.
They all heard a click like that of a tape recorder being turned on and then a soothing almost hypnotic voice began.
. . . truth is all around you in the rising and setting of the sun, the birth of a baby, the gentle lap of waves on a distant shore. You are seeking your purpose for being alive. Why are you alive when so many others die so young? How can tragedies like war happen if there is a God and He is good? How can men kill each other and not reap the punishment for their crime?
Face's frown deepened with each question. "Hannibal, I don't like the sounds of this. If he has to listen to this garbage for long, it might trigger a flashback."
You are on your path to find the answers to all of your questions. You will become a Keeper of the Truth and that is the best purpose for your life there can be. Then you can help others be free from their past and find their life path. Let's begin. I am Reverend Barger and I will work with your spirit guide and your brothers and sisters, fellow seekers like yourself, to uncover the truths which will set you free from all of your misery and pain.
"Yeah, right. Like they have all the answers." The con man stood up abruptly and paced back and forth from the bathroom door to the table several times, snorting in derision at each new thing the speaker said.
"Sit down, Lieutenant!" Hannibal snapped.
With a defiant glare, Face sat down again to listen to the litany Murdock heard through the headphones.
"Nothin' we can do about it, Faceman." B. A. gave the con man a look that spoke more than he could say about their shared concern for their friend.
"So what do we do, Hannibal?" Face's voice was raw with anger.
"We take turns listening. Sooner or later Murdock will go to the latrine and give us the intel we need."
I hope, the Lieutenant thought to himself, his arms folded over his chest.
oooooo
Murdock let his muscles relax and closed his eyes. He had to play along, let them think he was diligent in his pursuit of the truth. The opening words mesmerized him. In his mind, he visualized the sun rising over the fields of his Gramma and Grampa's farm in Texas.
Gotta admit, Barger sure knows how t' set a guy at ease.
The first of the recorded questions startled him.
Why are you alive when so many others die so young? How can tragedies like war happen if there is a God and He is good?
The image of sunrises and sunsets over the old farm fields of home changed into the memories of those over the South China Sea. Without wanting to, he remembered the waves gently lapping on the sands of Cam Ranh Bay. He spent weeks at that hospital recuperating from the trauma endured in the POW camp. Face was with him during that time but here he was alone, separated from the rest of his team.
The voice paused to allow him to reflect.
The other memories followed in quick succession, almost like the waves on that beach. Images of wounded and dying soldiers in the back of his chopper as he lifted them out of hot LZs . . . the cloying smell of all that blood . . . the rivulets of diluted crimson as he tried to wash away the traces of each rescue mission.
As if he were right there, he heard the voices of those who cried for their Mommas as they died and the ones who desperately refused care for their own wounds until their fallen comrades received care for theirs. He involuntarily winced as the memories assailed his mind.
The voice, once soothing, became like a whining mosquito that would not stop until it had drawn its share of his blood.
How can men kill each other and not reap the punishment for their crime?
Had he killed anyone? He was a pilot. When he went to Vietnam as a raw recruit, he thought that would insulate him from having to kill. His job? To evacuate the wounded and dying and transport troops to the locations where they were needed. At least that's what he thought. He didn't count on ever really coming face to face with the enemy. That was for the ground troops, not men of the air like him.
Not that he was a coward. But his Gramma instilled in him a set of values that included principles about the sanctity of every person's life. Thou shalt not kill. The commandment, learned in his childhood, echoed as if to taunt him.
Had he killed? One of the visions flashing through his mind paused and became brighter and sharper than all the others.
The head NVA prison guard Ferret sprawled lifeless atop him, a slash to Ferret's belly and throat, his carotid artery sliced deeply, his blood spurting out and saturating Murdock's ragged clothing. The knife, the guard's knife, was in his hand, gripped so tightly he couldn't release it on his own. B. A. took it from him, speaking to him, telling him he did what he had to do, reaffirming the awful truth. I did that. I killed him.
But if he hadn't killed Ferret, a fellow POW, Navy Captain Bruce Wilson, would have died at the enemy's hand. A woman would be without a husband and a young girl without a father. Didn't that justify his action? Again his Gramma's words chided him: Thou shalt not kill.
. . . I will work with your spirit guide and your brothers and sisters, fellow seekers like yourself, to know the truths which will set you free from all of your misery and pain.
With effort, the pilot refocused on the voice coming through the headphones.
How long had he been caught up in the memories this time? He rubbed his closed eyes hard with one hand as if to wipe away the memories that would never completely be erased.
The person speaking promised something Murdock had wanted for most of his life: freedom from his misery and pain. All the therapy and psychiatric treatments in the world had not helped him to be totally free from his past.
The guys had helped him to a point but they had their own personal demons to cope with. He couldn't ask them to relive their own wartime traumas to save his sanity.
No, Barger promised something that might actually free him once and for all.
It sounded so good.