Death Waits In the Wings
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 The Chase
"Hey, suckers! You want me? Come get me!"
The elderly couple and the waitress gaped at Murdock as he yanked open the door and darted out onto the sidewalk. He chanced a look toward Cyndy's El Camino in the parking lot. She fumbled with her key, trying to insert it into the lock.
Behind him, the door of the coffee shop slammed open. The bell over the door jangled fiercely. He slowed long enough to assure himself that his father and Hollis were following and that Cyndy saw him and them. Then he ran.
After two blocks the sound of following footsteps went from two pursuers to one. Murdock knew if his father was anything like the alcoholic he was in the past, Harley McKeever was the one that dropped out of the chase. Probably wheezing and leaning against some building. That left Hollis.
Legs, don't fail me. Hope Hollis ain't in the same condition he was in high school or I'm dead.
By the fifth block, sprinting as fast as he could, Murdock's lungs were burning. He put a little distance between his classmate and himself but not enough to allow for a slower pace. He ducked into an alley and turned onto side streets but he couldn't get rid of his pursuer. Hollis showed no signs of ending the chase.
Why don't he give up? He's gotta give up sometime, don't he?
By the seventh block, Murdock was glad he kept himself in good physical condition. Pumping his arms to keep the momentum, shortening his stride to maximize his speed, he called on all of his high school training to keep running. He was so focused on keeping his gaze straight ahead he didn't see the headlights coming toward him. The vehicle, a 72 red El Camino, was almost beside him when it slowed down.
"H. M.!" someone screamed from the driver's seat.
He threw open the door and scrambled in. "Put the pedal to the metal, Cyndy!"
The tires screeched as he slammed the door and she stomped on the accelerator. He glimpsed Hollis as they sped past. His face was contorted with rage and he yelled unintelligible threats at them. A second after they passed, the rear window shattered from something the attacker threw at the truck.
"Oh yeah, forgot he was the star pitcher on the summer rec baseball team." Murdock leaned back in the seat, closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal.
"I couldn't get it started right away. Bad battery. I almost didn't find you." Cyndy glanced at him, the worry of the last several minutes beginning to relax from her features.
"Glad ya found me when ya did. I couldn't a kept runnin' for much longer." He gave her a crooked grin. "You don't do too bad as a getaway driver, kinda like Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde. Just as beautiful, too."
"Thanks, I think." She smirked. "Only I think you look better than Warren Beatty. And weren't both of them the bad guys in that movie?"
He thought for a moment. "Yeah, guess you're right. Tell you what. You just be Cynthia Berquon and I'll be H. M. Murdock, 'kay?"
"That sounds fine to me. So where do we go now?"
He sighed. "Guess we gotta let Hannibal know what happened so they can be on the lookout."
"But for what? All they did was run after you."
"What do you think they wanted to do, Cyndy? Get my autograph?" He said it in a tone harsher than he meant to and immediately regretted it. He tried again in a gentler voice. "Look. Seein' them askin' 'round in the same place we were havin' coffee was too much of a coincidence for me. Hollis maybe recognized your truck in the parkin' lot which means they're lookin' for you or me or both of us. The pair of them together only means trouble."
"I know Hollis is looking for trouble but who was that with him? I don't know that I remember seeing him around." She glanced over at Murdock.
"You likely haven't seen 'im 'round unless you go to a lotta bars. That was my birth father. Goes by the name of Harley McKeever." He turned his face from her and stared fixedly at the buildings they passed.
"Harley McKeever." She repeated the name, then took in a sharp breath. "Harley McKeever. H. M.!"
"Yeah, my mother had a real cute sense of humor, didn't she? Givin' me initials instead of a name and makin' the initials stand for her ex-husband." He shook his head. "They married at eighteen and were already divorced by the time I was born two years later. Guess it was a twisted kind of revenge namin' me like she did. I was her way of gettin' back at him."
"I never knew. I'm sorry." Her words were soft and sympathetic. For a couple of minutes she drove on in silence. Abruptly she asked, "Why did she leave him?"
Murdock turned toward her. She flinched at the dark look he gave her. The shadows of the early evening made the bruise near his temple seem larger and uglier.
"Why does any woman leave a drunk?" When he saw her shudder, knowing she understood, he turned away again and glared at the street ahead. "We gotta get back 'n' tell the Colonel 'bout Hollis trailin' us, at least. In fact, why don'tcha let me drive the rest of the way?"
Cynthia pulled over to the side of the boulevard and slid over to the middle of the bench seat while Murdock got out and walked around to the driver's side. Getting in, he steered the vehicle back into the driving lane.
She nestled beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Sensing her begin to shiver, he drove one-handed, wrapping his right arm around her. "There now, sweetie, no need to be frightened. The guys 'n' me'll make sure nothin' happens to you or anyone else at the theater, 'kay?" He took his eyes off the road and kissed the top of her head. "Promise you."
He drove in silence, trying to think of the best way to get back to the conversation that had been interrupted. Her closeness jumbled his thinking. One moment he was seventeen again and driving her home and the next he was in his mid-30s and wondering how to tell her about Daniela.
As they neared their turn from South Fourth Street onto West Cardinal Drive, a pair of headlights approached from behind. Moving at least fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit, the front bumper of the following truck made contact with the rear of Cynthia's vehicle and began to speed up. Both trucks shot across the intersection, over the curb and toward an area of brush and trees.
"Hang on, Buttercup!" Murdock yelled as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and fought to keep control of the vehicle.