Morale

AN: This is the last two chapters from Murdock's POV. The guys will be out in the jungle in the next one. Promise.

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

Chapter 12 White Dog Overcomes

"Tạm dừng! (Halt!)"

Why they were stopping, he didn't know until he heard the shuffling feet coming toward them and saw the pale naked body hanging between Greenberg and Denison.

Lieutenant Cassel. Luke.

He took in a deep quick breath when he saw who it was. The gaping stare, the protruding rib cage and stick arms and legs nauseated him, made his temper flare white hot inside him.

That and the shit that coated the dead man's lower body. They didn't even have the decency to clean him up or leave him his garments to be buried in.

Cassel had a wife, two kids, twin boys, back home in the States who would never get the opportunity to see his remains buried in honor. But they wouldn't have wanted to see this.

No one should hafta see this. Hell, no one should hafta die like this either.

The guard nearest him drove the butt of the AK-47 into his gut. The pain chased away his nausea but filled every empty space inside him with more anger than he could contain. He felt something in his brain snap as the indignity of the whole scene struck him full force.

All it took was that jab and the grin the guard got on his face after doing it to unloose his tongue to express everything he had stockpiled inside himself.

"Dirty . . . flea-bitten . . . sons-a-bitches . . . Go t' hell . . . All o' ya." He knew they didn't understand his words but there was no misinterpreting his tone.

A part of himself detached and watched as the savage black dog inside him was unleashed. With unreasoning viciousness he struck and kicked at the guards even as they subdued him.

Ferret and the three guards tossed him onto the ground with surprising ease despite his impassioned struggles. They twisted his wrists behind his back. As his hands were tied, his face ground into the dirt, he let every part of him that could feel anything but rage find refuge in the deepest area of his mind.

The blows from the rifle stocks served only to fuel the insane fury that spilled from his mouth as howls. To protect himself, he instinctively drew his legs up toward his belly and curled his head and upper body to almost meet his knees.

Am I gonna die now?

Murdock couldn't stop the random thought from echoing inside his brain. His detached emotions flooded back, forcing the black dog onto its leash and leaving the white dog to receive the punishment for its actions.

Pain along his back and ribs, a vicious blow to his right kneecap and another to his jaw, reduced the pilot's protests to sobs and meaningless rants.

"Sons o' bitches . . . rotten . . . bloodthirsty . . . leeches . . . "

The shower of blows stopped just as suddenly as they began and the rational part of his mind observed with cool detachment the broken prisoner he had become, raving at Trình's feet.

It was that part of his identity that listened as the VC Major spoke.

"Ông phải rời khỏi cho phía Bắc vào ngày hôm nay. Ông dự kiến. (He must leave for the north today. He is expected.)"

Which means they won' let me die, 'least not now.

His wounded mind was torn. His innate will to live struggled with the desire to have all of the torture end.

How far can they be pushed 'fore they kill me anyway?

He felt the Major's foot touch his calf. Bile rose in his throat as the VC officer instructed his men to dress him in Cassel's garments.

Every fiber of his being objected to that and his ranting reached a feverish pitch. He almost didn't hear the words the Major spoke to Hannibal before ordering the guards to return him to their communal hut.

"Around Phu Bai, the Captain will travel alone."

Phu Bai. What do I know of Phu Bai? How far is that from here?

His unintelligible raving amused Major Trình and the soldiers around him.

Let 'em laugh. S'long as I don' tell 'em what I really think o' 'em in their own language.

He detected a small movement to his left. Glancing that way through swollen eyelids, he saw two of the new prisoners shift positions ever so slightly.

Bad for them if they do that too much.

A guard on either side lifted him to his feet. He wobbled as the Major cuffed him across the face with an open palm to stop his yelling. He gasped with the force of the blow.

With a head gesture, Trình directed the guards to the hut where Cassel, Greenberg and Denison were quartered.

Well, at least Greenberg and Denison anyway.

Once inside the empty hut, two of the guards lifted him onto the platform and held him down on his back and bound arms while a third picked up the filth-encrusted black pajama pants Cassel had so recently worn. He felt his stomach churn in repulsion.

He tried to wriggle out of the guards' grasp as his own black pants were torn from his body. Getting in a lucky kick to the guard's face, he wasn't prepared for the furious backlash. Wiping blood from his mouth, the guard drove the butt of his rifle into the pilot's groin. He almost passed out.

Temporarily incapacitated, he could do nothing as the guard forced his legs into the pants and pushed the sandals onto his feet. Lifting him upright once again, the guards supported his sagging weight as the third man pulled the pants up around his waist and tied them in place.

They untied his hands before twisting his arms behind him and pushing him out of the hut. From the corner of his eye he saw Face leave their own quarters and glance his way.

Where to now?

He hoped they would bring him back to his team mates but the path they took led him past the line of new prisoners and toward the isolation pit.

The pit was home to rats, snakes and anything else that fell into its depths. It was barely large enough to allow a prisoner to squat with his back propped against the wall and his legs bent, knees against the opposite wall. Murdock knew from first hand experience how hot and stale the air could get.

But 'least I can look up 'n' see a tiny patch o' sky from there.

The new prisoners cast furtive curious glances his way as the guards shoved him forward. Even though his body ached from the beating he received, they should not see submission and defeat from any man in this camp.

He knew he would not win the battle to stay out of the hole but the new guys needed to see strength and resistance, needed to know they could keep some of their dignity even when their captors tried to break them in every way possible.

Digging his heels into the ground, he pushed backwards against the guards when they came to the brink of the pit. They shoved him especially hard and made him lose his balance.

He fell on his hands and knees and writhed to stand upright in the narrow hole as three rats scurried out of his way.

The guard Squinteye strode out of sight. Moments later, Murdock heard the shuffling sound of at least one prisoner moving off in the direction of the interrogation hut. He knew Squinteye and Major Trình accompanied him and could not resist hurling one more screamed "Bastard!" toward the retreating head officer.

As the heat of the noon hour settled over the camp, sweat drenched his clothing and made the open wounds on his legs sting. He could hardly gather enough saliva to swallow properly. Involuntary whimpers came from his mouth as his body dehydrated. With each moment of self pity, he forced himself to summon the strength to growl at his captors even though he could no longer see them.

He knew they were close but it wasn't until a shadow fell across the pit that he looked up and saw one of them. Hearing the guard's words silenced him and brought back the haunting thoughts of his own death. He closed his eyes in resignation.

"Người bạn của ông qua đời trong hổ thẹn. Ông sẽ chết, quá.. (His friend died in disgrace. He will die, too.)"

It's true. Sooner 'r later I'm gonna outlive my usefulness t' them 'n' I'll die.

Droplets of water fell on and around him as if to taunt him.

Can' be rain. Be a downpour if it was.

He scowled up to the sky and saw Ferret hovering over the hole with a wooden bowl in his hand and water dripping from his fingertips. "Major Trình nói rằng ông là có nước. (Major Trình says he is to have water.)"

Murdock tried to run his tongue over his lips as he longed for the liquid the head guard was holding.

He saw the glint in Ferret's eyes as he laughed with the other guard. "Ông có vẻ khát. (He looks thirsty.)"

Maybe if they think I'm crazy, they'll leave me alone.

He thought for a moment and then grinned up at them, his words slurred. "Yer ugly mother let me screw 'er fer a candy bar. She's cheap, real cheap." He let a maniacal laugh explode from within. At the sound of it, he wondered how much of what he was about to do would be an act if he was left in the pit much longer without food or drink.

He raised his hands to his face as voices in his head told him things he didn't want to think about.

You'll be on yer own north o' Phu Bai. No B. A., no Face, no Hann'bal. Jus' you 'n' the guards. They'll teach ya some respect then.

His attempt at courage dwindled into tearless sobs hidden behind his hands. Dirt rained down on top of him as he wept.

One of the guards moved and the prisoner squinted up into the mocking faces of his captors. He was in time to see the very last of Ferret's elaborate show of eating the banana.

Not gonna give 'em the pleasure o' seein' me beg.

He had to think of a diversion. One thing was sure to focus his mind and drive the guards crazy while he did it.

He chose "White Christmas," not because he had any experience with snow but to let the Colonel know he was going to be alright no matter what happened. His voice was gravelly from thirst as he started and after the first lines, he almost gave in to his emotions but he managed to get through the first verse.

He hoped Hannibal and anyone else listening thought about home and drew strength from it like he was.

Ferret pointed his weapon at him as he started to sing the second stanza. Murdock's eyes took on a crazed glint and he laughed gleefully at the guard's show of temper.

Gramma always said ya can kill the body but ya can' kill the spirit. Jus' try it, Ferret. I'll die if jus' t' make the Major 'n' you lose face 'n front o' yer superiors.

The other guards brandished their rifles at the prisoner.

He was about to sing the very last lines when Squinteye interrupted with the Major's summons. As Ferret cast one more threatening glare into the pit and all three guards disappeared from sight, Murdock sang the last two lines.

Sure hope nex' Christmas finds us all home, Colonel. Maybe then ya can show me what ya meant by a white Christmas.

As he thought of the girl he left behind and of his grandparents waiting for him, Murdock buried his emotions behind his hands again. Then he fell into a brooding silence.

If they think they've broken me, I might get a chance t' escape. 'N' t' keep 'em thinkin' that, I need t' put my mind somewhere else.

When they lifted him from the pit and tied his hands behind him for the jungle trek, his body was there but in his mind he was seeing the Murdock farmstead near Sour Lake, Texas. As he was led on shaky legs through the entrance to the camp, in his mind he rode his horse along the farmstead trails, smelling pine, horse lather and saddle leather.

Nothing, not the muffled screams of a prisoner being interrogated, Trình's vehement backhand across his face or the worst the jungle had to offer, would bring him back to this hellhole until he was ready to be brought back again.