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 14 Sleeping Arrangements
After their midnight supper, Hannibal and Face agreed that because both vehicles had likely been seen in the theater parking lot, it might not be safe driving Cynthia to her apartment so late at night. Sleeping arrangements for the four men and the lady would be awkward at best.
"No need to do too much switchin' 'round, guys. I can stay down here on the couch. It ain't that bad sleepin' on," Murdock insisted. "'N' if B. A.'s snorin gets too loud upstairs . . . " He held up his hands in surrender as the Sergeant narrowed his eyes at him and growled. "Jus' sayin' you sometimes saw 'nough logs to build a Texas-sized treehouse. Like I was sayin', I could sleep out in the van. It ain't that uncomfortable."
Hannibal frowned. He did not relish the idea of Murdock sleeping anywhere alone with the nightmares and sleepwalking he was doing. At the same time, letting him sleep on the couch did make sense. The outhouse would be nearer to him and he wouldn't have to travel up and down stairs to eat meals or go to the theater with the rest of them.
"If anyone sleeps out in the van, it's gonna be me, sucka! It's my ride. 'Sides, I can tinker on it into the night without disturbin' anyone's sleep. 'N' I ain't the only one snores 'round here." B. A. gave both Hannibal and Murdock accusing glances. He crossed his arms in front of him, a sign that at least his mind was made up.
"Then Cynthia gets the room you and Hannibal were in. Well, Colonel? Top or bottom bunk? Or do we flip a coin for the bottom?" Face gave Hannibal a dazzling smile, hoping the Colonel would take the top bunk voluntarily.
"With rank comes privilege, kid. You get the top." Hannibal returned his smile. His meant that the arrangements were settled and there would be no questions.
"Ooooh, Faceman, you get to be closer to the stars. That's why I always liked the top bunk when I was growin' up." Murdock grinned from his makeshift hospital bed on the couch.
Cynthia glanced at him, concern on her face. "Did you ever figure out why your father was chasing us, H. M.?"
The grin on Murdock's face immediately disappeared and he flashed her a grim look. Hannibal couldn't be sure but he thought he saw a flicker of fear in the Captain's eyes. He shifted his position on the couch and gasped with pain at the awkward quick movement.
"Whattya mean, lil' sister?" B. A. frowned, looking at Cynthia and then Murdock.
"H. M.'s father was there at the restaurant with Hollis. They both ran after H. M. I'm not sure but before we went off the road, I thought I saw two people in that truck. Didn't he tell you?"
"What about it, Captain?" Hannibal tried to make eye contact, hopeful that Murdock would finally confirm the information Mrs. Bartleman had told them. Maybe once the demon memories were released, the Captain could have a peaceful night's sleep. And they all would know what and who to watch out for.
The pilot stared down at his fingers as he picked at imaginary lint on the blanket. "It could've been him," he reluctantly mumbled, "but I haven't seen 'im for so long I coulda been wrong."
Hannibal shook his head in disappointment.
"You told me it was him. You were positive." Cynthia knelt in front of the couch, gazing into his eyes.
"Drop it, Cyndy!" He shouted at her with such venomous force she flinched. Her horrified look and the surprise on the faces of his friends was too much for him. He ran both hands through his hair and closed his eyes to block them all out.
Memories of his father rose in his mind; his slurred enraged voice shouted in his ears. He knew he was slipping into the past. The pressure of seeing his father again and their prodding pushed him too far for him to stop it from happening. His palms clapped over his ears to shut out his father's voice.
I'm gonna kill ya, boy! Firs' chance I get. Mark my words, boy. Yer dead.
He forced himself to take deep breaths like Dani taught him. He tried to envision his father being defeated by some of his favorite superheroes, The Fantastic Four or Superman, but it was no use. They weren't real and his father was.
The deep breathing made him light-headed, helped him focus. He lowered his hands when the threatening voice faded and all he could hear was his own breaths. As soon as he removed his hands Cynthia's frightened muffled sobs replaced the voice.
"Don' care what you say, Hannibal. Crazy man went too far yellin' at the lil' lady like that. Crazy ain't a excuse for that."
Murdock cringed at the anger in B. A.'s voice. His father's image and the Sergeant's furious voice blended into one. His stomach knotted up and every muscle in his body tightened for what his mind told him was coming.
Instinctively he rolled over onto his side, his back to all of them, and curled up, ignoring the sharp pain from his bruised ribs. He shielded his face with both arms and waited for the worst of the assault to come and be done.
While he waited for the first blow, he hummed "This Old Man" under his breath. Any louder and he knew the beating would be worse. Every time his father was granted visiting rights and they were left alone, it happened the same way. So he hummed, thinking the words in his head instead of singing them.
When no blows fell, he began to relax and soon fell asleep.
"What do you think of that, Hannibal?" Face muttered, his arms around Cynthia, his hand absently stroking her hair to comfort her.
"Man's comin' unglued, Colonel." B. A. stared in disbelief at what his words caused. "He never did that before. Knows I'd never do anythin'. Doesn' he?" He turned to Hannibal.
"I don't know what to think. All we have is Mrs. Bartleman's word about the home life, and remember, she was telling us things from the school records she saw when she had him in her class. It's second or third hand information at best." Hannibal stared at the sleeping pilot for a few minutes.
"Same thing I saw when I watched him that night in the motel." B. A. glanced at Hannibal. "But he was havin' nightmares that night. This is when he's wide 'wake."
"So do we take turns watching him during the night, Hannibal, or what?" Face asked, his concern causing Cynthia to look up at him.
The Colonel considered and shook his head. "No. That injury should keep him relatively immobilized for the night. If he moves around very much, the pain should wake him."
"I hope you're right," Face muttered, holding Cynthia closer.