The One With the Gun
Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.
Like a skywriter, rebel without a cause, drifting without an aim
But I can't seem to give up this flying game
I'm a wing walker, working without a net
That's all I've ever been
And I wonder if I'm ever coming down again
Some people say I'm losing touch with harsh reality
Because I can't accept the way it is with you and me
Stop living in the past, like some old pilot from a war that
wouldn't end
Like a barnstormer, safe with my heart and wings
How could I ever fall
So serenely do I glide above it all
From Skywriter by Art Garfunkel
Chapter 35 Options
Well, the second part of my plan got one of them talking at least. We know what's wrong in Murdock's mind and maybe between B. A. and myself we can help him through it.
Then Face says, "He's wrong. You're the one with the problem. Not me."
Damn you, Face! Stop being stubborn. Admit you have a problem and you need help. All I can say out loud is "You're wrong, kid. You're dead wrong."
Richter told me Murdock is vulnerable right now. This hostility coming from his best friend isn't going to do anything but cause further damage. His uncertainty about his place on the team just contributes to it. I mentally kick myself for not knowing he had doubts.
I don't need to hear Face say "I told you so" to realize my plan hasn't run smoothly like I thought it would.
I debate whether to go up to the room to be a mediator . . . or referee . . . but decide in the end to just wait and see what happens. Murdock might pull out of it and challenge Face on what he just said. That's what I'm hoping but I'll be ready if that doesn't happen.
B. A.'s tense with the silence we're getting over the receiver. I told him to plant a bug in the room before he drove to the rendezvous point and strapped Face in the chopper. Now I'm glad I gave him that order.
The disadvantage to that is if Face discovers the bug he'll be even angrier than he is now.
Oh well. We have to have some way of monitoring what they're saying and doing in case it all falls apart.
Yes, I admit my plans don't always come together.
I wait with my hand on the door handle. I'm impatient for something to happen and when it does I involuntarily startle. The bedsprings squeaking isn't a very good sign. Neither is Murdock's weak voice. It's like Face's response took away his strength to keep fighting.
"Gotta . . . gotta get some . . . some air."
Murdock leaves the room and leans over the deck railing. Suddenly I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's at least fifteen feet from the deck to the pavement below. A fall from that height . . .
I see the pain and surrender in his expression as he stops and scans the pavement below.
I hear B. A. say something beside me but all of my attention is focused on Murdock. For a second, I think all he's doing is clearing his head but his next action tells me differently.
In one smooth movement, he swings his leg up and straddles the deck railing.
"Captain." The word comes out of my mouth even as I open the door and leave the van.
B. A. is right beside me all the way as we run toward the motel. Before we can get there, Murdock makes his next move, getting up on the railing and walking along it to the midpoint of the balcony.
He doesn't seem to be aware of anyone or anything but the distance down to the parking lot. If we try to get up either set of stairs to stop him, he might jump. If either of us say something, he might startle and fall.
I stop B. A. with one hand and shake my head.
For now, I hope Face stays in that room with the door closed. If he makes an appearance and tries to stop Murdock, he may not make it in time to prevent him from jumping.
Then Murdock does something that makes the bile rise to my throat. He closes his eyes and spreads his arms as if he's going to try to fly.
I hear B. A.'s shout and see him head for the set of stairs on the left. I head for the stairs on the right and hope we can get there before he does something rash.
He's as motionless as a statue. But will he stay that way until one of us can grab him and pull him to safety?
oooooo
The way Murdock said those words, the way he left the room, makes me regret what I just said. All he did was listen to Hannibal, worry about my well-being and leave the protection of his hospital room to come to my assistance.
Even if the Colonel lied to get him here, it was for his good. And mine, I guess.
It showed me what kind of friend Murdock is . . . and it makes me ashamed of the times I've taken advantage of that friendship. And the times I've almost destroyed it through a careless statement.
I don't know if I should go and talk to him now or if I should let him cool down. Hannibal is sure to send him back in here to make things right with me.
There's a problem with waiting for him to return: I don't know if I can muster the courage to sit anywhere in this flea-bitten rat-infested dump.
Maybe I'll go outside and get some fresh air, too. And if I should happen to run into him, we'll talk. I'll help him fight back the nightmares and memories.
With that goal in mind, I open the door and run face to face into Hannibal.
He shakes his head at me and impatiently gestures for me to go back into the room. His gaze is on something further down the long second floor balcony.
I glance only once in the direction he's looking and my chest constricts with dread. "Oh God no!" I whisper.
"Let B. A. and me handle this," he hisses at me. "You've said enough." He pushes past me, slowly edging toward my buddy standing on the railing.
I stare in stunned paralysis for only a few seconds before following Hannibal. I can't just let Murdock jump without trying to talk him down. It's my fault he's there to begin with.
oooooo
As soon's I leave that room my head starts t' clear. It don' mean Face's last jab didn' hurt. It hurt plenty.
I lean over the deck railin' 'n' 'xamine the paved parkin' lot b'low me. If even my best buddy thinks I'm too broke t' fix 'n' Hann'bal's gonna ground me, maybe kick me off the team, then what do I do?
I don' know why but my min' dredges up two quotes I read somewhere. I'm not even sure they fit this situation.
I mumble them t' myself, tryin' t' make sense o' them 'n' everythin' else. "A pilot lives in a world o' perfection, 'r not at all." My world's far from perfect right now. I continue t' scan the parking lot b'low. It must be a good fifteen feet from up here.
"Any landin' ya can walk 'way from's a good one." Hmm. Well, I s'pose ya could think o' this mess like it's a bad landin'. I ain' broken from it. I can still walk 'way. But where to?
Without thinkin' I swing myself up t' straddle the railin'. When I was growin' up, I did a lotta thinkin' sittin' up in the highest limbs o' trees 'r walkin' 'long the railin' o' the corral on my Gramma 'n' Grampa's farm. I guess 'cause I wasn' old 'nough t' take flyin' lessons from Mister Dunstable, my Grampa's World War I pilot buddy, bein' up higher'n the ground was the nex' best thing.
I pull myself up t' stand on the deck railin', then slowly 'n' carefully walk 'long it. I ain' stupid. I got a good sense o' balance. I ain' gonna fall.
If Hann'bal kicks me off the team . . . well, I could try my luck at bein' a wing walker. Can't pilot the plane. They won' let me 'cause I don' have a license no more. 'N' a certifiably crazy man like me ain' likely t' get 'nother one very soon.
But wing walkin' . . . I guess that wouldn' be so bad of a job. It's got jus' the right 'mount o' danger 'n' I'll be up in the sky.
I used t' think I'd be either a stunt pilot 'r a wing walker 'n' follow the barnstormin' circuit 'round the country. Gramma wasn' very happy 'bout that sort o' talk so I kept it t' myself. But walkin' that corral railin' was kinda my practice t' be a wing walker.
If I stop walkin' 'n' stretch my arms out, I can a'most feel the wind tryin' t' push me off the wing o' the plane, But I know what I'm doin'. I close my eyes 'n' 'magine I'm up there goin' through my act t' thrill the crowds b'low.
All I gotta do is convince the VA 'n' Doc Richter I'm sane 'n' get 'em t' say I'm sane 'nough t' live on my own.
'N' I gotta stop frettin' over what Meg could do t' me. If my head's in my work, it won' be worryin' over her curses 'n' witchcraft. First thing I'll do soon's Doc says I can go is t' find myself a stunt pilot willin' t' let me work with 'im. It won' be like bein' with the guys on a mission 'n' I'll miss each one o' them. But it'll be somethin'. The more I think 'bout it, the more I like the idea.
Yeah. That's what I'll do.
I'm Howlin' Mad Murdock, the Wing Walking, Death D'fyin' Marvel! Ain' nothin' gonna stop me!
oooooo
The first quote is from Richard S. Drury who served from 1965-1970, with a tour in Thailand during the Vietnam War (1969-1970). He is the author of My Secret War.
The second quote comes from Gerald R. Massie who crash-landed a B-17 in 1944 and served in the U. S. Army Air Forces as an aerial photographer with the 91st Bomb Group, 323rd Bomb Squadron.
I thought both quotes would appeal to Murdock, especially the Massie quote.