Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 37 Finish the Job
Face gasped for air and clutched at Murdock's arm. By now, he was certain his skin tone must be an uncomplimentary shade of purplish-red. Not that his skin tone mattered when his best friend was attempting to squeeze the life out of him.
Murdock showed no signs of lessening the stranglehold on the con man's throat. The pressure increased as B. A. and Hannibal removed all of their weapons and dropped them on the bed.
"That's all of them, Captain. Let him go." Hannibal's voice was low and guarded. He raised his hands shoulder level in surrender and urged B. A. to do the same with a small warning glance.
"Is that all of 'em, Lieutenant? You should know. Is it?" the pilot hissed into Face's ear. He twisted the con man's left arm higher up on his back and tightened his grip around his neck. He kept his gaze on the Colonel and the Sergeant, looking for any sudden movement or signs of deception from them.
Face gasped out a "Yes," his fingers unsuccessfully tearing at the leather jacket sleeve.
"Doctor Stafford, if ya wouldn' mind gettin' t'gether those guns 'n' puttin' 'em in my duffel bag over there." He motioned with his head at the olive drab bag. "'Cept . . . 'cept for that Browning there. That one's mine. Bring that one t' me."
The doctor clearly did not know which gun the pilot meant so he held up each one in turn until Murdock nodded impatiently that he had the right one. "I s'pose ya don' know how t' check t' see if it's loaded either," he sneered with disgust.
The scientist shrugged his shoulders, muttering, "I don't need to know about weapons when my life's been spent in the laboratory."
"I know how to check it, Murdock." Amy took a step toward the bed and waited for him to accept her help. She kept her eyes steadily on him, not daring to look at Face just in case she should lose her nerve. If I can figure a way to keep the real rounds away from him, she thought.
Hannibal and B. A. both noticed the pilot's eyes soften when he analyzed the reporter's expression. "Make sure it's loaded, Sky," he murmured, finally comfortable she wasn't lying to him to protect the Lieutenant. "Then we're gonna blow this joint. You, me 'n' the doc."
As Amy took the handgun from the medical man's hands, Murdock gestured with his head toward the dresser top. He kept his focus on the two men standing with their hands in the air. "Get that radio 'n' ear buds for me." The doctor turned to obey and the pilot added, "Oh, 'n' the keys t' th' van out there, too. We're gonna take a li'l ride."
Amy gave Hannibal a cryptic glance as she finished checking the Browning's magazine. Hannibal returned her look with a grim smile and a nod to continue.
Approaching the Captain, she slipped the gun into his right hand. Removing his arm from Face's throat, he placed the barrel of the pistol against the con man's temple but kept the Lieutenant's other arm secured behind his back. "Sky, Doc. Go out 'n' get that van runnin'. I gotta talk t' these three b'fore we go."
He noticed Sky give the con man a frightened look before obeying his command. With a slight smirk, the doctor held his hand out to B. A. for the keys. Growling with a menacing tone, the Sergeant removed the keys from the pocket of his overalls and dropped them into his palm. He gave the doctor a ferocious scowl.
"You wreck my ride, man, I wreck you when I catch up wit' ya."
From where he stood holding the Lieutenant, Murdock let out a bitter laugh. "Still makin' threats, huh, Big Guy?"
Startled by the growled warning and the Captain's reaction, Stafford peered at him for a moment as if undecided what to do next.
"I'll be out soon's I can. Now git!" Murdock hissed the command through gritted teeth.
The door opened and closed behind the doctor without the pilot watching. Only when Stafford was out of the room did Murdock speak again.
"I been told t' make sure ya don' follow us. Only way I know I can do that for sure's t' kill all three of ya." The Captain narrowed his eyes at Smith. "Ya shoulda let me finish my mission. Ya shouldn't o' followed me in there. Wouldn't hafta do this if ya stayed 'way."
He aimed the gun at Hannibal's head and pulled the trigger.
oooooo
Amy was in the rear passenger's seat when the doctor got in the driver's side and turned the key in the ignition.
"Where's Murdock?" she stammered, peering to look out of the windshield at the closed motel room door.
The doctor tapped out another cigarette from his pack and stuck it between his lips. Applying the van's lighter to the tip, he drew in a deep breath and savored it before exhaling the smoke. "He said he had to talk to them."
"About what?" Amy frowned.
Stafford shrugged. "He just said he'd be out as soon as he could."
The first gunshot made the reporter jerk slightly and look with horrified eyes at the motel. It didn't seem as loud as a gunshot should be but the walls of the room could have muffled the sound. By the fourth retort, she was rocking in her seat and crying. "No . . . no . . . "
The room door opened and Murdock came out, tucking the pistol in the waistband of his pants. Before he could shut the door, Amy caught a glimpse of Face lying prostrate on the floor. She could not see Hannibal or B. A.
Murdock climbed into the seat usually occupied by Hannibal. "Drive, Doc," he muttered.
"Where to?"
"Head east. T'ward th' park." His voice was quiet and emotionless. After a minute went by, a shudder went through his body and he blinked several times at the roadside scenery. He passed a shaking hand over his mouth. Sitting with his right arm propped on the window, his slender fingers hid his closed eyes from view.
"What did you do to them, Murdock? What'd you do to Hannibal, to B. A. . . . to Face?" Amy grabbed his jacket sleeve to get his attention. He turned to her, his gaze puzzled and anxious.
He shook his head. "I don' know. My mind went cold-like. I heard a gun goin' off. Wasn' very loud. Didn' sound real close. 'N' then I saw 'em fall one by one. Did I shoot 'em?"
The reporter clamped a hand to her mouth to stifle her cry and shrank back in the van seat. She stared horrified at the pilot. Her body trembled as she wept.
"How . . . could you . . . do that? How could . . . you?" she gasped out between sobs.
Murdock looked at her with stunned eyes and shivered as he tried to remember. The last half hour or so had been like an out-of-body experience for him. He watched everything from someone else's eyes but a blurry haze clouded most of it. His body was numb to all feeling.
Someone held the Lieutenant in a choke-hold. Someone ordered B. A. and Hannibal to give up their weapons. Someone fired a gun three, maybe four, times. The men he had known as one-time friends and family dropped one by one after each retort.
"Oh God, no," he rasped under his breath. He leaned forward in his seat and clutched his head in his hands, suddenly nauseous at the thought of what he had done. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought the urge to vomit. Big Guy wouldn' like vomit all over th' front seat o' his ride.
Then he realized it probably wouldn't matter. He hadn't had time to sort out his conflicting memories about the team and now they were gone. Had he shot them down?
You didn't obey my orders. You didn't make sure you finished the job. You should have put a bullet in each of their heads. One of them might still be alive. That was very foolish to shoot and run, Captain.
"Colonel Jackson." Murdock whispered the name and swallowed hard. He heard the voice over the top of Sky's sobs in the back seat. He didn't want to hear it but he couldn't shut it out. It just confirmed that the 'someone' who he had vaguely seen doing all the shooting back in the Hurricane motel was him.
Where are you going, Captain Murdock? Don't try to run away. Your country needs you. Tell the doctor to turn around. Now.
He had to figure out a way to hide from Jackson's mind probes. He needed time to think. For now, he wouldn't answer Jackson's question. He would not obey the order. Let 'im try 'n' find me.
He dully stared out the side window at the rounded mountains and striated plateaus and buttes. The scenery should have been breathtaking but he could find no pleasure in its spectacular beauty. It was almost certain he had killed three people to gain his freedom. Funny, he didn't feel he had escaped anything.
If he did what Sky said he did, he didn't want her to be around him. The best way to avoid hurting her and the doctor would be to get out of the van somewhere and hike inland away from civilization, away from them. If Jackson found him, he would be alone to confront him and ask him the truth of what he was being asked to do. He suspected it involved more killing.
"Sky?" He hoped she would listen to him. She seemed almost in a state of shock over his crime.
The young woman raised her head to look at him. Her red-rimmed eyes scrutinized him as if he were a stranger. But he had her attention.
"Sky, I want ya t' take all of those guns outta my bag. I won't need 'em. 'N' give me my radio 'n' ear buds." He watched in the rear-view mirror as she hesitated and then slowly obeyed him.
Slipping the ear buds in place and turning on the radio, he leaned back in the seat and watched for a good place to tell Doctor Stafford to pull over.
Over the ear pieces Bob Dylan sang his sad refrain. Each verse seemed to tell Murdock what he needed to do to set his mind at peace.
Mama, put my guns in the ground
I can't shoot them anymore.
That long black cloud is comin' down.
I feel I'm knockin' on Heaven's door.
Knock, knock, knockin' on Heaven's door . . .