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.

Hello,

Is there anybody in there?

Just nod if you can hear me.

Is there anyone at home?

Come on now

I hear you're feeling down

Well, I can ease your pain

And get you on your feet again

From Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

Chapter 37 The Witch Again

I staked my money on the hope that the seedier the motel, the less likely we were to find civic-minded, law-abiding citizens occupying the other rooms. An advantage if either Face or Murdock became physically or vocally abusive during their involuntary imprisonment.

A curtain moves in the window beside B. A. I glare into the passively curious face of a girl young enough to still be in high school.

She has enough makeup on to be in a photo shoot for a Revlon magazine ad. She chomps her gum twice, blows a bubble once and glances back at someone behind her. I scan the length of the gap in the curtain and see much more bare skin than I needed to.

She abruptly closes the curtain, probably unwilling to give a nonpaying guy like me a free peek. Besides, she already has a 'client.'

There'll be no trouble coming our way from those two.

I bet the management doesn't want undue police presence either. Short of a gun being fired, they likely won't do anything. I'm counting on it.

So Murdock's howl and the long line of loud expletives he spits into his teammates' faces . . . thankfully in English and not Vietnamese . . . hasn't drawn attention from anyone else. I don't want to press our luck.

"B. A.! Face! Get him back in the room!" I keep my voice as low as I can. Murdock's choked threats and curses are still loud. I accompany my order with a nod back the way Face and I came.

I'm not sure where Murdock's mind is right now. Face takes one arm and B. A. the other and together they lift him to his feet. He tries to twist out of their hold and manages to land another punch, this time connecting with Face's mouth.

Face staggers a little but I'm behind him to keep him from falling. "I got you, kid." I steady him as he draws his hand over his lower lip and brings away blood.

"Sorry, li'l brother, but ya ain't gonna get in another shot like that." B. A. twists Murdock's arm behind his back. He wraps his arm around Murdock's waist and almost lifts him off his feet as he forces him toward the room. Murdock struggles but can't free himself from B. A.'s hold. And the entire distance he hurls threats and curses at us. At least, I think he's yelling at us. He hasn't used our names.

"I don't know, Hannibal. I don't think his mind is back in Nam but he's acting like he is," Face slurs, touching his bleeding lip. "Crap, that hurt!" Frowning at his fingers, he complains. "He drew blood. Guess we aren't getting any ritzy hotel room any time soon . . . unless the desk clerk's pretty and takes pity on me."

Just the sort of comment I expect from him. He isn't getting out of this motel that easily. "He said something about Miss Wainwright being a witch." I give him a pointed look. "Know anything about that?"

"I'm pretty sure the only thing she is is a very angry woman." I see him think for a few seconds and frown again. "Wait a minute! Were you listening in to what we said?"

He stops walking and plants his hands on his hips. I can see he demands an answer.

"I'll tell you but we've got to help B. A. so keep walking." I wait for him to drop his defensive stance and start moving again. "Would Murdock have told me what's causing his nightmares and paranoia if we hadn't?" I leave out the thought that I wanted to know what's been bugging him just as much. Probably more since Murdock can get a degree of help from Richter but Face doesn't have the benefit of a psychiatric ward and therapist.

I hear the struggle inside the room even before Face opens the door and we slip inside. Murdock throws a wild punch at B. A., slips away from the attempt to grab him and darts toward the door. Just in time, I close it behind me and stand in his way.

"You're not leaving this room, Captain," I dodge his fist and catch his arm midair. I don't want to hurt him but he hasn't shown signs he knows who we are. If he did, he wouldn't be throwing punches and trying so hard to get away.

Twisting his arm behind him, I push him toward the bed and force him facedown on top of it.

In a muffled frightened voice, he wails. "She's everywhere! The witch's everywhere! Don'tcha hear her?"

"Snap out of it, fool!" B. A. growls, drawing near again to pin Murdock's legs. "Ain't no witches 'round here."

I glance up at Face. He's backed into a corner, staring at Murdock with a horrified look in his eyes. "Talk to him, Lieutenant!" I order.

Murdock yells again. "She's here! She's in my head 'n' I can't get 'er out!"

Face shakes his head like he's dazed. "I can't. There's no reasoning with him."

"Try anyway."

Murdock is thrashing around so much to escape, I'm afraid he's going to cause me to unintentionally dislocate his shoulder.

Face reluctantly comes closer until he's within a foot of the bed. He kneels on the floor and runs a hand through his greasy hair. Then he closes his eyes and swallows.

He doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Make 'er shut up! Ple-e-e-e-ase!" The last word is a long desperate wail. Murdock's breathing is erratic and shallow.

I can't begin to imagine what voices are tormenting him but if we can't get him settled down soon, the motel front desk attendant might call the police just to shut him up. This may be a seedy motel but the management won't stand for hours of screaming. It's bad business . . . even for their clientele.

"Talk to him, Lieutenant!"

oooooo

What does Hannibal expect of me? A miracle?

Murdock's back to talking about Meg like she's a witch. I don't know what happened when he was balancing on that railing out there but he seems to have become completely unglued.

Maybe he's been at breaking point ever since that near death experience tied up next to that bomb. And maybe he's finally snapped. In which case, I might not be able to help him.

"He'll need something more than me talking to him if he's had a nervous breakdown," I mutter, eyes closed against what I'm hearing. Seeing my best friend fragmenting into little pieces is worse.

B. A. snarls a nasty curse under his breath. He thinks I can talk Murdock out of this, too.

"I'm not his therapist, guys." Why do they always treat me like I am?

"Then go in the room next door and get the syringe and vial out of my duffel bag." Hannibal's voice is full of anger and disappointment.

Thankful to be doing something that takes me away from the desperate howling sound my best friend is making, I do as I'm ordered. It doesn't take me long to find it but when I come back and hold the syringe and vial out to Hannibal, he gives me an icy look.

"Well?"

I gape at him in disbelief. He doesn't expect me to . . . yes, he does.

"I can't, Colonel!"

Murdock's howls have lessened but his struggles to get loose haven't. If anything, they have intensified.

"Yes, you can! Do it now, Lieutenant!"

I fill the syringe with shaking fingers. Then I hesitate.

"What's keepin' ya, Faceman?" B. A. glares up from where he's positioned himself.

Murdock is thrashing around so much I'm afraid I'll break the needle off when I inject him.

Worse, he manages to twist his head enough to see what I have in my hand. That sets off a new round of terrified screams.

"Noooo . . . don' . . . nooo . . . "

Hannibal tightens his grip and somehow immobilizes Murdock's head with his shoulder by leaning forward.

"Now would be a good time, Face," he hisses at me.

I take a breath to steady myself and rasp an "I'm sorry" to Murdock before plunging the needle into his neck.

His agitated movements last for only a few seconds more. His eyelids slowly close as he relaxes into unconsciousness.

Hannibal and B. A. wait until they're certain he's completely sedated. Then they work together to turn Murdock over on his back and remove his shoes and jacket.

"Go get one of the sleeping bags and the tarp from the van, B. A." Hannibal nods toward the door and B. A. obeys.

As soon as he's gone, I go to sit on the edge of the bed beside Murdock. I shake my head, remembering how terrified he was a few moments ago. Now he looks peaceful except for a small occasional grimacing twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"So now what, Colonel?"

"We make him comfortable and wait for him to wake up." Hannibal walks over to the chair and sits down.

"It might be a long wait. I had no idea how much to give him." I try to avoid his scrutinizing gaze by looking at my buddy.

"That gives us time to discuss Miss Wainwright and the nightmares the two of you seem to be sharing, doesn't it?"

I glance at Hannibal and see his grim expression.

I almost wish I was as sedated as Murdock. Better that than admit to B. A. and the Colonel the influence Meg and her attempt to kill me had on me. Or to have to admit that from the moment I got involved with Meg Wainwright, I was wrong.