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 54 The Limits of His Endurance

The moment Hannibal opened the door to the theater parking lot, he realized how much Murdock had pushed the limits of his endurance.

The side door of the van was open but no one was in it. B. A. and Cyndy knelt beside the pilot where he lay on the asphalt four feet away. Both arms were wrapped around his ribs and he had drawn his knees up and curled his body into a fetal position. As the Colonel hurried to them, he heard spasmodic deep-chested coughing.

"Li'l sis was helpin' the fool across the parkin' lot. I unlocked the door an' opened it, turned 'round an' he was layin' here." B. A. lowered himself into a sitting position and lifted Murdock to rest against his chest. The injured man panted short wheezing breaths as he leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut briefly, then opening them wide as if with great effort.

He tried to smile at Hannibal but it became a ghastly grimace instead. "I'll be 'kay. I'll be fine. Jus' a little weak in the knees, tha's all." He coughed again, a handkerchief pressed to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound.

"Who do you think you're fooling, Captain?" The curt question made the pilot flinch. Hannibal hadn't meant for his tone to be so harsh. He didn't want to rob the younger man of his dignity or the childlike joy he had witnessed backstage minutes before.

Murdock's smile vanished completely. His eyes bored into the Colonel. For seconds the two men stared at each other, neither giving ground.

An elegantly dressed older couple, laughing and talking about the performance, left the theater and strolled to a silver Mercedes parked across the street. The woman glanced over with curiosity to the scene being played out in the parking lot and commented to her partner. With a slight frown, her mate quickly guided her to the car where their chauffeur waited with an open door. Neither Murdock nor the Colonel glanced in their direction but both were aware of the couple's disapproving stares as the driver turned out into traffic.

Then Murdock broke the impasse with a muttered command. It was directed at B. A. but his gaze never left Hannibal's face.

"Jus' get me in the van, get me home 'n' I'll be fine." His words were measured and emphatic. His eyes were wild and feverish. The Sergeant shook his head in frustration and waited for the Colonel's instructions.

"We may need to talk to Doctor Freedman about our options. You need a whole lot more than rest." Hannibal's voice grew quiet.

Murdock clenched his fists and glared at the older man. He nudged B. A. in the stomach with his elbow."You heard me, Sergeant. I don' pull rank on ya very much but this time, do what I say. I ain't finished my job. I go to the hospital now, the theater's done." When the black man continued to hesitate, Murdock's voice became louder and more insistent. "Tell 'im, Colonel!"

The older man sighed and nodded to B. A. The muscular black man shifted his position and knelt, placing the pilot's arm over his shoulders. "Ready?" Murdock gave a quick nod and groaned when B. A. lifted him to his feet and helped him to the van.

"Sorry, man," B. A. mumbled.

"Ya gotta do what ya gotta do. No sorrys needed, Big Guy." The injured man gripped the head rest of the front passenger seat and the arm rest of the rear seat.

"Lemme help ya in," B. A. warned. Before he could position himself to boost Murdock up, the pilot put one foot up on the van floor. He pulled himself in and collapsed face first onto the floor. Rolling onto his side, curling up and clutching his abdomen, he let a whimper escape from his lips.

"Maybe I should go with you." As Cyndy began to get into the van, Hannibal patted her on the shoulder.

"We can handle it. You and Face enjoy the party." She drew in a breath to protest.

From the van's dim interior, Murdock rasped, "Now you deserve every bit o' that fun they're havin' in there. You kept me on my feet 'n' still managed ta be the prettiest Lady Kate I ever saw. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't a made it through. You go 'n' have some cake 'n' champagne for me, 'kay? I'll be there when ya get home."

Hannibal took the young lady by the elbow and escorted her, still hesitant, to the rear theater door. "Right now all you could do is sit by his bedside. He doesn't need that. He needs rest. You and Face can sit with him later when he's sleeping."

"If he gets worse, you'll call the theater?" Cyndy paused. She glanced back at the open van door where B. A. knelt, talking softly to the pilot and draping a blanket over him. Biting her lip to hold back her emotions, she gripped the Colonel's hand. "Promise?"

"If he gets worse, I'll have B. A. call and tell you." But I don't know how much worse his condition can get. We're losing him little by little and I can't do a thing about it. Even if we slip him into the hospital, he won't stay. Not willingly.

Hannibal pressed the young lady's hand in reassurance and opened the door for her. As he closed it after her, his hand drifted to his shirt pocket to fish out a cigar. He prepared and lit it, not thinking about anything but the injured man in the back of the van.

He stood, smoking the cigar in silence, watching an uncharacteristically gentle B. A. fuss over Murdock. The pilot waved a hand at the Sergeant to push him away. Even from that distance, Hannibal noted how exhausted the Captain seemed to be.

By now the Colonel had memorized every line and blocking movement the younger man had to say and do in the play. Hannibal once again pondered filling in and letting him rest Saturday evening.

As if reading the older man's mind, Murdock called weakly from his prone position. "Ya comin, Hann'bal? Gotta get home, get my beauty sleep. Tomorrow's 'nother performance, ya know."

The Colonel nodded and absentmindedly crossed the asphalt to take his seat in the van. Another day, another performance. But will he still be able to stand when it's all over?