– 8 –
(45)
That loud bang you never want to hear: the blast of a gun aimed at you.
That split second when time stops, and everything around you —including the incoming bullet— stands still, so you can have a brief moment of dreadful clarity, a terrifying instant to wonder where will you be hit. Because getting hit, at that point, is inevitable. Too late to get away.
And then, the pain. The unbearable, intense burning that swiftly brings you back to the here and now, when that bullet pierces your skin and travels at speed through your body, cutting through the flesh, followed by a turbulent shockwave that explodes within like a brutal, amplified blow that hurts like hell.
I knew it was coming. I knew it from the moment Maggie seized my gun and turned to confront Decker. That's why I pushed her to a side right then, away from me, as the bastard was already pulling the trigger.
Decker was aiming at my heart, but as I had moved to the right while shoving her off the line of fire, he only hit my left shoulder. Still, that lesser blow had enough oomph to spin me around, and I hit the ground like a dead weight, on my face, close to Maggie.
"NOOO!" she cried. "Hannibal!"
As I lay there for a moment, determined to ride the pain and get a grip of my new, less than favorable situation, she scrambled on all fours, looking for the weapon she had dropped, but Decker got there first and kicked my gun away, out of reach. Then, the son of a bitch booted her abdomen pretty hard, as he must have done to Face. And that's when I lost it.
Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, with a swift, circular motion of my leg, I delivered an unexpected sweep kick that brought Decker down, falling on his back like timber. I got up as fast as I could, kicked the gun off his hand, and started hitting his face with my right fist, punching non-stop, pounding like a sledgehammer, as if willing to sink that big nose deep into his thick skull.
However, Decker wasn't injured. He fought back, getting the upper hand fast by viciously targeting my wound, grabbing my left shoulder in an iron grip while digging his thumb into the bullet's entry hole. The overwhelming pain was enough to paralyze me for a moment, so I stopped hitting him, and the bastard took advantage to push me off him, back to the floor. And then, he turned the tables, getting up quickly to beat the living daylights out of me.
He started by pounding my wound with his right fist several times, making me howl in desperate agony, and after that, he hammered my face in sweet revenge, one hard punch at a time, whacking me mercilessly, turning my face right or left with each blow while releasing all the hatred and frustration he had accumulated over the years —and he had some!
As I lay there on my back, taking on that punishment the best I could, I felt as powerless as a rag doll. I was about to pass out when Decker stopped, I don't know exactly how or why. And that's when I heard my saviour's voice.
"Hannibal! Are you alright?"
Isn't it obvious? No, of course I'm not, B.A. Damn!
But at least, I'm already in a hospital, so I don't need to get far to be mended… (Yes, I can't help it: I always exploit the optimistic, strategic approach, looking for the positives in any given situation. Which is much, much better and practical than taking an alarming "we're all gonna die!" stance.)
"Hannibal! Oh, my God! Look at the state of him!" I heard Maggie cry then, by my side.
Thank God! At least she's fine, unlike Face.
"Hannibal, can you hear me? Stay with us!" she insisted, gently slapping my battered face. "Stay with us, please!"
I wanted to open my eyes and say something to reassure her, anything, but I couldn't. Too much effort. Too much pain. And that dark cloud was so inviting…
"Damn!" was the last thing I heard her say. "He's out!"
AAA
(28)
Right… Left... Right... TREE!
The van skid off in that muddy path as I hard-left to avoid a fallen tree.
Damn! That was close! Driving the van off-road at speed wasn't easy, and I already had a few near-misses.
I was totally focused on the bumpy, nearly non-existing, narrow path ahead, like a rally raid driver, but unlike them, my co-driver didn't give me instructions beforehand, so I didn't know what laid ahead, waiting for us beyond the next bend, always a feckin' surprise.
At that speed, on that path, I thought I was doing a bloody good job. Until I lost control and we nearly ended up swimming in the lake.
The rear of the van skid too close to the edge for comfort, and I'm not very sure how, with the left tyre already gripping air, I managed to get the van back on track on solid ground.
"I think you should slow down a bit, Sergeant," Hannibal said quietly, while holding onto the door handle for balance.
For a man so used to action, the fool looked unusually pasty, as if about to throw up with all those hard turns.
But I didn't slow down much, willing to get out of there as fast as possible.
I didn't hold back until we reached a wider trail, and then a small road, beyond the controls set up by the MPs.
"Nice, B.A. I love it when a plan comes together!" Hannibal said, relaxing at last, giving me the usual thumbs-up.
"Yeah," I said with a wide, proud grin. "We did it!"
AAA
(25)
I've done it. I have trapped the A-Team. Finally!
I got them cornered in a small, confined area of Lake Tahoe. And we've cut all the roads, all the access, all the exits, all the ins and outs… No way they can escape this time, unless that bloody van can swim. And just in case they abandon their wheels again, as they did with the corvette, we also had a boat patrolling the lake.
It was time to contact Colonel Decker with the good news.
"Colonel, we got them!" I blurted on the radio, as pleased as punch.
"We got Peck as well. Where are you, Captain?" Decker answered shortly after.
"We have them trapped at Lake Tahoe, Sir. They can't get out. We cut all the roads."
The radio went quiet for a moment, until Decker spoke again, as demanding as always. I could hear the sirens in the background, so he was already in his car, leaving that garage.
"Be more specific, Captain Crane. Where in Tahoe?"
"Secret Harbor Creek, Sir, at Whale beach. We got controls at Crystal Bay, Glenbrook, Carson City, Indian Hills and Washoe. They can't get out, Sir. Not this time."
"Excellent. You got eyes on them?"
"Yes, Sir. We got a visual."
"Don't engage yet, Captain, unless they move. Wait for me, I'm on my way. ETA 25 minutes."
"Roger. Out."
Of course, I'll wait. You come here and take over, Colonel, and if they escape, it will be your fault, and not mine. Great!
On that happy thought, I grabbed the binoculars to check on them again. I could see them, sitting at the front: Colonel Smith and Sergeant Baracus. But right then, as if on cue, the van reversed back into that narrow road, a dead-end, disappearing into the forest.
Damn! Where are you going, crazy bastards? Reversing into the lake?
"They're on the move, Corporal. Let's go!" I urged my driver.
Will they get away this time, as they always do? Damn!
AAA
(31)
B.A. really applied himself this time. He was always a reliable, daring driver, but this off-road getaway through the lake's narrow paths, was proving too much for my stomach. Maybe I shouldn't have taken that lorry driver's breakfast this morning. Maybe, but… too late for nutritional regrets.
As the van made way through our escape route, I sat there on the passenger's seat, impotent, holding onto the door to steady myself and stay on that seat, not thrown to the sides every time that motor maniac took a hard turn on that bumpy trail.
At one point, we nearly switched the mud for water. And by then, I had enough, about to throw up.
Damn! I hate motion sickness so much. It's a weakness flaw, and I despise showing weakness!
"I think you should slow down a bit, Sergeant," I suggested, trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside my body, but he hardly paid attention and carried on at a similar speed.
Thankfully, I could hold on until we reached the back road that would take us to safety beyond the controls, as planned.
"Nice, B.A." I said then, approvingly, giving him my customary thumb-up. "I love it when a plan comes together."
"Yeah, we did it!"
I also love when B.A. shows such enthusiasm, in those rare occasions when his scowl morphs into a broad smile. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last long.
The car phone rang, and I answered quickly while still grinning.
"You got it!" I said when I saw the number, assuming it was Face calling from the Vette. "Didn't I say it would be a piece of cake?" But it wasn't him.
"Colonel, we got the car, but it was a trap," Murdock said instead, serious. I could sense the fear and anxiety in his voice. Something had gone wrong, really wrong.
"What happened?" I said, no longer smiling.
"They beat Face real bad. I think he needs a hospital."
Damn!
"We can't take him to a hospital, you know that, Captain," I said with my best, neutral, C.O. tone. B.A. looked at me then, alarmed. "Specially not now, while Decker is on the hunt. If they trashed him, it's probably a concussion. Go to Maggie's. We'll meet there."
"All right, Colonel. I'll be there as fast as I can. Hurry up, because he doesn't look good."
He hung up on me. While I replaced the handset, B.A. speeded up again.
"To Maggie's?"
"Yes. The bastards beat Face badly."
"Damn!"
Damn, indeed. Face had his reservations about getting hurt, but I didn't listen. And all that bullshit about being a diamond under pressure had probably misfired for the last time.
God, I hope Murdock is just exaggerating, as usual, and Face is fine, but…
Shit! I can't hold it anymore!
"Stop! Stop the van!"
B.A. stumped the breaks and the van screeched to a halt. I got down, and almost immediately, threw up at the side of that little road. Damn!
"Hannibal, you OK?"
I gestured back with my hand, as I carried on emptying my stomach, deeply embarrassed. I was already feeling queasy, of course, struggling with the motion sickness, but hearing one of my men got badly hurt, had tipped me over the edge.
When I finished retching, I took a couple of deep breaths to clear my head before I climbed up to the passenger's seat again.
I had shown weakness, yes, but at least I would face the music ready for battle!
AAA
(44)
That despicable colonel made me so furious, I lost it.
As he requested, I got Hannibal's gun, and as I turned around to face him, in an unforeseen moment of clarity, I truly believed I could cross the line and send him to hell if I had the chance. But I'll never find out if I would have walked into the dark side or not, because all of a sudden, Hannibal pushed me hard, out of the way. As I hit the ground on my side, losing the gun, I heard a startling, thunderous bang that lingered in that hospital corridor like a sinister, reverberating echo.
That bastard had shot Hannibal! And if he had not shoved me away, that bullet would have hit me first.
"NOOO!" I cried as he dropped down beside me. "Hannibal!"
I wanted to check the extend of the damage, of course I did, but right then, my priority was recovering the gun for self-preservation, and payback time. Which I couldn't implement, because that bastard kicked Hannibal's gun as I was about to reach it, and then, he kicked me.
For a moment, as I hunched in pain on my knees, trying to just breathe, I thought I could end up like Face, bleeding to death with internal damage. But as I watched Hannibal rise up like a phoenix, with great relief, the pain started to ease.
God, Hannibal looked so mad I thought he could kill that man with those furious blows! But soon, the situation reversed, and Hannibal became the recipient of unleashed wrath. Decker alternated fists, punching Hannibal in a relentless, methodical, heartless pounding, and he carried on hitting him when it was totally unnecessary, when it was crystal clear he had won that fight already, and Hannibal would not escape this time. But Decker carried on, regardless, and at that moment, I knew he was going to kill him unless I stopped him.
One more time, I was determined to help Hannibal, focusing on the gun that lay on the floor a few meters away from me, but as I started to move, B.A. arrived. He grabbed that man, dragged him away from Hannibal, and smashed his head against the wall with such force he probably broke his skull. When he let go of him, Decker dropped down like a stringless puppet. Such a beautiful sight!
"Hannibal! Are you alright?" B.A. cried, checking on his C.O.
I also kneeled by them, quickly evaluating the damage. The gunshot wound wasn't critical, an in-and-out kind of clean shot that, judging for the small amount of blood in Hannibal's shirt, hadn't hit anything important. But his face… It was even worse than his lieutenant's, and that was bad enough!
"Hannibal! Oh, my God! Look at the state of him!" I gasped in shock. How would the A-team escape now?
Medical staff and security personnel flooded the corridor then, encountering the ghastly scene. I ignored them as they gathered around us, already in charge of treating Hannibal, who looked unresponsive, but still breathing.
"Hannibal, can you hear me? Stay with us!" she cried, gently slapping his badly battered face, trying to make him react to the pain. "Stay with us, please!"
But he still didn't flinch.
"Damn! He's out!"
"He's gonna be alright!" B.A. said, also evaluating the gunshot wound as not critical. "He has to! We need him!"
"We have to go! Come on!"
B.A. lifted the unconscious Hannibal in his beefy arms, and followed me down the corridor, away from the incoming soldiers and all the people gathering around Decker. Along the way, I grabbed Hannibal's and Decker's weapons, and put them in my white coat pockets.
Luckily, I knew my way around that hospital, so I guided B.A. to an isolated treatment room where I gathered everything I would need.
"We have to get away now, or you'll never leave this hospital," I said, dead serious.
"What about Face? Is he alright? We can't leave him here!"
"He is in theatre. There is nothing else we can do for him right now, but if we don't leave, you three will end up in prison, or worse."
And so will I, very likely. And that prospect wasn't very appealing.
"Come on, I got everything I need to treat Hannibal. He'll be OK, but let's get the hell out of here!"
AAAAA