Keeper of the Truth
Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.
Chapter 5
Murdock's vision slowly returned to normal. He continued to greedily take in oxygen through the mask the man in the brown hooded robe provided him. Gradually Murdock felt better, more in control of his mind and body. It was a slightly unnerving feeling, knowing you were being taken to a man who may or may not be as crazy as Charlie Manson and not being able to defend yourself. He wondered how close he came to never waking up.
The man beside him smiled benevolently but his muscular build visible even under the robe made the pilot think involuntarily of a bar room bouncer.
His mind raced through the possible drugs and means of delivery the shop keeper possibly used to cause him to pass out.
She seemed like such a nice lady, too . . . for a cult recruiter.
By the time they reached the closed compound gate, he realized how fortunate he was that the pentobarbital . . . and he was pretty sure that was what it was . . . had time to wear off. The drug created delusions and confusion and in that state, he was sure he might have said something that would make Barger suspicious.
"Brother Luke will escort you to the Illumination Room, Mister Somers. That's where Reverend Barger speaks with all new arrivals," their driver announced. A Keeper slid the gate open and the driver eased the car through.
Murdock craned his neck to look back just in time to see the gate shut.
No turnin' back now . . . int' th' den o' the lion . . . 'r devil.
"Here we are." Brother Luke gestured at a small brown frame building. From the outside, it didn't look special to the pilot.
The hooded man in the seat beside him got out of the car and held the door open for him. "Are you able to walk, Mister Somers? Do you need help?"
"No . . . I think . . . " Murdock attempted to stand on his own and found himself still shaky from the combined affects of the drug and the chloroform. He held onto the door frame for a few seconds until he felt surer on his feet.
"Do you need help?" Brother Luke asked again. Murdock thought he detected an impatient edge to the man's voice.
"No. I think I can make it." The pilot willed himself to move along to the entrance to the building, then waited for his escort to catch up to him and open the door for them.
"Take off your shoes," Brother Luke murmured.
"Why?" Murdock responded, waiting for the answer before he committed to doing as instructed.
I mean, it ain' like I got a hole in my sock 'r nothin' but it's harder t' get 'way if it all goes south 'n' I got no shoes on.
"Because the Illumination Room is a consecrated holy place. We remove our shoes before entering just like Moses did when he approached the burning unconsumed bush in the wilderness." Brother Luke was already removing his sandals and placing them on a mat beside the door. His explanation sounded as if it had been well-rehearsed, Murdock thought.
Prob'ly had lots o' practice tellin' new recruits th' same thing.
"Oh." The pilot was glad that he didn't wear his high top tennies for this mission. Slip-ons were easier to get back on. Not much easier but better than lace-ups.
Once the hooded man saw his charge was ready, he opened the door.
As soon as they entered and the door was shut behind them, Murdock noticed the room had no windows. Darkness surrounded them. The atmosphere held a slight odor of bleach which partially masked another more ominous smell, one he recognized from Nam.
What th' hell? Did they figure me out a'ready?
He tensed, waiting for the attack he was sure was about to come.
"Most Holy Servant of the Most High. We, your servants, are here," Brother Luke intoned from somewhere behind him.
'Tween me 'n' th' door, if I'm judgin' it right . . . gonna have a mountain t' get past . . .
Suddenly a single piercing light switched on. Temporarily blinded, Murdock held up one hand to shield his eyes. The setting was a little too much like one or two other times when an enemy wanted information from him. His muscles tightened even more.
He wouldn't speak . . . yet. Not until whoever used this means to intimidate him revealed himself and asked the first question.
"Brother Luke. Come closer."
The voice crackled as it spoke. It didn't sound like it came from an elderly man.
No . . . it sounds more like a recordin' . . . sure hope th' guys're pickin' up on some o' this . . .
The hooded brother grasped the pilot's elbow and led him toward a curtained-off area the pilot hadn't noticed in the middle of the room.
Murdock almost broke out into nervous laughter. Without moving his head, he let his gaze scan the room for signs of hidden cameras.
What is he? Th' Wizard o' Oz? 'N' what 'm I s'posed t' ask for? Brains? A heart? Courage? . . . 'r maybe . . .
"Kneel." Brother Luke hissed, gesturing to a wooden kneeling bench. He had already gotten on his knees before the curtained booth. He bowed his head and clasped his hands loosely together in front of him. Glancing at the pilot, he made a quick movement of his head that Murdock was to do the same.
"Who do you bring with you into the Holy Place, Brother?"
Murdock knelt, narrowing his eyes as he did. Protocol or no, he decided to speak for himself.
"My name is Merle Somers 'n' I was tol' you could help me find answers. That is, if there is someone behin' curtain number one. If all ya are is a bunch o' smoke 'n' mirrors, I'll look somewhere else."
Brother Luke darted him a warning look and shook his head slightly. The pilot kept his eyes on the booth, scrutinizing it as best he could from that distance for signs of movement.
"For someone seeking the truth, you speak with insolence." The edge of the curtain moved slightly. "To receive your answers, you must humble yourself. Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door will be opened unto you."
Murdock recognized the sentences from somewhere, something from his childhood his Gramma and her church used to say.
It's th' Bible. I'm a'most pos'tive o' that. Well, a skunk c'n spray on perfume but it's still a skunk, like Grampa a'ways used t' say.
He knew if he continued to talk like he did, he would get nowhere and might even be killed for his words.
With a heavy sigh, he responded. "I'm sorry. It's just I ain' been sleepin' good lately. Lot o' stuff in my past's been hauntin' my dreams. I gotta fin' some peace 'r I'm gonna go nuts." He let it all out in one steady stream of words, not even having to try to make them sound desperate.
'Cause some o' it's th' truth.
He bowed his head and buried his face in his hands. His horrific war memories once again threatened to overflow his mind.
"Your impertinence has been forgiven," the disembodied voice droned. "Merle Somers, because you have repented, I can help you. I know your heart."
Murdock steeled himself knowing whatever this self-declared holy man knew, he had heard from Delia Depreysie over the phone.
Barger continued his recitation. "You have killed men in wartime and suffered the loss of those you loved. You have wondered why a loving God can let those things happen. Instead of facing your demons, you have hidden them. You have hidden your guilt, your sorrow. You cannot help the one who has come back home until you have helped yourself."
Silence filled the next minutes as Murdock waited for Barger to speak again. Finally the pilot murmured, "I don' know how."
"To help yourself, you must first be emptied. You must isolate yourself from everything outside yourself."
More silence. The pilot frowned. "'N' how do I do that?"
"Do as Brother Luke directs you. He has much experience with the process. Only then will you be prepared to receive the answers God allows me to give you." The room light dimmed and Brother Luke clambered to his feet.
He offered a hand to Murdock to help his charge up, then turned to the door.
"That's it?" Murdock stared at the other man's back as he walked away.
"No, now you begin the Season of Preparation. Come with me and we'll get started." Brother Luke opened the door. Both men slipped on their shoes again and Luke let the pilot go before him into the sunlight.
Murdock let his gaze wander around the compound as he was led. He committed to memory where the camp's car and van were parked and where other buildings were located. He had to admit, the compound was very well-organized. Everywhere he looked, small groups of robed men, women and children were engaged in outdoor work or what seemed to be meditation or group calisthenics.
Outside one larger structure, a young black-haired teen clothed in a faded orange hooded robe and blue jeans dipped his hand into a large bucket. Pausing in his job of peeling and cutting the dripping wet potato in his hand, he caught the pilot's eye. A sorrowful look appeared briefly over his handsome young face.
A woman in a dark blue robe stepped out of the building to stand beside him. Murmuring a few words in the youth's ear, she frowned at Murdock before entering the building once more. The teen appraised the pilot for a second longer, then returned to his task.
Luke grinned and called out to the boy as they passed. "Good work, Brother. You'll soon earn your green robe if you continue in obedience as you are." The boy smiled, a bit too sadly for the pilot's liking, and bowed his head to the older man in a show of respect.
Murdock turned a quizzical look to his guide after they entered another brown frame structure, this one looking like a barracks of some sort.
The hooded man shook his head. "You'll meet the others after your preparation. Until then, you will not have contact with them. You must isolate and empty yourself first."
Luke walked over to a large closet. "You should remove your jacket and shirt. You can leave your T-shirt on. I need to put all of the things in your pockets in an envelope for safekeeping. Your wallet and watch, too." The guide took the jacket and shirt as Murdock removed them and placed them on a hanger. "Gets too hot if you wear a lot of clothes under these robes."
Luke held open a large manila envelope and Murdock dropped in his wallet, watch, his lucky rabbit's foot and a few odd pieces of shoelace and string.
"Oh, and the chain around your neck, too."
Murdock flinched. Giving up the wallet was fine. Everything was in order. But the dogtag with Chuck Heller's name on it was sure to rouse questions . . .
"These will be returned to you when the preparation is over if you still want them." Murdock detected a hint of impatience in the other man's voice. Reluctantly he removed the dogtag on its chain and dropped it in the envelope.
When the guide opened the closet, the pilot saw it was filled with garments of many colors. Brother Luke hesitated for a moment, then removed a black robe. "This one should fit you," he stated, passing it to his charge. He transferred the envelope to a lockbox on the top shelf.
The pilot frowned and slipped his arms through the sleeves. "Black?"
His guide nodded solemnly. "Black represents the wrongs you have done and the sorrows you have experienced in your previous life. It's a symbol of the old ways."
Murdock nodded thoughtfully, closing the robe in front and tying the cloth belt around his waist.
In a crazy sort o' way it makes sense, I guess.
"Ya said t' that kid he was gonna 'earn' his green robe. What'd that mean?" The pilot knew there were different colored belts in karate. Each was earned and each was symbolic of something.
But usually black's th' highest belt.
"In time, Merle. I can call you that, can't I?" Luke seemed genuinely anxious to be hospitable toward the recruit entrusted to him.
It was difficult for Murdock to believe this man was implicated in what their client accused the Keepers of the Truth of doing. "Yeah, ya can call me Merle."
The hooded man shut the closet door and turned to inspect his charge's appearance. He seemed satisfied with what he saw.
"So," Murdock murmured. "What now?"
"Now you start your emptying process," Brother Luke said, ushering Murdock outside once more.