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 18
Stunned, Murdock landed belly down on top of the door. Pieces of the wooden and stone latrine fell around and on top of him.
Muffled chaotic shouts sounded across the compound as yet another explosive charge went off several yards away. He shielded his head with both arms as the debris from another building rained down.
His ears rung from the nearness of the two explosions. No matter. He knew what was happening. No one needed to explain.
Shock gave way to anger.
The guys hadn't heard him. They had gone ahead without thinking about the people they might injure with the explosives.
Damn you, Hann'bal! Why? I gotta stop 'em b'fore they kill someone!
He pushed himself up on his hands and knees, fighting back the bile rising in the back of his throat. At the same time, he tried to remember where the other living quarters were around the compound. Somewhere in the cluster of huts, Aaron lived with his stepmother.
Hope the kid's alright.
Another charge went off. Murdock swung his head to look at the gaping hole that opened up in the fence. He saw Brother Amos emerge from another barracks and run toward a building near the community garden. Two other Keepers, men built like weightlifters, followed him. As Amos neared the door, he fished a set of keys from his pocket.
In the distance, during a lull in the explosions, a truck engine roared to life. Murdock stumbled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his back and his head.
I gotta fin' Faceman 'n' the Colonel . . . tell 'em t' stop . . .
A sob escaped from his throat as he ran wildly toward the plastic bag marker on the fence. It was the most likely location the con man would have used to detonate the explosives.
He discovered two women close to the vicinity of the second charge. The younger of the two lay on the ground, her eyes closed, her head pillowed in the lap of the other woman. With an increasing sense of panic, he recognized both of them.
Pausing, he stopped and knelt beside them, taking the hand of the young woman Rachel, the girl who had taken such an interest in him. "How bad?" he managed to get out, glancing briefly into the matron's tear-filled eyes. He didn't need to hear her answer.
"I don't know . . . God help me . . . I don't know . . . " she bent over Rachel, rocking her back and forth and sobbing.
Murdock hesitated before touching the young woman's mangled bleeding shoulder. He had to know if she was still conscious. She drew in a gasping breath and looked up into his face. Recognizing him, she reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly.
"Am . . . am I . . . going to . . . die?" Her eyes were clouded with pain.
The pilot shook his head. "No . . . no . . . not t'day . . . I saw worse in Nam . . . much worse 'n' they lived . . . you will too . . . " He stroked her face gently, forgetting the blood on his fingers, streaking her cheek. She released her hold on his hand, gazing up at him with such trusting eyes he couldn't bear it.
I'm part o' the reason she's hurt this bad.
He paused before stripping the robe off his upper body. Removing his T-shirt, he pushed it into the older woman's hand. "Use this. Put pressure on that shoulder. It'll keep the bleedin' down." He paused again, seeing the gratitude in the woman's eyes. Pulling the sleeves of the robe back over his arms, he stood and added, "Don' let 'er go t' sleep. Keep 'er 'wake 'til help comes . . . Ya hear me, Rachel? I don' wanna find you dozin' off when I get back here. Okay?"
The young woman's face contorted with pain as her companion applied pressure to her wound but she gave the pilot a faint nod. "Hurry back . . . please?" she whispered.
Another charge went off. Murdock peered in that direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of his team mates. He thought he saw a shadowy figure crouching near the fence several yards away from the last explosion. Giving the two women one more muttered reassurance, he ran.
Halfway there, a large dark robed figure loomed in front of him. The pilot stumbled to a halt, raising his hands immediately in surrender. The weapon the man wielded was pointed directly at Murdock's chest.
"You can stop right there, Merle . . . or is that really your name?" Amos breathed heavily, his lip curled in anger.
"Wh . . . why d'ya have that gun, Brother Amos? Ain' that 'gainst everythin' Reveren' Barger teaches?" He knew the answer to that . . . Amos didn't play by Barger's rules. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself . . . not easy to do when your life was being threatened. "My name's Merle Somers. I came here lookin' for somethin' that'd help me forget Nam 'n' killin' 'n' everythin' else I saw over there."
The cold smile on Amos's face told Murdock he wasn't getting through to the man. "Barger?" Amos snorted.
His gaze left Murdock for only a moment as he glanced at something behind the pilot and smirked.
"Who do you have there, Brother Gregory?"
The answer was in the form of a growl. "Seems we have ourselves an intruder."
There was no mistaking the voice, slurred or not, of the 'intruder' responding to his captor. "Is tha' any . . . way ta . . . welcome a . . . new recruit?" A soft grunt of pain came from someone to Murdock's rear left side.
That was the Colonel and he was slurring his words. Something must have happened to him.
He wanted to look but knew he shouldn't take his eyes off Amos. The guy, after all, was holding an AK-47 and at the range he was from the gunman, Murdock knew he would be dead in a minute if Amos decided to unload it into his chest.
So he continued to keep his hands at shoulder height and look innocent. He hoped Hannibal wouldn't say something that would get them killed.
And he still wasn't sure where Face was.
Don' show 'em where ya are, muchacho. Keep yer head down.
He felt rather than heard the front gate give way as the truck B. A. drove crashed through it.
'Bout time ya joined the party, Big Guy. Hope ya ain' too late.
oooooo
When B. A. heard the first blast he didn't wait for a signal. His team mates needed him. Pressing the gas pedal almost to the floor, the truck wheels spit gravel as he sped up the incline.
He sneered at the locked gate just before the grill of the modified heavy duty truck smashed it down.
A few heads turned in his direction as he came to a stop in front of a building he judged to be of greater importance from its sheer size and construction than the other huts scattered around the compound.
Glancing across at a burning building, he spotted Murdock with his hands up, a robed man holding an AK-47 on him. Behind him and to his left, Hannibal sagged back against a robed Keeper, this one with a gun to the Colonel's head.
As B. A. took all of that in and tried to figure out what to do, Hannibal let his head drop forward before bringing it back hard against his captor's chin. At the same time the gun went off and the Colonel fell to the ground.
oooooo
Face heard the entire exchange between Amos and Murdock. Keeping to the shadows and moving to a hidden but fairly near place behind the two, he saw B. A. skid to a stop in front of the largest building in the compound.
He saw the other robed man force Hannibal to his feet and out of the shadows. Stifling a groan of frustration, he narrowed his eyes as he drew his pistol from its holster. He could seriously wound the man holding the weapon on Murdock but the Keeper might react and spray bullets as he went down. The other man was a greater distance from him and Hannibal was directly in front of him, forming a living shield.
It'll have to be a head shot and I'd better make it clean.
Just then the Colonel butted his head against his captor's chin. There was a flash as the gun in the Keeper's hand went off. When Hannibal fell, every muscle in Face's body tightened. He couldn't move . . . knew he shouldn't . . . it wouldn't help for him to charge at either of the Keepers. And from this distance he wasn't sure if Hannibal was injured or dead.
Then there was Murdock. Amos hadn't flinched when the other Keeper lost his grip on the A-team leader. Much the opposite. He raised the AK-47 to his shoulder and seemed ready to fire.
Face reached inside his explosives bag, hoping something was there he could use that would turn the tables.