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 21
B. A. paused only briefly at the door, scowling at Murdock's shoes where he had kicked them off before entering.
Like he was goin' inta some kinda shrine 'r somethin'.
He heard an unfamiliar voice. "Brother Francis! What . . . ?"
Whoever Brother Francis was, it sounded like he wasn't expected to be in there.
Which meant Murdock and Face as well as the speaker might be in trouble.
That was all the Sergeant needed to understand. Breaking through the door and leaving it dangling crazily on one hinge, he rushed in.
Murdock stood motionless, his shoulders sagging, his back to the black man. His hands were firmly clamped over his ears and if B. A. could see them, he knew he would see the pilot's eyes were shut.
He ain't gonna be any help. Not if he's gettin' lost in his head.
A robed figure stood beside him, his hands shoulder height in surrender. The Keeper flinched as the hinge gave way and the door crashed to the concrete floor. But Murdock didn't react at all and that worried thought skittered through B. A.'s mind before being replaced with another greater concern.
Face was a few feet ahead of the two men. He had his hands up as well. The robed man in front of him held a handgun and it was pointed at the con man's head.
His hand ain't shakin'. Means he ain't an amateur. He ain't gonna back down.
"Tell your friend to drop his weapon," Brother Francis growled.
Face shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't think that's in our best interests for him to do that. Besides, we've already got your buddies Amos and Gregory. I'm sure they'll have a nice story to tell the authorities. Then they'll come looking for you."
The armed Keeper snorted but B. A. noted he shifted uneasily on his feet.
"You do remember you're on top of a mountain, don't you? How do you think you're going to get away?" The Sergeant heard the satisfied smirk in his team mate's tone.
Francis narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled. "Turn around, smart guy."
As he wrapped one beefy arm around Face's neck, he squeezed so tightly the con man clawed at the arm that held him. Francis fixed B. A. with a cold look, one that was answered in turn with a fierce glare. "Drop your weapon. Do it now."
B. A. hesitated. Pressing the barrel of his pistol against his captive's temple, Francis sneered, "Do you really want to tempt me?" Face instantly stopped squirming and focused his gaze, not on B. A., but on Murdock.
As the Sergeant obeyed, bending and setting the gun on the floor, he glanced helplessly at Murdock, frozen in the same position he was in when B. A. came in. He didn't see anything different that should have caught Face's attention.
Then he heard it, a faint mumbling which only increased in volume as Murdock fell to his knees, his fists still tightly clapped over his ears.
oooooo
Murdock heard only fragments of the conversation around him. The voices in his head, as usual, were loud and demanding, each trying to dominate his head space.
He did the only thing he could do when they started arguing among themselves.
"Dừng! Bạn đang không có . . . dừng! bạn đang không có . . . dừng! bạn đang không có . . . "
Outshouting them was sometimes the only way to restore order to his brain.
In the POW camp, when he shouted his pleas in English, it would sometimes lead to another visit to the interrogation hut. There he would soon lose consciousness from being severely beaten or from being hung by the ropes cinching his elbows together. Despite the pain it was often better that way. In either case, the voices would stop.
At the VA hospital, an uncontrollable continuous outburst in any language brought orderlies and nurses who would sedate him. He didn't like the feelings he got from the meds used to control him but the voices would stop.
He didn't know why he chose to yell at them in Vietnamese this time. All he knew was they would understand his intent no matter what language he used.
He tried not to listen to what they were shouting at him but he couldn't help it. They had picked up on his fear of abandonment and taunted him with it.
Hannibal's hurt bad . . . he ain' gonna make it . . . Barger's dead . . . these people . . . they ain' gonna wan' you with 'em when they find out who you are . . . yer all 'lone . . . 'cept for us . . .
The choir of voices laughed, an eerie sound that grew in volume and changed into a prolonged wail.
No longer able to outshout them, Murdock collapsed to his knees. Now he not only heard them. He felt their combined claws tear at the fabric of his sanity.
He didn't even know he was screaming.
oooooo
Face saw Brother Luke jerk when he heard the howl come from Murdock's throat. The Keeper's eyes widened as the pilot fell on his knees.
"Brother Merle!" he gasped. He dropped his hands and knelt beside Murdock, focusing his attention on comforting but not knowing how, the immediate threat forgotten.
The con man felt Francis remove the gun barrel from his head, saw him take aim at Murdock. Desperate to prevent him from firing and hitting his friend, Face gripped the man's wrist and twisted it up in the air.
The movement loosened the Keeper's hold around his throat. Jabbing an elbow hard in the man's ribs and pushing backward at the same time made Francis drop his hold entirely.
The Keeper fired a shot into the ceiling. The explosive sound turned Murdock's screams into uncontrollable sobs. It vaulted B. A. into action. Rushing the few feet to where Face wrestled for control of the gun, the Sergeant grabbed Francis by the front of his robe, jerking him away from the con man.
Landing one solid punch to the Keeper's jaw, B. A. let the man fall in a crumpled heap at his feet.
"I had it under control!" Face argued, brushing off the front of his black knit shirt and bending to remove the gun from the unconscious man's hand.
"Funny way o' showin' it, Faceman!" B. A. responded, nudging Francis with one foot to make sure he wasn't going to cause any more harm.
"Wh . . . who are y . . . you people?" Brother Luke stammered, staring horrified at the gun in Face's hand.
Face nodded in the pilot's direction and gave B. A. a concerned look.
"Get him to the truck and keep him there! I'll have Brother What's-His-Name here take me to the building where they keep the deeds and other stolen property." The con man noted the shocked look the Keeper gave him from where he held . . . or more likely kept Murdock from collapsing . . . in a brotherly comforting sideways embrace. "That is, if he knows anything about that."
Luke shook his head. "I know where Brother Amos did the financial business for the community. Will that help?"
"That should do it," Face answered grimly.
"But Brother Merle . . . "
" . . . Is coming with us. We're his friends. We know how to take care of him," the con man said, his gaze fixed on his friend who sagged against B. A. as he helped him out of the building.