"She was scheduled to be executed while I was in Mexico," Murdock says, checking over the cuffs and heavy restraints on the gurney.
"How come you never said anything?" Faceman asks.
"By the time you guys showed up, it was supposed to be too late. I thought Sophie had been dead for months. There was no point in saying anything," HM explains, sounding more sane than he ever has before.
"She was never in your file, Captain. No mention of next of kin anywhere," Hannibal says gruffly; he would know as the only person to have read the pilot's complete medical and military history.
"I left her out," Murdock states. "It was safer that way," he stands defensively over his unconscious sister who has been strapped and cuffed and chained to the heavy gurney.
"'Safer' for whom?" Face says, confused, "You? Her?" He can't seem to take his eyes off Dolly's split eyelid, watching the pupil dart back and forth beneath the cut skin. "How did she get like this?" he steps around Murdock, leaning over the prone body, entranced by the webs of scars on her skin.
The pilot grabs the lieutenant's arm, squeezing. Face looks at his friend who shakes his head, his expression speaking volumes. Faceman raises his hands in surrender and moves away from the gurney.
"You call her Sophie, man. So what's with Dolly? Is that her crazy?" B.A. asks, blunt as ever.
"Heh, my baby sister's crazy makes me seem like the most average person on this side of the galaxy," Murdock tries to explain without explaining. "Aah, we should have an hour or so before they're conscious again. Let's have a drink. Billy stay, watch Dolly."
The pilot ushers his team to the other side of the tent, mumbling to his invisible dog. The team, for their part, remains quiet, deciding to let Murdock say what he needs and only prompt him when necessary.
"'They?'" Hannibal asks, settling into a chair with a snifter of whiskey and his cigar.
Murdock downs his drink in one, he's pacing, which is never a good sign. He plucks Faceman's glass out of his hand and shoots that one, too, handing the glass back before Face has a chance to say anything. The madcap finally plants himself on a stool, he's rocking now, too, also a bad sign.
"They," he says, nodding and rocking in the heavy silence that follows. B.A. and Face shift uncomfortably in the quiet, Hannibal just watches.
A loud clicking, creaking sound disrupts the tense atmosphere, B.A. jumps to his feet, "What the..!"
"Good," Murdock says softly, ceasing his rocking, "She's actually sleeping now... there will be screaming soon, though."
Hannibal looks at his pilot quizzically.
"She screams in her sleep, has since she was a baby," Murdock explains, "Pretty much the only time she's Sophie is when she sleeps... and screams."
The usually good-natured lunatic falls silent, he looks tired and sad; the unstable weight of the subject resting precariously on his unbalanced mind.
"So..," Faceman prompts, looking sideways at HM, "this execution thing?"
"Alright, Temp! I'm getting to it!" Murdock shouts, kicking away his stool as he leaps up.
"Hey man, calm down!" the lieutenant replies sharply, putting his hands up.
"Calm down! Jeez, Temp, this is my sister! She was scheduled to be executed by the state years ago! She's been alive this whole time! And not only is Sophie alive! She's on the opposite side of the globe from where she should be buried!" HM takes a breath to continue his rant, his gaze jumps to a spot by his feet. "What is it, Billy? What is it, boy?"
He spins on his heel, listening intently, staring into the darkness surrounding the gurney that holds his sister.
"Crud."
A wretched building wail, like the tormented dead giving voice to all the suffering of the world, comes from that dark corner.
The wiry pilot flies to the work bench, grabbing filter masks and rolled cotton, scissors and packing straps.
"I'm gonna need a hand, guys," Murdock hollers through the screams.
His teammates jump to their feet to assist. The screaming is earsplitting and soul crushing. Face slows as he approaches; he can hear the gurney rattling and the restraints groaning in protest against the woman's thrashing. In all the years that he's known the crazy pilot's ups and downs, he's never been faced with such overwhelming insanity. It's strangely humbling.
"Hannibal, tighten the chain at her ankles. Big Guy, this strap goes over her thighs, cinch it tight," Murdock shouts commands, tossing a strap to B.A., ripping the rolled cotton with his teeth and chewing it into a small packet. "Face! Face, man get over here!"
The lieutenant shakes himself from his reverie and joins HM at the head of the gurney.
"She's a lot stronger now and still has those teeth; I need you to hold her head still. Boss check her wrist; Bosco get the other side."
The gurney is shaking so hard it seems it might come apart at the joints; Sophie/Dolly's screams don't weaken for a moment.
"This one goes over her ribcage," Murdock hands off another strap.
"It's like she's having a seizure!" Hannibal yells.
"Grab her, Temp! Christ, I can't do this by myself anymore!" Murdock hollers his fingers in his sister's mouth.
"Fuck!" Face shouts, grabbing the woman's head and forcing it to the pillow. Her eyes open wide, HM yelps as she bites him and a piercing shriek fills the air.
"You sure she's asleep?" Faceman yells, staring into those wild eyes, fighting to keep her head still.
"Yes! Dammit!" Murdock replies, shaking his bitten hand, blood oozing from six perfect puncture wounds. He grips his sister's chin with the wounded hand, digging his thumb into the soft flesh below the jaw. He works another wad of cotton into a small pack.
"Hetch! Nooo," Sophie cries, despair and terror ringing through, tears streaming from her wide, unseeing eyes. "I didn't kill him! He's not dead!"
Murdock freezes for just a moment before stuffing the cotton pack into his sister's mouth, far to the back, between the upper and lower jaw. He leans in close, resting his forehead against Face's hands and murmurs soothingly to his insane sibling.
HM hands to last packing strap to Hannibal gesturing for it to go across Sophie's shoulder, her thrashing calmed some at the gentle whispers from her big brother. He forces more cotton into her mouth and maneuvers the filter masks onto her face effectively muffling her screams.
"And... let go," Murdock says to his team.
They step away from the gurney, watching horrified as her spasms increase, the bed shaking, the restraints holding.
"Murdock," Faceman says, reaching for his friend, "I'm so sorry. I didn't..."
Murdock cuts him off with a withering glare. "Keep your pity," he spits, "Boss... plans have changed."