Hannibal knelt down and groped Murdock's neck, after which he leaned over his face to feel his breath. "He's still alive, B.A. His pulse is weak and the breathing's shallow, but he's still with us. Face, see if you can get the tarp in the van. We'll use it as a portable stretcher. And careful not to jostle the van too much."
"He's hot, Hannibal," B.A. observed sombrely.
"That's to be expected in his condition."
"He said he couldn't feel his legs and had a couple of twitches in his back."
"We'll need to handle him with care."
"Got the tarp, Hannibal," Face announced, throwing it over to Hannibal to lighten the load before sliding out of the van.
"B.A. can you unfurl it?" he instructed as he tossed the bag over to B.A. who set to work with his good arm.
"It's done, Hannibal."
"Hannibal, I was thinking that given Murdock's obvious dire condition, we should call an ambulance and let them take him to the hospital," Face suggested. "They are way better equipped to handle this sort of emergency. We're liable to aggravate his injuries if we try to move him ourselves."
"My thoughts exactly, Face, but look at him," Hannibal drew Face's attention to the drawn features and clammy sunken cheeks staring back at them. "Time's not on his side. He might be dead by the time the ambulance reaches him, not to mention the firemen to get him out from underneath the van. No, we've got to risk it."
Both B.A. and Face stared at each other with concern.
"Guys, this isn't up for debate," Hannibal slashed. "Murdock's gonna die unless we get him out NOW!" he shouted to snap his companions back to reason.
"You're right, Hannibal," Face agreed, though with some reservations. "What do you want us to do?"
"B.A., can you lift the van off Murdock's legs with that bad arm of yours?"
"I did it once Hannibal, but he couldn't drag himself from under. Yeah, I can do it again."
"Good. Face, I want you to slide your arms underneath Murdock's back to keep it straight while I pull him out."
Face drew in a heavy breath to summon his courage and nodded. In turn, Hannibal grabbed a hold of Murdock's shoulders underneath the armpits and poised himself ready to free the lump from his trap. "OK, on three. One...two...three."
The team worked in unison and succeeded in their mission without a single moan from the injured party.
"OK. Face, take a hold of his right shoulder and place a hand underneath his neck. We'll roll him gently over to the side while B.A. slides the tarp underneath him."
Face followed instructions and gingerly, they laid the limp body onto the makeshift stretcher.
"He didn't even groan, Hannibal. I don't like that," BA observed worriedly.
"He's passed out, B.A. Maybe it's best that he's unconscious. Won't feel any pain when we carry him," Face reassured.
"Face's right. Ok, on three we lift him off the ground. One, two, three." Both Hannibal and Face each took hold of the edges of the tarp and lifted Murdock off the ground. They briefly paused to steady their hold before marching on.
B.A. shrugged off the blazing pain in his fractured limb and insisted on helping carry his friend up the footpath with the aid of his good arm.
Once the gruelling ascension over, our three panting friends placed Murdock in the back of the SUV and sped away. On their way to the nearest hospital, Hannibal contacted Amy to advise her of the current situation.
"We found B.A. and Murdock."
"Are they alright?"
"B.A.'s got a broken arm, but Murdock's in pretty bad shape. We're taking them to the nearest hospital. I'll be in touch once we get there."
"Colonel, what do you think are Murdock's chances?" she asked worriedly.
"He's strong. He'll survive as he did numerous times in the past. Don't you worry. Face and I will return shortly. In the meantime, don't do anything irrational."
"We'll try," Amy said, lifting her eyes to glower at Greg seen pacing the length of the living room while nervously wringing his hands.
"Well?"
"B.A. hurt his arm and Murdock's in bad shape BUT..." she insisted before Greg could get a word in edgewise, "Colonel says he'll make it."
"So where does that leave us?"
"Hannibal said to stand by and he and Face will be here shortly."
"I don't like this. I don't like this one bit."
"Let's be rational and not risk your daughter's life."
"We've only got three hours before the drop off!" Greg fumed.
"Hannibal's aware of it. We've got plenty of time," Amy tried to mollify with mixed results.
The A-Team raced against time to get the patients to the hospital. There, both Murdock and B.A. were wheeled into emergency while Face and Hannibal sat in the waiting room to wait for results.
"Let's just hope Decker don't get wind of this or we're fried."
"It's a chance we must take, Face. If B.A.'s injuries are just limited to his arm, then perhaps he'll be out of here by tomorrow. Murdock we don't need to worry about. Technically he's not part of our team."
"Do you think he'll make it?" Face ventured to ask.
"I hope so, Face. Though his legs and back are not what concerns me most."
Face frowned dubiously at Hannibal's statement. "What are you implying?"
"I felt his stomach when we were prepping him for transport. It was rigid to the touch."
"Which means...?"
Hannibal paused and looked up at Face dejectedly. "Internal bleeding."
Face sank deeper into his seat and sighed heavily, closing his eyes in despair.
The phone rang, sending the threesome jumping out of the seats. Numbed with fear, they stared catatonically at the phone for a few seconds before Amy walked over to the table. "It's probably Hannibal with news on Murdock's condition." She picked up the phone. "Hannibal?"
"Sorry Sweetie, it's the Big Bad Wolf. Let me speak with Evans." Amy removed the phone from her ear and covered the mouthpiece. "It's Prescott. He wants to talk to you." She handed the phone over to Greg and went to stand by Mary for support.
"Evans, here," he spoke coldly.
"Greggy, I didn't appreciate the tail you sent on us earlier. That will cost you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Tsk, tsk," he taunted. "Don't play innocent with me. Your little mistake is going to cost you. I've now raised the price on your daughter's head. It now stands at five hundred thousand." Greg slumped to a nearby chair, his face blenching at the news. Mary and Amy took a step forward. "You've got exactly one hour to deliver the load or else, your pretty little girl gets it."
"Let me talk to her. I wanna make sure she's ok."
Prescott motioned to one of his henchmen. "Bring the brat over here. Her old man wants to hear her voice."
Mary twitched the phone out of her husband's hand. "Meghan?"
"Mommy?"
"Yes pumpkin, are you ok? Did they hurt you?" she queried hysterically.
"No I'm fine. I'm just scared," she whimpered.
"Don't you worry, sweetheart. You'll be home shortly."
"Ok mommy. Come soon."
"We will," she cried. "We will." She handed the phone over to her husband before crumbling to tears in Amy's arms.
"Evans, you've got one hour to bring the money to the drop off spot. I know you can gather that sum in a short spell. And don't you dare pull any stunt or I won't be so gentle with your little brat." Prescott crowed spitefully.
"Once I drop off the money, when will you release Meghan?"
"You've got my word that she'll be at your house before midnight." He hung up and grinned maliciously.
"He wants five hundred thousand within the hour." Greg informed dismally to his distraught wife. "Thankfully I got it stashed away in the cellar."
"You must wait for Hannibal," Amy insisted, though she knew her reasoning bore little weigh in the circumstances.
"It's too late for that. I must bring the money now."
"Please."
He gazed at her pleading eyes and for a fleeting second, he considered laying down the arms but a child's shriek echoing in his mind snapped him back to reality. "She's scared," he winced. "I got to go," he said resolutely, grabbing the briefcase and whizzing by the two women to head down to the basement to gather the needed sum.
"Then I'm coming with you," Amy said firmly.
"No!" Greg snapped. "If they see you they'll hurt Meghan. I need to do this alone."
"I'll get out of the car a few feet from the drop off. I can spy on whoever will pick up the loot and follow him," she explained to the sceptical twosome who glanced at each other. "Don't worry I'll be discreet. I've done this before. I was taught by the master," she assured to the Evans who pondered Amy's plan with some qualms. "If Prescott doesn't hold his promise, as I fear he won't, to release your daughter once he has the money, at least we'll know where he's holding Meghan and we can move in and rescue her."
A heavy silence wafted through the room as the patriarch weighed up his options.
"She's right, Greg," Mary yielded to Amy's insight. "We can't take any chances. It's imperative to locate Meghan in the event," she turned to Amy," as Miss Allen pointed out, Prescott doesn't let our baby go."
"All right," Greg heaved out with heavy reluctance. "Alright. Give me a few minutes to collect the sum and we'll go."
All three hurried down to the cellar.
"What do I tell Colonel Smith when he calls?" Mary asked.
"The truth, dear."
"He might curse at first, but he'll soon mellow out when he realizes that we didn't have much choice under the circumstances," Amy asserted to the distressed mother who strained a smile in agreement.
A few minutes later...
"OK. I've got the dough," Greg announced as he shut the secret safe and snapped the briefcase closed. "Let's go!" He led the way up the stairs with both Amy and Mary on his heels.
"Be careful, you two," Mary pleaded as they headed out to the car.
"Please God, don't forsake my precious Meghan. Bring my baby home," Mary whispered beseechingly to herself as she watched the car drive away.
Twenty minutes elapsed before the attending doctor emerged from the emergency room to share with anxious Hannibal and Face his preliminary diagnostic of the two patients.
"You're with Mister Murdock and Mister Baracus?
"Yes. I'm John Smith and this is Templeton Peck. How are they, doctor?"