Chapter Ten

Belting out another line from Don Quichotte, Murdock reentered the cockpit. His meeting with Hannibal had gone better than he'd hoped—not magnificently, but there'd been markedly less of a red-faced dress-down than he'd expected from the Colonel. He hadn't even been threatened with a court martial…yet.

Savoring his song, he held each note, giving it the joie de vivre it deserved before moving on to the next; plus, he used the rhythm of the chopper as an accompaniment to his melody rather than a steady stream of noise meant to be combated, over-ridden. Sliding down into the pilot's seat, he closed his eyes, becoming lost in the rapture of the music. After all, this was his stage.

But for how long?

Launching into another of Sancho Panza's lines, he opened his eyes and scanned the gauges. Everything appeared to be in order. Hell, if the Viet Cong hadn't trashed their radio and strapped explosives to their belly, they'd be sitting pretty.

A tickle vibrated in his throat as he held one long, low note. Caught in the moment, he cast a wide, open-mouthed grin over at his co-pilot. Damn, the guy was young; what the hell was the 118th doing with a pup like him?

With some effort, he held his broad smile in place even as it became excruciatingly apparent that he wasn't going to be acknowledged. Still, he kept his gaze patiently glued on the kid, waiting for a reaction. Slowly, his breath gave out and the note died away.

Dark, vacant eyes scanning the sky, not bothering to glance at the newly returned pilot, the kid remained stoically cold, distant.

Clearing his throat, Murdock finally dropped his gaze in defeat. Damn, this guy was gonna be hard to win over.

"I'll take the controls back now…" He veiled it as a polite request, but if he had to make it sound more like an order he would.

There was no argument. The controls were given over freely, silently.

For a while they sat, focused on the flight, but, with Dong Xoai nearing, Murdock felt his anxiety grow. Getting the bird down in one piece wasn't going to be simple; he had to find out if the kid was going to be useful—or not. Ah, lord help him if he had to do this on his own...

He hoped some light conversation would help open the kid up. "So, what's your name?"

No response; just a lethargic blink—which made Murdock really start to question his choice to leave the kid flying solo. Yeah, that probably hadn't been his best move—of course, he'd do it again if need be.

"I'm Captain H.M. Murdock." He fused as much friendliness into his voice as he could muster without sounding like a hyped-up children's cartoon. "People usually just call me Murdock…or…um…Howlin' Mad…"

The kid stayed silent, his stony expression further depleting Murdock's confidence in his emotional state. Sleep deprived and traumatized, the guy was definitely shutting down.

"Yeah…now would be the time you tell me your name…"

Another slow blink… Damn; that wasn't a good sign.

Gradually, Murdock's hope of gaining any aid from the kid faded. He didn't have time to keep chiseling away at the block of hurt and shock encasing the man. He'd have to figure out a way to land the Huey alone without blowing himself up—which, according to his calculations, was going to be a nearly impossible task.

He was so engrossed in formulating a new plan that the Captain gave a start when his co-pilot did finally speak.

"We'd been to that LZ before…" He didn't seem to be talking to Murdock in particular; his voice was too automated, too sterile, like a recorded message on playback. "Our door gunners, Stilts and Bobby, would get out…Bobby would keep lookout while Stilts met with someone there. I didn't ask questions…knew better."

That made sense; it fit with the information the Agency had given Murdock. This LZ was a rendezvous point for Stinson and one of his informants. They probably didn't use it often, since it was so unsecure, but if the information was good enough they'd have chanced it every once in a while.

Murdock shifted nervously. He had to keep the kid talking. "Stilts? Was that Stinson?"

Confusion clouded the kid's face for a moment before he spoke again. "Yeah…the bastard was tall…he was…"

The way he trailed off, Murdock could tell he was losing him again. "Tell, me about this last time…what happened?"

There was a long hesitation. It was a lot to ask, Murdock knew that. The hurt was still too fresh.

"Everything seemed fine, at first…" Still staring blankly, he paused, wetting his lips. "…We came down into the LZ, and it looked clear, but…"

Murdock waited, giving the man the time he needed.

The kid's voice came back, hoarse, tinged every so faintly with a rolling combination of disbelief, anger and fear. "…they were everywhere… everywhere…the ground just opened up and the Viet Cong were there…shooting and yelling. Something exploded nearby…maybe Bobby got a grenade out. I don't know, but I was knocked out…and w-when I woke up…"

Again, he went silent, and Murdock glanced over—expecting to find him broken down, sobbing, but he found only a marble façade, still and devoid of emotion. The pain was there though; he couldn't see it, but he knew it was there—stewing, eating away at the kid.

Quickly looking away, Murdock shrugged. There were no words that could ease that pain, no magic advice that could make sense of what had happened; he'd heard too many people try, and they always failed.

Even the joy of being airborne could no longer mute the weariness Murdock felt at that moment, and, in a clear, firm tone, he finally managed the only words that felt truly genuine. "I'm sorry."

After a loud, sharp breath, the kid suddenly, unexpectedly continued.

"I woke up outside of the chopper, hands and feet tied. First thing I saw was Stilts…they'd shot him in the head…and he just lay there, beside me…his eyes open…blood…and…" His story seemed bogged down by emotions and a disconnection of thoughts as he waded through his memories. "…and then there was a gunshot and Bobby slumped over on top of Stilts. He just fell down dead…"

Shit; that situation would have been bad for anyone, but the kid had been way too green for it.

Still, Murdock had gained some useful information. Stinson's quick death meant the Viet Cong hadn't been aware of his status with the Agency—if they had, he would've been kept alive for interrogation. So, if this ambush wasn't about gaining government secrets, what was it about?

"They killed Skip next; he was our AC." The kid's dark eyes flashed up at Murdock, narrowing. "He was a damn good pilot…the best."

The kid must have been talking about Morris Hemming. He wasn't the best, not by a long shot, but Murdock wouldn't argue that fact.

He offered over a sad smile, not quite a sign of agreement, but a peace offering none the less. Slowly, the kid's gaze dropped. Hell, he might not have had the best choice in pilots, but Murdock had to admire his loyalty.

"And then there was only me…" It was in that sentence that the hard, guilt-riddled grief of a survivor sounded. He looked up again, the corners of his eyes glistening with tears, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Why didn't they kill me?"

It was a good question, one that Murdock had wondered but had refused to voice. Too much cruelty lay in the asking.

Sensing the need for a response, Murdock finally answered softly, "I don't know."

In his peripheral vision, he saw a single tear streak its way down the kid's face before he gruffly wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, steeling his emotions away once again.

"If I didn't give them any trouble, they said I could fly the chopper out in the morning…" There was still a definite, distinct quiver in his voice. "…but I don't know why they said it…it didn't make sense…They were probably messin' with me. I'm sure they were just going to kill me eventually…like the others."

Murdock considered this, but rejected that they'd chance leaving him alive for so long simply to kill him later.

"How much fuel did you have when you arrived at the LZ?"

The kid's answer was quick, sure. "We'd just fueled up at Bien Hoa."

Murdock frowned. "So the Viet Cong must've siphoned it?"

There was less certainty this time. "Yeah…"

"And they left just enough for the chopper to make it to Dong Xoai?" Something wasn't adding up. "Why not just leave all the fuel? They'd have gotten a bigger boom that way; we would've made it back to the Bien Hoa Air base instead of Dong Xoai but the damage would've been significantly higher."

Murdock froze, mouth slightly ajar as a sudden revelation struck him. Leaning back in his seat, he felt his heart start to race. Hell, it wasn't much more than a hunch at this point, but Murdock trusted his gut and, at the moment, his gut was telling him they were in for a serious shit storm.

"HANNIBAL! HEY, COLONEL, GET UP HERE!" Murdock paused only long enough to refill his lungs. "HANN-I-BAL! HELLO?"

Wide-eyed, the kid sat stiffly staring at Murdock as Hannibal barreled into the cockpit. A mixture of concern and irritation strained the Colonel's face.

Placing a hand on the back of Murdock's chair, Hannibal leaned down, his steely blue eyes narrowing on the pilot. "WHAT?" The snap of that first word eased a little as he added, "this had better be good, Captain."

Glancing back, Murdock gave a weak grin. "Well…um…ya see…I was thinking that the VC went to a lot of trouble to get us headin' to Dong Xoai and there's probably a reason for that—if you know what I mean."

Hannibal's frown deepened. "I don't. Get to the point."

"I mean, they gave us just enough fuel to limp into the Special Forces camp at Dong Xoai, and they busted our radio so we can't call and give them any heads up we're on our way. The SF guys are gonna to be mighty surprised to see us—especially if we show up on their doorstep and blow up. I was just thinkin' that maybe…"

"That would be one hell of a distraction," Hannibal groaned, finally understanding what the pilot was hinting at. "You think the VC are planning an attack on Dong Xoai?"

"Wouldn't be the first time; they'd just be finishing what they started in '65," Murdock answered, eyes back on his instrument panel. "There was a little scuttlebutt a few weeks back about a large VC force in the area, but they hadn't been spotted since, and it certainly would be a feather in their cap. Plus, the kid said they had been planning on cutting him loose in the morning...letting him fly the chopper away free and clear. So, I'm guessing tomorrow morning is when they had planned to attack, but now that we stepped in, I bet they move the attack up."

Hannibal sighed. "Yeah, if they could take Dong Xoai, we'd lose our foothold on the crossroads of National Highway 1, Highway 14 and Inter-Provisional Road 13…Shit. Still, it's just a hunch, right?"

"Yeah, but I figured I'd let you know. What you do with all that is up to you. I just deal with the stuff in the air, remember? The ground is all yours."

There was a moment of silence before Hannibal turned away and then paused. "I'm going to see if we can get Dom's radio running, but the damn thing took even more bullets than he did, so I doubt it. How much longer until we get to Dong Xoai?"

Murdock shrugged. "Couple of minutes."

He'd almost thought the Colonel had left, until Hannibal spoke up once again.

"Captain?" Hannibal's pause forced Murdock to glance back, meeting the Colonel's gaze. "Do you have a plan for landing this bird?"

He grinned. "I got one that would make Wiley E. Coyote jealous."

Turing away again, voice deep with sarcasm, Hannibal replied, "Great…that's just…great…"

As soon as the Colonel had departed, Murdock shot another grin over at his co-pilot. "I can't believe he still hasn't threatened me with a court-martial." He raised a brow. "But…I bet he does before this flight is over. Hell, I can almost guarantee it!"

The kid actually smirked, just a little. "You really are crazy, aren't you?" There was a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Well…my name does reflect as much, doesn't it?" Damn, it felt good to have the kid talking like a real person instead of a shell-shocked zombie.

But, much to Murdock's chagrin, they fell back into silence and it wasn't until they were almost on top of Dong Xoai that the kid spoke again. "Oswald Grimstone."

Startled, Murdock frowned. "What?"

"That's my name, but everyone calls me Oz. You'd asked."

"Yeah," Murdock chuckled. "I guess I did, Oz. It's nice to meet you; now, would you like to help me land a chopper booby-trapped with explosives into a potential battlefield? It'll be fun..."

"Explosives?" The sudden apprehension in Oz's voice said it all.

Shit…yeah, maybe Murdock had forgotten to fill the kid in on that little tidbit. Well, they still had a good thirty seconds or so until they reached Dong Xoai; that was plenty of time to run Oz through the plan, right?