19 Approaching Storm

AN: This will be at least a two- or three-part series. I am now a little over one-third of the way through the "Hannibal" chapters. Hope you are liking them.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.

The mountain cabin Face managed to secure was in a dense forest of lodgepole pines and white silver firs.

The last half mile to the cabin was on a dirt road that paralleled California State Highway 139 before making a ninety degree turn and ascending about one hundred feet in elevation. The nearest community was Canby, six miles away. They had to drive an additional thirteen miles to get to a grocery store. Hannibal thought about how isolated the retreat was and grimaced.

Good thing we stocked up with plenty of food when we passed through. But it isn't enough for more than two days with B. A.'s appetite.

The body of water Hannibal could see from the van window barely qualified as a lake. It was probably deep enough in the middle but water plantain and yellow pond lilies had taken over the shoreline all around. Narrow leaf cattails and eelgrass bobbed in the gusty wind.

Definitely not a swimming lake.

Murdock's eyes widened and he grinned as he saw the small wooden dock and the rowboat pulled up on shore. He was first out of the van, jogging toward the shore to check it out. His enthusiasm was contagious and Hannibal had to run to catch up with him.

The Captain let out a disappointed groan when he noted the large rotting hole in the bottom of the boat and the equally damaged dock. His shoulders slumped and his face became one large pout. He stood with his hands shoved in his pants pockets and stared disconsolately at the dilapidated dock and unseaworthy vessel.

Hannibal patted him on the shoulder. Anxiously glancing up at the darkening sky, the Colonel gestured with his head toward the cabin. "We'd better get everything unpacked now. Maybe you and I can do some shoreline fishing later."

Murdock responded with a huge pleased grin as they walked back to the van. "That'd be jus' fine 'n' dandy, Colonel. Betcha the fish're hidin' 'mong those lily pads near shore. You 'n' me'll catch 'nough t' feed even B. A."

A loud rumble and a flash of lightning announced the approach of a thunderstorm. Both men frowned up at the first few drops that fell.

That is, if you want to be out there with all of this lightning crackling around you. Not to mention the rain.

Hannibal grabbed Face's duffel bag from the back of the van and grunted with the weight of it. Handing it to him and giving the Lieutenant a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, he muttered, "What were you thinking when you packed this, Lieutenant?"

The con man gave him one of his conciliatory smiles, all teeth and charm, and cocked his head to one side. "I honestly don't know what you mean, Colonel." He carelessly slung the bag to his shoulder and walked up to the door of the cabin, brushing the rain drops from the shoulders of his suit jacket.

Yeah, like I don't know you have every toiletry product known to mankind in that bag of yours. Ah well. If keeping up the appearance continues to get us accommodations nicer than this more often than not, I won't fault him for it.

B. A. grunted and watched the Lieutenant pick the lock on the cabin door and swing it open. "Cabin looks pretty rustic, Hannibal. Think Face's gonna be in for a surprise." The fleeting mischievous half-smile he got on his face was quickly replaced by a scowl as the rain increased. "Hope this storm passes over quick. Don't know how long I'm gonna be able ta stand bein' cooped up with a crazy man's fool jibber-jabber an' Face's whining 'bout no indoor plumbin' an' no electricity."

The burly Sergeant took a bag of groceries in each arm and trudged toward the cabin. Hannibal stared after him and sighed.

If this rain becomes a downpour, I'm going to spend more time refereeing than relaxing.

"Overheard what th' Big Guy said. I promise I'll try 'n' not get on 'is nerves too much. It's jus' I sometimes can' help what comes out when I'm bored with nothin' t' do."

Hannibal turned toward the voice and found Murdock giving him an apologetic glance before letting his gaze wander down to the ground. He pushed the dampening soil around with one foot and rammed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His brow furrowed with a confused look as if he didn't know what he ever did to cause the Sergeant to yell at him so often.

I have to wonder again how many times it's just an act with you and how many times it's just a symptom of mental illness.

Hannibal handed the pilot the propane camp stove and his duffel, noticing how light it was in comparison to that of the con man. "I know you'll try your best, Captain. Why don't you start some supper as soon as we're settled in? If B. A.'s stomach is full, he'll be more content."

"'N' less likely t' be his angry mudsuckin' self. I like th' way you think, Colonel." Murdock smiled and started on his way to the cabin.

"Oh, but Captain?" The older man hesitated and added, "No surprise ingredients, okay? Just a nice home cooked meal the way your grandmother would have cooked it."

Murdock turned his head and smirked back at him. "But Gramma was known for her secret recipes, Colonel." He winked and disappeared through the open door.

Hannibal rolled his eyes and grabbed the last of the gear and his own bag. Closing the van door, he took one more look at the roiling clouds above. A fat rain drop smacked him on the nose and he grumbled, "Thanks a lot, Mother Nature."