34 Accidents and Decisions
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
B. A. reached under his seat and retrieved a flashlight. Switching it on, he already had his door open and one foot on the ground when the Colonel spoke.
"I'll stay with our friend, B. A. Go see if there's anyone in there." Hannibal clamped the cigar in the side of his mouth, wanting to be with him as he made his inspection.
Instead, he craned his head around the front seats to watch the Sergeant's actions. The light from the flashlight pierced the darkness and made the steam rising from the engine seem like ghostly spirits dancing.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the stalker beside him peer at the sight although he had more of an apprehensive look on his face. He was obviously expecting retribution coming his way if anyone Hannibal knew was in the wreck.
Glancing at Scott, Hannibal growled, "Recognize the car, kid?"
Maybe it's more of Jack's men and Melody gave them the slip.
The would-be stalker paled noticeably. "No, mister. That ain't anyone I know. Looks like the car that was parked alongside the van . . . maybe . . . I guess?"
The kid's scared. I don't blame him. It's the type of wreck someone may have died in. And if it was Melody's car . . .
Hannibal frowned and tried to quell the urge to get out of the van to look for himself. Why's it taking so long for B. A. to check it out? "That's what I was afraid of."
B. A. was at the driver's side of the car peering in, shining the light into the front seat. Moving to the back windows, he cursed loud enough for Hannibal and Scott to hear. After tucking the flashlight in the pocket of his overalls so the light shone up into his face, he gripped the back passenger's door handle and gave a mighty pull. The door creaked under the strain but stubbornly stayed shut.
"Fool's in here, Colonel!" he yelled toward the van. Bracing a foot against the frame, he tried to open the door again, pulling harder.
With a sudden release, the door swung open and B. A. almost fell backward into the ditch. Somehow managing to remain on his feet, the Sergeant reached in the darkened interior of the car and pulled Murdock out, his arms under the injured man's armpits.
From where Hannibal sat with the other man, he could see that Murdock was either unconscious or . . .
. . . maybe dead? Maybe that's why they didn't bother to take him with them?
For the second time that night, B. A. gently laid the pilot on the ground. He knelt by Murdock's side and felt for a pulse.
All Hannibal could do was wait for the black man's report, whether bad or good. It was times like this that the Colonel knew his prematurely almost white hair wasn't purely due to age or genetics.
The older man breathed easier when the Sergeant looked up and nodded, a grim expression on his face. "He's alive, Colonel!" he yelled as he stood and readied himself to sling the pilot over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.
"You'd better thank your lucky stars he is, too," Hannibal snapped, turning on Scott and gripping a large hank of his black T-shirt. He shoved him against the opposite wall of the van and held him there. Getting his face close enough for the stalker to see the rage in his eyes, he snarled his question. "Where would they have taken Face and Miss Raymond? And no more coy answers, pal, or I'll tear you apart myself piece by piece. Then I'll let Sergeant Baracus take what's left."
"That ain't how Jack said you guys operated," Scott whined in protest.
"People change and there's always a first time for everything." Hannibal drew back his fist.
"I'll show you," Scott gasped. The rear passenger door opened.
"Heads up, Colonel." B. A. stood at the side of the van. Draped over his shoulders, Murdock was as still and limp as a rag doll. He carefully eased the pilot onto the floor of the van and waited as Hannibal rechecked his respiration and pulse. Through the entire exam the Captain did not stir.
"Fool gonna be alright?" B. A. anxiously eyed the Colonel's face and then stared at the unconscious man.
"His breathing's very shallow and rough. His pulse is weak. I think maybe being unconscious during the crash may have kept him from being injured worse. We won't know for sure until we get him to the emergency in Alturas. " Murdock still needed medical attention. The car accident had not changed that.
"Any sign of Melody or Face?" One look at the Sergeant's scowl told the Colonel the bad news.
"Looks like they've been taken by this guy's boss. There was blood on the steering wheel an' the front seat. Nothin' else."
Hannibal pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, as he wrestled with his decision.
"What we gonna do, Colonel?"
With a gesture toward the driver's seat, Hannibal gave his orders. "Drive to Alturas. You'll stay with Murdock while I visit Jack and see if I can't get him to give me Face and Melody back."
"That's a terrible idea. Ain' this Jack lookin' to get all three of us so he can turn us in?" B. A.'s frown deepened as he started the engine.
"That's why I'm leaving you in Alturas and going alone. If Murdock wakes and starts talking . . ."
"Yeah, he might say jus' about anything. I don' like it, Hannibal, but I can't stop ya."
"That's right. You can't." The Colonel settled back in the seat and lit a new cigar.