Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 26 A Plan Comes Together
Murdock woke to the sound of someone moaning. He wasn't sure who it was . . . is it me? . . . or where it originated but he sensed it was in the same dark place he was being held. Opening his eyes to slits, he saw long narrow bands of bright light. It didn't make sense that the light was in the shape of the top, bottom and side of a doorway. It was incongruous to where he thought he was.
Musta forgot t' bow t' the Major. Or maybe Ferret trumped up somethin' 'gainst me, got me thrown in here.
He was pretty certain he knew where "here" was. Before their escape from the camp, he had been tossed in there at least twice for anywhere from one to four days. He shared the narrow deep hole in the ground with rats, spiders, snakes and other inhabitants. A POW could last for only a couple of days in this solitary confinement "cell" before losing himself to delusions or despondency. He had experienced both.
But I survived.
He gauged his physical condition and found his heart to be racing. His body didn't ache as if he had been beaten, a fact which he thought strange. Violent beatings usually preceded solitary confinement. Tiny electrical shocks jolted his body and made the muscles in his arms and legs jerk uncontrollably. He lifted a twitching hand to claw at an itching bicep.
Did th' Major give me th' shock treatment? Don' 'member.
His ears began ringing, hurting deep inside. It was a sharp pain that made him cover them in defense. The sound creating the pain wasn't coming from his surroundings. He wondered if part of the interrogation involved punches to the sides of his head.
From somewhere inside his mind he felt an urgency to stand up and move toward the light he saw.
Everythin' I ever heard said when ya move t'ward the light, it means yer dead. Am I?
His hand brushed the small transistor radio clipped to the waistband of his pants. Letting his fingers trace the wire leading from it, he discovered the ear buds. Pulling them away didn't relieve the ringing so he put them back in. The music coming through them was the only calming thing about this whole situation. Maybe it would help him think.
His skin prickled with a tremendous itching feeling. His arms and legs still twitched with whatever electrical current that had been sent through them.
Can' be dead if I'm this uncomfortable.
He stood, wobbling a little, and stumbled toward the light. Reaching out, his hand contacted the smooth cool surface of a metal door. Puzzled, he pulled back for a second.
The impulse inside him urged him into the hallway. Temporarily blinded, he shielded his eyes until he could see his surroundings. He squinted at the white concrete block wall on either side of him, the gray-flecked off-white tiles at his feet and the white acoustic tile ceiling.
Okay. So this ain' Nam. Pretty sure it ain' heaven 'r hell either.
Confused, he let his mind direct his feet past the next room. Its door was slightly open. His destination lay somewhere among the labyrinth of corridors. As he staggered down the hall, he remembered Colonel Jackson's praise for his work on some project for which he had been tapped.
Colonel Jackson!
If he could talk to the Colonel, he would know what he was supposed to do next.
He paused at a door with a number two on it. Something or someone was waiting for him in this room. He sensed that much. He put his hand on the door knob and then pulled back again. Not knowing what was there made him overly cautious.
This was part of a plan that was being fed to him one step at a time. That was becoming more apparent to him with each passing moment. Maybe his intermittent memory loss was responsible for his failure to remember the long range goal.
Wouldn' be the first time.
Taking a breath to give himself courage, he opened the door and walked inside.
oooooo
Colonel Jackson kept his eye on the door of the room as he pressed the button. Seconds later he heard a sleepy moan coming from the next room. He smiled. The neuroelectromagnetic device was doing what it was supposed to do. The radio supplying the special tone triggered the set of instructions in Murdock's mind.
He preselected the flashback and the directions he had programmed into the ex-POW's brain but he wasn't prepared for Murdock's emotions of being trapped and frightened to be quite as strong as they were. Jackson had never been a POW himself. It was an unsettling feeling to experience the prisoner's dance around the edge of insanity as Murdock had struggled with it so many years before.
Movement from the next room alerted him to the test subject's actions. Jackson's eyes narrowed as the Captain passed the door without looking in.
Focusing on the pilot's mind, he made minor adjustments to his thought patterns. He would keep him in a state of confusion and paranoia but not terror.
He has to see me as the person with the answers to his questions, the only one he can totally trust. But I won't make myself available to him until he is on the outside and ready for Cazador.
He "followed" Murdock with his mind as he staggered down the hall and came to Laboratory Two.
Now for my test subject to meet up with the men he thinks betrayed him.
oooooo
Hannibal heard the footsteps hesitate outside the door. Only one set so it couldn't be Rollag returning with Murdock. He glanced at Face and noted a similar tension in his expression.
Is it Jackson and his men coming to take us prisoner again? Are they searching all of the rooms?
"Don't even think about warning whoever this is that we're here. Not yet," the Colonel growled at Doctor Stafford.
From the look on the scientist's face, he knew he wouldn't say anything. The doctor sat up straighter as the door opened.
Moments later Stafford shot them both a surprised glance. He cocked his head as he looked at the person who entered the room. "Captain Murdock?"
To Hannibal he muttered, "It's your friend, he's alone, but he seems disoriented."
"I 'member you. You're the doctor been workin' with Colonel Jackson."
That's Murdock's voice but something doesn't seem right.
Face made a move to get to his feet, relief reflected in his smile. A quick short back and forth shake of Hannibal's head halted him.
Why is he alone? Did he escape again?
The Lieutenant's smile disappeared, replaced by a puzzled frown.
"We don't know his state of mind," Hannibal whispered as softly as he could. With one hand he squeezed Face's arm to keep him in place.
"But it's Murdock," Face answered quietly. Still frowning, he obeyed and stayed where he was.
"Doc?" The pilot's voice was edged with suspicion. He cautiously approached the monitoring booth.
"Answer him," Hannibal mimed.
"Captain Murdock, how are you feeling?"
"Feeling?" He sounded as if he had not given it much thought. There was a long pause as if the pilot was assessing his condition. Finally in a forlorn voice, he said, "Confused."
"How can I help you be less confused?" Hannibal nodded his approval of the doctor's question.
That's right. If he's confused he might be coming out of a flashback. We need to be careful.
Murdock's tone reflected his weariness and internal struggle. "I . . . I don' know."
"If you were able to talk to your friends, would that help?" Doctor Stafford looked at Hannibal and Face briefly before standing up and taking a step toward the door of the monitoring room. The Colonel pointed his rifle at the Doctor, silently warning him to stop.
"Friends?"
"The men you transported over in Vietnam. Your team mates."
"They're here, ain' they."
He doesn't sound very happy about that.
Stafford nodded and glanced back at the two men. "They're here. They want me to help them get out of here with you."
The Colonel rose to his feet and gestured for Face to do the same.
Hannibal couldn't be sure but he thought he saw Murdock flinch at the sight of the weapons in their hands. The pilot backed up a step toward the door and seemed to be concentrating on something he heard in his own mind. He frowned with uncertainty and then scrutinized Hannibal as if making a decision about him.
Then he straightened and gave the older man a sharp salute. "Colonel Smith, suh."
Hannibal analyzed Murdock's formal military address and posture before acknowledging the salute and speaking. "At ease, Captain."
Even when they were all together in Nam, Murdock did not hold to rigid formality when he was working with the team. When there was need for it, he did, but not all the time. Hannibal didn't mind as long as the pilot didn't get them injured or killed. And as long as he obeyed his orders.
Something is very wrong.
"Murdock, buddy, we're going to get you out of here. Did they hurt you in any way?" Face kept his rifle trained on the doctor while edging toward his friend. He gave the jittery pilot a welcoming smile.
Murdock's eyes darkened as his gaze flickered across the other man's expression. "I'm fine, Lieutenant. Jus' fine. If Doc here can give me somethin' for this headache, I'll be right as rain." He twitched his arm away as Face reached over to pat him on the shoulder.
Face gave the Colonel a worried look and took a step away to allow the pilot some room. "Just checking."
That's not right either. The sooner we can get out of here and have the doctor undo whatever's been done, the better.
The Captain had a small transistor radio clipped to a pair of black pants similar to what they wore in the POW camp. He had only one ear bud in. The other dangled down in front of him. Hannibal noted the gauze bandages on the Captain's exposed chest, above his ear and encircling his wrists and ankles. He had been injured. While it wasn't unusual for Murdock to be close-mouthed about any pain he felt, he still seemed very distant.
He knows who we are but he doesn't trust us.
"How d' we do this?" The pilot trained his attention on the men with the weapons. His tone suggested he wasn't pleased to be leaving with them but was resigned to doing it. "Gonna be a hard sell t' get me dressed like a POW and you guys outta here without someone askin' questions. 'Less ya march us out like hostages."
"That may be the only way until we can get to a jeep," Face murmured to the Colonel.
Hannibal nodded his agreement.
Not the way I want to get Murdock away from this place, especially if he's already uncertain of us for whatever reason, but maybe the only safe way for all of us.
"If it gets us out of here. Okay. Hands up and behind your heads. Face, you take the doctor and I'll take Murdock." The Colonel moved up behind the pilot and lightly pressed the barrel of the gun into the small of his back. He noticed Murdock's body tense as he clasped his hands together behind his neck and realized with gut-felt regret that he wasn't playacting.
"Relax, Captain," he whispered. "You know I'm not going to hurt you."
"Do I?" Murdock responded as Hannibal and he followed Face and the doctor out of the laboratory.
The corridor was completely deserted. The foursome made their way out of the double doors and to a jeep outside without meeting a single guard. That made the Colonel extremely suspicious.
"Get under the tarp in the back and I'll ride up front with Stafford." Hannibal got in the passenger's front seat and motioned for the doctor to start the vehicle. As soon as Murdock and Face were completely hidden, they took off.
For once the Colonel didn't feel like saying "I love it when a plan comes together" because he wasn't certain it was his plan that was being implemented.
There was no way of knowing whether his suspicions had a basis in reality until he had an opportunity to debrief Murdock on what had happened while he was held at Granite Peak.
But does he know anything about it? And will he tell me if he does?