Every Thought Captive
AN: The Simpson Springs Campground run by the Bureau of Land Management is more primitive than what I have described. There is no office or individual water spigots and you must supply your own drinking water although water for cleaning is available.
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 32 Nowhere to Run
Once on the dirt road leading out of the campground, Murdock allowed his breathing and arm and leg movements to sync into an easy rhythm. At least for now, he escaped the pain-filled blue eyes of the dying young soldier. He left the suspicious stares of his former team mates behind, too.
He did as he always did when he was able to run for the sheer pleasure of it. He allowed his senses of sight, smell and hearing to take over and push every thought and memory into the outermost perimeter of his mind.
If booze ain' gonna do it I gotta find some other way t' have peace. 'N' since I don' have a bird t' fly . . .
High above him, a red-tailed hawk glided in wide lazy circles on updrafts created by the Simpson Range behind him. Desert saltgrass stretched as far as he could see on either side of him. Even in the early evening sunlight the rounded crowns of big sagebrush shone silver-white.
To his left he heard the raspy tschicka-tschicka-tschicka of a juniper titmouse. A chukar scolded him with a chuk-chuk from its nest under a two foot tall shadscale saltbrush shrub. A large scrawny jackrabbit skittered across the road in front of him. With a quick flash of brownish-gray, the hare scurried among the brush and disappeared.
As Murdock ran, he realized he left the clip-on radio and ear buds back in the tent. He also forgot to bring along water, a serious mistake if he was to run any distance in the western desert landscape. The heat of the day had hung on into dusk.
Ain' gonna go back for 'em now. Colonel'd insist th' Lieutenant run with me.
He had run a quarter of a mile when he came to a fork in the road. Turning to his left he passed crumbled ruins of an old CCC camp before coming to the graded gravel surface of the Simpson Springs-Callao Road. Looking at the horizon, he knew dark was approaching.
But I don' wanna go back. Not yet.
The sinking sun painted the wispy clouds that remained in the sky brilliant orange, red and pink. He reduced his pace to pay attention to the progression of the setting orb behind Indian Peak. Feeling sweat trickling down his face and chest from his exertion and the heat, he lifted the front of his T-shirt and mopped his forehead. He continued running well after the last rays of light retreated from the sky.
oooooo
As the campground grew quiet and the sun began to go down, Hannibal glanced at his watch. His frown deepened as a suspicion nagged at him. He hoped he was wrong.
Amy and Face talked quietly to each other as they sat at the picnic table. The Lieutenant's arm loosely hugged the reporter to himself. Her head rested on his shoulder. Both of them were positioned so they could watch the sun go down behind the mountains skirting the campground.
The doctor was chain smoking in the front seat of the van and showed no signs of settling in for the night. He would be sleeping in either the rental car or the van.
The Colonel decided, after the earlier nightmare Murdock had, that Face would remain with the pilot for most of the night. Hannibal would spell him until it was time to pack up and leave the campground the next morning.
Hannibal grew tense as the minutes passed and the Captain did not return. Finally he made his way over to the couple at the picnic table. "Face, go look in the tent. See if Murdock took a firearm with him. I know he didn't take any water."
At the mention of a weapon, the Lieutenant's eyes widened slightly. "He wouldn't . . . "
"That's what I want you to find out. I don't think he gained access to his Browning but we weren't expecting him to try for it either."
Amy gasped when she realized what Hannibal meant. She gripped the conman's arm in fear.
Squeezing her hand to reassure her, Face hurried to the tent. He came back out clutching a water bottle but no gun. The worry on the conman's face sent Hannibal over to consult with B. A. Within minutes the black Sergeant had the weapons storage box in the back of the van open.
With a heavy relieved sigh, B. A. shut and secured the locker. "Everything's accounted for, Hannibal."
The Colonel looked at his two men. "Good. The strange way he's been behaving, we'll keep all firearms away from him, okay?"
Neither B. A. nor Face disagreed but they did cast anxious glances between them.
"Gettin' dark out here, Colonel. Crazy man oughta be comin' back by now." The black man scowled toward the sunset.
Hannibal motioned with his head toward the rental car. "Why don't you go ahead and bring him that water, kid? And get him to come back with you. I don't want him out there alone this late at night in the mental state he's in."
Moments later Face was carefully driving along the route Murdock had taken. As he drove and scanned the sides of the road for traces of his friend, he hoped he wouldn't have trouble convincing the pilot to get in the car. That was, if he could locate him.
oooooo
The western desert of Utah became very dark very quickly when the sun went down. He told himself he would go back in a few more minutes several times.
A pair of headlights illuminated him from behind. He strayed off as close as he could to the side of the road to let the vehicle get by him.
The car passed him slowly before speeding up again. About six hundred feet away it turned off to the left and turned around to face him. He glared at the driver as he neared the vehicle and curled his fists into tight white-knuckled balls.
"The Colonel was worried about you. So was B. A., Amy and me."
Yeah, right.
The Lieutenant had the driver's side window rolled down. He could see the megawatt flash of perfect white teeth even in the dark. Part of him wanted to knock the smile off the man's face but instead he stopped a few feet from the car.
Gripping one ankle in his hand, he bent his knee, stretched his leg muscles and then switched sides. He wasn't sure how he should answer so he focused on keeping his muscles loose.
If he pulls a gun on me, I'll duck 'n' cover.
The Lieutenant sighed almost imperceptibly at the angry silence coming from Murdock. "You didn't bring any water with you. I've got a bottle here in the car if you want it."
The pilot clenched his jaw at the interruption to his run. "Ah'm alright."
At least in the dark, the Lieutenant's blue eyes didn't remind him of Vietnam, death and his own personal guilt.
"I'm afraid the Colonel wants you to come back to the campsite now. It isn't a suggestion; it's an order." Part of Murdock wanted to believe the apologetic tone in the other man's voice but something inside him was telling him he shouldn't.
Billy had listened to what Murdock told him before and remained silent during his run. Now his angel brother pleaded with him.
Go back with 'im, brother. Everythin'll be alright.
Murdock listened for Jackson's voice and felt uncomfortable when the military man didn't advise him. He kept his eyes on the man in the driver's seat, wary of any movement which would show him his distrust was justified.
"Come on, buddy. Don't get me in trouble with the Colonel. Besides, where are you going to go this time of night?"
What's it matter to you?
With no other voices telling him what to do, Murdock gave up and sullenly got into the front passenger's seat of the rental car. When the conman passed him the water, he shook his head.
Can't be sure they didn' poison it.
He turned his gaze to the right, hoping the action would keep the blonde-haired man from trying to get him to talk. It worked.
They can bring me back, make me lay down, but they can't make me sleep.
With that thought in his mind, he propped his knees on the dashboard and crossed his arms across his chest, determined to stay awake until they hit Vegas the next late afternoon and Jackson freed him from his captors.
oooooo
Popping a caffeine tablet in his mouth and washing it down with a swig of canned cola, Jackson paced the motel room. He had succeeded in silencing Billy for a while. Inwardly he felt a sense of accomplishment. Billy's influence was waning and his was on the rise.
The Colonel knew now from the desperate way Murdock sought out his voice that the pilot trusted him more than he had. Not only trusted him but thought he needed direction from him in order to survive what he believed was a hostage situation.
He would keep Murdock awake now, shatter his nerves even more with a flashback in the middle of the night.
Sleep deprivation is such a useful tool.
Jackson smiled to himself as he finished the can of soda and popped the tab on another.