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 34 "My Turn"
Murdock's outburst forced them to hurriedly pack everything and vacate the campground around one in the morning.
Hefting the pilot into place across his shoulders, B. A. carried him to the van. He gently lifted the Captain into the seat Face normally occupied and buckled him in securely.
For a moment, he looked down at the sleeping man as if worried he might have woke him. His gaze softened and he shook his head. "You rest, li'l brother," he muttered, hesitating for a moment before placing a pillow behind Murdock's head. He dug in the pilot's duffel bag and tucked Bogey the white teddy bear under Murdock's left arm. Stepping back, he almost knocked Face down behind him.
The Lieutenant repositioned the ear buds and made sure the transistor radio was on. B. A. gave him a puzzled frown.
"If it'll help him relax and sleep as long as he can . . . " He shrugged and softly patted his friend on the shoulder before leaving the van to help stow cargo in the back of the vehicle. B. A. went to assist Hannibal in taking down the tent. Within fifteen minutes the two vehicles were on the road to Tooele to drop off the car in the lot beside the rental office.
Two hours later, after leaving the rental car, Amy and Face cuddled up under a blanket on the floor of the van between the doctor and Murdock. They quickly fell asleep in each other's arms.
As they left Tooele, Doctor Stafford took out a cigarette. B. A. scowled into the rearview mirror at the scientist and growled his disapproval. "Only one smokes in my ride's the Colonel."
Hannibal grinned back at the doctor, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Rank and knowing the driver has its privileges."
Pursing his lips, Stafford returned his cigarette to the pack and stuffed the pack into his shirt pocket. He spent the next hour sullenly staring straight ahead through the windshield at the bleak desert terrain before likewise falling asleep.
The light pink of dawn flushed the horizon with color as B. A. drove south on US-50 through southern Utah. Hannibal continually glanced back with worried eyes at their unconscious pilot. He couldn't get out of his mind the terrified howls the pilot made four hours before. More than ever he was convinced they could not wait the remaining four or more hours it would take to get to Vegas.
The sooner we can get Stafford to work on reversing what was done to Murdock, the better. Right now, the way he is, he's a stick of dynamite with a lit short fuse.
As he watched, Murdock's forehead creased in a pained expression. His hands twitched and his leg muscles tightened as if he were bracing himself for sudden impact.
Noting Hannibal's intent stare, B. A. glanced back at the pilot. "It's startin' again, Colonel. An' nobody's 'wake back there ta handle him. Ya want me ta pull over?"
The older man rubbed his weary eyes with a gloved hand and shook his head. "If he gets worse you'll have to."
Murdock whimpered in his sleep and Hannibal prepared himself to respond. "We may have to find a motel soon and spend as much time there as he needs, Sergeant."
"Vegas is still a ways 'way."
"He isn't getting any better." The Colonel searched the other man's expression and saw his resignation and sadness.
"I know." The black man's voice dropped to a husky mumble. "It's gonna be as bad as when he came back ta us in the camp, ain' it?"
"I don't know but I'm afraid it might be. Stafford and Jackson made him remember, maybe even relive, the torture of the camp and whatever else he has in his past that creates those flashbacks and nightmares."
And that's the million dollar question. How bad will it be when he's being reprogrammed or whatever else Stafford has to do to him?
"Colonel, I get my hands on that Jackson, I'll . . . " Instead of finishing, B. A. slammed an open palm on the steering wheel and scowled back at an increasingly restless pilot.
Murdock arched his back and groaned. His eyes opened halfway and he rasped, "Không để cho họ đưa tôi! (Don't let them take me!) Tôi không sẵn sàng. (I'm not ready.)"
"Look at his eyes, Colonel. He ain' here. He's back in Nam." The Sergeant shifted his attention back and forth between the road ahead and the pilot.
Murdock's eyes were fully open but clouded and unfocused. Trembling violently, he drew his sneakered feet up into the seat with him and clasped his knees closely to his chest.
He released Bogey from his grip. The stuffed animal dropped on Face's head, prompting a murmured, "Not the hair, sweetheart, don't muss the hair" from the partially awake conman. Without opening his eyes, he brushed the bear off to the floor behind him and drew Amy a little closer.
Murdock began to slowly rock back and forth, humming something to himself that sounded like an old nursery song. Every few breaths he swallowed back a sob.
First Face and then Amy roused to the sounds and the movement beside them. One glance at the agitated pilot brought the Lieutenant out from under the blanket and on his knees beside Murdock's seat.
"Murdock. Oh God, Face. Be careful." Amy scooted back as far as she could to the opposite side of the van. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes glistened with tears for her friend and what he was going through.
She brushed against Doctor Stafford's legs and woke him. He blinked slowly and yawned, then fixed his attention on what was happening with the man in the other seat. Impassively, he watched with arms folded across his chest, neither lending assistance nor giving advice. Hannibal noted the doctor's reaction with a growing sense the scientist knew more than he was telling about the state of their friend.
"Easy, buddy. Take it easy. You're safe." It was a litany Face had memorized over the years, one that eventually always coaxed his friend from the land of nightmares and monsters back into reality. This time it seemed to intensify the rocking and trembling.
"Bạn nghe? Bạn nghe? Họ đang đến. (You hear? You hear? They're coming.)" He reached out and gripped Face's forearm, digging his fingernails into the skin. His frantic eyes searched the Lieutenant's expression for any recognition of the danger they were in. Finding none, he bent over his knees again and buried his face from view in his arms. A violent tremor passed through his entire body.
"Họ đang đến cho tôi. (They're coming for me.)" His voice was a resigned whisper. His shoulders shook with the silent tears of dread.
Hannibal already had the syringe out and was filling it from the small vial of etomidate. "Pull over as soon as it's safe to do so, B. A."
Murdock raised his head, a manic glint in his wet eyes, an unexpected ghastly grin on his face that brought alarm to both Face and Hannibal. They had seen the look before. When the guards picked up the pace on how many times Murdock was taken for interrogation, they saw it. When he did and said things that would guarantee he, instead of Face, would be taken, they saw it. None of them would forget that look. It was that expression that made each of them wonder how close to full-blown insanity the pilot had strayed. Just as they were wondering now.
The singsong chant started low and grew louder as he rocked in time to the words. His gaze was on something distant, something invisible. "Bật của tôi . . . bật của tôi . . . bật của tôi . . . "My turn . . . my turn . . . my turn . . . )" Almost like he was on a playground skipping rope to a childhood refrain, the pilot continued to repeat it. Louder and louder, more and more feverishly, he intoned the words. His strained grin grew wider with each repetition and his eyes widened with the approach of an enemy only he saw.
The van stopped suddenly and Murdock did, too.
"Họ đang ở đây! (They're here!)"
With a despairing cry, he tried to rocket from the seat but the seat belt held him in place. His chant morphed into a series of anguished howls as he fought against the restraint, seeming to not remember how to unfasten it.
Face threw his full weight into trying to hold the Captain down. Meanwhile, B. A. got out of the van and hurried around to the side door. Throwing it open, he grabbed the pilot's right arm and pushed the jacket sleeve up, baring his arm, then held him down on that side.
"Hurry, Hannibal."
The Colonel edged his way in beside the Sergeant and released the contents of the syringe into Murdock's forearm. He stood back and frowned as the pilot thrashed against Face's and B. A.'s holds with weakening efforts. The sedative seemed to take a very long time to work. Hannibal did not speak until it did and Murdock was once again fully unconscious.
"I gave him enough for another two hours. I don't want to give him any more than that. We'd better make plans to stop a half hour to an hour before the sedative wears off. That should put us in the vicinity of Hurricane, Utah. It's near Zion National Park so there should be plenty of motel rooms."
"And then what, Hannibal? Do we get a priest in to perform an exorcism? Do we tie him down to the bed until he recognizes us? Do we keep him doped up for a week until we think he may be able to function normally again?" Face threw his hands up in the air when Hannibal shook his head in silence. Amy cautiously slipped past the sleeping pilot to join him outside. He wrapped his arms around her to comfort her but kept angry eyes on the Colonel.
B. A. looked past all of them to the doctor sitting in the van. The medical man had taken the opportunity to light a cigarette for himself.
No doubt listening to all of this and maybe even enjoying it, Hannibal thought to himself.
"I tol' ya no one smokes in my ride 'cept the Colonel." B. A. glared at the man as he took his time picking his way past Murdock and out of the van. "You got Murdock this way, sucka. You better be thinkin' of how you're gonna get him back the way he was." The big Sergeant stalked over to the smaller scientist and grabbed a handful of shirt. "An' then I wanna know where ta find this Colonel Jackson 'cause I got a few things I wanna do to him, too."
Stafford peered up into the angry man's face and smirked. "Colonel Smith, if you want my cooperation, you'll get your trained gorilla off me . . . now."
"That's enough, B. A. First we find a place to work, then we concern ourselves with shutting down Jackson's little operation." Hannibal placed one hand on the muscular man's bicep and gestured for him to release the doctor. "Let's get back on the road, guys."
"But I'm not done with my cigarette," the doctor protested.
"Yes, you are." B. A. removed the cigarette from the scientist's hand and tossed it to the ground. With a fierce twist of his foot, he crushed it before heading to the driver's seat. The doctor opened his mouth in protest. Then he scowled and climbed over Murdock's legs to his seat.
"Next stop, Hurricane, Utah," Face said under his breath as he helped Amy back into the van and closed the side door.
oooooo
Colonel Jackson had been awake for a half hour when Murdock showed signs of waking. He immediately relayed the memory he wanted the pilot immersed in when he opened his eyes.
Remember what it was like with the bleeding shredded skin of your back up against the bamboo cage, watching and waiting for the guards to come for one of you? They almost always came for you and not one of the other men, didn't they? Why was that? Why didn't the others protect you like you tried to protect them?
Jackson smiled when Murdock reacted the way he wanted him to. But then Murdock reached out for his best friend, tried to relay to him what he was "seeing." After that, the pilot's mind seemed to surge uncontrollably toward the snapping point.
Alarmed, Jackson attempted to "talk" to him but managed only to convince him that danger was approaching. Would Murdock think it was a premonition of something to come?
This shows, more than anything, his friends must be out of the way. If he remembers the truth, he won't carry through with the plan.
The military man was anxious for Murdock to arrive in Las Vegas. The greater distance they were apart, the harder it was to "see" obstacles and take care of them. He realized he did not have as much control while they were apart as he had believed.
Another four hours and they will be here.
He sensed that the neuroelectromagnetic implant in Murdock's head had malfunctioned in some way. Something had happened to it back at the campground but he didn't know what. It meant he would have to have Doctor Stafford come along when he made Murdock disappear from the team's sights. Stafford would have to repair it somehow. After that, he would have to see what to do about the scientist.
Jackson was almost relieved when Smith sedated Murdock the second time. There would not be any reason to monitor the pilot's thoughts for a couple of hours again. Another two hours of sleep was welcome.