Every Thought Captive
AN: Italicized sentences are the thoughts Colonel Jackson is sending Murdock. Murdock's thoughts are inside single quotation marks. Speech is in double quotation marks.
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 35 Hurricane and Beyond
By the time he woke enough to realize someone was talking to him, one of Murdock's ear pieces had fallen out. At first he thought the voice was one of his captors. Then he recognized it was internal, not external.
Where are you, Captain? Where have they taken you and Doctor Stafford?
Murdock tried to silently answer the voice he heard in his head. He hoped Colonel Jackson could 'hear' his thoughts.
'I don' know. They kept me under mosta th' time. If I look 'round too much, they're gonna stick 'nother needle in me t' make me sleep.'
Colonel Smith and Lieutenant Peck had been ruthless as far as keeping him sedated. He hated the fogginess of waking and he didn't trust these men had his best interests in mind when they drugged him, either.
'Jackson has to answer,' he thought in desperation. 'He has to.'
He strained to 'hear,' then when there was no reply, 'What should I do, Colonel?' And, to himself, 'Ya gotta answer. Don' leave me 'lone now.'
He was a hostage. That much Murdock remembered. He had also been having nightmares and flashbacks more often since being in the presence of these men.
Was it because of them? Did they bring the crazy out in him somehow?
The sooner he could escape, with or without the doctor, the better. Every moment spent with them kept him from his mission and pushed him closer to insanity.
Jackson finally responded. If Murdock wasn't trying so hard to keep the other men from knowing he was totally conscious, the pilot would have sighed with relief.
Pretend you're not aware of your surroundings. Stare out the windshield at the signs going by. I'll keep my mind focused on what you're seeing and hearing and figure out where you are by that.
'Gotcha. Some kinda Vulcan mind meld shit like Spock did in Star Trek, right?'
Something like that.
He thought he could almost hear Jackson chuckle at that silly comparison he made. Someone else used to laugh like that at the stupid things he said and did to bring calm to tense situations. Briefly an unexpected memory of Colonel Smith flashed into his mind and made him pause.
They had just escaped from Colonel Lynch and as the plane lifted up into the sky with him at the controls, he let out a joyous whoop. Smith was in the copilot's seat chuckling and lighting a cigar. He glanced across and laughed along with the Colonel. He could see the twinkle in Hann . . . no, Colonel Smith's . . . eye and feel the congratulatory pat on his shoulder . . . he heard him murmur, "Nice, Captain," as they soared into the late afternoon sun . . .
Focus, son. I have to get you out of there and you have to show me where they're taking you. Remember the mission.
He frowned and gave the back of Smith's head a questioning glance. So was there a time when the white-haired Colonel not only enjoyed his company but was proud of him as well? His memory was a tricky thing and he couldn't be certain what he thought just now was true or not.
Smith was laughing at you, not with you. He thinks you're crazy. He sat in that copilot's seat just to make sure you weren't going to go nuts and crash the plane.
Colonel Jackson 'sounded' exasperated, if projected thoughts could have emotional tones. His 'voice' sounded almost worried.
Murdock heard the black Sergeant in the driver's seat grunt, then say, "He's awake again, Colonel. Starin' off inta space. Don' look like he's focusin' on anythin'. He jus' sittin' there not movin' at all."
Hannibal turned in his seat toward Face. "Keep an eye on him. If he starts to act like he's hallucinating, we'll have to stop the van and take care of it."
'Take care of it' doesn't sound like Smith sees you as anything but a problem that needs to be dealt with. Doesn't it? Are you just a problem to him?
Murdock kept his eyes staring dully ahead through the windshield but his mind was whirling in confusion. He had been with this A-team off and on for about fifteen years ever since Vietnam. In all that time, he had little reason to question their intentions.
After escaping the military prison and becoming fugitives, they had found him in the VA hospital. He hadn't found them. How could he, confined as he was to the psychiatric ward? They made the effort even though they risked being recaptured doing it. Was it all for the sake of having a pilot when they needed one?
But before he knew the team, as the Vietnam War claimed more and more American lives, Colonel Jackson befriended him in Los Angeles. He personally groomed him for the important mind experiments the CIA was running. When he was ready he got him in with Air America in Nam on a part-time basis. Did Jackson manipulate and use him, too? He tried to think but couldn't.
Focus, Captain. That's an order!
Colonel Jackson was definitely unhappy with him. The sharpness of his 'tone' surprised the Captain.
To Sergeant Baracus, Colonel Smith said, "We're almost to Hurricane. Find the first motel that looks like they won't ask questions if things get a bit loud and pull in there."
I'm looking at a map now. Hurricane, huh? When you figure out what motel you'll be staying at, let me know. I'm on my way.
Murdock squeezed his eyes shut. He 'felt' the Colonel's mind detach from his. The vacuum it left was immediately filled with a rush of bright images. Each one pulsed briefly, clamoring for attention, then dimmed to be replaced by another. It was like a rapidly moving slide show composed of disturbing and puzzling photos from his past. He couldn't tell which were imagination and which had a basis in reality.
The drained feeling he got when Jackson was monitoring his thoughts was as bad as the side effects of the sedative his former team mates administered to him.
For the moment, he had done what Jackson wanted. He pointed him toward their location. Did that mean the Colonel wasn't watching over him now?
He could not be certain. Mission be hanged! He had a lot to think about and wished he could do it in private.
'If I keep on pretendin' t' be outta it, maybe they'll slip up 'n' I'll find a way t' escape.'
At least that was what he hoped. He opened his eyes and watched for the opportunity.
They passed fast food restaurants, RV dealerships and a handful of well-known chain motels. His eyes fell on a roadside directional sign, brown with white lettering and arrows, in Hurricane's downtown. 'Zion Nat'l. Park, Grand Cyn. Nat'l. Park, Lake Powell,' he read. The van stayed on State Highway 9.
Before long Murdock realized they had left Hurricane behind. His stomach flip-flopped in alarm.
'Where th' hell're we goin'? Zion National Park?'
He decided not to let Colonel Jackson know they were not stopping. That image of Colonel Smith beside him in the cockpit of the getaway plane bothered him. So did the dim memories of one or two brutal interrogations Jackson and Henderson had conducted with Vietnamese villagers in his presence. Through the single ear bud he heard Buffalo Springfield sing 'For What It's Worth.'
Paranoia strikes deep
Inta your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step outta line, th' man come 'n' take you away . . .
He focused on a plan to go somewhere alone and as soon as possible. He needed to sort out reality before he lost his grip on it completely. If that meant disappearing and hiking in the backcountry to get away from all of them, so be it.
In the next half hour, Murdock thought about what he would have to have with him when he escaped. Money, his duffel bag, a knife or some other kind of weapon if he could gain access to it. He was so preoccupied with his plans, when the Sergeant pulled into the parking lot of the small motel, he momentarily panicked. Before anyone could notice, he forced his breathing to slow and his whole body to stay still.
'Calm down. If ya look like yer gonna bolt firs' chance ya get, they'll make sure they don' letcha outta their sights,' he chided himself. He knew how to look like he was awake but unresponsive. He had used that trick too many times on orderlies and nurses back in the VA hospital when he was avoiding the darker sides of his psychiatric treatment plan.
The Lieutenant scrambled over his legs to get out. As he passed, he looked directly into the pilot's eyes. Seeing no response, the con man sighed and patted him on the knee before opening the door. Murdock resisted the urge to flinch away from the physical contact with him.
Amy, or was it Sky?, gently stroked his arm in an effort to communicate with him. Her eyes reflected her concern.
'My argument ain' with her. She's a good kid.' He couldn't let her know he understood or tell her his plans. She might want to go with him and, judging from the looks of the terrain around them, it would be dangerous for her. She was better off staying with these men even if he wasn't sure he could trust them with his own life.
The Colonel rolled down his window and propped his arm in the opening to address the con man who stretched and yawned beside the van. "Three rooms, Face. If you can get adjoining rooms, that would be best."
In about fifteen minutes, the Lieutenant was back with three room keys. "I couldn't get rooms that were side by side but two of them are close. If there's any trouble, we'll know about it. One of them's a kitchenette. That eliminates having to go out or order in."
The older man frowned back at Murdock as he got out. "Not the best arrangements but we might not be sleeping much anyway until the doctor corrects whatever's been done to our Captain."
The pilot didn't like the sounds of that. He would have to do something fairly quickly before they messed with his mind and made it even worse than it was. For now, he allowed the Lieutenant to lead him to one of the rooms and have him lie down on the bed.
He kept his eyes open for a while, taking in the details of where everyone was and how they were armed. When B. A. carried Murdock's duffel bag in and placed the white teddy bear within his reach, he almost sneered but forced his expression to remain impassive.
'Sure. That's what they think I am. Some sort o' li'l kid that needs his teddy bear t' chase 'way the boogie man.'
But the black Sergeant's gaze didn't seem condescending or patronizing. The dark eyes contemplated him for a few seconds. "Sure wish ya understood I don't mean ya no harm, fool. Wish you was back with us. I miss yer jibber-jabber." The Sergeant shook his head when all he got was a blank stare from the pilot. He left him to go back to the van for more bags and supplies.
'I'm 'lone. But for how many minutes?' The Captain shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on what he had to do. He didn't realize how tired he was and slipped off into a dreamless sleep.
A sudden stabbing pain in his temple diverted Murdock's attention and made him bring his hands up to his head. His fingertips brushed against someone else's hand. He narrowly avoided letting out a loud groan. When he opened his eyes, Colonel Smith sat beside him on the edge of the bed, peeling back the adhesive bandage over his temple. He trembled in fear but didn't have the energy to push the probing hands away.
The Colonel glared up at Doctor Stafford as he noted the stitches over the swollen bleeding surgical site. "Explain this to me, doctor, if you can."
From somewhere in the room, an angry voice rumbled displeasure. There was the sound of a big fist smacking into an open palm and Murdock shivered, preparing himself for the beating he was sure was going to follow.