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 38 Mind Reader
There were no maps of the immediate area in either the glove compartment or on the dashboard.
Strange. Th' Colonel is . . . was . . . usually ready for action no matter where we went.
Murdock let out a long frustrated sigh as his search turned up nothing to help him. The only way to find a place he could hide out and decide what to do next was to engage his mind in remote viewing. Somehow he had to escape Jackson and Stafford for a while and that seemed to be his only avenue to do it.
The pilot knew it would rekindle excruciatingly blinding migraine headaches and bad memories. That part of remote viewing always made him reluctant to use it in the past. Only in emergencies was his rule, but this qualified as an emergency, didn't it?
Jus' hope Jackson don' figure out where I'm gonna go 'n' what I'm gonna do. Bastard's been able t' track ev'ry move I make when he's focused on me. But I gotta try.
For a moment he wondered how difficult it would be to figure out how to return the favor and be able to read what the military man was thinking at any time. Something was starting to nag at him about Jackson's persistence.
I can't be th' only guy for th' job. Knowin' what he's thinkin'd sure help me know what th' hell he's tryin' t' do with me 'n' if he's bein' honest.
But there was no time to waste in trying to train himself to do that now. He had to get away by himself. Maybe then.
From his jacket pocket he removed a crumpled, smudged piece of paper and a pencil stub, the metal band around the eraser crimped from his nervous habit of chewing on it when deep in thought. He relaxed into the Colonel's seat and let the strains of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' soothe him.
For several seconds he drifted along in the gentle piano triads of the opening strain. His brain waves settled into the theta pattern and the next moment his detached spirit body careened through the tunnel of flashing images to a position high above Zion National Park. It had become easier for him to pierce the ether and transcend distance and time on his own. He frowned at that thought.
Practice makes perfect, I guess.
He saw someone on a trail which ascended almost to the summit of one of the highest mountains in the southwest corner of the park. The person wore a bomber jacket and cap identical to his so he assumed it must be him sometime in the future. No hikers seemed to be traversing the rugged terrain in this area. No one but him.
Somewhere on that mountain would be a perfect place to hide away from Colonel Jackson and everyone else. Satisfied, his spirit traced the worn path to the spot where another trail converged with it and descended over a dry waterfall clogged with trees. The new trail along a wash led his spirit to State Highway 9. He took note of the location, paying attention to side roads and other geographical features.
When he allowed his spirit to reunite with his physical body, he looked down at the paper smoothed out on his knee. On it he had drawn a horizontal zigzagged line with one peak more prominent than the others. On the right side of the page he had written the words 'Kinesava,' 'Huber' and 'Chinle.' Under the first line was a primitive sketch of what looked like three trails, one of which led to the mountain. The other two ended at the highway.
His head swam with the lingering bright slide show images that always accompanied a remote viewing session. Three consecutive memories struck him with brutal force and caused him to suck in a guilt-ridden breath. First the Colonel crumpled to the floor, then the black Sergeant and finally the Lieutenant. He didn't see blood but he was certain they looked lifeless enough. The gun in his hand was proof he had shot them. He jerked the ear buds out and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
I killed 'em. They didn' deserve t' die, but I shot 'em down anyway. What kind o' person am I?
For several seconds he covered his face with his hands, willing the images and the stabbing headache to go away.
Stop it! Stop it!
"Murdock? Murdock, are you all right?"
It was Sky's voice, cutting through the pain, confusion and anguish that clouded his thoughts. Sky always was able to make the worst nightmares retreat into the furthest most inaccessible recesses of his mind. That was what earned her the special pet name only he used for her. She was as precious as the azure blue sky above to him. She was a lifeline to peace.
Slowly he brought his hands down and forced them to be motionless in his lap. Keeping the self-loathing and fear out of his voice was more difficult than he imagined.
She's gonna know somethin's up. She ain' stupid.
He paused and tried to think of what he could say to persuade her to let him leave without her. "Sky? Darlin'? I'm gonna hafta go 'way for a while, get my head all straightened out." He risked a glance back at her in the rear-view mirror, then wished he hadn't. Her face transformed back and forth between Amy's Caucasian features and the Asian characteristics of Sky.
Why's it keep on doin' that?
Whichever one she was, Amy or Sky, she still had a horrified look on her face. He knew she was frightened of him and what he had become.
'N' what is that? A killer lunatic? Or a loony killer?
He trained his eyes on the landscape outside of the driver's side window, watching for the place on the road he saw in his viewing session. Anything to shut out her accusatory looks. "You gotta let me go, Sky. Ain' no d'bate 'bout this. I'm goin' 'way for a while. That's final."
"Murdock." He focused on her voice. Her single word sent a wave of emotion through him as if he intimately shared her thoughts and fears.
She's 'fraid o' me but she's even more scared o' what I'm gonna do if I'm all 'lone.
He shook his head. He wasn't watching her body language or her facial expressions. Her vocal tone might have given him that information but he wasn't sure.
How do I know what she's thinkin'? Is that all there is t' readin' someone's thoughts?
The knowledge made him uncomfortable. It meant that at any time, Jackson could tap into his brain and learn his intentions and suspicions. Unless he figured out how to construct a block against that happening.
But it also meant something else more useful. Maybe he wouldn't have to confront Colonel Jackson face to face. Maybe he could find out what he needed to know from a distance.
But do I wanna know? I killed 'em. I killed th' guys. I got no one who cares 'bout whether I'm dead 'r 'live 'xcept Sky, 'n' she can barely stand t' look at me now b'cause o' what I done.
He rubbed his eyes with one hand before paying closer attention to the scenery to his left. They had been on the road for only about ten minutes. He was so absorbed with the remote viewing session and his scrambled thoughts he hardly noticed leaving the eastern outskirts of Hurricane.
The van was beginning to steadily climb through sections of lowland sagebrush flats and occasional red Navajo sandstone rock cuts on either side of the road. Rounded mountains and flat-topped plateaus, mesas and buttes formed a distant backdrop to the desert vegetation.
Outside of La Verkin, they passed a parked pickup truck with a pop-up camper hitched to the back. A couple that looked like they were in their sunset years gawked at them before returning to their unfolded map.
Doubt they're goin' where I plan on goin'.
The woman bore a very faint resemblance to his own Gramma.
Or am I jus' 'maginin' that?
Seconds later to his left he saw the striated black, red and yellow layers of the eastern foothills of Hurricane Mesa. He was beginning to think he didn't "see" his destination correctly.
Brother? Where are you going?
It sounded like it could be Billy's voice but without the inflections his baby brother usually had when he spoke to Murdock. Something wasn't right.
Billy? Why d'ya stop talkin' t' me?
He wasn't about to let the phantom voice in his head know where he was going until he could verify it was Billy.
Come on, brother. Tell me. Wherever you go, I'll go with you. No one will find you. We'll talk and everything will be all right.
A whisper from somewhere deep inside him told him what he needed to know. Don' listen t' him. He wants t' kill ya.
Definitely not Billy then. The pilot welcomed the small whisper that was the real Billy with a relieved sigh. I'll talk t' ya later when I'm somewhere safe, li'l brother.
The voice that wasn't Billy almost growled with anger. Damn you, Captain! Tell me where you are. Your mission waits.
He had to keep busy and not answer, not let the Colonel see or know anything he didn't want him to. Murdock removed the Browning from the back waistband of his pants and glanced back at Sky. "When we stop, I wantcha t' use th' key on the key ring t' open th' locker back there. I need t' have 'nother box o' cartridges. That 'n' three 'r four bottles o' water. Put 'em in my bag."
"What about food?" she murmured, her eyes wide with the understanding of what he might want to do.
He gave her a weak smile, thankful she was at least concerned about him after what he did to the Lieutenant and his friends. "Won' need it. I'll be fine." With another frown, he carefully removed his jacket and handed it to Amy. "Won' be needin' this either. Day's hot 'n' I want someone I can trust t' take good care o' it." When she sputtered out a protest, he twisted in the seat and put a finger to her lips. "I need t' travel light, Sky. This'll weigh me down." He gave her another smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Her tears just about made him reconsider. He set his mouth in a firm line and turned to the front.
Pointing to the left side of the road at a dirt parking area ten minutes east of the community of Virgin, he mumbled instructions to Doctor Stafford.
"Park here. Then let Sky have th' keys for a moment."
As soon as they stopped, he took off his flannel long sleeve shirt and tucked it into the duffel bag along with the water Amy handed him. She paused with the box of ammunition in her hands.
"Please, Murdock? Don't go. Don't do this."
He swallowed and put his hand out, palm facing up. His eyes met hers and, for a moment, neither of them moved or spoke.
"Please? Don't."
He dropped his gaze and prodded at the gravel under his feet with the toe of his sneaker. When he looked up again, his eyes were watery. Gently he insisted. "I hafta, chica."
Without another word, he removed the box from her hands. Before turning to his bag, he gave Amy a quick kiss on the cheek and caressed her hair with his hand.
"Take care o' this li'l lady, doc. Make sure she gets back t' L. A. safe, 'kay?"
Stafford nodded and took the keys back. Getting in the van, he took the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed them to Murdock. "Want one?"
The pilot hesitated, then took one and lit it with a lighter Hannibal kept in the glove compartment. "Thanks, doc." He pocketed the lighter, sadly reflecting that the Colonel would no longer need it for his prized cigars. With the cigarette in his mouth, he escorted Sky to the front seat of the van and helped her in. "I know sorry doesn't begin to help with the pain you feel right now. It's all I can say, Sky." He brushed a stray bit of hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Then he shut the door and stepped away.
He waited until he saw the van turn around to return to Hurricane before putting the ear buds in and starting out on the Huber Wash Trail.
They're gonna have some questions t' answer 'bout those murders. They should tell th' truth 'n' send the cops after me. By then maybe it won' matter.
At the gate leading to the park boundary, he took a last draw on the cigarette and crushed it underfoot. He had another pack in the duffel bag. Those would wait until he got to Mount Kinesava.
oooooo
Three miles down the road, Amy glared across at Doctor Stafford. "And now you can turn around and take me back there. I'm not about to leave him alone to do whatever he thinks he needs to do."
"What about your friends? Don't you need to make arrangements?" The medical man scowled at what she was asking him to do.
"I'm not going to lose Murdock, too. No, doctor, you go back and answer the questions. If I can, I'll persuade him to come back to face the authorities. He knows it's the right thing to do. He's just confused right now."
She moved to the back and stuffed four water bottles in a pack along with a towel and an extra pair of socks. After a second thought, she tossed in several bags of M & Ms and a large package of beef jerky. She lingered over the handguns and finally decided against carrying one. She didn't want Murdock to see her as a threat. Tying a scarf around her head as a sweat band, she waited until the doctor parked and then left the van in a hurry.
"Just don't let them know where Murdock is. Let me try to talk to him. Okay? Keep his jacket safe for him. I'll bring him back to Hurricane if I can." Without waiting for an answer, Amy shouldered her pack and headed in the same direction the pilot had taken.