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 41 Search Parties
Colonel Jackson started with the motels on the western edge of Hurricane and worked his way through town. None of the places he stopped at had checked in a party of six adults in the last twenty-four hours. None of the cafes had served a group of five men and one woman either. There had been no murders in the city.
That means only one thing. Murdock didn't kill his friends after all. He thinks he did. That much is certain. But he didn't. And that presents a problem.
As he turned in to the parking area of the last motel on State Highway 9 before leaving town, he wondered if he would have to take a room and do some intense remote viewing to find Doctor Stafford. He knew he would have to watch his back and prevent Murdock's friends from finding either himself or the medical man.
He tried once again to "see" what Murdock was seeing. The kaleidoscopic whirlwind of images that swirled through his own mind could mean only one thing. The pilot was either extremely disoriented and unable to make sense of his surroundings or he was lying unconscious somewhere. Either case meant he was succumbing to the oppressive heat of the day.
But in an area as vast and rugged as Zion National Park, Jackson would have to hire out a chopper to find him. Even then, there might be problems getting clearance to land it on federally protected land.
If exterminating that little gun runner Cazador was not so important, I wouldn't care if I found Murdock alive or not. I'll have to resort to an air search even if the doctor tells me where he dropped him off.
As he entered the office, he noted the tired faded look of the carpet and wallpaper. The brightest thing in the entire room was the unnatural red hair color of the wrinkled woman behind the desk.
He decided to ask his question, fairly certain she would not have good news for him about the people he was tracking.
Before he could utter a word, the name at the bottom of the desk register and the number of adults in the group caught his eye.
Professor Horace Pepper. They were here. Now to find out where Murdock, Stafford and the reporter went after leaving here.
He turned to the woman behind the desk and quickly analyzed her. If necessary, he would use his military credentials.
She's one of those patriotic types that's only too willing to help her government track down four fugitives and their two prisoners.
"If you want a room, you need to sign in," she instructed, pushing the pen and register closer to him. He shook his head and pasted on his most charming smile.
"Don't need a room but some information would be welcome, ma'am. You could be instrumental in helping me free a couple of hostages and bring their kidnappers to justice." He smiled even wider as he watched her expression change from bored to surprised and finally smug.
Yes, indeed. She will be more than willing to help me.
oooooo
"You let Amy go after him?" Face ran the fingers of his hand through his hair in frustration as he stared at the stark desert scenery of the Huber Wash Trail and then at the man in front of him.
Doctor Stafford shrugged. He leaned back against the driver's side door and inhaled deeply from the cigarette he held."I couldn't stop her. She's a very determined woman." He wouldn't tell the Lieutenant that he was actually happy to have gotten rid of her.
If only I hadn't stopped at that motel, I would be helping Jackson locate the test subject and we would be back on schedule with Silent Arrow. But at least we know now that the Captain will follow through with any instruction we give him through the neuroelectromagnetic device.
B. A. and Hannibal were already putting together a first aid kit and supplies so they could search for the two hikers.
As they did, B. A. nodded toward the bomber jacket in the back seat. "Fool never goes nowhere without that jacket, Hann'bal. Don't seem right he'd leave it here. You think he's plannin' ta do somethin'?"
The Colonel froze the black Sergeant with a solemn glance. "I don't know what he's thinking right now, B. A., but we need to prepare for the worst case scenario."
Face joined them and frowned at the doctor. "He isn't too broken up over this whole thing. Amy could be dying out there . . . "
"But if what the doctor said is true, at least she brought enough food and water to survive for a while. Murdock didn't. And he's armed with live ammo now." Hannibal lifted a backpack onto his shoulders. "Is the doctor ready?"
Stafford scowled in their direction and ground out the cigarette under his foot. "I don't see why I have to come with you. It was your fault you let him get the drop on you."
Face rushed him. Pushing the other man against the side of the van and holding his throat with one hand, he drew back his fist.
"Lieutenant!" Hannibal stopped the younger man with his sharp tone.
Glaring at the medical man, Face released him and backstepped three paces. Jabbing a finger at Stafford, he snapped, "The two people I care about more than anything in the world are out there, maybe dead, all because of your work. You'd better hope B. A. and Hannibal don't ever leave me alone with you, you bastard, or I'll kill you with my bare hands."
"That's enough, Lieutenant!" The older man gripped Face by the upper arm and pulled him back.
"Faceman's just sayin' what all of us are thinkin', Hannibal. Even you, and ya can't tell me no diff'rent," B. A. muttered, slinging a pack to his shoulder. "We don't even know if what these jokers did ta the crazy man can be reversed."
Hannibal set his mouth in a firm line and gestured toward the trail with his head. "We won't know if it can be reversed if we don't find him. Move out, Sergeant. Face, you've got the rear. I'll keep the doctor here moving."
As they headed out along Huber Wash, the Colonel muttered to the scientist, "If either Amy or Murdock are injured or dead, I may not be able to prevent either of those two from tearing you limb from limb. Better start praying we find them safe and alive, doc."
oooooo
A half hour after gleaning what he needed to know from the motel manager, Colonel Jackson peered down at the asphalt ribbon of highway that traversed the red sandstone formations west of Rockville. Beside him the helicopter pilot turned tour guide continued to talk, giving the military man the spiel he normally used for tourists.
"There! Make a pass over that van." The Colonel sucked in a sharp breath as he spotted the black vehicle parked on a side road.
The pilot scowled and did as he was directed. Why not? He was getting paid well to do this. It didn't matter to him if this customer wasn't as awed over the park's scenery as other tourists usually were.
"Is there a trail where that van is?" The Colonel focused the binoculars on the vehicle and then scanned the wash.
"Yeah. But the people who took that trail's gotta be stupid to go hiking on it this time of year. The wash trails in this part of Zion can be like a furnace in the summer. Hope they packed a lot of water or we'll be calling in a search and rescue request." The pilot peered ahead at the faint path through the desert.
"Follow that trail." The Colonel kept the binoculars trained on the terrain below as the chopper moved north along the wash.
oooooo
Murdock woke slowly. He cracked his eyelids open and immediately shut them again when the sun threatened to blind him.
Best wait for a few minutes, get my bearin's b'fore I try 'n' figure out what's goin' on.
He tried to summon up enough saliva to wet his chapped lips and couldn't. He was dehydrated. That was certain.
Something warm trickled down his cheek. Raising his hand to the fluid stream, he realized from the texture and smell it was blood. His blood.
He thought hard to remember what he had done to end up lying on his back on rocky ground with the sun beating down on him. Obviously he must have fallen from somewhere. He had to figure out where he was and how badly he was injured.
Let's try this 'gain.
He turned his head to the left to avoid looking directly into the sun and carefully opened his eyes. A few feet away, a pale-gray-backed bird with a striped throat and a long slender bill pecked at the soil to unearth insects to eat. When Murdock moved his head, the rock wren startled and flew to a nearby cluster of Western yarrow abloom with tiny pinkish-white flowers. A series of trilled songs erupted from the bird's throat. The slope Murdock had tumbled from formed a harsh backdrop to the songbird.
In wonderment he let his gaze travel up the steep incline and heard a low moan from somewhere to his right. Cautiously swiveling his head in that direction, he panicked when he located the source of the sound.
"Amy?" His voice came out as a barely audible croak. "Amy!"
Oh God, no.
He shuddered as he forced himself to roll over onto his belly. Every part of his body seemed to hurt. Painfully, he crawled on hands and knees over red rock shards toward her. Along the way he picked up his cap where it had fallen and finally collapsed on his side by the barely conscious woman. She squinted at him and for a second he thought she would send him away.
"Don't leave me, Murdock. Please." He was grateful to hear her whispered words. She reached out and grasped his wrist for a moment before releasing it. Her hand fell to the ground. The other hand was bent at an awkward angle from her forearm, an obvious broken wrist.
How bad is she hurt?
"I won't. I won't, darlin'." As he stroked her hair back from her face, he thought of his best friend. The memories of the motel room and the fall from the rocky slope struck him full force and he closed his eyes. "Oh God, Amy. Can ya ever forgive me?" His eyes stung with tears that could not form.
She didn't answer.
Alarmed, he gazed at her and realized she had drifted back into unconsciousness.
Judging from the angry red condition of the reporter's skin and the sudden chill he felt over the exposed parts of his body, he realized they both had severe sunburns.
Musta been layin' here for a while. She's gonna die if I don' do somethin'.
He craned his head around, looking for the pack he remembered he had with him. His duffel bag lay at the foot of the slope, several feet away. His Browning and ammo were in there as well as four bottles of water he had her pack for him earlier. He groaned as he measured the distance.
I'm gonna hafta go get that sooner 'r later.
Amy was half-lying on her own backpack.
Gently he unhooked the pack from around her shoulders and carefully lifted her enough to get it out from under her. Peering inside, he found the four water bottles, towel, socks, M & Ms and beef jerky and frowned.
Eight bottles of water, one of them almost empty, were not going to last both of them for long in this heat. He needed to use at least one to wet down the towel and scarf around her head and keep Amy's skin moist. It was the only way he knew to prevent her from developing heat stroke.
Ignoring the jagged rock digging into his hands and knees, he knelt beside her and doused the towel with the remains of the opened bottle.
As he swabbed her face and arms with the wet cloth, her eyelids fluttered open. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'm gonna lift your head up a little 'n' I want ya t' drink some water. Then I'm gonna feed ya some M & Ms." He hushed her protests with a forefinger over her lips. "No argument, sweetie. Ya do that for me, okay? Face'd want me . . . " When he heard her gasp out a half-sob of grief, he could barely finish the sentence. ". . . t' take care o' you, keep ya safe."
"You too," she whispered.
"What?" He tried to pretend he didn't understand what she meant. He focused instead on uncapping a water bottle and raising her head to tip the contents into her mouth.
She shook her head weakly and refused any more water. "You too." Her words were a bit stronger this time.
Thinking quickly, he made an elaborate show of bringing the bottle to his mouth.
VA gave me lotsa practice pretendin' t' swallow all sorts o' stuff. I gotta make sure she has 'nough 'til she's rescued.
He kept his lips sealed against the water and hoped he fooled her. When she gave him a weak smile of approval, he breathed easier.
Opening a pack of candies, he dumped several into his open palm.
Starting with the yellow ones, he fed them to her one by one, keeping her awake with a story he made up as he went along.
"I ever tell ya 'bout the Great Candy Bowl War?" She shook her head and he slipped a yellow M & M between her lips. "Well, it goes somethin' like this . . . "
As he fed Amy and cared for her injuries, he hoped someone, even if it was Colonel Jackson, would find them soon.