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 44 Two Patients
Murdock woke to the sensation of someone tightening a band around his left bicep. Moments later he felt a pin prick in the crook of his elbow and realized someone was starting an IV drip. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a second and then tried to open them.
At the same time he whispered, "Amy?" He realized what the IV meant. He was in pretty bad shape and required hospitalization. The memory of looking down from the chopper at Amy attempting to aim his Browning with both hands, her wrist broken, struck him with full force. He groaned.
Oh my God! We left 'er out there t' die.
A voice murmured a reassurance in his mind. It wasn't Billy but someone else he instantly recognized. Calm down, Captain. You've been through a lot.
"He's coming around, doctor."
"Go get his brother. He should be in the waiting room."
Brother?
He struggled to emerge from the dense fog of confusion. A stranger's face appeared briefly over him and frowned.
"Mister Fredrick, you need to relax. You're in the hospital in Saint George. Your brother said he found you in one of the washes near Zion National Park. You'd been there for a while."
He tried to speak but could manage only a raspy croak. "I gotta . . . " He didn't get a chance to finish. The door opened and the nurse ushered Colonel Jackson in and then left, closing the door.
"Thank God my baby brother's still alive. I wasn't sure when I found him if he already got heat stroke. I should have tried harder to keep him from hiking Huber Wash this time of year!" Jackson neared the bed and drew up a chair close to the pilot's right side. Threading his hand through the slat of the bedrail he gripped Murdock's hand and held it securely.
"You were dry-heaving and babbling a lot of nonsense when I found you. You passed out on the way here." A pause for effect, then, "I thought we'd lost you." He swiped his eyes with his other hand as if to wipe away tears. "You're looking much better now."
The military man looked and sounded relieved but the pilot detected a trace of something sinister in Jackson's thoughts. He didn't have much time to wonder about that before Jackson probed his mind.
He transferred a command to Murdock even as he peered into his eyes in mock relief and joy. Your name is Philip Fredrick. Go along with me on this. If you don't, they'll link you to the three murders at that motel and you'll go away to a hospital for the criminally insane for a very long time.
An image flashed in Murdock's mind, bright and clearly defined. Three men sprawled face down on the floor of the motel room. Blood and gray matter everywhere. He didn't want to look at their faces. He knew he shot each of them point-blank in the head. There would be little left to recognize at the distance he was from them. Especially the features of his best buddy.
One shove and then a bullet to the back of the head as he fell.
No, there won' be a whole lot t' identify them as th' team I knew 'n' trusted for so long.
He shuddered and tried to swallow. A dry click in his throat was all he could manage.
But why'd I do it?
Jackson watched him wrestle with his guilt. You did it because you knew you couldn't trust them. You were sure they would stop you from doing what you knew you had to do.
Without knowing anything was going on between the two, the other man in the room interrupted their thought transfer. "You're a lucky man, Mister Fredrick. If your brother here hadn't went searching for you when you didn't come back from hiking, you may have died from heat stroke." The doctor shook his head as he thought about his patient's condition when he arrived in the emergency room. "A very lucky man," he repeated.
He gave them an encouraging smile as he paused at the end of the bed. "I'll leave the two of you alone for a few minutes. The nurse will be in and out to check the IV and to apply moisturizer to those blisters on your face and arms. You'll also be receiving ibuprofen and an antihistamine to take the swelling down as soon as we are sure you'll keep it on your stomach." He smiled again before leaving the room and quietly closing the door behind him.
Jackson reached for a glass filled with ice chips resting on the bedside stand.
"Here, Phil. The nurse said I could feed you a few of these as soon as you were able. We need to get you back in shape. You haven't forgotten our plans, have you?" He gave the pilot in the bed a cold but meaningful stare. I can't go into details out loud. You know that. What do you remember about Project Silent Arrow?
"I . . . don' . . . 'member," Murdock rasped. His skin felt like it was on fire and his head pounded with a severe headache.
"That's alright. We'll get you healed up and then I'll help you remember what you were going to do. Here, have some ice chips." The Colonel held the spoon close to Murdock's mouth but the pilot only stared at him.
"No tricks? Ice ain' laced with arsenic, is it?"
"Shhh. Keep it down. Remember what I said. Now let me give you some of these. It'll make talking a little easier." Murdock opened his mouth and accepted the refreshing bits of frozen water, all the time keeping a careful watch for any change in Jackson's eyes. The military man didn't seem insincere.
But then a pack o' wolves trackin' a sickly cow ain' dishonest in their intentions either.
He let the melting water seep down the back of his throat and give relief while he listened to Jackson's low voice. "From here on in, you have to let me guide you. No more running away. You listen to me carefully and do what I say." Jackson's eyes bored into Murdock's and made him uncomfortable.
I got no choice, do I? Got no friends that I can talk to 'bout it. I'm guessin' jus' goin' back t' the VA hospital 'n' forgettin' 'bout Silent Arrow ain' gonna happen either, is it?
The Colonel shook his head. You're the only man for this job. It's for your country.
Murdock tore his gaze away from the icy predatory eyes of the military man and stared up at the white acoustic panels of the hospital room ceiling.
Then I s'pose I'd better get healed up quick. I jus' wanna get done with this job 'n' go back home.
Jackson softly chuckled at Murdock's last thought. For some reason, the pilot sensed there was more to the Colonel's reaction than simple relief that he would no longer try to quit the mission. He knotted one fist in the bed covers before glaring at the military man again.
"Jus' promise me you 'n' those ya work for won' ever ask me t' do anythin' more for ya ever 'gain." He spoke quietly but emphasized each word.
Jackson's reaction was more amused chuckling. "Oh, I think I can promise you that for sure."
Murdock narrowed his eyes with distrust as he accepted another spoonful of ice chips from the Colonel.
oooooo
The motel room the Lieutenant managed to find on the outskirts of Saint George was barely big enough for the four adults that had to share it. Face didn't care. He wouldn't be using it anyway.
Amy recuperated in the nearby hospital. He had checked the reporter in as his wife. That way, he would be allowed to spend his time round-the-clock in her room until she was no longer considered in danger of internal organ shut-down. When he thought of how close she had been to heat stroke, he fisted his hands and wanted to put them through Stafford's face.
No, it's probably better for the doctor that I stay here until she wakes up and tells me to go and be with the team. And she will, too, just to protect us.
Stafford and the rest of the team waited back at the motel for Face's hourly progress reports.
Hannibal insisted the Lieutenant call like that just in case someone brought the authorities in to check his story.
Face examined Amy's sun-blistered face for any sign of consciousness but there was none. He cursed under his breath at his role in Murdock's escape.
If I hadn't let myself be distracted by the argument among Hannibal, B. A. and Stafford, he wouldn't have gotten me in that choke hold. He wouldn't have tried hiking the Huber Wash and Amy . . . oh God, my angel Amy . . . wouldn't have followed him.
Burying his face in his hands, he replayed the entire rescue in his mind.
They found her with one hand grasping Murdock's Browning and her eyes closed against the sun. One look was all it took for Hannibal to have B. A. scoop the reporter carefully into his arms and start on the trek back to the van. The rest of them followed with the two packs they found on the ground.
Face hung close to B. A.'s side and made sure Amy's broken wrist remained cradled over her stomach. Except for a grim, "Thanks, B. A.," the Lieutenant didn't protest Hannibal's decision to have B. A. carry her. He couldn't have managed the entire distance with her in his arms or on his back no matter how much determination and love drove him to do it.
It was the fastest way to get her medical care.
None of them said anything on the way back except Hannibal who kept his orders to a bare minimum. The way the Colonel prodded Stafford along the trail and growled at him when he stumbled, there was no doubt Hannibal held the doctor responsible for much of what happened to Amy and Murdock.
They pushed their pace and by the time they returned to the van, all of them needed to take long bottle-draining drinks of water. Then it was a dizzying race to the hospital in Saint George. Face carried Amy into the emergency himself after making sure the van and its occupants left the parking lot.
It was too much of a risk for the entire group to stay. But he didn't care about the risk to himself. And Hannibal knew he couldn't stop him so he didn't try.
"Mister Lexington?"
A nurse timidly touched him on the shoulder and smiled when he lifted his red-rimmed eyes to her.
"What do you want?" He knew his tone was harsher than usual. Swallowing, he asked again in a gentler voice, "Yes?"
"I thought you might want a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. It's a long vigil, waiting for your wife to respond to treatment." She frowned with sympathy in her expression.
"Thanks." He took the cup and forced down a swallow, not even noticing the scalding sensation in his mouth.
As he drank his gaze traced the IV tube leading from the bag on its pole to Amy's arm. He made himself avoid looking at the heart monitor. The line across the screen was a chaotic scribble of hills and valleys. Her erratic rapid heart beat told him she was not yet stabilized.
The nurse repositioned the fans around the bed to cool more of Amy's exposed skin. She took the cold compress and refreshed it under the tap. Replacing it on the reporter's forehead, she turned her attention to applying the prescribed moisturizer over Amy's blisters. When she finished, she looked at Face again.
"If you need anything more, Mister Lexington, you be sure to ask for me. My name's Emily." She rubbed his shoulder briefly and left the room.
He gently sniffed and shook his head. Somehow his looks and charm didn't mean anything to him right now. That nurse may just as well have been a giant yellow clucking bird . . .
"Emily, huh?" came a husky grunt from the bed beside him.
Face startled. Almost spilling the rest of his coffee on his expensive Italian-made camel-hair pants, he turned to look into Amy's half-slitted groggy brown eyes.
He left his cup on the bedside table and bent over her, gently cupping her cheek in his hand.
"Amy? Sweetheart?"
But she had drifted back into semi-consciousness, this time with a slight smile on her face.