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 60 Hanging By a Thread
"Open 'em now, brother."
Murdock's eager smile disappeared when he did open his eyes. The gold-edged clouds were gone. The intense blue sky was still there but just above them. They were no longer drifting through space. Instead, they stood on the shoulder of a dirt road, boulders and jagged rocks sprinkled around with low mountains on either side.
"I don' get it, Billy. What's goin' on? Where're we now?"
"I'm s'posed t' show ya a few things, brother. Jus' wait." Murdock's baby brother turned toward a dust-covered van slowly coming their way.
The black man driving gritted his teeth as he hung onto the steering wheel and tried his best to bypass the most rugged spots in the road. Beside him, a woman hunched in her seat. Even from where they were at the side of the road, Murdock could tell she was crying. A man with white hair crouched in the gap between the two seats, his black-gloved hand massaging the women's shoulder, his eyes attentive to the road ahead.
"Is that . . . ?" Murdock watched the van approach and as it crept by them, he gasped, "That's B. A.!"
"'N' Hann'bal, Amy 'n' that doctor that did th' stuff t'yer head. Stafford." Billy scrutinized him before adding, "'N' Jackson."
The pilot shuddered at the mention of the name. He followed the van with his eyes, his voice reflecting the harsh memories of his time with the military man. "He wanted me dead. Almost got 'is way with that, too. If Mister Cazador hadn' taken th' controls . . . " He knew there was something more than that to what happened in the cockpit of the plane but there seemed to be a block against him remembering anything more than changing places with Cazador mid-flight.
His baby brother gave him a peculiar look that went unnoticed. "They got 'im trussed up 'n' sleepin' in th' back. He ain' got control o' yer mind 's long as he's 'sleep."
"They're 'live? I didn' kill 'em?" He had a vague memory of talking to Hannibal over the headset. To Amy and the angry mudsucker, too. And Face was the last person he spoke to before Billy took him away. But he thought they were all ghosts come back to haunt him for what he did. Something was wrong with his mind. The memories cleared and then faded until he wasn't sure what was real and what was not.
"If ya need more proof, we can hitch a ride with 'em a ways. Jus' do like what Jackson had ya doin'. Focus on bein' in th' van."
For a moment Murdock felt almost like he was in a strange remake of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" meets "It's a Wonderful Life" as Billy and he disappeared from the side of the road and reappeared inside the van between Hannibal and Doctor Stafford.
Stafford had another cigarette in his hand. His wide eyes and the desperate inhalations he took each time he raised the cigarette to his lips showed how afraid he was of his future when they got to their destination. Sweat droplets beaded on his forehead as he listened to the conversation and glanced down to the floor at Jackson's unconscious form.
"They're going to land before we can get to the ranch." The Colonel's voice was strained. He didn't look at B. A. but directed the comment his way.
"I'm goin' fast as I can, Hannibal. If I go too fast, we're gonna bottom out my ride on one of these rocks." B. A. nudged the speed up a little even as he said it. "Once we hit the main road, I'll drive like the devil's chasin' me." He paused for a moment, then growled, "Aw, crap. That's somethin' the fool'd say." He concentrated even harder on the road ahead. "Face an' Murdock're both tough. They gonna be alright. Yeah, they gonna be alright." The last sentence was a low mutter as his brow furrowed even more with worry.
Amy wiped her tears away with her uncasted hand and turned to the Colonel. "What do you think happened up there, Hannibal? You talked to Cazador."
"I don't know, Miss Allen. Cazador said there was one dead and one seriously injured. Murdock shot Hanson to prevent him from killing Cazador. I assume Hanson is dead. He didn't elaborate about whether it was Face or Murdock who was seriously injured." The Colonel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Murdock noted that all of them looked weary but the weight of responsibility had hit Hannibal especially hard this time.
B. A. scowled in the rearview mirror at the older man. "So we don' even know for sure if Face or Murdock's still 'live?" Amy paled even more and clutched the Colonel's arm.
Hannibal knew his answer didn't set well with Amy or B. A. but he had no other information.
"But if Murdock shot Hanson, where was Face? How did Hanson get to Cazador? Face would have stopped him before . . . " Amy wasn't going to let the matter drop.
Murdock had to give Amy credit for being stubborn about getting facts. He could see how not knowing who was injured and how seriously wore on all of them. He wished he had a way of letting them know Billy had taken him somewhere safe for a while.
Hannibal drew in a deep breath. "I don't know. We don't know if Cazador will have a welcoming party to meet us to make sure we won't cause trouble either."
Amy gave him a sharp glance. "We can't not go to the ranch, Hannibal."
"Yeah, man. It's Face an' Murdock we talkin' about. We don't leave men behind." B. A.'s scowl silenced the others in the van.
As he observed the despair and worry on each of their faces, the pilot glanced with rage down at Jackson where he lay unconscious on the van floor. Jackson had caused all of this. He subconsciously clenched his fists, a movement Billy noticed and smiled at.
"Ya can kick 'r hit 'im as hard as ya want, big brother, but he ain' gonna feel it now 'r when he wakes up. Ya won' even leave a bruise."
Murdock heaved out a big sigh of frustration. Billy might be right except he knew that when he first arrived at Granite Peak, Jackson had somehow made two cuts on his chest without having to touch him at all.
He had never been involved with that part of the experiments, the remote influencing that would 'persuade,' for lack of a better term, a person to do something they would never willingly do otherwise. Had he cut himself somehow or had Jackson done it with just his mind? If it was the latter, Jackson was more dangerous than any of them realized.
He would have to protect his team from what he suspected Jackson could do. But that time was not now. Jackson was not a danger currently but from what Hannibal said, Cazador might be.
He frowned as he processed everything he heard. "They said someone was hurt real bad up there. Face was there. I saw 'im. He was . . . " He struggled to remember and felt a searing hot pain across his throat. Wide-eyed with shock, grabbing at his baby brother's arm with one hand and his neck with the other, he rasped, "Billy, what's goin' on with me?"
Billy and the light around them faded until Murdock's little brother was a glowing opaque figure beside him. Billy's voice became urgent. "We hafta get back t' th' plane now. Th' Lucky Lady's 'bout t' land."
oooooo
Face heard the gurgle and rattle in every breath his best friend took and cursed himself that he didn't tie Hanson up when he was unconscious. He could have used the man's belt, his tie, anything, but he didn't figure Hanson would regain consciousness so quickly. Besides, he had to stop Murdock from crashing the plane.
I mean, the man's head hit the edge of the cockpit partition. Not to mention I didn't hold back when I hit him. His head must be . . . no, must have been . . . made of steel. It was a stupid amateur move on my part and Murdock's paying for it. If he dies because of me . . .
The plane's wheels bumped along the airstrip runway as Cazador landed the plane.
Not as smooth of a landing as my buddy can make but if it gets him to a doctor faster . . .
Face felt Murdock's muscles spasm in a seizure as he took in the next halting breath and the plane slowed and taxied to a spot beside the hangar.
"No . . . no . . . no . . . ," Face muttered as he held his friend close. Murdock's arms and legs twitched, his muscles going rigid for a second, relaxing, then repeating.
The con man shivered. His own wound continued to bleed. It soaked the coveralls Face wore over his regular clothes, a dress shirt and expensive pants that he was sure were ruined now. Blood trickled down his abdomen and leg to his knee. He tried to ignore the chill that came with plummeting blood pressure and blood loss. His focus was on his friend. "Keep breathing . . . keep breathing . . . "
Murdock's face was chalk-white. His bluish-tinged lips moved again, just a little but enough for the con man to notice.
"Bill . . . y . . . stay . . . " The whisper was almost too soft to hear but there was no mistaking the anguish in the words.
"Both of us are here, buddy. We're not going away." Face forced himself to utter his reassuring words over the top of the muffled white noise sound of approaching unconsciousness. Murdock let out one more shuddering long exhalation before relaxing completely in his friend's arms.
The sound of the pilot's door opening and Cazador's commands were the last things the con man heard before darkness claimed him.
oooooo
In as little time as it took the pilot to gasp in his next breath, Murdock and Billy stood beside the newly landed Lucky Lady.
"I gotta be in there. My best buddy's in there. He might need help." Murdock hurried toward the copilot's door, reaching up to open it.
"No." Billy said the single word with such authority, the Captain stopped and turned back to his brother. Some of the light that had surrounded Billy at first now pulsed around him and added emphasis to his order.
"What d'ya mean 'no'?
Billy said with a sad smile, "I said no. Ya can'."
"I ain' s'posed t' see somethin'. Is that it? Face's hurt, ain' he. Hanson did somethin' t' him, didn' he!" The words came out in a rush, each statement more anxious than the last. Finally he hurled himself toward the spirit body of his brother, gripping him by the shoulders. He shook him at first, then collapsed in his arms, swallowing back his frantic sobs.
He didn't wonder at how he was able to hold onto someone who was supposed to be a spirit. All that mattered was whether Face was injured and how badly.
"Why won' ya tell me, Billy?"
"'Cause I'm s'posed t' show ya instead." Billy gently turned Murdock so he could see the flurry of activity surrounding the plane.
Several men obviously in Cazador's employ ran toward the Lady. One man in particular seemed to be more in charge of the situation than the others. He was dressed in clothes that suggested he was not a ranch hand.
Cazador himself left the plane, hopping down to the paved surface of the air strip and sprinting to the other side to meet the workers. He addressed the man who seemed different from the rest.
"There's two wounded men in there, Doc. The guest bedroom on the first floor of the house has a futon and a queen-sized bed. Maybe there?"
Doctor Willis had already opened the door to the copilot's side. He blocked Murdock's view of the patients but the pilot noted his sudden reaction to what he saw.
After only one second to assess the medical condition of his patients, the doctor scowled at Cazador. "Both of these men would be better served by what a hospital would offer, Juan." He gave the businessman a bleak glance. "But you have your reasons, I guess. I'll do my best. Rest assured of that."
"Thanks, Dennie. I'll have whatever you need brought in and available for you. Just give the word and you've got it."
The doctor impatiently motioned for two of the workers. "Take this man to the guest room and lay him on the bed. The other patient can have the futon. And I'll need my nurse assistant. Get hold of her on the phone and have her meet me here. I'll give you a list of what I need on the way to the house."
The workers lifted a lanky figure out of the plane and carried him between them, holding him by his legs and under his arms. "Careful with him. Keep pressure on his throat," the doctor scolded.
Cazador himself grabbed the bandana from the other patient's hand and walked with his workers, pressing the cloth to the wound. He muttered to the unconscious man, "Stay alive, Captain. Keep breathing."
As they passed, Murdock leaned forward and squinted at the person being carried. He drew away in confusion. "That's . . . me," he stammered, unable to take his eyes away from the sight. Subconsciously he raised a trembling hand to his throat. "I don' 'member . . . "
Two more workers carried the second person past.
"'N' that's yer friend. Hanson sliced 'im in th' ribs with that box cutter."
"How bad, Billy? Is he gonna be alright?" The Captain gulped after asking, dreading what the answer would be.
Billy gave him another mysterious glance. "He lost a lotta blood but Hanson didn' slice 'im too deep on 'count o' th' coveralls he's wearin'. Hann'bal prob'ly had t' pull rank on 'im t' get 'im t' wear 'em but they kept 'im from gettin' hurt worse."
"Looks deep 'nough." Murdock shuddered. "Had a lotta blood all over 'im."
His eyes never leaving Murdock's face, Billy murmured, "A lot o' that was yers, brother."