The One With the Gun

I apologize in advance for not updating Author, Author and Keeper of the Truth for so long. I had laptop problems and the next chapters to those two stories were on that laptop. I started this story on my daughter's laptop while waiting for mine to be returned from the repair shop. Please enjoy this story. I will continue working on the other two stories as soon as possible.

Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.

Yesterday seems as though it never existed

Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye.

From Fade to Black by Metallica

Chapter 1 The Here and Now

I struggle against darkness to rouse myself to consciousness. I don't know what happened. It's like the hours before I passed out were erased from my mind.

"D' I need t' remind ya who has th' gun, muchacha?"

Murdock's voice cuts through the cotton wool fogging up my thought processes. He sounds menacing as if he would actually use the weapon he says he has. I want to know what's happening but my brain can't send a signal to the muscles controlling my eyelids so I can see him.

And the memory of how I came to be wherever I am refuses to surface from the recesses of my mind no matter how hard I try to conjure it up.

Muchacha, he said. That means he's threatening a female with the gun.

But my buddy would never . . .

I shift position ever so slightly on the semi-hard surface where I lay. A searing pain like a fiery hot poker in my right thigh inches above my knee makes me suck in air. My fingers curl tightly, nails cutting into the palms of my hands. The air comes back out, sounding like something between a groan and a wail. It's an utterance so primal that I'm amazed it's coming from me.

I've been wounded. I don't know how serious it is or how it came to be.

My buddy knows. I want to ask but my lips and vocal cords are about as useful as the muscles of my eyelids right now. I sense my mouth opening and closing. I know my breaths are ragged and harsh by the way my chest heaves up and down . . .

Wait. Am I dying?

"No. I won't." Whoever the female is, she speaks with firm determination. Her voice is familiar to me but I can't place it. And I know I should be able to.

"Do it now 'r I'll be forced t' use this." Murdock's tone has grown even grimmer but there's something more in his voice . . . I detect fear. . . pain . . . desperation . . . and over all of that is a white hot fury I've seldom heard him use against anyone except toward someone who has hurt one of our team.

Who's here with us? Why is Murdock holding a gun on her? And why can't I remember?