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Trackless Journeys |
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BA woke early, even
before the dog that lay sleeping at his side in the tent. Billy usually slept
outside, where he could more easily hear anything approaching. But last night
he must have sensed that BA could use the company. BA lay listening to the
dog breathing and to the sound of birds outside. That dawn chorus that
greeted the day. How was a man supposed to sleep through that racket? But despite the racket,
he stayed there and let his mind wander. He imagined getting out of the tent
to find Hannibal and Face back, both looking sheepish, making breakfast. It
wasn't going to happen though; at least not this morning. Perhaps in a few
days. Maybe that's all they needed. A few days apart to cool off. Or they wouldn't come
back and he'd be alone. What then? Obvious enough. He'd get out of here, go
some place with hot showers and proper food, then get hold of a car somehow
and take his show on the road. Gotta keep moving. That was key. He didn't need anyone
else. In fact, life would be easier without Face and Hannibal. Hannibal
always got himself in trouble, being on the Jazz. Face and his women...
Trouble, the pair of them, and BA got tired of hauling their butts out of it.
Better off alone. Well, not quite alone. He
stroked Billy's head and the dog woke and wagged his tail. Funny, BA thought,
he'd never wanted a dog as a kid. Always been too busy building stuff and
customising stuff and a dog took up too much time. But now he realised he'd
missed out. That unwavering devotion in Billy's eyes stirred a pretty
fundamental response in BA. Man's best friend, right enough. More reliable
than the human ones. Less inclined to get in a snit and walk out of your
life. BA lifted the tent flap
to let Billy dart outside and he followed more slowly. He grimaced. The
campsite was still in the state he'd left it after last night's drama. Well,
it didn't matter. He had all day to clear up. He couldn't go yet. He'd wait
here and give Face and Hannibal a few days. He owed them a few days. ~o~ Face ate a quick
breakfast of cold bits and pieces and then emptied his pack to take
inventory. The first thing he noticed was that he didn't have a map. Well
that was just dandy. But after a moment, he shrugged. Who needed a map? When
in doubt keep going downhill until you find a stream, then follow that
downhill. Eventually you'll find people or a road. And once Face found a
road, his thumb and his smile would do the rest. He couldn't remember what
he'd dreamed about for the few hours he'd slept, but he'd lay money down it
included real beds and hot showers. Right now the worst roach-infested dive
of a motel would be as welcome as a five star hotel room. Anything to see a
ceiling over his head when he woke instead of the damn sky. As he packed all his gear
he wondered about the other two. Were they on their way to look for him right
now? He hoped not. He didn't want another fight. Part of him felt bad for
leaving BA at least. They'd started to figure out ways to get along, could
have become real friends and not just war buddies. But he wouldn't admit to
any regret at leaving Hannibal behind. Hannibal had it coming. So now Face had to prove
that he didn't need the team to keep him out of trouble. Hah! That was a
joke! Hannibal's middle name was trouble, and BA... He might not look for
fights, but fights sure seemed to look for him. But, then again, who did
Face have to prove it to? He was alone after all - that was the point. But
hell, he'd prove it to Hannibal and BA anyway, just by surviving - no,
thriving - back in LA. He'd prove it by getting in to see Murdock and - the
trickier part - getting out again. He put on his jacket,
retied his bootlaces, and then heaved the pack onto his shoulders. Carefully,
he secured and adjusted all the straps. Ready. Relying only on himself
for perhaps the first time ever, Face stepped out alone to go and find his
future. ~o~ "Ray!" Murdock ran at Ray and
hugged him so hard that he staggered back and almost fell down. He'd managed
to get about two feet inside the room before Murdock rushed him. "Okay, man, put me
down," Ray said, laughing. "Don't squeeze me to death." Murdock let go and backed
off, grinning, but grabbed Ray's hand and shook it enthusiastically for a
long time. "Well, Murdock, you
seem a lot..." What should he say? Less crazy? Less scary crazy at
least. No, can't say that. "Better. A lot better." "I'm doing okay,
yeah. It's great to see you, Ray. Hey, you want a soda?" He ran to the
corner of the room and Ray noticed the refrigerator for the first time. "They give you your
own fridge?" he asked as Murdock took out two cans of soda. "Oh they love me
around here," Murdock said, tossing a can to Ray. Grabbing a packet of
cookies from on top of the refrigerator, Murdock came and sat on the bed. Ray wandered around the
room, checking it out. It seemed more cheerful somehow. Unless that was just
the effect of Murdock's mood. Murdock could maybe have those mood swings and
Ray just caught him in a good one. If he'd come yesterday it might have been
the bad one instead. So how cheerful he seems right now doesn't mean he's
really that much better. Still the staff had said
Murdock was "making progress", so there must be some improvement.
As he walked, Ray accidentally kicked the small trashcan that sat under the
washbasin. A glance down showed it full of folded bits of paper. A slightly odd
smell came from it, like something gone bad. The rest of the place looked
clean though. He looked back at
Murdock, and then took a chair beside the bed. He spoke sometimes, when he
could get a word in. But mostly he listened. Assessing. Progress; but how
much? Enough to allow Ray to trust him with what he knew Murdock had a right
to hear? The letters in his pocket had grown heavier. Both literally - there
were more of them than during that first visit - and metaphorically. Assessment then, Brenner,
he said to himself after a half-hour. Murdock's conversation jumped around a
bit. One minute he'd be talking about the refrigerator, the next about this
new doctor he had, and then about the cuteness of one of the nurses. But he
didn't mention any invisible people living in the walls. He didn't act as if
he feared they were being bugged. A touch manic, it seemed to Ray, and he
didn't think Murdock would be leaving here any time soon. But it's time, he
decided. At last it's time. And maybe the letters will even help him. Knowing
his friends are safe is one less thing for him to worry about. Ray sat for a while
longer, chatting with Murdock, about anything and everything. After a few
more minutes, a nurse popped her head in to remind him that visiting time was
almost over. "Okay, buddy."
Ray stood up. "You heard what the lady said." He glanced back.
She'd gone. He stepped closer to Murdock, and spoke quietly now.
"Murdock, just listen and don't say anything. Just keep smiling.
Hannibal and the guys are safe. They've gone out into the wilds someplace to
hole up for a while." Someplace. Well, he had an inkling where, because
of the post mark on the large envelope the letters came inside, but no time
for details now. Murdock's smile stayed in
place, frozen, his eyes round and amazed. Ray felt horrible now, for holding
this back for so long. "I met Hannibal
before they left. He asked me to pass on letters to you. But, Murdock, you
were too sick before, and they needed it to be secret. You might have said
something - accidentally I mean. I couldn't risk it." "I understand."
Murdock said, softly, glancing past Ray to the door. "No, that's okay.
You were right." Ray looked back at the
door again. Clear. He slid the bundle of letters out of his pocket.
"Here. The first letters explain what they're doing, and the others are
ones they've sent since they left. You have to keep them safe. Hide them, or
even better, destroy them, after you read them. Are you clear on that,
Murdock?" Murdock nodded and took
the letters, staring down at the small white envelopes. "Okay." Ray
straightened up, and spoke louder now, smiling at Murdock. "See you
around, old buddy. I'll try to get back again soon." "Yeah," Murdock
said, distracted. But he pulled himself together, and slid the letters under
his bed sheets. Then he slid off the bed and walked to the door with Ray. He
stood there watching while Ray got on the elevator. The doors closed and Ray
sighed, feeling about a ton lighter, as the elevator sank to the lobby. ~o~ Murdock waited until the
elevator doors closed behind Ray before he turned and hurried back into his
room. He grabbed the last of his cookies and, shedding only his shoes, dived
under his bedclothes and snatched up the bundle of letters. All the same type
of envelope, but three different styles of handwriting. He knew each one
well. After pulling the bed
sheet right over his head, forming a small tent, he picked up the one with
the earliest date written on it in Ray's handwriting. Almost two months ago?
He sort of lost track in here. Somewhere around then. The envelope bore only
his name, written in Hannibal's firm hand. A long letter lay inside
and he began to read, taking it slowly, wanting to relish the words of his
friend. He tried to hear Hannibal's voice in his head, hear him reading it
like a voice-over in a movie. Yes, he could hear it. The words spoken around
a cigar, of course. By turn he smiled and
then nodded seriously as he read Hannibal's plan. A good plan as always from
the colonel. And it was working, Murdock knew. The last couple of weeks
Murdock had read a newspaper every day. Stories about the team had become
scarce. Reports of sightings were few and far between and Murdock wondered if
any of the sightings were real. Hannibal didn't say anything in the letter about
where they were going though. Very wise. Should he destroy the
letters, as Ray suggested? But the thought made Murdock sick. How could he do
that? Their words, their writing. He could read these letters a
thousand times and it wouldn't be enough. So it was a good thing he knew a
lot of places to hide things in this room. All of those places were free now.
They'd soon be filled. He finished Hannibal's
first letter and the next dated one was in Face's writing. Again just
'Murdock' on the front. Not capital letters this time, but that nice,
well-formed copperplate penmanship Face had. Must have been such a good boy
at school. Lots of gold stars. Soon Murdock was trying
to muffle the sound of his laughter, as he read Face's account of their
misadventures on their first few nights in the wilds. He brushed any stray
cookie crumbs away quickly from the precious letter. Then he gasped in
amazement and delight as he read the words: So, anyway, I hope one
day you'll get to meet Billy.
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© E Charles 2008