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From: "Pam" <pparson2@columbus

A Furious Pace

Author:  Pam


Rating:  G

Warnings:  Some profanity - a couple of  'choice' words. 

Disclaimer:  I don't own the A-Team.

This was written in response to the "He Paced for 500 Words" Challenge on the A-Team Story Board.  500 words beginning with  "He paced back and forth, as much as the tiny room would allow."





He paced back and forth, as much as the tiny room would allow. Six paces in either direction, but he'd soon tired of that and started moving on the diagonal -- it was nine paces that way, but still not nearly enough for the adrenaline pumping through his veins.


He was locked in a shack, one of those dilapidated structures in the woods, abandoned long ago except for the occasional hunter or hiker looking for shelter. Huh! They'd have to be pretty desperate to stop at this one, as far as he was concerned. And that was his problem. But he wasn't worried. They knew he was out here somewhere and were probably searching right now or would be soon. It was just a matter of time until help arrived. In the meantime, he would wait and pace and think. . .


The day had started so well. He'd had a plan and his men were ready. Today was the day they were going to kick some butt. But as happened so often, the plan had gone a little off track, well, hell, it had gone a lot off track. In all the confusion, he'd been separated from the others and then locked in this shack, "For safekeeping," the Colonel had said, "while we take care of the others." Now that he'd had time to think about the day's events, he knew the plan going astray had been deliberate sabotage. Divide and conquer. And he'd fallen right into their hands. When this was all over, he was going to assign himself a few laps on the obstacle course. Hell, they'd all do a few circuits.


But anyway, here he was in this shack. One way in and one way out. No windows and completely empty except for a few cigarette butts and wadded up candy wrappers. Rundown and looking like it was ready to collapse with the next puff of wind. But he'd soon learned that appearances can be deceiving -- it was sturdy enough to hold him. He contemplated doing some pushups, just for a change, but decided he didn't really want to get that close and personal with the dirt floor. He sighed and kept pacing.


The only light was what filtered through the cracks in the walls, but he'd checked as best he could and knew there was no way he was going to power his way out of here. He'd have to wait for help and that rankled as much as the fact that he'd allowed himself to be trapped in the first place. Him, a seasoned soldier, a combat veteran. . . and he was reduced to this waiting and pacing. He fumed at his predicament, and just as he was thinking that things couldn't get any worse, they did. It started to rain. . . and that was when he discovered that the roof leaked.


"Goddamit to Hell! Just you wait, Smith! Paybacks are gonna be hell, or my name isn't Roderick Decker!"





A Furious Pace by Pam



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