Bucky
Chapter 1
Captured!
The back and forth rocking of the truck slowly roused Bucky from his unconscious state. His eyes fluttered open, but he saw only darkness.
As his head cleared, his mind began putting pieces of this new puzzle together. He was in the back of a transport truck, on the floor. His wrists were shackled behind his back, and he lay uncomfortably on his stomach.
The truck dipped to one side when a tire hit a gouge in the road and bounced Bucky around. "Uff."
He didn't know how long he'd been in the truck, where the others were, or even where he was going; all he knew was that he wasn't with the Allied forces any longer. The shackles told him that much.
He tried moving his feet, and that's when he discovered shackles restricted the movements of his legs too. "Damn."
As he thought back to the last thing he remembered, the truck slowed. He'd been in Azzano. There had been a loud and vicious battle taking place. There had been an explosion off to the side…and another, and then there was darkness.
Bucky heard the back gate of the truck go down, and the rustle of long coats. He tried to twist his battered and aching body around to see who his captors were, but his body did not want to turn.
He heard footsteps in the truck bed now. Bucky tried to kick out, but his efforts were easily avoided. A black hood was pulled over his head and a drawstring pulled tight and secured.
The footsteps receded, and Bucky heard the thuds of the boots hit the soil.
Hands grabbed at his legs and pulled him from the truck, over the edge of the gate and onto his feet.
"Verschieben." A man's voice ordered.
"I don't speak German." Bucky countered.
A jab from a hand gun into his lower back told Bucky what the man meant.
"Ok, that I understood, but I can't see."
Bucky was urged forward nevertheless. Feeling slightly off-balance, Bucky shuffled his feet forward cautiously. He couldn't see what was in front of him, and he had no free hands to break a fall.
"Schnell!" The gun jabbed Bucky again.
"Ow! I can't see dammit!"
Hands on his arms guided him and it told Bucky that there were at least two men walking him. He changed his assessment shortly when the hands stopped his forward motion and another pair of hands yanked upward on his pants leg.
Bucky toed the area in front of him and felt a stair step. "How many?" He asked. He didn't expect any response. He didn't get any either.
It was painfully slow going as Bucky felt his way along to the top step. He was jerked forward and through a doorway.
The footfalls sounded different now as they were in a house or small building. He was pushed and pulled to where they wanted him to go. He couldn't see, he couldn't run, so he had to go along.
He heard a door creak open. His suspicion of a third person was confirmed because the hands never abandoned their grip on his arms.
"Runter!"
Bucky sensed another doorway, as the hands on one of his arms left and gripped his belt and pulled Bucky along. "Runter."
"What do you want?" Bucky cried.
Bucky teetered forward. He didn't feel any flooring and panicked. He almost tumbled down the stairs. Thankfully, the guy in front kept him from crashing.
Bucky toed the new obstacle he was being forced to navigate; a down staircase. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief once he got to the bottom. "I'm glad that's over with."
They maneuvered him across the room through another doorway and stopped.
The hands on either side of him gripped him a little tighter. Bucky swallowed hard. "What now?"
The third pair of hands began undoing his belt and pulled it from around his waist. Bucky squirmed, but was unsuccessful in his bid to keep his belt. His shirt was unbuttoned next.
He felt his pants being undone and his squirming increased.
The pants slid down his legs and pooled around his ankles. Bucky was forced to the floor. His head was held down to the cold tile as his boots and socks were removed.
His pants were cut from his body and then his shirt was cut and removed.
He felt the scissors work their way up his back to cut away the undershirt he wore. It was pulled out from under him.
His breath quickened when they started cutting his boxers off.
Finally, they too were removed.
Bucky was hauled to his feet and spun around. He was forced to sit down on a cold bench. The hands let go. He felt his dog tags still hanging from its chain. They hadn't taken those from him at least.
Bucky's chest expanded and contracted with nervous breath. His head turned this way and that as he tried to sense something, anything that might give him a clue as to what next. He kind of had a feeling he was in a shower room of sorts. The cold tiles beneath his feet seem to suggest that.
When he heard water, he braced himself for a cold onslaught.
He was surprised when the ankle chains were unhooked instead.
He was brought to his feet and walked forward. He felt the shackles that held his wrists behind him loosened and removed. Quick footsteps retreated from him.
Bucky reached for the hood and pulled it from his head. The bright lights caused him to squint as it assaulted his eyes. He turned to see two men in Nazi uniforms pointing guns at him; the third was nowhere to be seen.
One man pointed his gun at the running water and poked the air. Bucky took this as a sign he was to take a shower. He was pretty filthy after all. He turned towards the running water and held out fingers to test the temperature. It was surprisingly warm. Figuring it couldn't hurt to be clean, Bucky stepped under the spray. It felt good.
The warm water cascaded over him and he let it beat on his tired muscles.
He found shampoo and soap on a small built in shelf and cleaned himself up. He turned the shower off and shook the water from his hair.
One of the men tossed him a towel. Bucky dried himself and wrapped it around his waist. As he thought about his odds of overpowering his two captors and escaping, one shuffled off to the side.
Bucky watched as he picked up the discarded black hood. He flung it at Bucky and gestured with the business end of his hand gun that he should put it on.
Bucky shook his head no.
Another gesture.
Another head shake.
The other guy put away his gun and pulled Bucky's belt from a large pocket and assumed a menacing stance.
It was quite obvious he intended to use it on Bucky should he decide not to comply. Bucky relaxed his stance a bit and looked at the hood in his hands. He acted like he was going to put it on and then rushed the two men. The three of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. They rolled all over the floor in attempts to subdue Bucky. The gun went one way and the belt the other.
It the clatter and confusion Bucky didn't hear the door open. The third person came back and picked up the belt.
Bucky had already lost his towel in the fracas and as they rolled again, the belt came down hard across Bucky's back. His shoulders jerked upwards with the pain, but before he could brace, he got hit again. The momentary pause gave the upper hand to the two guards and they took advantage of the distraction, subduing Bucky to the floor.
The belt came down several more times, each one causing Bucky to hiss between gritted teeth.
"Ihm aufstehen!"
The guards yanked Bucky to his feet. He was breathing hard and still half stunned. His head hung a bit, so when his head did come up, he saw a woman with his belt in her hand. Bucky's dry mouth opened closed a few times while his brain struggled with his situation.
"Ihn zum mitnehmen." She commanded.
They dragged Bucky out of the room to a small cell and pushed him forward roughly. Bucky ran a couple of steps so as not to fall. The door behind him closed just as he turned around. He ran back and tried to get out, but the door was securely locked. He banged on the door and yelled, but no one came back.
When he got tired, he turned around to look at his cell. It was Spartan at best. A toilet and a small sink on one side and a small cot on the other with blankets. Bucky walked to the cot and pulled down the linens. He climbed in and threw the covers over himself. The floor was cold and Bucky's hair was still damp. He shivered a little and snuggled into the lumpy mattress. Without any clothes, it was the only source of warmth available.
Bucky awoke in darkness. The single light bulb hanging overhead had gone out. There were no windows to cast even the slightest amount of illumination. He had to pee, and light or no light, he had to find the toilet.
His feet hit the cold floor and Bucky shivered. He stood up and with his hands waving blindly in front of him; he slowly made his way across.
He slapped a hand against the porcelain, and once he was confident of its position, he took care of his business.
He was halfway back to the cot when a thin beam of light shone across the floor from under the door way. He made a mad dash for it.
A tray of food slid through a small opening and promptly closed, leaving only darkness once again.
"WAIT! WAIT!" Bucky cried out. He knelt on the floor and patted around with his fingers until he found the tray. He felt around for the tiny slot and pulled it open. The dim light from the hallway shone through enough for him to see the food on the tray, but the little door refused to stay open.
Bucky found only a spoon on the tray, so he grabbed it, stuck it in the bowl of food and let go the door.
He made his way back to the cot and sat there in the dark, and gobbled down the lukewarm oatmeal that was in the bowl. At this point he wasn't fussy, he was plain hungry.
The lightbulb lit up, and roused Bucky from sleep. He groaned and sat up. How long had he been asleep? He didn't know. He wasn't sure if it were day or night as there were no windows in his room. So he went with the assumption that it was morning.
He took care of his business while he waited for breakfast. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long, and he snuggled back under the covers.
Within the hour, a tray slid under the door flap, and Bucky jumped up to grab it. He brought the tray to the bed and sat down to eat; lumpy, lukewarm oatmeal, a cup of black coffee, and a small, sad-looking piece of fruit. Well, it was better than the grits he'd once been served by the army. He ate everything without complaint; he couldn't afford to be fussy. Supper could be a long time from now.
He busied himself with pushups and sit-ups. At least it passed the time and kept him in shape. He also explored the confines of his cell, but there was little he hadn't already discovered. The only way in or out was by the cell door. It was locked securely from the outside. There was little chance for escape, but it wouldn't stop Bucky from trying.
Supper got pushed through the door flap and Bucky retrieved it. He had managed to push the morning's "empties" back out into the hallway. This was his only contact with his captors since he'd been forced into the cell.
No one had come back to question him. No one had come in with torture devices. Other than the two meal trays, he was ignored. On the other hand, no one had come to bring him any clothes either.
So, he sat on the bed, still naked, and lifted the cover from the plate. It was fried potatoes, (ok), fried Spam, (eye roll), and boiled carrots.
The Spam tasted just as he suspected. Did the Spam Company have a contract to sell their product to both sides? The potatoes had at least a little taste. The carrots were limp and chewy and tasteless, but he forced them down. He had to keep up what strength he could. Another cup of black, not to mention weak, coffee completed the tray. He gulped it down to help fill the empty spaces in his stomach.
With a sigh, he got up and pushed the tray back through the slot. He paused at the door, and listened to hear if anyone was on the other side. He held his breath and strained to listen. Nothing. Not a sound.
He knelt down and peered through the slot. The tray was still there. He didn't push it too far out on purpose, but there was no one there to pick it up.
Disgusted with the failure of his plan, he went back and snuggled into the bed linens. What else do you do when you have nothing but time?
Within an hour the single light bulb went out, and Bucky was alone in the dark.
This went on for a few days.
If it weren't for the meal trays, Bucky would almost have thought they had forgotten about him. But the Nazi's never forgot about a prisoner; sooner or later, they would come. He tried preparing himself for that day. He recalled the boot camp training. If you're captured, you're only allowed to give them your name, rank and serial number, nothing else.
Bucky kept mentally repeating his name, his rank, and his serial number as he did pushups and sit-ups; counting off his reps.
He had just finished off his set of 25, when the door lock tumbled open.
Bucky grabbed the sheet off the bed and wound it around his waist. This is it.
The two armed Nazi soldiers wandered in; followed by the woman he had seen on that first day. She ushered in another woman. She wore a uniform of sorts, but nothing Bucky had ever seen before.
She stood there and looked Bucky over head to foot. He couldn't help to feel confused as he looked from one woman to the other.
They struck up a conversation in German; gesturing occasionally in Bucky's direction.
"What's going on?" He asked. They ignored him.
The second woman walked closer to him, further eying him up. Now, he felt uncomfortable. He was the one who chased the women, but now he felt like the prey all of a sudden. He backed up a step, and tried to keep everyone in his sights.
As the second woman moved behind him, Bucky was forced to turn; leaving himself open for an attack should one come. She spoke something in German at him.
"I don't understand German."
She just smiled at him before retreating back to the cell door. The conversation resumed.
After a few loud words, the second woman snapped her fingers. Promptly, a young male in a similar uniform brought her a wooden chest. She withdrew a key hung on a chain from under her clothes and opened the chest. She pulled out an envelope and handed it off to the first woman. She looked in it, nodded her head and smiled.
The second woman waved her hand dismissively and the young man disappeared. He was replaced by two soldiers. Bucky assumed that as they wore uniforms as well, but again, the design was foreign to him.
She flicked her hand at Bucky and the two men began advancing on him.
"What's going on here? What just happened?" Bucky backed up and assumed a fighting stance. Whatever was about to happen, he wouldn't go down easy. He was not prepared for the answer he got.
In perfect English, the second woman stated the situation clearly. "I just bought you."
Stunned, Bucky blurted out the first thing he thought of. "You can't do that."
"You are a prisoner of war. You have no rights except what you are given. I have money. They need money. You are simply a means to an end. It's just business."
"Business? Accounting is business, buying and selling people is slavery. The Third Geneva Convention created treaties on the treatment of prisoners of war. You can't just sell me."
"I do not recognize, nor am I bound by any such treaty."
Speechless, Bucky was accosted and wrestled into handcuffs. The sheet luckily stayed in place. As he squirmed and struggled, a gag was brought forth and secured over his mouth.
He was then hooded so he couldn't see.
The ladies exchanged smiles and Bucky was maneuvered outside.
Pushed and hurried along, Bucky did all he could to keep his balance. He was barefoot and could feel the cool flooring give way to soil and grass. He was confused and surprised to feel something that reminded him of an airplane ramp. It inclined and had a sandpapery feel.
He was buckled into a seat, his hands still cuffed behind him, and the hood still over his head. He tried to still his breathing to listen. Hydraulics? The ramp began to lift and close. Next, Bucky heard what sounded like a jet engine. He felt the flooring rumble beneath him. We must be at an airport.
He fully expected the jet to move forward and taxi, but he got one hell of a surprise when the jet lifted straight up. "What the hell?" He mumbled around the gag.
He heard the woman give some curt orders. It wasn't English, nor did it sound like German, but he heard the rapid footfalls of boots; apparently when she gave orders they rushed to obey. Bucky wondered if it was because of her rank, respect or out of fear. If he went by the young man that bore the wooden chest, it was fear. She was obviously a woman who clearly expected her orders to be carried out promptly.
Bucky twisted his shoulders to loosen them up a bit. If they were flying somewhere, it was bound to be a long journey.
He was half right. Within 30 minutes he felt a change in the vibrations coming through the floor. Puzzled, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on now. They had left the hood on so he still couldn't see anything.
They got him to his feet and maneuvered him down the ramp. All around him he heard sounds of voices talking. It was a cacophony of noise. He also heard like people working, as there were the sounds of tools being used. Where am I? An airplane hangar?
Someone pushed him from behind when it was decided Bucky wasn't moving fast enough. Bucky mumbled back at him, but didn't pick up the pace. Let them wait.
Finally, his captors stopped him. Bucky heard clanking sounds. He was held in place momentarily while the sheet was pulled from his body and the handcuffs removed. He was then pushed forwards. A definitive clanking noise sounded behind him. He tore off the hood and whirled around at the same time.
Bucky was locked in a metal bar hallway. He grabbed the bars and tried to wrench the gate open, but it wouldn't budge. One of the many guards poked an electric prod through the bars and zapped Bucky.
It felt like his teeth were on fire. Bucky jumped back when the contact broke off, breathing hard. The guards all had prods and they herded Bucky down the hallway whether he liked it or not. Bucky pulled the gag from his mouth and let it hang around his neck.
The hallway was a long one, and when they got near to their destination, Bucky heard pleas and cries echoing just around the next corner.
He stopped short. On either side of him, humans of various ages were all locked in cells, arms outstretched for any hint of compassion. He got zapped again, and herded to his cell.
The hallway had an intricate pattern of gates, so even a line of prisoners could be individually isolated.
Bucky reluctantly entered his cell after yet another zap. The gate closed behind him with a bang and Bucky found himself in a tiny cell. "What the hell?"