Steve launched into motion. Bucky startled into some level of wakefulness as well, helped along further when Steve hauled him up by his good arm into a stumbling four-legged race.
"Wha—the hell—" Bucky exclaimed in stammering gasps. He couldn't manage anything else.
"No time, we gotta stay as low and out of sight as we can," hissed Steve. They slogged through the water to the far side, the side that the base would be on. His gaze whipped between the way ahead and the direction of the sound. Not only was the forest dotted with knots of trees and low vegetation, but rocks varying from small boulders to sprawling outcrops broke up their path. Anything Steve skirted too closely threatened to send Bucky flying.
Suddenly shouts erupted somewhere beyond immediate line of sight. The voices multiplied as they relayed the alert. More concerning, the initial signal came from between them and the base, outlining what had to be a larger force than Steve anticipated. The patrol could easily cut off their escape, and Steve wouldn't be able to fight through them towing Bucky like this.
"What're you—" Bucky started. His question ended in a howl of pain as Steve changed direction, heading for the nearest craggy mass of stone. One side had broken open, a hollowed, fairly defensible position, while the rest was solid, and—from what Steve could tell—too steep for an enemy to take the high ground and surprise them. It would have to do. They took cover just in time for the first bullets to ping off the rocks.
"Take these, make 'em count. I can do quite a bit with my shield, but it only goes so far, and that's a good-sized force out there," rapped Steve very quickly. He turned his gun and a couple clips over to Bucky before removing the shield from the harness his friend wore. Bucky ogled at him, a look intensified by the dark rings around his eyes.
"Are you crazy?! You're faster than any of 'em! Get outta here while I keep their attention, you can make it back to base—"
"I already told you, I'm not leaving you behind again! If we can start thinning them out, I can do more, clear enough of a path to get you through."
"No. The hell you could, I can't even stand on my own. I'm not letting you get yourself killed just for me!"
More bullets ricocheted above their heads. Bucky ducked lower. Unlike Steve, he didn't have a helmet, marginal protection though it was, let alone any kind of shield. Steve himself chanced a throw in direction of the closest trajectory of fire, to be rewarded by two ringing thuds. The resonant metal disc sailed back to him. "Well, neither of us is going anywhere fast if we don't take out some of them first."
Expression hardened, Bucky unsteadily straightened into a better position, using the rock formation to prop himself up as he fired and pivoted back out of enemy sight in turns. They got into a pattern of alternating attacks, covering one another. Occasionally one would point out a specific target that had gotten too close or the other would have a better angle on. In true sniper fashion, Bucky dropped men just as efficiently as Steve, although he was not going to keep up for long in his current state.
"Who are these guys? I don't recognize the uniforms. They don't look like HYDRA," panted Bucky during a reload. He balanced the full clip in the crook of his left elbow so he could pop it into the gun one-handed. His teeth gritted with the unavoidable pain this caused no matter how he went about it.
"I dunno. Definitely colder weather gear, but they don't look quite like Soviets, either. No discernable insignias. And I would hope a Soviet patrol would be aware of Allied presence around here by now."
"Well, we're not exactly standard issue, are we?"
Steve shrugged. "The red, white, and blue motif doesn't offer a clue?"
Heavier ammunition thudded against their natural defenses. Great, at least one vehicle was now within range. Steve tried to size it up through the dust and debris, but couldn't break cover long enough due to small arms fire. He also had a new worry—the chance that larger chunks of stone could pin or even bury them with the right hit. Their narrow advantage may have just become a liability.
Bucky let off three more shots in a row. "Auggh!" He jerked back, gun hand covering his opposite arm, and collapsed into a seated heap. Steve dove toward him. Blood darkened the jacket sleeve around a bullet hole just below his left shoulder.
"Aww…sit tight, Buck, I'll get something to—"
"No, you run like hell, now. I told you I wasn't making it out of this, I shouldn't have made it this far!"
"And I told you—"
"I swear, punk, if I have to stand up and let them kill me to get you to move your ass—"
A new pitch of gunfire interrupted the debate, completely different weapons than the ones their attackers had been using. Everything turned to chaos outside the stone hollow. Steve tried once more to take a look, only for bullets from multiple directions to send both him and Bucky flat. Then, over the resurging noise, a distant voice bellowed, "Whahooooo!"
"Dum Dum!" Steve made the connection in an amazed tone. "They must have heard all the commotion, and sent troops out to defend the base!" As if to confirm, a large, concussive boom landed nearby, which caused a number of small rock shards to shower down on them. Steve blocked the worst of it with his shield. "They don't know it's us here…"
He remembered the radio he stashed away just in case. If there ever was a time to use it, this was it. Bucky's mouth fell open incredulously.
"Why'd you drag me all this way on foot when you had that?!"
"Well, for the umpteenth time, I frankly expected to find a body to bury. Give us some sense of closure. But I didn't want to go advertising our position either if I didn't have to, and the fewer people I had to involve, the less trouble they'd be in. It's all a moot point now, though—Morita, Gabe, anybody listening? This is Captain Rogers, do you copy!" Steve barked the last part into the little personal unit.
Static at first, nearly drowned out by the battle raging around them.
"…Think it's him, finally!" Morita's scratchy voice faded in. "Cap, can you hear me? We copy, we copy!"
"Stone outcrop, where that patrol was firing before you got their attention—that's where we are. Tell the boys to watch their aim! And there are injuries sustained, I repeat, injuries sustained, need transportation on the double."
"Copy that as well, we'll get to ya fast as we can!"
Steve set the radio down for the moment, returning his attention to Bucky. The haphazard temporary bandaging of his head had disappeared somewhere along the way; the gash itself looked better than it had been, though one corner had broken open slightly. Non-urgent. Steve pulled the muff from around his own neck, the easiest thing he could reach, in attempt to do something for the latest wound. By all appearances the bullet was likely still embedded, not that they could do anything for it in this position. "Hang in there, just a little longer. They're on their way."
"You keep saying that." Bucky flashed him a tired, crooked grin. His good hand still gripped the pistol. However, with the turn of events lifting most of the fight for survival off of their shoulders, draining adrenaline left him slumped against the rock face. The absence of his head dressing revealed how his dark hair stuck up at odd angles. Shadowy stubble had grown in enough to frame his face. Flickers of pain kept tightening his features.
"And look how far you've made it, when this should have been impossible! It's happening now, it's really happening."
"I know I've said it before, but really, thanks for finding me. I'm glad I'm not just out there, alone…"
"It's not over yet, I'm making sure you get back to base. We'll all make sure of it."
Gradually the intensity of the gunfire tapered down. Steve caught fragments of voices calling out his name, approaching vehicles, running footsteps. The first arrivals barreled abruptly into view, only to pile up as they froze in their tracks.
"Nooo…" gaped Dernier. Gabe simply stared, dumbfounded.
"I'll be damned," Falsworth marveled. "You did it, you bloody did it! But how…?!"
"If I could explain it, I would. The more pressing point is that he needs medical attention. Evac if possible," insisted Steve. No one moved. Shocked stares oscillated between him and Bucky. Finally Steve had to wave them off. "Go, hurry!" Gabe and Dernier scrambled back out of sight, presumably to arrange said transport. A buzz of voices conversed beyond the rocks. Then Dum Dum came charging in like a small bison. He too made a stunned halt.
"You're insane, you know that? Phillips was about ready to jump through the radio lines when he heard you up and disappeared. Can't say I don't admire you for it, but you gotta be off your duty-loving rocker, especially for succeeding."
"Thanks, I think." Steve raised an eyebrow. He knew the big soldier meant it in the best possible manner. The first two returned with a stretcher between them. Far more Commandos than were necessary guided Bucky onto it. He tried, rather futilely, to mask the agony of any movement, keeping his bad arm tucked in close—a sight that wasn't lost on any of them.
The shooting had stopped by this point, allowing the group to move unhindered toward a clump of waiting vehicles. A medic had bloodied soldiers lined up on the tailgate of one personnel truck. Two other men were lifting a covered stretcher onto the second. An officer, who seemed to be the field commander, waved Bucky's stretcher toward an open-bed jeep. Morita crouched there with the radio unit, his mouth falling open when they came close enough.
"It'll be faster this way, let the medic keep working on the guys he's got, while you get on ahead to the base infirmary," said the commander.
"Can we at least get a dose or two of morphine for the ride?" Steve asked as the rest prepped the jeep for loading Bucky onto it. "Any kind of relief. He's had to tough this out the last day and a half, plus a fresh gunshot."
The commander pointed a junior officer to that errand. Meanwhile, even with the radio equipment crammed in the passenger seat, the jeep was a tight fit. Room for perhaps one person to ride along. Gabe nudged Steve forward.
"You go, we'll be right behind you. It's your mission."
The junior officer puffed all the way back, and handed Steve the fragile field doses. Once he was on board, the driver yanked the vehicle into gear. Bucky's face contorted with this latest jolt.
"Next stop, real bed, real doctors, okay? I got something to help you until we get there," Steve cajoled. Stiffly, Bucky nodded that he understood. The off-road ride was not making things any easier. Every bump elicited a weary groan. Steve managed to land one vial of morphine as close to the end of Bucky's left arm as he dared, the other more in the vicinity of the bullet wound. The frenetic pace of this part of the journey made it hard to tell if the medicine was doing any good, but it was all he had to work with. The rest was left to hopes and prayers.