{ 14. Brace for Impact }

The floor shifted and trembled beneath Sam's back. A pink face came into focus, smudged with dirt and framed by a metal ceiling. Bucky stared down at him, gently nudging his shoulder and patting his face. Sam winced, trying to brace himself with wobbly muscles as he propped himself up on his elbows. Three plastic seats were lined up along each side in the back, leaving an open space in the middle.

Just as Sam began to speak, Tony cranked the wheel and sent him and Bucky toppling to the left side. Sam smacked into the interior, and from this angle he could see Steve in the passenger seat with his torso hanging out of the broken window frame.

"This thing's slow between shots," Steve grunted, sinking back in his seat and waiting for the neon rifle to cool down. Tony said,

"I don't have any backup cells either, so make 'em count."

The van suddenly quaked as something heavy struck it from behind. The back windows were protected by metal grids, tinted as dark as legally possible. Sam held the back of the plastic seat and steadied himself, peering back at the van just behind them. It started to hang back, then sped forward and rammed again, slightly crumpling the rear panel.

"You wanna kiss my ass that bad?" Tony muttered. He glanced back to his crew, said, "Brace for impact," and before Steve could protest, he slammed on the breaks. Steve lurched forward, clinging to the window frame while Sam gripped his seat and Bucky flew forward, smacking into the back of the driver's seat.

A screech pierced the air, then a loud crash as the other van smashed in from behind. The rear panel crunched and warped violently, showering the floor in glittering glass. Without hesitation, Tony accelerated again and the vehicle launched forward, sending Bucky toppling across the floor until he hit the back panel.

"Shit," Tony cursed, glancing through the rear-view mirror. Bucky crawled up next to Sam and glared back at him. "Sorry, Guys! I mean, to be fair, I told you to brace—"

"Tony, you're gonna get us killed! Just let me drive!" exclaimed Steve. He reached for the wheel but Tony shoved his hand away and grunted,

"Not a good time to play switcheroo, Rogers!"

Gunfire blasted through the air behind them—actual bullets, not the stun-charges from before. They ricocheted off the van's armored exterior until one managed to pierce the back wheel. They were speeding down a rural road, weaving between sparse 10AM traffic with four mercenary vans and two cop cars on their tail.

The tire blew out, Tony struggling to hold the wheel straight as the rear began to fishtail. Steve aimed the neon rifle out the passenger window once more, steadied his aim and fired through the hood of the closest hostile vehicle. Like before, the laser blasted straight through and didn't lose heat until it struck the vehicle behind it too.

A victorious grin crossed Steve's face as both vehicles slowed to a stop, leaving a trail of goo as they hissed and disintegrated. "Two for one!" he declared. Tony muttered,

"I thought guns weren't your 'thing'…"

"'Gun' is an understatement. This thing's a canon, Tony! People can really just buy this stuff off the internet?"

"We're being chased by a fleet of lawless assholes and that's what you're outraged about?"

The van was losing speed, two hostiles catching up to surround it. Sam saw a window crank down to the right, a flash of orange as a mercenary lit a Molotov. "Explosives comin' on the right!" he cried. Tony's gaze flashed over, saw the fire and he jerked the wheel.

The vans crunched with a screech of tires as they bumped together. The mercenary lost his grip on the Molotov, dropping it into his own vehicle. The interior lit up in a flash and Tony swerved to the left, cursing as the bad tire's rubber came loose and sparks began to fly.

"This thing's getting reeeeaally hard to steer, guys!" he hollered over gunfire and squealing metal. "Abandon ship?" Steve turned around in his seat, examining all the facets of their scenario. Four vehicles left in pursuit. Backup likely on the way. Police roadblock certainly ahead. A forest of towering conifers on one side and a rocky mountain face on the other.

Another van rolled up on the left. Tony turned just second too late as the stun-rifle fired and struck him in the neck. His eyes rounded and his body seized, hands dropping off the wheel as he convulsed. Steve gripped the wheel and kept the van steady, feeling the tingling in his hand as the electricity transferred.

Another charge blasted through and struck Steve in the face. "Augh!" He gnashed his teeth, feeling voltage burn behind his eyes. He fought to keep them open but tears blurred his vision. A dark shape rushed in to his right, blocking all light from the window. Steve blinked the tears away just enough to see Bucky in Tony's lap, blocking the window frame with his bulletproof backpack.

The fabric was charred and frayed from charge hits, but the shield inside was unscathed, repelling every shot. Flashes of red, silver, and blue peeked through the holes. Steve's head was still buzzing, jaw twitching from the charge. Bucky couldn't take the wheel and hold the shield with one arm. Another van was trying to creep in on the right and Steve was losing control of the vehicle.

It wasn't the greatest plan, but it was all he had as he steadied the neon rifle on the dashboard and aimed ahead at the rock face. The recoil bumped him back against his seat and the laser struck the stone. A blackened hole opened, tendrils of decay spreading and cracking its surface into fragments.

"Bucky, hit the gas!" cried Steve, and Bucky didn't hesitate to stomp Tony's foot and push the pedal to the metal. The van lurched and swerved on its bad wheel, gaining a few feet on the hostiles as the rock face began to collapse. Gravel rained down in a cacophony of noise against the roof, spilling in through the broken windshield.

A crack pierced the air as a colossal boulder came loose just above. It toppled and fell with a thundering boom, just grazing the rear of the vehicle. The back panel was torn away completely, hanging on by a thread and scraping along the ground. Sam was violently jostled on impact, clutching the plastic seat for dear life as he avoided death by a half-second and 11 inches.

The van didn't get very far after that. It swerved and slowed and sputtered to a stop. Bucky repeatedly stomped his foot on the accelerator and only sickly, mechanical noises cried out. Steve's heart pounded in his chest, panting as he cautiously peeked out the side window.

The landslide buried the road well across with boulders, gravel, soil, and entire trees from root to top. Whoever had been chasing them—they were either stuck under the mess or behind it with no easy way around. He looked at Sam, whose eyes were round as saucers, teeth clenched as he clutched the sides of his head. His arms were trembling.

Then he looked at Tony, dazed and staring blearily at the ceiling with Bucky in his lap. He probably missed the whole thing. "Sam," Steve panted, tried to swallow but his throat was bone-dry. "Y-you okay?" Sam's eyes flicked back at him, silent for a moment before he nodded and replied,

"Yeah. Y-yeah, I-I think so…" He paused. Then he added breathlessly, "Would you judge a 39-year-old man for pissing himself?"

Steve's mouth curved into a tiny smile. "After that? Not one bit." Neon rifle in hand, Steve opened the door and gravel poured onto the road. He rounded the front of the vehicle to open the driver's side. Bucky slid out and Sam stumbled out of the gaping hole where the back panel used to be.

Passing the rifle to Sam, Steve threw Tony over his shoulder and said, "We either climb the mountain or cross the woods. Personally? I'm done with mountains today."

"No shit! I hear that!" Sam rested the rifle over one shoulder and slung Tony's bag over the other.

Together, they made their way down the embankment and into the shadowy cover of the trees.

xXxXxXx

Seven days and three stolen vehicles passed.

As it turned out, any vehicle drew unwanted attention. It was nothing but a cumbersome ball and chain at this point, so the idea was abandoned. Steve and his crew would travel by foot until they couldn't.

For now, they weren't going anywhere any time soon. Even in small towns, people were talking. They couldn't shut up about the zillion-dollar reward being offered for the rogue heroes' capture. Their photos were all over TV, candid snapshots from the gas station, from hotels, from the middle of the street, from the campground, of those wacky "cosplayers" that turned out to be the real deal—real superheroes gone rogue.

Everyone had a camera in their pockets these days, Steve realized, and nobody cared to mind their own business. They had left a trail of blood and chaos everywhere they went—it was no wonder they'd been tracked down. Still no contact with Pepper or Natasha or anyone outside. The group was truly on their own, stranded on a tiny island in a hostile sea.

In this case, their island was a patch of forest on the northern Washington coast. There was a tiny patch of civilization with a handful of houses and a grocer a couple miles east. The Canadian border sat ten miles north. Steve was exactly where he planned to be, yet nothing was going according to plan.

Tony and Sam had the know-how, and Steve and Bucky had raw strength. Together they managed to patch up an abandoned trailer without killing eachother, though nothing about the scenario was ideal. Half of it had been burned and skeletonized (likely by a meth lab explosion, if all the empty bleach containers were considered). That half was patched up with layers of salvaged lumber, sticks, and tarps.

The place sat completely off the grid: no plumbing, no electricity. They washed in a creek, ate from tins, shivered in the cold all night long. Most of their supplies had been left at the motel in Utah.

It was their fifth day in the woods. Five out of…Question mark, they figured, and tried not to think about it.

"I regret everything," Tony said frequently, usually as he was gathering firewood or washing his clothes in the creek. "Should've stayed home. Shouldn't have got involved. Shouldn't have opened my mouth. You try to do the right thing, and then you're a fuckin' bum shitting in the woods like an animal. Karma, my ass!"

"Instead of complaining, why don't you just leave?" Steve would tell him, even though they both knew that wasn't a real option. Tony was right—they were locked in this mess together until S.H.I.E.L.D surrendered or Steve surrendered. Either one had a snowflake's chance in Hell of happening, so here they were, surviving in a run-down meth trailer in the US-Canadian forest.

xXxXxXx

Eight days off the grid.

Tony's briefcase of cash was carelessly left behind in their escape from Utah. Thankfully, he had some fat stacks stashed away in his electronics bag too. They could burn through $5,000 if they were out here long enough, he supposed, and feared the day when they would have to spear fish and skin deer to survive. For now, Sam returned from the grocer with a hundred pounds of supplies on his back.

Soap, canned food, assassin-chow ingredients, bottled water and purification tablets, socks, candles, matches, and booze were on the shopping list today. Sam dumped it all out beside the fire pit and began to sort the items. Tony was quick to snatch up the alcohol as always, while Bucky coveted his bananas. Raccoons were always breaking in and stealing them in the night.

A fire blazed in a ring of stones set up near the trailer. Sunlight was disappearing, the air growing cold. Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky surrounded the fire, sitting upon logs and rocks. There was one chair in the trailer when they arrived and it broke into firewood after Steve tried to sit on it. Aside from that, there was no other furniture to be found.

Steve ate a spoonful of beans from a can before passing it to Sam. Sam took a bite, then passed it to Tony. Tony skipped over Bucky—who was sentenced to his assassin-chow—and the can went right back to Steve. After two revolutions, it was emptied, rinsed, and set aside.

For several minutes, they silently stared into the flames. Tension hovered ominously in the background, a sense of fear and uncertainty they all tried to ignore. Addressing it always led to a fight. When the fire offered more light than the sun, Tony got up and swiped his solar charger off the ground. It looked like a 10"x10" mirror sitting horizontally on a tripod stand.

The mirror was divided into segments and folded up into a small cube, the tripod collapsing inside. Tony plugged his phone into a port on the cube and after a moment, the smooth crooning of Frank Sinatra filled the silence. Steve's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…" Tony murmured along with the music as he slowly meandered around the site, sipping from the flask in his pocket. "If you can use some exotic booze, there's a bar in far Bombay…"

A little smile crossed Sam's lips. "Come fly with me, let's float down to Peru…" he joined Tony, the two of them singing softly over the crackling fire. Steve scratched at his prickly beard and hid his own growing smile behind his hand, though his eyes still looked doleful.

"We'll just glide, starry-eyed, once I get you up there…"

"I'll be holding you so near, you may hear angels cheer just because we're together…"

Tony threw an arm around Sam's shoulder and playfully, drunkenly, jostled him. Sam snatched his flask and took a sip, Tony snatching it back as he wiped his mouth on his dirty flannel sleeve and continued singing. Steve silently shook his head, gazing absently into the fire until a third voice joined in.

"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…Pack up, let's fly away…"

Bucky sang the stanza alone as the others were struck silent. His voice faded with the track and then he licked his paper bowl clean, threw it in the fire. Steve, Sam, and Tony wore their eyebrows high as they exchanged looks. Finally, Tony turned to Bucky and exclaimed,

"You can't just go mute for a week straight and then bust out with Sinatra! What the hell, Barnes?"

Bucky looked back at him, then at Steve and wondered if he was in trouble. But Steve was smiling all the way up to his crinkled eyes.

xXxXxXx