Chapter 8: The End of the Line
Flurries of snow flutter down, insignificant against the spiky mountains that pierce the clouds. The drop down is dizzying, and Bucky's stomach flips when he realizes that the mountains reach even higher than where he's standing. Even the skyscrapers in Manhattan don't stretch upward like this. Heights have never bothered him much; but this? This is the edge of forever.
"Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?" Bucky asks. He looks up. Much better than looking down.
"Yeah, and I threw up."
Steve threw up at least three or four times that night. Bucky kept telling him he didn't have to ride the coaster, but Steve insisted he did. All four times. "This is payback, isn't it," Bucky tells him.
Steve grins, squinting in the cold. "Now why would I do that?" he asks.
The others are bundled up: gloves, thick coats, hats. Steve doesn't seem to feel the cold, no more than he feels any other physical discomfort anyway, with his enhanced physique. Bucky's a little chilly and that worries him because he should be frozen to the bone. But thoughts of Zola make his blood run hot.
Gabe and Jacques listen to the radio. Jacques squints and Gabe stares ahead, concentrating. "Confirmation: Zola's definitely on that train," he said at last, his breath steaming in the freezing air when he sighs in relief.
They have a ten second window in which to zipline down to the train. Strike fast, strike hard, strike where no one else can or will go: that's what the Howling Commandos have done since their inception. "Any longer than ten seconds and we're bugs on a windshield," Steve says. Bucky's seen bugs splattered against the windshield. His father used to punish him when he was a kid by making him clean the bugs off the car during the summers. He used to borrow the car and hope his father didn't notice a splattered fly or two when he got back. He swallows against the lump in his throat when he thinks about being one of those bugs.
"Better get moving, bugs!" Dum Dum calls out cheerily, slapping Steve and Bucky on the shoulder.
"Mind the gap," Falsworth says, one eyebrow raised as he stared out over the chasm they'll have to cross to get to the train tracks.
Steve nods once before grabbing the bars and leaping off the precipice, jetting down toward the tracks. Bucky doesn't think, just follows suit. He focuses on Steve's back, a few yards down the line. He can't look down; can't look up or ahead because he'll seize up. He has to trust that his hands still clutch the bars, that the wind cutting his face means he's still on the zipline and not plummeting into the jagged chasm below.
The train is in sight, a black metal snake running on the same blue light that powers all of Hydra's weaponry. Steve lets go, and for one moment Bucky thinks that he will indeed splatter all over the tinted windshield of the train; but Steve lands atop the train and remains crouched down, looking back and up. Bucky sees the wall of mountain coming at him. He hears the rush of wind and the roar of the train. He looks down and sees the emptiness below, and then the black metal roof of a train car, and he lets go.
A fraction of a second of weightlessness in the air. He holds his breath.
Solid metal under his boots.
A thunk a little further down tells him that Gabe has landed as well.
He lets out his breath in a relieved sigh. Phase one, check. It's probably the riskiest part of the plan. Everything else should be easy from here on out.
Bucky and Steve infiltrate the train through a roof hatch while Gabe works his way up to the front of the train. Bucky and Steve are easily the fastest and strongest of the Commandos, and they fight side by side the way some people dance. It falls to them to distract the contingent of Hydra soldiers on board while Gabe intercepts Zola.
Back in Brooklyn, anyone who messed with Steve knew they'd have to face Bucky eventually; and that did save Steve's ass a few times. Since they've been fighting Hydra together, they've been a formidable team. Someone at Hydra knows this, and as they stalk through the dimly lit train cars, stocked with weapons and parts for God knows what, a door remotely slides shut between them.
As soon as the door hisses shut in front of him, Bucky tenses. Steve wheels around and stares at Bucky through the thick glass; his blue eyes widen and he motions for Bucky to look behind him, even as he bangs on the door and tries to pull it open.
Bucky spins around and dives behind a stack of crates just as a burst of vibrant light hits the door, where he was just standing. His heart thuds against his chest and it's hard to get a good breath in as adrenalin and fear strangle him. His pulse throbs in his ears. In his mind he sees twitching legs and bodies reduced to ash and that was almost him.
He hears the weapon charging again. He can't go anywhere, he's trapped like a rat in a cage. He leans out and fires once at the guy, but another burst of energy volleys toward him. Bucky swears and huddles into the corner, clutching his gun to his chest. All the crazy, foolhardy missions he's run with Steve and the Howling Commandos, and it ends like this? Trapped in a corner with a Hydra grunt-a fucking grunt, not even one of their top guys-bearing down on him?
Bucky glances up and sees Steve at the window. Steve meets Bucky's eyes and nods. Til the end of the line. They both trust that Gabe's on it. Just do their jobs, keep the grunts busy.
He's bait. Steve is bait. Bucky nearly laughs aloud at that but manages to keep quiet. Then he almost laughs again, because what does it matter how quiet he keeps? The guy knows he's in here.
He hears the click of the door and glances back at Steve, who nods again. Bucky holds his breath and jumps up, shooting at the Hydra soldier as Steve pushes the door open just in time for his shield to catch the blue ball of light. But the shield is vibranium, which doesn't absorb anything, and the light ricochets off the shield and blasts a gaping hole in the side of the train car. The surprised soldier screams as the force of the blast knocks him off balance, right out of the train and into icy oblivion.
Bucky winces as he thinks about what kind of a fall that must be. "Had him on the ropes," he tells Steve, who just shakes his head and laughs.
But there's no rest for the weary, and they're doing their job quite well, because more Hydra grunts are coming. "Steve get down!" Bucky yells, just as another burst of light illuminates the train car.
Steve gets his shield up just enough to deflect the light once more, but it knocks him off balance and he falls over, the shield clattering against the floor. The grunt levels his weapon at Steve.
The battlefield rage inside of Bucky stirs and wakes. All he can see is the guy with the weapon about to blast Steve into oblivion. Bucky grabs Steve's shield; it's lighter than it looks. He holds it in front of him as he advances on the guy, firing his pistol.
And then the guy gets one more shot off before Bucky's bullet hits home in the center of his head.
The force of the blast is unlike anything Bucky's ever felt, lifting him off his feet. And suddenly everything is cold, colder than he's ever been, and he's hanging on for all he's worth, feet flying out behind him and he's thinking too fast, seeing too much, to be nauseous or scared.
"Bucky!" Steve yells, face appearing. "Hold on!"
As if he could do anything else.
"Grab my hand!" Steve shouts. He's gripping the metal railing, edging out on a thin ridge of metal with one foot, while the other stays planted on the train itself-as if that will make any difference.
Bucky can hardly hear him over the rush of wind in his ears, but he sees Steve's outstretched hand. He bites his lip and starts sliding first one hand, then another, closer to Steve. Just get to Steve. The metal groans and his heart skips. Just get to Steve. Focus on Steve's fingertips, reaching out. You've been on the ropes before, pal, and you made it, he thinks. You've beaten the odds before, Buck. You've beaten worse than this. Just get to Steve.
The metal groans again, loud even over the rush of wind.
Bucky stretches out his arm, eyes locked on Steve's fingers, close, so close, getting closer and the train is rumbling and the wind is roaring and the metal bends and screams and snaps and Steve is screaming his name but he's so far away. He focuses on Steve's fingers, but they're so far away, too far away to ever reach, and maybe he's the one screaming now, but it's suddenly so quiet other than the sound of his own voice, and even then he stops screaming because no one will hear him.
It's all gray and white, snowflakes and cold, and a blur of gray and white as he falls forever.
He always knew the odds were against him from the beginning. He thought knowing this would make the inevitable end easier.
It doesn't.
This is the end of the line.