Now nothing was in their way they could learn their newly discovered surroundings. With a quick panoramic look around the basement of the base they were confronted with a tunnel with an unforeseeable end a few vehicles to take it.
"How long do you think the tunnel is?" Sam gasped out between stifled whiny breaths, clutching his shoulder. He raised his head and squinted at the dark dimly lit tunnel.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Bucky sighed, scooping back up Steve.
There were two armoured Cadillac escalades parked in the garage, painted up in mountain camouflage that consisted of dull greys and whites to blend with the white hued surroundings, splashed on in random splotches similar to the hide of a cow. They were bulky vehicles, fat and chunky and the armour only served to broaden their pudgy exterior. The wheels were made for harsh terrain, with deeper more intricate traction designs to grip the slippery surfaces that the icy setting was home to.
"You're gonna need to drive..." Sam suggested, blood filtering between his fingers as he grasped his wound.
"As long as you sit in the back and keep an eye on Steve's pulse for me," Bucky demanded.
~
The tunnel was a circular passage and the roar of the engine was amplified around them, intense. It rumbled the whole vehicle. It was like driving through a sewer, the road beneath them in the large pipe was damp and he was forever driving in puddles, splashing through the melted snow that had managed to seep into the base. Lights fixed to the wall flickered in the windows at exact intervals. Bucky had his foot down and determination painted across his face.
"I'm gonna assume you learned to break into a car during service... But I've never seen it done that fast before. Colour me impressed," Sam said conversationally from the back seat.
Sam sat strapped in, upright in the seat, with Steve's bent up body draped in his lap: head cushioned on his rump thighs, his long legs bent at the knee to fit them in the cabin. Sam's fingers were resting on Steve's pulse point, tracking the man's weakening heartbeat. The palpations of his beating heart were getting fewer and far between. The blood flow was slowly beginning to stem: but Sam accredited it to running out of blood rather than a clot in the wound. The brass bullet was just visible beneath his torn suit, rising and falling with his lungs where it was embellished in his flesh, coated with red dripping blood.
"Actually, Steve taught me... Nazi Germany... He always felt guilty about it, but y'know it was a necessity to get from place to place."
Bucky yearned to be in the back seat with Steve, clutching his dying body and whispering sweet nothings into his ear to ease him, he'd give his commiseration and pray for forgiveness. He longed for his touch, to be able to feel his heat and his lips and see his smile and his eyes. Steve's face was as pasty as paper and his lips looked slightly shrivelled and deflated and were a pale pink. He looked ill, but still looked comely: even with thin scratches drawn across his face, bruises staining his skin and drowning in his own blood.
Bucky knew that Steve was dancing upon the tightrope of life, teetering and wobbling, close to plunging into the void, condemned to eternal rest. He also knew he was the one who put him there. In his own mind, he'd made it his divine responsibility to save him. He resented the fate he had unwittingly thrust upon him; and he wasn't to forgive himself if Steve died.
"Sly dog, your boyfriend. As soon as you think you know him, there's always something new to discover about him..." Sam gave Steve an admirable smile, saddened by the broken state of the hero.
"Stevie was always a bit of a dark horse... Always surprising me with his resilience and his strength. He used to be the scrawniest kid in the neighbourhood... Five foot four and wouldn't back down from a fight. And it was a rough neighbourhood... Brooklyn hasn't changed much. He was ridiculous... He used to take on the biggest bullies in alleys and on street corners and I'd always be there to fish him out before they knocked him out or worse: normally snatching him by his collar and dragging him away kicking and screaming, still yelling insults and trying to throw punches. But, y'know... This isn't the first time I've seen him unconscious, or injured for that matter... It's just... I've never seen him in critical condition from a fight before..." Unnoticed to Sam, Bucky was wiping away tears that were dripping down his cheeks, reminiscing fondly about the love of his lonely life.
"I used to know a guy like Steve... Riley... My wingman... Had balls too big for his own good, always pulling off stupid stunts as a joke... Then one day he ended up getting shot down. Blown up by an RPG in the field. That's why the EXO-7 Falcon program got cancelled in the end. There was no stealth in it, it wasn't useful in Afghan and good men were getting killed..." Sam's eyes were crystalline with tears. "They're the best kind of men, and when they're alive you take them for granted... All of them, them and their stupid ideas, ridiculous jokes and impossible escapades... But when they're gone, suddenly you realise how important they were..."
Bucky nodded wordlessly and gave a large sniff. In the reflection of the rear view mirror Sam could see Bucky crying: only his eyes visible in the horizontal rectangle of reflective glass. His eyes were evocative of despair and truly they were a doorway to Bucky's guilty wretched soul.
"It'll be alright buddy... If you know Steve as well as you think you do, you know he'll be resilient again, now. You know he'll fight death."
Then the car skidded to a disastrous screaming halt, the wheels twisting waywardly and inverting and sending the car screeching up the curved tubular wall and to a halt. Steve nearly rolled off Sam's lap.
"Door..." Bucky gasped, twisting the wheel at a dramatic angle with his foot flat on the brake pedal.
He unstrapped himself, slipped out the door and plodded out the remainder of the way to the end of the tunnel and punched through the circuitry with his metal arm. He reached in and tore out the whole panel, wires wrapped around his hand and components showering the floor. The doors snapped open, revealing the foggy snow-scape behind.
Bucky was quick to rush back to the vehicle, glancing back to get the go from Sam - who was avidly securing Steve in the seat with free seatbelts - he turned the wheel and shot out into the white haze. Though it was dark and in the early hours of the morning, it seemed to still be light: the snow had the effect of brightening its surroundings.
The military base stretched to the shoreline. Even through the foggy snowstorm, the glare of floodlights was visible: blinding white lights piercing through the darkness and the haze; only being exacerbated by the crystals of ice it was passing through. The sound of distant sirens from the further base echoed through the valley. Clearly both bases had been put into high alert.
They came to the walls of the costal facility that sat at the foot of the mountain base: big concrete walls topped with spirals of looping barbed wire, two towers occupied by snipers stood proud at the base, keeping vigil for any intruders.
As the car rocked up at an alarming speed, aiming for the flimsy metal gate, the snipers began firing off bullets at their own vehicle. The bullets bounced off, pathetically denting the exterior: the bullets not built for penetrating their impenetrable vehicles.
The car busted open the gates and swerved into a snow-filled courtyard. Men poured in, firing off bullets.
"Sam, give me the walkie-talkie. You keep your head down and cover Steve..." Bucky insisted, only one hand on the wheel, his human one reaching back for the communicator; more blood oozed from his wound as he used the muscles. The car was bouncing around on its suspension as Bucky rammed down HYDRA militia members, buying for time by rambling around the base at top speeds, screeching around corners on the ice and making tight manoeuvres down tight paths.
Sam unclipped Steve's walkie-talkie and slapped it into Bucky's hand. Bucky raised it to his mouth. "Stark, this is Barnes... We're in the shoreline facility. I have no idea where the submarine is and we're being shot at, so if you could give me directions, I would be grateful," Bucky radioed in.
"It's good to have you back, Barnes. Right, um... If you could get as close to the water's edge as possible, that'd be good. The place is a harbour, so you're going to have to drive around the curve of the bay to get to it. It's a Russian Shark submarine... An updated version of the old Soviet Nuclear submarines which I'm sure you're familiar with."
"Akula? Nuclear powered?" Bucky questioned, turning abruptly, causing Sam to tighten his hold on Steve in the back. Bullets were still ricocheting off the car, worrying with metallic pings. One put a crack in the window on the driver side. Bucky ground his teeth in concern.
"Those exactly."
They managed to break free of the main stronghold and were now traversing the road alongside the harbour. The dramatic snow-capped mountains peaked to their left, a wall of foreboding rock, surrounded by swirling mist. The Mediterranean was crashing against the harbour wall and sloshing onto the piers. There were the antennae and satellites of the submarines peaking above the surface like the fins of sharks.
"Which one is it?" Bucky requested.
A fleet of cars had pulled up behind them, three of them: all with armed soldiers inside, attempting to chase them down or shoot them off the road.
"The furthest."
"Sod's law..." Bucky slapped the wheel with frustration.
"You're doing fantastically, Barnes... Don't give up now. You're nearly safe. Now... You need to know, once you enter the sub, all of your communications with me will be cut off. Once you're submerged, we won't be able to send or receive signals from you anymore. And to get away from this place on high alert, you're going to have to maintain radio silence all the way to New York City. Which brings me to my next point. It's going to take you just over three days to get back to the states from where you are. You're going to be out on your own... But you've got Wilson. He's a motivational speaker - trust me, he does it for a job. He'll keep you sane. Just get in to the sub through the hatch, get Steve stashed away in the medical wing: get him a transfusion if you can... If you can find a medical handbook, remove the bullet and seal the wound. Have you got all of that?"
"Да, сэр." Yes sir.
Bucky swerved around barracks buildings dotted on the site and caused one car to crash into the building with the erratic movement and it was buried beneath a pile of rubble as the building collapsed. He swung the back out and back to the shore again and one flew into a spin, forced off the road onto the ice and sent skidding.
"Payback's a bitch..." Bucky muttered, eyeing the explosive vehicle bouncing in a ball of flame in his rear-view mirror. He cracked a smirk, feeling the satiation of retribution.
Only one car remained tailing them and they were closing in on the submarine fast. Bucky turned right, speeding up the stretch of pier that ran alongside the sub. There wasn't much to it: it went off into the sea. The car behind foolishly pulled up behind them, blindly following them like a lamb to the slaughter.
"Sam, hold onto Steve tight for me, and when I say jump... The pair of you need to get the hell outta this vehicle."
They bounced down the concrete pier, dotted with bollards, slippery with ice.
"Now!" Bucky commanded.
Sam unclipped every buckle and threw himself out the door backwards, Steve flopping on top of him. Bucky tucked and rolled and landed next to him. Both of them grunted, the ice freezing cold on their backs and as solid as the ground beneath them.
Their car jumped off the end of the pier, tripping up over the curb at the end of the block. Just as their pursuers realised it was the end and began to brake, they were fired off the edge two and were catapulted into the sea. Just on the horizon, kicking up a stormy blizzard in their trail was a new fleet of cars that had been deployed from the base to hunt them down.
"We need to move fast," Bucky groaned, grimacing as he struggled off his battered back and lifted Steve up. They made their way to the gap-plank that bridged the gap between the submarine and the boardwalk.
Sam was quick to twist the stiff creaking wheel deigning the hatch and lift open the door to permit them entrance to the submarine. Clutching Steve close, Bucky jumped down into the hull with a thump and Sam was quick to follow, sliding down the ladder and dragging the pressurised hatch shut behind them.
A/N - Dedication goes to 18msalman! x