Who Am I? » [Stucky]

102. Terror Alert

They spent the day on travelling; escaping the ominous imminent threat. The road was twisted as twine and ongoing and the journey seemed never ending. They spent endless hours taking roads as far as they could go, traversing the length and breadth until they were forced to turn off onto a new track.

Bucky’s eyes were pinned on the road before him, focused and calculating. They didn’t stray from the path for a second, endeavouring to concentrate on carrying out the imperative escape. Bucky somehow couldn’t help but feel he was just evading his inevitable capture; just fighting fate. He felt like he was clinging onto his last thread of freedom and denying what was coming for him. HYDRA were stronger in numbers, in power, in weapons and in money; they were undefeatable. He and Steve on the other hand where a pair of vigilantes running for their life; Steve didn’t even belong to a government agency anymore. They were only marking time until HYDRA hunted them down, tracking their scent like truffle pigs and struck mercilessly.

Bucky was unsure what would become of Steve if they ever got their hands of him; death, most likely - he was a nuisance in their eyes, one to be eradicated, to be extinct like a long dead plague. Bucky was sure of his fate if he ever slipped into their hands again: a punishment, a mindwipe and being thrown back into service. He dreaded the day it would come and his whole body physically shuddered at the sickening thought. It troubled him constantly, but he would never admit that to Steve.

They passed through innumerable towns, cities and villages; that seemed to get smaller and more rustic the further north they went, drowning in the countryside surrounding them, nature invading their borders and oozing into civilisation without an invite. The towns became more frail, less rich, and much for agricultural. There were market towns whose economy thrived solely on the harvest they drew from the fields around them: fields currently drenched in a thick layer of snow: unplanted and untamed out of season. The towns turned into villages, and the villages into hamlets. They could feel the change in the culture with the distance the tyres covered.

Still, as they travelled, they were hyperaware of their surroundings: particularly the people. They could feel the eyes burning into them as they entered a new town, perhaps infiltrating a small community as anonymous outsiders; unwelcome and untrustworthy. But as quickly as they arrived, they were gone, driving straight through the town and exiting out the other end, like water in a gutter. They were plunged back into miles of empty wide open wilderness again, left with only the company of the land and the plants.

It remained cold, the wind that rushed around them as they drove only served to harshen the journey, to hinder their comfort. The pair shuddered, pressed close and trying to share body heat. Steve was practically welded to Bucky, trying to meld their bodies together to share the heat; trying to give and receive. The conditions were brutal: a harrowing east wind howled, tearing at their bodies with an insatiable appetite, whipping them about with an untamed waywardness. The chill in the air pierced their skin and sunk to their cores, penetrating them and freezing them inside and out. Warm water ran from cold eyes and the fluid in their noses began to seem thinner. They sniffled as they rode, facing the harsh conditions head on. A barely noticeable touch of snow loomed in the air, just small weightless flecks floating on the wind and adding to the bitterness of the journey. It was almost like the world was trying to assault them: like it wanted them to fail. They assumed, if there were a god, he had most likely given up on them: they were vulnerable and everything surrounding them threatened them.

The pair broke up the journey a little with the two necessary petrol stops they had to make to cover as much distance as they could. They would dive into the petrol station and buy up hot drinks available over the counter and try and bide their time in the shop. Central heating was a blessing of a commodity they hadn’t experienced for approaching two weeks; and it felt heavenly. They were bowled over by the humidity of the inside compared to the frigid out. The cups they cupped in their hands were burning hot with painful contrast; like when you first step into a boiling hot bath. But that sting of heat was pleasantly invited on their icy skin.