Chapter Ten

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Walking up the dirt road that leads in and out of camp, I realize just how little I've thought this out. It's not like Austria is the next block over. Maybe I can get closer to civilization and hitchhike? That's one hell of a long shot though.

"I'll figure it out." I huff, rubbing my hands together for warmth. Frosty air stings my lungs.

Then I see it. One of our Jeeps, just sitting there. It had probably been abandoned when the soldiers got back, everyone had dropped what they were doing to help, and it's a long way back out here to get it. Whoever was driving it has got to be tied up in a million other things right now and is planning on getting it in the morning. I run up to it, and somebody somewhere must be looking out for me because the keys are still in the ignition. This is going to get someone in a whole lot of trouble, but I'll deal with that later, if and when I get back.

Turning to look behind me, I can see I've put considerable distance between myself and camp. From where I stand, you can't tell there's another soul in the forest. I take a breath before climbing into the car and turning the key. I cringe at the sound of the engine starting, but there really isn't anyone around to hear it, so before I can get any second thoughts I slam my foot on the gas.

...

I've been on the road for most of the night. Without a roof, the wind whips my hair all around my face. I should be tired, but the cold keeps me awake, my breath coming in white puffs and disappearing over my shoulder. I shiver in his baggy uniform. My eyes are trained on the road, only looking away to briefly check the map. My left hand grips the wheel until my joints are sore. My right is clasped tightly around his dog tags. When I pull it away to check the map again, "James B. Barnes" is imprinted in my palm.

I drive the rest of the night with nothing but my thoughts for company. I don't know what I'll do when I get there and no amount of thinking is going to give me an answer. But turning around, hell, just hitting the brake? That's not an option. I watched one of them die once. I'm doing that again.

...

The sun has started to rise, changing the sky from pitch black to a dark blue. It's probably around 5:30, maybe even 6:00, but it doesn't matter. I'm here.

I hear life ahead of me. Sounds of distant voices, machinery, orders being shouted, and it all becomes real. As soon as I walk into this place, as soon as anyone sees me, I become a target. So I've got to do everything I possibly can to avoid that. 

I drive the Jeep off the road and into the woods, biting back swears as fallen branches snap underneath it. I turn the key and the engine slows and quiets as it turns off. Stepping out, I haphazardly cover the car in the nearby foliage before snatching my gun and leaving the leaf-covered vehicle, making a mental note of its location. If everything goes smoothly, I'll be back here soon enough.

After maybe 10 minutes of walking through the woods the trees start to thin out, light spilling through the gaps. I get low to the ground and survey what I'm about to walk into.

First impressions: 

One. The building itself is massive. As soon as I realize it's full size, my heart drops. How the hell will I find Bucky in all of that?

Two. Military presence is very low. Like heinously low. Apart from a few transport vehicles, there's really nothing to indicate this is a military operation at all. This along with the size of the building makes me think it's not a base at all, but rather a factory of sorts. For what, I don't know. What I do know is that it means fewer guns firing at me, and that's all I can ask for right now.

I slowly move from my hiding place to the edge of the iron fence. After a quick check for cameras, I start to climb, carefully throwing myself over the barbed wire. It snags on the massive uniform, ripping through the fabric of the pants leg, but not my skin.

Just like that, I'm in.

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