Demilitarization

3. What Happened to Us, What Happened to Me

“Remember when I made you ride the roller coaster at Coney Island?” Bucky asked, eying the crevasse before them dubiously.

            “Yeah, and I threw up?” Steve replied, grimacing at the memory.

            “This isn’t payback for that, is it?”

            “Why would I do that?” Steve asked, smiling at his friend.  Bucky met his eye, but did not smile as he looked at their destination, far below, eyes following the rope they would use to zip line down to the train.  Steve followed his gaze and inspected their handiwork.  It looked sturdy enough.

            The rest of the Howling Commandos were arranged behind them, preparing.  Falsworth looked through his binoculars for the approaching train, Jones and Morita dealt with the radio.  Dugan was preparing the harnesses they would use to reach the train.

            “We were right.  Dr. Zola’s on the train,” Jones reported.  Steve turned to face him, vaguely aware of Bucky mimicking his action.  “HYDRA gave them permission to open up the throttle.  Wherever he’s going, they must need him bad,” Jones continued.

            Steve looked at Bucky.  He could see the apprehension in his eyes, though he tried to hide it, and he nodded resolutely.  Steve knew that he had more reason to be concerned than anyone else.  It was gratifying that Buck was willing to do this with him, just because he had asked him to.  There was no one he would trust more at his side.

            “Let’s get going because they’re moving like the devil,” Falsworth said.

            Steve walked forward to the edge of the outcropping on which they all stood.  He tossed the harness over the zip line and caught it in his other hand, feet spread and ready to jump.  “We’ve only got about a ten second window,” he called.  “You miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.”

            “Mind the gap,” Falsworth recommended.

            “Better get moving, bugs,” Dugan said dryly.

            Bucky and Jones took their places behind him.  He looked intently at the closest part of the train tracks, waiting.  When the train came into view, he jumped forward.  The wind whistled past and he gritted his teeth against the cold.  He focused his attention on the train, waiting until it was beneath him, then he let go.  He pressed himself to the surface and listened for the sound of Bucky and Jones dropping behind him.

            When they were all accounted for, he motioned and they walked forward, moving low to the roof so they would not be swept off by the strong wind.  He looked carefully around until he saw a ladder to his right.  He climbed down it, and was pleased to find a door to its left.  He wrenched it open and jumped inside, Bucky right behind him.

            Bucky pulled the door closed and they took in their environment.  The train car was about twenty-five feet long, with metal tubing running about three feet up along each side.  A railing, he supposed.  There were aisles on either side, with shelving in the middle, containing long metal boxes.  Some crates were on either side of the doors.  Glancing at Bucky, who held his rifle ready, Steve headed in the direction of the engine.

            He had just stepped into the next car when doors on the end of each car slammed shut behind him, separating them.  He whipped around to try to rejoin his friend, but footsteps behind him drew his attention away from the door.  A man wearing all black leather, a mask, and some kind of tank on his back was stepping into the opposite doorway.  He raised his arms, a weapon in each hand, and a loud noise increased in frequency as the apparatus glowed brighter blue.