Before the Frost (1)

Chapter Fourteen

Benjamin fell to his knees with a grunt of pain and although his head was facing the ground, they could all see the river of blood dripping from his nose and onto the ground, right on top of the saliva-wad he'd spat at Bucky out of disgust and disrespect. The sound of gasping from the other soldiers was audible enough for the sergeant to know that they'd gotten the point of this demonstration, and despite the fact that his knuckles were as bloody as Ben's face, the young man from Brooklyn still wanted to pound the guy into a pile of pulp.

"Give me one good reason, Benny Boy," Buck snarled and got on one knee to be eye-level with the snob he'd just punched. With an angry hand, he grabbed the brute by the chin and forced the injured man to look up at him, right in the eyes. "This was your second warning, and I swear to God you won't be getting a third. When this mission is over, I'm shipping you out of here as fast as humanly possible, all the way back to America with your tail between your legs like the low-life mutt you are."

At first, the surrounding soldiers believed that the fight was over. Buck had defended Evangeline just as he always did and punished the person responsible for the disrespect. Usually, things would die down and everything would go back to the way things were. They'd continue on with their mission as if nothing had happened, though Bucky's men always learned a lesson from these encounters.

It was a shock to everyone when Buck's hand came out of nowhere and slapped Benjamin so hard that the sound echoed through the trees. The insubordinate man collapsed into the pool of red beneath him, tears in his eyes from the pain, and Bucky walked over him as if he were nothing but a fallen tree in his way.

"Alright, boys," With a face as expressionless as a blank page, Bucky held his rifle and continued to walk through the trees. "Let's go, we need to be ready when those trucks come."

"Not to cause any more problems for you, sir," One of the scouts ahead called out nervously through the darkness. "But the trucks are gone. So is Corporal Harris's team and their explosives."

**********

Before any of the Germans could jump out of their seats, Angie let go of the truck's under-belly, rolled over onto her hands and knees and began to crawl under the vehicle as fast as she could, pausing at the back of the truck to check if the coast was clear, then darted over to the next truck and crawled under that one as well. If she was quick enough, maybe this plan would actually work. Maybe if she timed everything correctly and reached the back of the last vehicle before anyone caught wind of her existence, everything was going to be alright.

When she finally got to the tailgate of the very last truck, Angie could hear the sound of her team looting the weapons, water containers, rations, and, of course, the wine. Their voices were hushed, but it wasn't hard to notice the excitement in their silent chatter. 

"Hurry, guys," Henry urged from within the truck as he helped load the explosive crate onto the back of the last vehicle. Though the sweating men were exhausted from all the running, they gave one last mighty heave and pushed the crate into place. "Alright, that's the last of it. Anyone seen Angel yet?"

"Down here," She whispered and pulled herself out from beneath the car. Saying the men were shocked would've been an understatement; the spooked gasps that left their mouths made Angie have to cover her own from bursting out into laughter. "I cut the tubing between the engine and the gas, so they should be stuck here for a bit."

"Good thinking," Henry complimented and was about to hop down from the truck's rear-end when the vehicle suddenly jolted forward, knocking the boy against the crate of explosives and cracking the container along the side. Knowing that if the container of explosives fell out of the truck it would explode, the woman held up her arms and caught the crate right before it could've fallen to the ground, then shoved the wooden box back into its original spot. 

Though her save was a lucky one, the situation still went from one of relief to one of terror in the blink of an eye. In a split second, Angie went from trying to hide her laughter to stifling her screams with her sleeve as a glob of glowing orange goo spit through the opening in the container and landed on her skin.

The pain was unimaginable, absolutely horrendous and the smell of burning flesh filled her nose. She could feel it burning through the layers of her skin, killing whatever nerves ended in her right hand and enraging the surviving ones to a point where Angie could hardly breathe. Angie couldn't hear anything, couldn't feel anything as two pairs of arms scooped her up and began to drag her frantically towards the nearest ditch. Blood filled her mouth as her teeth broke through the surface of the skin on her arm, but that pain was nothing compared to the hell breaking loose in her fingers and palm.

Evangeline didn't know how it happened, if she did it on her own or if someone hit her hard enough, but the only time she felt relief of the torturous agony was when her head became light and she finally blacked out.

**********

The next time her eyes opened, the sun was rising in the distance and she was out of whatever ditch her comrades must've dragged her into. Angie glanced suspiciously around the room and realized from the crumbling interior that she must've been back in Malheur, laying on a bed within one of the five buildings that made up the tiny village. With the crusty white walls, the dust layering nearly everything within a twenty-foot radius, the massive hole in the ceiling off to her left. If this wasn't a destroyed home, she didn't know what was.

Off to her left was an exhausted-looking man seated in an old wooden chair, his lower face covered in stubble and tired bags hanging beneath his blue eyes. His forehead was resting against her mattress, but she already knew who it was. Evangeline smiled at the sight of him and knew that he most-likely never left that spot.

Ever so gently, the woman lifted her weak left hand and began to run her pale fingers through his locks, massaging his head and causing the sleeping man to let out an exhausted moan. It was then that he lifted his sleepy self from his current position and saw that the woman he loved had finally come to.

"Hey," Buck whispered with relief and a reassuring smile on his face. Angie grinned back and pressed her hand against his cheek, which he didn't hesitate to kiss lovingly before pressing it back to the side of his face.

"Hey," Evangeline replied, matching his silent tone. "What time is it?" From the way Bucky was trying to keep his voice down, she figured it had to have been early in the day. The man checked the old watch on his wrist.

"About six in the morning," He answered. It didn't take long for his relieved expression to be replaced by one of shame; his eyes looked away from hers and he pushed away her loving touch. "I'm so sorry, Angie, it was all my fault. This was all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" The woman questioned with a quizzical look in her eye. "Did the explosives fall off the truck? Were there any casualties last night?" He shook his head, but still refused to look directly at her face.

"No, it was thanks to you that the mission went anywhere in general, let alone be a success."

"Then why are you apologizing?"

He glanced over at her right side. It was subtle, but Angie noticed anyway and followed his gaze towards the right half of her body. When she looked down, she felt her chest constrict and the color drain from her face.

Her right hand was gone.