Till the End of the Line

The night was cold and dense. Fog had settled between the bare branches of the trees that flanked the streets. Sarah stood in the shadow of a particularly large elm that hadn't yet lost all its leaves. Pressing her arms a little tighter around herself, she peered around the tree every now and then, waiting to see a pair of headlights coming around the corner. James had said he'd get them a car. And, although Sarah knew it would probably take a while, she almost expected him to be quite quick about it. She had been waiting for a little over ten minutes when she finally heard the sound of an approaching engine. Eager to get going, she stepped out of the shadow and onto the sidewalk, where she had an unimpeded view of the road. She jumped back to her hiding place almost immediately when she saw the car that drove by. It was a black car; a very familiar black car…
Her heart pounding rather fast, Sarah drew the hood of her sweater a little lower over her face, praying that she had not been seen. The car passed and drove off, and she let out a little sigh when she saw the taillights disappearing in the distance. A few minutes later she heard the sound of another vehicle approaching, only this time she remained under the tree. A battered pick-up truck came into sight, the colour almost indistinct in the dim glow cast by the streetlights. When it had reached Sarah's tree, it stopped in the middle of the road and the door on the passenger's side was thrown open from within.
"Get in," she heard James' voice say.
She hurried over to the truck immediately, throwing her bag on the floor before sitting down. As soon as she had closed the door James started the engine again and they drove off into the night.

While they drove, Sarah tried to make herself comfortable in the passenger's seat. She pulled down her hood and took off her jacket, which she folded and placed on the seat as a cushion. As she did so, she felt something in the back-pocket of her jeans. When she took it out, she saw it was the photo of the cabin in Asheville that she'd swiped from Olivia's desk. She had already told James about the place before he went to get the truck, but she had almost forgot that she had the exact location of the place, as it was written on the back of the picture. She held it out to James.
"What's that?" he asked, glancing at it momentarily before fixing his eyes on the road again.
"The cabin I told you about. I think we should really consider it, at least until we've found something better," Sarah said, still holding it out to him. Without looking, he took it from her, first checking the picture, then turning it over.
"Is this the location?" he asked. Sarah nodded. James turned his eyes on the back of the photo again, nodding a little himself. "Well, it's definitely an option. It's remote, so that's good, for a temporary hideout."
"Alright," Sarah said, feeling a little excited now that they had decided where to go. It gave their journey more of a purpose, which was somewhat uplifting. "Do you need a map?" she asked James, because she had just spotted one on the floor next to her bag.
"No," he replied simply, and he put the photo on top of the dashboard. With a small yawn, Sarah leaned back into the seat again.

"Where did you get this truck?" she asked after a small pause.
"Found it," he answered. Sarah smiled, she could tell that he wasn't comfortable telling her how he had stolen a car and, somehow, it made her grin.
"You should get some sleep," he said, taking off his jacket as well. He handed it to Sarah, who folded it and used it as a pillow for her head, leaning it against the window. Crossing her arms over her chest Sarah was just about to close her eyes, when she suddenly remembered something.
"A black car drove by, just before you came," she said, turning her head a little to look at James. When he didn't respond she continued: "It looked identical to the one I was pulled into when I saw you the first time, outside the Smithsonian, and the car that I thought was following me a few weeks back."
James looked almost as though he hadn't heard her at all, his eyes still fixed on the road, his features completely blank.
"Do you think we should be… worried?" Sarah persisted, still looking at him intently.
"The black car?" he asked without moving his gaze, "No, we don't need to worry about that."
"Why?" Sarah asked, surprised, "They interrogated me about you specifically. What if it's Hydra?" James gave a small, derisive snort.
"They're not Hydra," he said.
"How do you know?"
A little smile appeared on his face.
"I researched them after you told me about it. They're definitely not with Hydra. It's just those idiots from the Department of Defense."
Sarah sat up a bit, looking at him with her eyebrows raised: "And that's not something we should worry about because…?"
The grin on James' face widened a little.
"Because those guys couldn't even catch me if I stood in the middle of the street with a sign over my head."
"Well, you should've told me that earlier, I almost had a heart attack when they drove past me," Sarah said, leaning back against the window.
"I promise I won't do it again," he said, still grinning slightly.

The sun was already up in the sky when Sarah woke up again. From between her half-closed eyelids she saw that they were speeding past a vast expanse of fields and trees. She moved a little to get into a more comfortable position, her head still resting against the window, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Sleep well?" she heard James ask. Her head still leaning against the window, she turned her eyes on him and nodded.
"Good," he said, "We'll be taking a break soon."

Twenty minutes later they drove into the deserted parking lot of a small shop with a gas station beside the road. James parked the truck a small distance away from the building, from where they wouldn't be seen by anyone inside. When James turned the engine off Sarah pulled her hood over her head again, opened the door and stepped out. Although it felt good to stretch her legs, she felt an uncomfortable knot growing in her stomach as she made her way over to James' side of the truck. James opened the door once she reached him.
"I really don't know about going in alone," Sarah said, glancing briefly at the building behind her before fixing her eyes on his.
"I'm sure you'll be okay," he said, "just stay calm; don't act like you're in a hurry. We'll be out of here soon enough."
"Shouldn't we come back when there's more customers in there?" Sarah said, fidgeting nervously with the cord of her hoodie.
"That'll take too long," he answered. He paused momentarily, apparently thinking. Turning around in his seat, he reached for his duffel-bag, which he had stowed behind their seats. "In case there is any trouble, though," he said, rummaging in the bag, "you should take this with you." He retrieved a small handgun from the bag and held it out for Sarah to take it, but she didn't move. She stared at the gun in his hands, feeling even more nervous than she already was.
"I-I really don't…" she stammered, but he cut across her: "I'll feel a lot better if you take it with you. Just in case." Hesitantly, Sarah edged closer to him, first looking down at the gun, then back at him. He gazed calmly back at her, which seemed to steady her nerves somewhat. When she still didn't move to take it, he turned the gun over in his hand and said: "If you do need to use it, take the safety off first." He showed her how, then held it out to her again. Still rather reluctant, she took it from him and repeated the motion.
"You'll be okay," he said again, giving her a little smile of encouragement, "and if you don't get out in less than fifteen minutes, I'll come to get you."

The radio was playing softly on the background while Sarah made her way through the aisles. She tried to look relaxed, moving rather slower than she would've liked to while she filled up her basket with (mostly canned) food. Meanwhile, she still felt incredibly nervous, her fingers closing around the cold gun in her pocket with every other step. When she walked up to the counter, the radio started playing Copacabana, which seemed a little fitting as the man behind the till looked a bit like a bored, run-down version of Barry Manilow. He'd been looking at a computer screen that stood behind the counter, but when Sarah started unloading the contents of her basket he turned around to face her. Lazily, he scanned the cans, which Sarah then quickly packed into her bag. She tried not to look the man in the face, and hoped that by keeping her head down he wouldn't get a clear view of her.
"You going camping or something?" He asked, as she scanned the last can. Surprised, Sarah looked up, but only briefly.
"Uh, no," she said, and while she rummaged in one pocket for the money, she took the safety off the gun in the other. Just in case.
"That's an awful lot of cans you have there, though," the man said.
"Yeah," Sarah said, handing him the money.
"So what are they for then?" he persisted.
"Cooking," Sarah retorted, slightly irritated. She held out a hand for her change, but the man wasn't giving it to her.
"Cooking, eh?" he repeated, his eyes trying to peer under her hood.
"I'd like my change back, please," Sarah said, still holding out her hand. Suddenly, the man rose from his seat and she felt his hand gripping her outstretched wrist.
"What the-," Sarah tried to pull her hand back, but the man was stronger than she was.
"I think I know who you'll be cooking for," he said quietly, and she felt his grip tighten painfully on her arm. Sarah stared at him, her heart racing. Now that he was standing up, she could get a clear view of the screen of his computer. There was a picture of Bucky on it and, next to it, one of herself.
"So, where is he?" the man continued, looking straight into her face now.
Sarah clenched her teeth and swung her bag as hard as she could at the man. There was a dull thud as it hit him on the head, and he let go of her wrist, after which she immediately began to run. The exit seemed impossibly far away. A loud bang shot through the air, and Sarah could feel something blasting past her. The shock of it threw her off balance, and she fell over against the wall. While she scrambled to get up again, gripping her bag with one hand and the gun with the other, the man had run over to her. He stood towering over her, his gun pointed at her face.
"Is he waiting for you?" he said, his tone almost excited, "Did he let you go in here all by yourself while he's hiding somewhere?"
Sarah's ears rang with the sound of her blood pumping furiously through her head mixed with the chorus of Copacabana that was still playing on the radio. "Why don't we go and get him?" the man said, motioning for her to get up.
Another loud bang, a cry of pain, and a shard of music. An instant later, Sarah found herself running out to the parking lot, without knowing or looking where she was going. She ran into something solid, which turned out to be a tall, dark man with a leather jacket. She shoved him aside, heard him call out something indistinct, and then saw the beaten-up truck appear right in front of her, as if it had come out of nowhere. The door was thrown open, Sarah jumped in while James accelerated and they drove away at maximum speed.