Extreme Weather
Bucky’s homeless, and the wind is biting cold. It screeches as it cuts through the air, shoving him along.
It’s impossible to walk against it, takes more strength than he has. The wind pushes him, stumbling along, as he tries to get somewhere safe and out of the weather. It tears at his jacket, trying to take it away, despite how tightly he holds it to himself. Bucky’s glad the thought to braid his hair back today. Otherwise it would be near impossible to see. As it is, he can’t keep his hood up.
He hears something rumble and skid towards him. A glance over his shoulder shows a trash can. He curses and jogs a few steps to the left, out of the path. It spews trash as it goes and he wrinkles his nose, but glad that he wasn’t hit.
The sky is covered in rain heavy clouds, and it’s getting progressively darker.
All around, there’s evidence of the violent winds. Trees are shaking, and loose branches fly away, carried off to who knows where. A wooden fence rocks back and forth, and Bucky worries it too will tear out of the ground and fly away.
The sun is dropping, taking the temperature with it. Bucky curses, shivering.
He curses again, as the sky rumbles. The wind shrieks back in reply.
Moments later the clouds open up, and freezing rain pours down. Bucky is soaked instantly. As the rain bites at him, Bucky realizes there’s no way he’ll get much further. Not tonight.
The wind, the rain, and the dark conspire against him, trying to prevent him from seeing anything as he stumbles down the street.
A car speeds by, spraying water into Bucky’s face. He splutters and shouts angrily at the driver.
Not that they hear him.
Bucky shivers harder, and he wonders if his soaking jacket is actually doing anything for him.
Lightning flashes, lighting the street briefly. The thunder booms in reply within seconds. Bucky dodges a skittering branch, and realizes there’s no way he can stay out here.
He starts looking around to see if there’s something, anything, to hide by or under to wait out the storm.
A slamming door startles him, and he turns towards the sound, heart hammering. There’s a shed in someone’s side yard, the door banging in it’s frame from the wind and the rain.
Bucky hesitates, not really wanting to trespass if he can help it, but the weather decides for him as the rain shows that it can indeed come down harder.
With another glance around, Bucky darts for the shed, tripping inside the dark room. He fights with the wind for a moment, before the door closes.
Shaking violently, Bucky fumbles in the dark, heart hammering. He removes his backpack and his wet jacket. Opening the back pack, he searches frantically for the flashlight he knows is inside.
Itstoodarkitstoodarkitstoodark repeats in his head as his numb fingers try to find it. When his hand closes around it, he breathes a sigh of relief. He flicks it on and looks around.
The shed is cluttered with boxes and tools. There’s cobwebs and dust over everything. It groans as the storm does it’s best to knock it over.
He flicks the light over a high shelf and something glints back at him. Then blinks. Bucky startles back, tripping over his wet things. He falls with a yelp, dropping the flashlight.
It hits the ground and turns off.
The shed shakes as thunder booms outside. Bucky panics, searches for the flashlight. Another flash of light, barely visible inside the shed, and he sees it, lying a couple feet in front of him. He snatches it up, pressing the button over and over again, though nothing happens.
The wind howls, and Bucky slumps against the wall, shaking, arms around himself as if that would hold him together and warm him up.
Whatever is in the shed knocks something off the shelf it’s on, and it clatters. Bucky whips his head up, trying to see in the dark, his heart continuing to pound. Thunder booms again. Another clatter and something jumps onto Bucky. He startles, hitting his head against the wall.
His cry of alarm turns into a groan of pain, and the thing is still on his lap. It vibrates against him, sharp points digging into his chest.
“Mrrrow” it chirps, butting it’s head against his chin. He jerks his head away in surprise.
It’s a cat. Bucky chokes on a laugh that maybe sounds like a sob. He wraps his arms around it and it purrs happily.
He’s still shivering and he’s no longer sure if it's because he’s cold or if it’s fear that the storm will bring the creaking shed down on their heads.
Outside the storm continues to rage. He shakes around the purring cat in his lap.