Chapter 14
Nixon, Missouri
Unknown date, 9:17pm
James ran down a dimly lit street. His boots splashed through puddles as the rain poured. His hair stuck to his face and he blinked as the water ran down it into his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times, only to loose his footing and trip onto the road, skinning his knees. Blood ran down his legs as he quickly stood up and continued to sprint down the street, ignoring the yowls of protest coming from his scraped knees. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs screamed at him to stop running, but he didn't. He couldn't; not until he was sure he was safe. He flew down the street and up to a small deserted grocery store.
The shelves were empty and most of the merchandise was gone; stolen months ago by desperate citizens. Empty cans littered the floor as he climbed through the shattered windows, careful not to cut himself on the glass that was sprinkled around him. He sprinted down an isle to the back of the store and hid behind one of the back shelves. He panted as he tried to catch his breath, his lungs still burning from the intense activity. How long had he been running? It felt like hours, and maybe it was. He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he had to hide. A noise caught his attention and his breath caught in his throat, causing his lungs to scream louder.
The sound of heavy boots crunching over glass slowly got closer to him. He closed his eyes and silently began to pray as he tried to keep his breathing quiet. A mixture of sweat and water ran down his neck and into his soaked clothes. The store fell quiet; leaving only the sound of the rain and his own heartbeat thudding through his veins. He waited.
Just then, the shelf he was hiding behind fell forward, and the man he was running appeared from behind the shelf. A taller man, about 6" was standing in front of him. His messy blonde hair strung to the sides of his face and his intense blue eyes trained on him. He had a gun pointed at James with a firm hand.
James sunk to the floor, choking back a sob as his eyes fell to the man's black boots. "P-please," he croaked as tears started flowing from his eyes, mixing with the rain on his face.
The blonde man grunted in amusement. "I have no choice, Bucky."
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" James screamed and his voice broke.
He laughed softly. "Why? That's your name isn't it? Or do you still not remember?"
"No, I don't. Please don't kill me, I didn't DO ANYTHING!" He sobbed as he rammed his left fist into the ground, breaking fingers.
"You can't walk out of this. It's your fault." The blonde man's voice was calm, but taunting as he scanned James's face.
"What's my fault?" James said between sobs. "You keep saying that but you won't tell me anything! I didn't do it, I swear to god! Please! Just let me go!"
The man shook his head. "You know I can't do that. You'd just do it again. More people are going to die, Buck. I can't let that happen."
"What people?!" James screamed. "There's no one left!" He jabbed a finger toward the front of the store. "Can't you see that? The few people that are left are in hiding! The world is in chaos!" He dropped his arm and fell against the wall in defeat. "It's every man for himself. Just leave me to die." Another tear rolled down his face. "Please."
He laughed as he bent down to James. He grabbed his chin roughly and jerked it toward his own, forcing him to make eye contact. "Poor little Soldier. You destroyed the world, killed your friends, your family, left everything to burn, and here you are; helpless as a little kitten."
"What the hell are you taking about?" He choked back another sob as he wrenched his face free from the man's iron grip.
"Look at yourself!" He snapped. "You're a monster! And you don't even see it! You turned on the one's who tried to help you and you don't even remember!"
"I'm not a monster!" James screamed at him. "I didn't do those things, I don't know what the hell you are talking about!"
The man stood back up and laughed. "Not a monster?" He scoffed. "Then tell me," he jabbed the gun towards his left arm, "what the hell is that then?"
James blinked in confusion and looked at his left arm. A metal arm replaced the flesh one that was there just a moment ago. It was shiny and wet from the rain. A red star was painted on his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes and his mind melted with confusion. He twitched his pinky finger, then slowly opened and closed his fist. The broken fingers were gone and his hand felt like it could crush a boulder.
"You think that is normal?"
James glared up at the man through his hairline. "What the hell did you do to me?"
The man burst out into a hysterical laughter and James stood up slowly, feeling the anger boil in his blood. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?" He screamed.
The man looked at him and shook his head, still laughing. "You honestly think I did that to you?" He waved his gun carelessly through the air. A large clap of thunder shook the building and lightning lit up the store soon after. The rain grew louder and louder on the roof until it began to hit Jame's face. James blinked and they were suddenly outside. The grocery store was gone and they were standing in a military grave yard. The rain had stopped and the sun was shining. Green grass was soft under his bare feet and the birds chirped excitedly. His clothes weren't wet anymore and his short hair was combed neatly to the side. He looked down at his pants and blinked in surprise when there were no holes. He felt the spots where he scraped his knees; nothing. Not even a scratch. The metal arm was once again human flesh, and he had no broken bones.
He looked around the cemetery in confusion and turned to ask a question, but the blonde man was gone. He turned back around and began to walk through the cemetery slowly. The grass tickled his toes as he blindly read the names of the headstones. He soon forgot the chase with the blonde man and he began to panic as his mind began to blank. He slowly quickened his pace until he was running. His eyes trained on the exit, but no matter how long he ran, it still looked half a mile away. The faster he ran, the farther away the exit got, it was like the earth was stretching around him and he was on a never ending treadmill. His heart began to pound and fear clawed at his belly. He could hear thunder, but there was no rain. He could feel fire licking his skin, but the flesh would not burn. He began to scream as the world around him darkened into night. The grass died and the trees bent over into hollow empty trunks. He tripped over a dead root and flew forward, face first into the dirt. He laid there for a while, his mind in a daze, and he could feel it had started raining. The dry dirt around him soon turned to mud, but he still didn't move. He could feel himself breathing. Every detail of his lungs filling with air could be heard in his ears. He could feel the rain, but couldn't hear it. The steady beat of his heart drowned away his breathing. A solid THUMP THUMP drummed in his ears and he thought of nothing as his mind swept aimlessly through the wind. The face of the blonde man came back to him and his voice echoed through the cemetery.
"You can't walk out of this... Poor little Soldier. You destroyed the world, killed your friends; your family, left everything to burn..."
He grunted as it felt like he had been punched in the stomach.
"You're a monster!" The voice echoed. "And you don't even see it! You turned on the one's who tried to help you and you don't even remember!"
James curled into a tight ball and rocked back and forth in the mud. "N-no," he croaked. "Just leave me alone."
"It's you're fault."
"St-stop," James could feel his breath being sucked away from his lungs. "P-please."
"Bucky..."
James turned and screamed at the sky. His head pounded like it had been beaten with a steel rod and his throat was raw from screaming. He panted in the mud and glanced in front of him. Confused, he sat up and blinked the rain from his eyes. A large grey tombstone three times his height rose up in front of him. It was cracked in several places and moss was growing on the top of it. He blinked a few more times trying to read the scrambled letters. The pounding in his head slowly faded and the letters swam across the tomb to spell out a name.
James Buchanan Barnes.
1917-1945
"A loving friend and soldier."
James opened his mouth in confusion. He stood up and ran his hand along the rough rock.
What the hell? He thought as he circled the tombstone. He muttered to himself "I don't understa—" Something caught his ankle and pulled it out from under him, sending him back into the mud. He grunted and slipped around as he turned to face his attacker. A man with long brown hair stood over him. He had on a black leather vest and black cargo pants. Black military style boots rose up to the middle of his calves and he had a knife on one side of his belt along with a hand gun on the other. The man's hair fell in his face, but it was the black makeup around his eyes that hid his face in the dark. He didn't move, save for the steady rise and fall of his shoulders.
James stared at the unfamiliar man. Who was he? What did he want?
A flash of lighting lit up the cemetery for a split second, but that was all it took for James's breath to catch in his throat and his heart to stop. The man that he hadn't recognized just a moment ago, was himself. Slowly, he grabbed the headstone and pulled himself to his feet. His mouth was open in shock and he tried to speak, but his tongue felt numb.
The other version of himself just stared at him. Didn't move, didn't even blink. The heavy rain was making the makeup run down his face like black tears and his breath came out in white puffs.
"Who—" was all James was able to croak out before the man drew his gun and shot him four times in the stomach.
Pain shot through him like a raging fire and his legs went numb, causing him to fall back into the mud. He cried out when pain exploded through his entire body. He fell onto his back and stared at the sky as tears rushed from his eyes. The black clouds above kept releasing more rain and pretty soon he was laying in a large puddle. His breath became raspy as he could feel his lungs filling up with blood. The world began to blur. He rolled onto his side weakly as he could feel his mind slipping. The last thing he saw was the other version of himself running away, disappearing into the night. He closed his eyes, his mind slipping into complete darkness as the sound of the rain faded to silence.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxXxxxxxxxxxxX
The sound of urgent voices woke him. He squinted as large white lights flashed past on the ceiling as he was wheeled through a long hallway on a gurney. He could feel something over his nose and mouth, pumping oxygen. He wanted to panic, but he had no energy as he stared at the ceiling. Voices shouted through the hallway, all talking over each other.
"BP is eighty-five over fifty-five, and dropping!" A woman's voice shouted.
"Can someone put pressure on this?"
"Heart rate?" A man's voice broke above the rest. "What's his heart rate? Is anybody checking the damn heart rate?"
"175, Doctor!"
They pushed him through a set of double doors and into a large room. He felt himself being lifted from the gurney and set onto an operating table. Another man entered the room, his lab coat whipping behind him.
"What's the status?" He shouted.
"Looks like four penetrations to the abdomen. BP is 85/55 with an increasing heart rate of 175."
"Alright he'll need immediate surgery. Sedate him," he instructed.
A large needle poked into his arm and he could feel a cool liquid run through his vein. His mind was already relaxed, but the trance seemed to deepen. "This isn't supposed to happen to me," he croaked and one of the nurses turned to him.
"Sir, you are going to be alright, just hold on."
"This isn't supposed to end here."
The nurse nodded and shook her head immediately afterwards. "And it won't end here, just hold on sir, everything is going to be alright."
He turned his head back to the ceiling as his vision began to tunnel. Blackness slowly caved around him and the sounds of the operating room faded into nothing. His own heart pounded into his ears and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He wasn't even afraid. His mind felt peaceful as the tunnel closed, and everything went black.