Chapter Seven

I keep moving for several weeks, sometimes walking sometimes running. According to the journal I've been writing in, over a month passed. I eat the bare minimum, rationing granola bars, fruit, bread, and whatever else I could get my hands on. I refill the water bottle at every water fountain I can find, keeping the water fresh. I acquire more pens and paper, sometimes in journals and sometimes random sheets from printers. I mark down how many days past and everything I dream of or remember.

Remembering was so painful. When it came to me in a dream, I was so scared, and I woke up even more terrified. They were always dreams of death. Someone always died. I always killed someone. Fathers, mothers. Once I was supposed to kill a man, but he was home with his family. I was given an order of no witnesses again. I had to kill them all. I killed their little boy first. Even as the Winter Soldier, some part of me was awake enough to prevent him from having to see his parents die. I've had six dreams of people I've killed. I've killed six people.

But it was HYDRA. They made me kill. I didn't choose it. I was forced to. They hurt me until I became what they wanted. If I didn't kill for them, they would start over. I was forced to.

But even then, I could still remember what happened. How it felt. I felt almost nothing when I killed them, but what I did feel was fear, anger, disgust. They were all towards myself. Despite my situation, I was still awake. Awake enough to know what I was doing when I killed them.

But I wasn't sure if the fear, anger and disgust I felt then were only my current emotions coloring the memories or not, and I'm not sure which was better. If I was feeling those emotions now, that means I broke free of them, but that also means that I felt nothing at all when I killed them. It meant that I was a monster that killed without thought or feeling.

But if what I felt in the memories was real, it means that I was awake when I did it. That I wasn't entirely controlled. It means that I could have refused the order, fought back. I had the choice to not kill them.

It's not a question of which was better. It's a question of which is worse.

But I'm awake now, though I continually have to remind myself that there is no one over my shoulder waiting with a gun and that no one is following me.

I remember better things when I'm not dreaming. I remember Steve and Peggy and Howard. They were all good friends back then. Howard is dead-meaning that Peggy likely was as well, but Steve isn't. Why isn't he dead? And why does he look the same? Howard looked aged when I killed him, but Steve didn't when we fought on the helicarrier.

I know the answer lies somewhere in the back of my mind, but it's so hidden away that it might take a while to come back. It seems that my mind wants me to know the deaths that I've caused before I remember anything else. Why can't I remember something that lets me know that my life isn't entirely made up of death and pain?

A cold, grey ocean gradually came into view as the sun set. There were ships in port and people running around, locking up for the day.

This was it. Once everyone settles down, I can walk around the dock and get a layout of the place. Then the next morning, I can stow away in a crate or something. They will take me to a new continent, and I can start to figure everything out. Get a fresh start away from my old order. Maybe I'll even forget the anxiety that still draws me back to the river I left him at.

I couldn't tell if that pull was dimming or not. It only influenced my movements occasionally. My mind would drift as I walked, and I'd get a little dizzy. When I focused again, I found myself taking steps back the way I came. The pull and anxiety needed to stop soon or I would kill Steve, and that is the last thing I want to do.

I duck into the thin treeline and wait until the workers turned out their lights and disappeared. After a second or two of waiting, I brought out the keychain flashlight I lifted off of a man who bumped into me while he was on a midnight run. I click on the pale blue light and slowly walked through the docks. I find a ship that had several shipping containers next to it. I tap on the side of one of the metal containers, and the tap echoes inside. It's empty or close to. They'll fill it in the morning, but it'll be a good place to stow away in.

I retreat back into the trees and settle down in the foliage. The pack I'm using has grown bulkier over the past month, filling with packaged food and disposable plastic bottles of water, but I rest my head on it anyways. I let my heavy eyes close and lay there for a few moments, but as my mind starts to drift, images of a cold, snowy place that my mind automatically dubbed Siberia appeared behind my closed eyelids.

It almost looked like the ravine I fell into when I lost my arm.

"Bucky! Grab my hand!"

"Sergeant Barnes…Put him on ice…"

I jump and sit up, glancing around me as my heart beat so quickly that it threatened to break my ribs. The trees were still dark, and there were no lights in coming from the dock. Anyone could sneak up on me in this darkness.

I shake my head and rub my eyes to try to get myself to wake up. There is no one here. No one has followed me all this time. No one has caught up with me.

A bird calls, and the leaves rustle, making me jump. It was just a bird. I'm still okay. HYDRA hasn't caught up with me yet. I can outrun them, and if they ever catch up to me, I will kill every last one of them.