This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I've been a bit busy. My online astronomy professor thinks that it's a great idea to assign twenty videos to watch each week and to fill the assignments with math equations that were barely mentioned in the videos. It's weird that the tests are easier than the assignments (and they're open note, so that helps).
Anyway, episode eight of She-Hulk was awesome. Werewolf by Night was an absolute hit and I can't wait to see more of Elsa, Jack, and Ted. I seriously started freaking out when Man-Thing appeared. He's just so precious and I love him. I'm not ready to cry during Black Panther 2, but the new trailer looks stunning.
On the flip side, TRIGGER WARNINGS about funerals, brief mentions of suicide (it's Hydra, what did we expect), and failed patriotism (if that even needs to be a warning, I don't know, I'm just being safe).
Chapter Six: Ain't No Fortunate One
The clouds floated by like giant fluffy, cotton balls rolling in the wind. The leaves crunched under the feet of the attendees as each person walked back to their cars. A gust of wind picked up a few leaves and swirled them around, before it too, left the two Barnes girls standing alone at the edge of the two freshly dug graves.
The smell of tilled dirt and rotting leaves hovered in the air. The occasional breeze lifted Becca's perfume from her shivering body and mixed the sweet smell of vanilla with the earthly scents.
Flowers from the attendees rustled in the breeze - two matching piles rested on overturned dirt. Etched on the same gravestone as her husband, Winnie's name and dates of birth and death stood out compared to George's faded name. Travis had a separate gravestone, the smaller stone resting beside the larger one.
Winnie had barely made it past fifty. They would never hear her pestering Bucky about finding a wife and having kids. Winnie wanted grandchildren before she turned sixty, and every year since Bucky turned twenty, she had asked him if he had found a wife yet.
Once Travis had turned twenty last week, Winnie's pestering about grandkids began. No doubt she would have done the same for Suzie and Becca on their twentieth birthdays.
Travis—dead at age twenty.
His birthday had been a solemn one. Without Bucky and Steve, the house had felt empty. The cake lacked the flourish Winnie usually had when it came to baking. Most of the ingredients had degraded in quality because of the rationing and Winnie only made the cake out of tradition rather than her usual enthusiasm.
Travis had been hungover the entire day, but at least he wasn't dead.
Eight days ago, they had tried to act like a normal, happy family, even if it felt like an act. After lunch, they all went their separate ways—Winnie and Becca to their sewing, Suzie to her bedroom, and Travis to another bar to drink until sundown.
Eight days ago, both Travis and Winnie were alive, not buried in their church's cemetery. Travis rested alongside Winnie, forever buried in the earth with frozen expressions of blankness. Their closed eyes and neutral faces appeared lifelike yet hollow, like wax figures taking a nap.
It unsettled Suzie so much that she had spent most of the ceremony staring off into the middle distance, avoiding the hugs from other attendees and losing herself in her thoughts.
As much as she hated the constant state of drunkenness that Travis had settled himself into after Bucky's death letter, Suzie would give anything to see her brother's stupid, drunken face again. She wanted him to stumble through the door, flash her a lopsided grin, and pull her into one of his bear hugs.
She wanted her mother to smile from the kitchen, a fresh-baked apple pie sitting on the counter. Suzie wanted Winnie to sneak her an apple slice, making Suzie promise not to tell her siblings about the treat.
She wanted to sit in the living room and listen to Bucky, Steve, and Travis argue over the latest baseball game while Becca and Winnie sewed in the lamplight, their needles flashing with every pull of the thread.
Despite their differences, Suzie wanted her family back—to be happy again and whole again.
For the first time in her life, Suzie had never felt so alone and afraid. Only eighteen and she had lost her brother and mother on the same day. Their family, which had started to crumble after Bucky's death, finally came crashing down.
And Suzie did not have the energy or strength to pick up the shambles.
Lamenting in silence, the two sisters stood vigil over the graves, their lives forever altered.
Thanksgiving lacked its cheer.
Travis and Bucky did not fight over the last slice of apple pie. Winnie did not carve the turkey with skilled precision. Becca's face did not shine with a pink fluster from helping Winnie cook. The table lacked the delicately placed silverware, folded napkins, and hand-crafted table decorations that Suzie painstakingly arranged every year.
The kids did not play "kick the can" in the backyard while Winnie and Sarah sat on the back deck discussing the latest gossip.
Sometimes they would visit Uncle Henry, Aunt Ida, and cousin Riley in Indiana for Thanksgiving. All six of the kids would run around the farm, swing on the barn swing, tease the pigs, and jump into all the mud puddles until sundown.
Large family gatherings in Indiana stopped after Riley fell into an old well in 1932, contracted pneumonia, and died at the age of fifteen. Grandma and Grandpa Barnes had declared Riley's death an incident of karma coming back to bite Uncle Henry for running off and having a child with a black woman. After that, they stopped visiting Grandma and Grandpa Barnes altogether and gatherings with Uncle Henry and Aunt Ida were awkward and rare.
Despite the constant arguing and sometimes physical altercations between Grandpa Barnes and Uncle Henry about Ida's presence in the family, Suzie missed gathering together as a family. She missed joyfully running around with her cousin and siblings (Steve included) and eating boatloads of delicious food until her stomach protested.
Sitting on the back deck watching Becca make a leaf pile, Suzie wished for a way to travel back in time. If only she could relive all the happy moments before Riley died, Bucky perished overseas, and "Hydra" gunmen murdered Ma and Travis.
Thanksgiving lunch consisted of toast—nothing more. Suzie could not bring herself to stomach anything more than a couple of slices and neither she nor Becca felt like cooking.
Gone were the days when Ma whipped up a casserole, mashed potatoes, delicious turkey, and melt-in-your-mouth apple pie in less than a day while Suzie all afternoon messing around with her siblings and Steve.
The backyard felt empty, the house too quiet, and the air devoid of warm, Thanksgiving smells. Even the single tree in the backyard appeared to give up, its leaves dropping from its branches as it hunkered down for the impending winter.
Suddenly feeling restless, Suzie stood up from the top step of the back deck. Ignoring Becca's concerned expression, Suzie walked through the house, out the front door, and down the street.
She had no real plan, only that she needed to move and leave the house and the suffocating silence. Moving felt good. It gave her a purpose, a way to release her energy, and kept the tears at bay.
The wind tugged at her jacket and twisted her hair into tangles. Fewer cars cluttered the streets and the sidewalks were not overcrowded. The diminished state of the city only added to Suzie's uneasiness. People were at home instead of walking around like a lost puppy. They stuffed themselves with delicious food and enjoyed each other's company without worry or concern about their well-being. They moved on with their lives while Suzie buried two people yesterday and her childhood home turned into something foreign and overwhelming.
A group had attacked a church and most people in New York did not care. The story never made the front cover of the newspaper, landing somewhere in the middle of the pages. Even when thousands of men die overseas, these people did not care. They sit in their homes without worrying about their safety or if they would die the next day. They would make a passing glance at the list of killed soldiers and move on with their day. To them, the war in Europe was not a reality because they did not experience it.
The church proved that even the United States could not protect itself from the horrors of the war. Dozens of innocent people died on American soil in a planned attack from foreign terrorists. Somehow the Nazis had infiltrated New York, chosen a random church, and started blasting away. Unless Hydra was an American faction of the Nazis, the chances of a random Nazi attack were low. Hydra must have had a plan—there was no way it was a random occurrence.
Suzie hated that the people did not give a damn about others living in the same city. She hated that people gave up on the soldiers overseas, Bucky included. She hated that an organized terrorist attack turned into a forgettable story. The obituaries included innocent citizens for the first time since Pearl Harbor, and nobody talked about it. The mayor did not address it and the radio hosts granted it a measly two minutes of their airtime. The police could not catch or question the attackers because the gunmen all fled or committed suicide.
Those in power go around presenting speeches and giving unsolicited advice about issues that only brought in money and power.
And hardly any of their advice helped bring soldiers home. The war was far from over. Every day only brought news of another Nazi victory, a list of Brooklyn soldiers dead or captured, and information about fighting the Japanese. And, yet, the news briefly touched on the attack from "an unnamed group" on a Brooklyn church.
Hydra murdered Ma and Travis and the news glossed over it like it was a minor accident. It did not matter to the news, even when it was a clearly targeted attack from a group derived from the Nazis.
Stopping in front of a storefront, Suzie noticed a poster hanging from the brick wall of the building. A picture of Captain America stood saluting while the caption read: "Cap salutes you for buying war bonds! See your local post office."
Captain Ameria, what a dolt. The stupid man paraded around like a circus freak making cheesy movies and putting on over-the-top performances. Thousands of American dollars that could have bought new equipment or supplies instead funded the shows. America loved him, but Suzie found him ridiculous and unrealistic. Here was a man who could fight in the war but instead he waltzed around with women and spent his time traveling the nation meeting celebrities.
He symbolized America but he did not represent America in person overseas. He did not risk his life on the frontlines or understood what it felt like to lose someone. He probably did not even hear about the attack on the church. He joined whatever stupidly rich film company he could find and struck a deal with the government to avoid the draft.
What a coward.
People like him boiled Suzie's blood. Innocent people lost their lives while powerful rich people danced in expensive clothing and sipped on fine wine.
The longer she stared at the smile on the man's face, the longer Suzie wanted to punch him and break his perfect jawline.
How dare he act like a glorified Uncle Sam while good men fought for their lives, suffered on the battlefield, and Hydra gunmen slaughtered dozens. How dare he spend time with models, meet the president, and encourage the common people to buy war bonds when he could afford to pay more than half of Brooklyn combined.
How dare he smile while the world—Suzie's world—collapsed.
A surge of rage washed over Suzie. She reached out and yanked the poster from the wall. With a cry of anguish, Suzie tore the poster in half and flung it to the ground.
A few passersby gasped at the sight, but the rush of blood in her ears and her rapid breathing blocked out the sounds. Shaking with misery, Suzie swore as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Miss," an older woman said, her hand brushing Suzie's shoulder.
"Leave me alone!" Suzie growled, twisting out of the woman's grasp.
She needed out. She needed to do something, to leave this wretched place and find a way to make the pain disappear. Brooklyn, once comforting and beautiful, lost its shine the moment Travis hit the wooden floor of the church. America lost its glory the instant Bucky's letter arrived, the army refusing to retaliate and leaving the captured soldiers left for dead. Suzie finally lost hope after Winnie took her last breath.
Pushing her way through the crowd, Suzie choked on the sobs welling up in her throat. She wiped her eyes against the back of her sleeve as she searched for the one thing that could bring her some semblance of hope—or a way out of her darkened life.
Finally finding what she needed, Suzie collapsed on a park bench. Taking a deep breath, she started filling out an enlistment form under cousin Riley's name.
Suzie planned to do what Captain America and the army were too afraid to do—bring Bucky home.
Even if she couldn't, she would be damned if she did not try.
Identity theft is not a joke, Suzie, even if they're dead. Also, Saint Joan of Arc and Mulan (the animated version, not the live-action) are inspirations for Suzie's story. St. Joan of Arc is really cool and she's my Confirmation saint, so I know a lot about her. If you don't know about her, she was a peasant teenager who dressed in men's clothing (which was frowned upon at the time), fought and won several battles in the Hundred Year War for the French, got Charles VII of France coronated as king, and was burned at the stake as a martyr after being questioned for over a month and endured an extremely long trial where she represented herself (they refused to give her a lawyer) in which they only found her guilty for heresy because she had played such an important role in winning the war. In a nutshell, she's wild but extremely cool, definitely deserving of sainthood. There's a lot more to her story, so feel free to look her up.
On a different topic, here's a mini timeline of events to reorient ourselves to Suzie's story:
Travis's 20th birthday was November 13, 1943.
The attack on the church was Sunday, November 21, 1943 (about a week after Travis's birthday).
Travis died from a bullet wound in the chest during the attack.
Winnie died a day later (November 22, 1943) from a stroke in the hospital.
The funeral was on November 24th, 1943. Thanksgiving was the day after the funeral.
Bucky's being rescued by Steve around this point. And no, Suzie does not know that Captain America is Steve.
Other information:
Henry and Riley are OCs while Ida is based on Bucky's aunt in the comics who is only mentioned by name. Uncle Henry is George's older twin brother who eloped with a southern black girl, Ida after Grandma and Grandpa Barnes threatened to disown Henry for falling in love with a black girl (interracial marriage is illegal at this time). Riley was born in 1915 but died in 1935 at the age of 15 after falling into a well and contracting pneumonia. In other words, the Barnes family suffers a lot, and part of that is my doing. Sorry. :/