Hell Bound

It was too early for me to go to bed on a typical night, but I was usually always tired anyway. So I changed into my sweats and crawled into bed. The house was silent at first until I heard the murmur of Graham and Bucky’s voices in the kitchen below. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I could hear their tones. Graham stuck with his usual lighthearted sarcasm and did most of the talking, of course. But every once in a while, I could make out the deep and flat tone of Bucky’s response.

I wasn’t sure why I even wanted them to get along. Bucky would leave again. As soon as he was healed enough to move around with ease, he would disappear without a goodbye, and I couldn’t guarantee I’d ever see him again. I just wanted him to believe that Graham wasn’t out to get me. Hell, I wanted to believe it too. Bucky needed to know that there were still good people in the world. Sometimes a kid who needed a place to stay was just a kid who needed a place to stay. And in turn, I wanted Graham to trust Bucky. To want to help him for something other than because I’d asked. At the very least, I just wanted him to keep Bucky a secret.

Their conversation didn’t last long before it faded away. Then I could hear one of them cleaning up the kitchen. I figured it was Graham since Bucky couldn’t move very well and didn’t make a sound even when injured. And then I heard him bang into the table and let out an unknown expletive, and I knew for sure it was Graham.

I fell asleep to the sound of ringing in my ears and the quiet drone of the TV from far off.

Someone was shouting from far away. I opened my eyes and stared at the brick wall in front of me. I was shaking as I fought the urge to follow the voice. I was sure it was someone I knew and cared about. I also knew I was going to kill them. My feet moved forward anyway, following the frantic cries for a medic. I wasn’t sure what led me to them. My instinct to heed that call, or if something much darker was pulling me forward.

I made it back to the courtyard, where Lieutenant Jimenez shouted for me. He had a little girl propped up against a crumbled brick wall. She was bleeding from the stomach, and he was doing everything he could to keep her alive. She needed medical attention. My attention. But my hands trembled as I lifted the heavy rifle. Jimenez hadn’t spotted me yet, but the girl did. I saw her eyes shift to my face as I approached him from behind, raised the gun, and stopped.

This wasn’t right.

I remembered Jimenez’s death. It wasn’t here.

My fingers shook as I lowered the weapon and looked back at the little girl. She didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he finally noticed the direction of her gaze and turned around to face me. He had no idea that just seconds ago, I was debating my ability to change his fate.

“Stay with her,” he instructed. Then he took off at a run and disappeared around a corner. Off to find his death somewhere else.

I felt relief wash over me when he was gone. Maybe I could fight the urge to kill him. I dropped to the girl’s side and pulled out my medical pack. I clutched a piece of cloth to the bleeding wound on her stomach and tried to think of something I could say. I didn’t think she’d understand why I’d almost killed Jimenez. I remembered this death too. It wouldn’t matter what I said.

“You’re going to be okay,” I lied anyway.

“Grenade!” someone shouted from down another alley. My heart dropped, and I had no time to react before the explosion struck.

I came to halfway across the courtyard. I took a moment to recover from the blast. My ears rang, and blood slipped out of the one on the left like a warm, slithering snake. My face stung with burns and scrapes. The little girl rested half-buried under brick and ash just yards out of my reach.

I pushed myself up and stumbled to my feet. Captain Russell was the first to run out of the alley where the explosion had gone off. Our eyes met when he came to a stop. I knew he was thinking about how I’d killed Tran. He probably already knew I’d killed Carlson too. Maybe he even knew I’d been seconds away from shooting his lieutenant in the back of the head.

I expected my hands to move for the gun again, but I remembered this too. Russell didn’t get shot that day. I did. He lifted his gun in my direction. There was only a brief moment of pained hesitation before he pulled the trigger.

My shoulder ached when I woke up. I bolted upright and clutched at the old wound. Right where Bucky said it looked like I’d been shredded. I hated these new dreams. I’d seen that day a thousand times at night and in all my intrusive thoughts. But it was never like this. They were different now, and I didn’t believe it was my brain’s way of making sense of what happened. I didn’t think this was survivor’s guilt.

I used to ask myself repeatedly why that shooter hadn’t killed me. He knew I was wearing armor. He knew that shooting me in the shoulder wouldn’t have killed me. He could have aimed for my face, but he didn’t. He let me live. Because he never wanted to kill me at all. Because I was his friend.

The house was quiet now. I could no longer make out the sound of the TV or anyone in the kitchen below. The neighbor’s porch light had shut off, so my room was dark and shaded. I climbed out of bed and tiptoed toward the door to pop it open. The door across the hall was shut, which meant Graham had probably already gone to bed too.

I crept down the hallway and down the stairs. Bucky was lying on the couch on his side. He had his arm propped up under his head and a blanket resting at his hips. The streetlight shimmered through the blinds in the window behind him. Strips of green light lay scattered across his form. For a moment, I thought he must be sleeping. But then his eyes opened, and he looked up at me. Neither of us spoke at first.

“Can’t sleep?” he finally asked. I shook my head.

“No.”

“I have them too.” He moved his hand. I could see the metal reflect in the stripes of light and shadows as he pushed the blanket down off of his hips. Then he scooted back against the couch, making room for me in the tight space.

I didn’t speak. I went right to his side and laid down next to him. I had my back against his chest, and he moved his arm so that I could rest my head on it. The blanket came down over the both of us, but he’d pulled it up to cover my shoulders. I closed my eyes, feeling him breathe against the back of my neck. I felt pathetic for wanting this so badly. For wanting to be held. For not being able to spend a night alone.

“Do you ever see things that you thought couldn’t be real—but you’re starting to think otherwise?” I whispered.

“Every time,” he replied. I could feel his voice rumble through my back, and I wanted desperately to roll over and listen to his heart beating.

“How do you deal with it?”

He didn’t answer. His metal hand came to rest around my body. It wasn’t heavy, which meant he was making sure he didn’t put too much weight on me. And even with the metal, his body made me feel so much warmer than I’d been in my own bed. I almost didn’t need the blanket anymore, but I wasn’t going to ask him to move. I couldn’t hear his heart, but he had his arm around me, and that was enough.

“If I figure it out—I’ll let you know,” he said.