The Winter Soldier: Cold Front

by Mackenzi Lee

The wind drifts over them, covering their footprints and their blood, the shapes of their bodies in the snow and the memory of every bullet they ever took for each other across all the lifetimes only one of them could remember. Soon there will be nothing left of either of them, but for a moment they are both still there. The world around them is still and silent and pristine white all the way to the horizon. A blank slate.

He thinks of Ginny Fleming putting her hand on the barrel of his pistol, their love a graveyard where nothing stayed buried.

You have to remember, he tells himself, digging his fingernails into his palm, desperate to stay awake. When you wake up you will remember everything. You will not forget again.

Your name is James Barnes. Your friends call you Bucky. You were born in Shelbyville, Indiana….

You are James Barnes. Your sister’s name is Rebecca. Your mother’s name was…

Your mother’s name was…

James Barnes, James Barnes, James Barnes, don’t forget it, don’t forget.

Bucky. They call you Bucky, your friends call you Bucky. You have to remember it all.

Remember the smell of motorcycle exhaust and heat off the blacktop and the particular golden glow of Midwest wheat fields at sunset.

And snowcapped mountains from above, flying under the stars in the seat behind Steve. The aurora turned the windshield purple and pink. Remember the mints and crumbs and ticket stubs always at th...

And the standing water in your boots… Your mother’s purple hydrangeas shedding petals across the lawn… The bleached sheets in the motel in Queens, the first time you woke up screaming and Ginny he...

Don’t let them take it again. Don...