Chapter One

A lone truck drove by on the deserted city streets filled with Iranian militia. I stuck my head out to watch them pass by, the hum of the engine faded away as they left the area. My m4 rifle lied next to me propped up against a wheeless Toyota on blocks. It was early evening; the sun had sunk below the horizon. Tall buildings loomed above with the nearly full moon shining in the night sky.

I sat against the Toyota taking a swig out of my canteen. The plan was simple. If I headed south; using my best guess, it would take me all night to sneak back to the friendly lines to the suburbs in the south about half mile away. There was just one problem. The city had many eyes.

My best friend, Sgt Huntsman, told me what the revolutionary guard would do to me using a long piece of copper wire and a knife. The blood left my cheeks, and I would not sleep one wink until I left this city. I will always keep one eye open.

Huntsman would be worried sick searching for me. All of them in my platoon would be. We have already lost one man to an IED earlier and they sure weren't going to lose a second one too. Poor Key, he had a wife and kids. Damn why couldn't it be someone else? Good men do die young.

I looked around the junkyard filled with foreign cars, unaccustomed to my life. For being in the middle east, the Iranians sure do know how to live like us. I saw a Mercedes earlier and shook my head. I did not see any American made cars. At least I know the Iranians have good taste.

I half expected to see some civilians wandering the streets at night, yet I saw not a soul. That made me nervous. I had the feeling I was being watched. There was no proof of it. It could have been my imagination. Those dark windows on the second story buildings made the back of my neck tingle. I would have to leave this junkyard to find a safer place. Any random kid could stumble in here and shout out, "There is an American soldier here!" in Persian.

I took one last sip of my canteen and sighed. It was time for me to go. I picked up my rifle and paused. I listened for a minute for any sign of another vehicle coming down the street before I headed out through a hole in the fence topped with barbed wire. It was easy going, and I got out of the yard with the sound of my footsteps. It would be a long night sneaking by the Iranians to get to my unit, wherever they may be.

Not counting my rifle, I had at least ninety rounds of 5.56mm , one grenade and a standard issued knife. I also had a day's ration and Iranian-made candy that I managed to snag from a bombed out communication post. Those men never knew what hit them until the 500lb bomb struck through the roof. Lastly I had a quarter-full canteen that I kept sipping on. I figure the Iranians had wells, erm I mean water tanks or the sort in the city. Our air force would have blown up the water treatment plants by now so I was hesitant to drink from the tap. My dry lips and sweat were only a reminder how much drier it was here compared to Texas.

Outside the fence surrounding the junkyard was a convenience store, and next to that was an internet cafe both empty and dark. Across the street where the truck came through were empty storefronts filled with Persian words scattered all over windows. There was one sentence written in English. "Go home you American dogs." Well they knew we were coming.

A quick look inside the store, my boots crunched on the broken glass. The shelves were torn down and items were scattered all over the floor. I kicked an empty bottle and it rattled down the tiled floor till it reached the wall. There was nothing here for me. I sighed and left through the open doorway into the night. I could discern my shadow's outline on the gravel.

To my surprise, my eyes caught the sight of a horse standing in the open area next to the internet cafe in plain view. It was a Belgian mare with a sorrel coat and flaxen mane two-thirds down to the ground and flaxen tail only a couple inches off the ground. Muscles rippled underneath the horse's coat and the mare sniffed the ground as if she was looking for something to graze. A grin swept my face. Thank God, I have found my salvation.

I looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Not a soul in sight nor even a sound. Sometimes this city was starting to get me worried. It was too quiet for this area. I turned my attention back on the horse. She had to be someone's prized mare that had gotten loose and now roams the streets foraging. The rich sure do have their tastes, yet why a Belgian? Who knows. If only I had a rope and a bridle. I felt a rush of blood in my veins. Sorry rich Iranian owner whoever you might be. You had good tastes, yet I must claim her as a war prize. I could imagine the look on my comrades as I rode up to them on that huge horse. I could smell a promotion and their respect for me rising. I put my rifle with a strap on my shoulder.

I stepped forward with one hand outstretched and whistled. The mare's ears pricked up. Her head rose. Mane partly covered her face.

"Hello James, how have you been?" She shook her mane out of her eyes.

My mind did a flip. I froze, mouth agape. My outstretched hand dropped to my side. I kept staring; thousands of questions were racing in my mind. Did that horse just say something to me? This was silence of the most awkward kind; a situation so unreal that no words came to my lips.

"I have been waiting..." her voice drew the words out.

I mouthed words yet no sound came out. The "talking" horse looked at me with intent. Her head rose to my eye level.

"How did you...know?" I blurted out.

"I know plenty about you."

A shiver went up my spine. My eyes glanced around looking for a hidden enemy lurking in the shadows. This is a trick, a trap, a way for the Iranians to lure me out into the open for a clear shot which I already have fallen for. I unslung my rifle.

There must be two or three Iranians hiding nearby, one which is watching me from above in a second story window. The two others would be nearby out of sight waiting for the right time. The mare had a wireless speaker tied to a place I couldn't see. The woman on the radio was watching me from a second story window above. They are good. I could barely suppress the smirk on my face. I'll play along.

"I've never seen you before. Why are you here?" I asked.

"I need you." She said the words stepping forward. Her comment made my cheeks hot.

I didn't expect that kind of response. Something was wrong. How did they know me? Did my unit's info get leaked? Someone must have fucked up opsec. She kept coming closer.

"Hold on." I raised my rifle.

She paused in her advance. "What is wrong?"

"Just who are you?" There was no motion anywhere, not a sign of a hidden figure ready to jump at me. Something was amiss. Was this mare real?

"My name is Elly. I came here to seek your help." She took a bold step forward. Her massive size became a bigger concern each step. "I have need of you to take on a certain task."

"A task?" I mumbled. Her ears twitched. "What are you saying? My only worry is getting back to my unit as soon as possible and not getting caught by those Iranians who are hiding nearby!"

"Iranians?" She paused and took a long look around. "I see no one except the two of us."

Oh shit. I took a step back, then another and then a third and fourth. She moved closer in two steps. Close enough to see the whites of her eyes in the moonlight. They were blue.

My m4 trailed on her figure. Finger remained off the trigger. No need to use sights, she was close, too close. My shaking hand flipped the safety off.

"I...don't understand."

You don't have to understand. You have to help." She stepped forward.

"But…" I took a step back.

"Why are you afraid?"

That was an obvious question.

"Afraid? Just what are you! Talking horses do not exist," I placed my finger on the trigger. She took another step. She was only about six feet from me now.

"I came here for your help and so I exist. Once I leave when what is needed to be done is done. I will cease to exist. Therefore talking horses do not exist," She said.

"Yet you do exist. You're telling me that you don't exist? You are standing right there." My Texan accent came out.

"Are there such things as talking horses?" She asked.

"No there isn't." I replied.

"Then I don't exist." Silence again came between us.

I wracked my brain for a solution, any way out of this. In my nervous state, I took a step to the left. She matched my step with the grace of a dressage horse, damn.

"I'm dreaming this." I mumbled out loud, hoping to give my mind some badly needed relief.

"Possibly." She replied in a sweet sounding voice.

She couldn't be real. This wasn't happening here now in this place in Ahvaz, Iran? This is war. Has the world gone crazy or am I crazy?

"Are you sure there isn't a speaker on you with a woman's voice coming out of it?" I pointed to her with my rifle.

She gave me a blank stare as much expression as a horse could give. If there were Iranians nearby why haven't they pounced yet? Are they waiting for something? And to which was my main concern, this mare was not acting like any horse I know.

She looked me square in the eyes. "Are you willing to help me?" There was softness in her voice.

"I'm not sure-, I have a platoon I need to get back to. My men need me. I can't abandon them." I said.

"You don't trust me?" The mare asked.

"I don't know who you are." I shot back.

"I told you my name. What else do you need to know?" She pawed the ground.

"I have to be going." I stepped back and her ears fell flat against her head.

"I need you," she whispered, then came an eerie silence.

"Was nice to know you..." I mumbled, breaking the quietness between us. My finger slipped onto the cold metal trigger. The mare's body tensed up.

We stared at each other, eyes locked, bodies frozen. She isn't going to let me go. So be it. One breath and I squeezed the trigger.

The rifle kicked against my shoulder and she charged. Her large stride propelled her to me in a second. A second shot fired, missing her head by inches. Her teeth clamped onto the rifle's muzzle, ripping it out from my hands and swung it for my head. I ducked and rolled, hands covering my helmet then sprang to my feet.

My boots dug into the ground, legs pushed with everything I had, arms swinging. I heard the rifle slammed with a loud thud behind me and hooves pounding the ground. She was coming. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. I spun around drawing my knife slower than expected. She dug her hooves into the gravel, ears pinned back, mane in disarray, nostrils flaring and her momentum slammed into me.

I fell to the ground on my back as the mare towered over me. I forced my limbs to work and I attempted to crawl from underneath her. The crushing pain shot up from my right ankle stopping me. I looked down between us and saw her hind leg standing on my left ankle. I screamed in pain. My knife sprang for her neck right beneath her ear. Her teeth caught my right arm below the wrist.

I tried jerking my arm out of her mouth. She dug her teeth into my arm and pinned my left arm into the gravel. More pain shot through me. I resisted pushing hard with my knife till pointed towards her soft neck. Her weight shifted from the front to her rear and the crushing pressure intensified. My ankle went numb. I still resisted with fear pounding in my heart. Her teeth began tearing into my arm. Blood started dripping. Fear flooded my veins. The desire to fight left me. I released my grip on the knife and it fell on the ground. Her teeth pried themselves from my bloodied right arm. She snatched the knife with her mouth off my chest. She carefully eased off me and tossed the knife away.