Chapter Ten

"Remember as you ride me"

Her nostrils flared with quiet desperation. Ears stood at attention. Legs trotted below as her head glanced about.

"When I lay my ears down, that is the way I will go."

The muscles rippled in her neck gleaming with sweat.

"Left to left," The mare's left ear dropped then rose.

"Right to right," Her right ear sank and rose accordingly.

"It is best for you to keep your eyes on them," Her sweet tone plunked my ears, distracting me from my watch.

"Chin up, back straight as before," She said.

I stiffened my back, tightening the core muscles. My body tried to match her rhythm, falling, bouncing on her back. I grunted.

"You must ride my trot," She commanded. Her woman's voice was clear as day.

"I'm trying," My Texan accent emerged. Sweat oozed from clenched hands.

"The trot," She continued, "is the most comfortable for me and it will be for you. It conserves energy and is the preferred way to travel long stretches on a horse like me." She paused, lifting her head. "Your seat is wrong, fix it."

I growled. My ass scooted back to the center, back on her spot. I glanced down to check. My rifle sat across my lap.

Elly shifted, breaking the invisible line she was trotting. Dusty windows and shaded doors passed by. Each one a potential spot for a sniper, IED, or a kid with a gun lurking till our backs were shown.

A large sign, hanging from the side of a building, stood out with the tan face of a kid eating. Half of his face was gone and the burnt edges stained his whiten teeth. Black bold numbers displayed over his red striped shirt.

"Good Now, when you see my ears like this," Her ears flattened on her skull. That is your cue. I will slow myself down. I do not want you caught unprepared and sliding on my neck." She said plainly.

Neither do I. The rug burns from your coat would be enough… Try as I must, my own eyes wandered over to debris covered sidewalks. The smell of decay came in waves, tasting it on my tongue, raw sewage.

"Fair warning, I will make a rider out of you. Keep your eyes on my ears. We are getting close. A quarter league to ride, I say. Above all, you must-" Her voice caught in her throat.

Her smooth gait went janky as my ass slapped her back like a sack of shit. I winced in pain at the teeth jarring impacts. I breathed out letting the air exit my lungs. Limbs relaxed amongst the up and down motion. Back straight, shoulders up, Stomach core tightened. The bouncing faded as my ass lightly tapped her back. Her teaching was paying off. My attention drew to her ears.

"What is it?" I asked as if I didn't already know. Silence always comes before trouble.

A shudder came from below, raising the hairs on my neck. Faint yellow light streamed from behind, casting our stretched shadows onto the road ahead.

Her muscles beneath her sorrel coat twitched against my legs, rippling through her body. Her flaring nostrils sucked in gulps of air. She shuddered as her ears sank. Her pacing picked up, still a trot. Her one ear twitched. The other ear swung to the side as her mane jostled about. Her hooves finally regained rhythm. Hands reaffirmed their hold on her mane.

The light faded, blinked and disappeared. Then came the rumblings of a distinct sound echoing off the surrounding urban landscape. I gulped, clutching her mane and rifle. Elly switched into a canter. Her ears glued to our rear, from the sound's

seeming direction. The light returned, brighter than ever shining on the street and sidewalks ahead. Our shadows grew darker. I grimaced. My head turned, eyes squinting passed the beams of yellow light.

A blue pickup, Iranian made, filled with rifle toting men in the back, bearing down onto us. Its driver floored it with no regard to those clinging in the back. The engine roared.

My eyes widened. Behind the truck, shadowing, was another pickup, red tinted, carrying even more men

Shit!

Elly sprang into a gallop. Her neck stretched out, mane flying in my face. Hooves pounded asphalt. Her metal shoes scraped the rough street as we flew down the block, approaching a roundabout. My hand gripped frame of my rifle. Terror reigned in my eyes.

The dark shaded blue truck eased off the gas. Its headlights glued to our bodies like escaped convicts. The red truck followed suit. It shadowed the lead truck on the right side humming its engine. There was nowhere to run. Elly could never hope to outrun an internal combustion engine on wheels. I squinted my eyes, fingering my rifle. Should I do it? Should I fight? I can drive them away, one bullet can pierce a tire and let us escape. I looked back to Elly, her head lowered, ears facing backwards, legs pumping below. I stared at my hand clenching her mane. I can't…I can't let go.

The roundabout loomed closer with every stride. The wind licked our faces. The mare's right ear dropped. I prepared myself. In an instant, she went from cantering to skidding as we rounded the turn to the screeching of metal on asphalt. Her four hooves dug into the rough uneven surface then back to cantering straight up the new street.

The pursuing trucks' lights disappeared. Holding tightly, I glanced back. There was a split second of darkness before the intersection behind lit up. Their headlights reappeared as they rounded the circle. Engines roared as the trucks picked up speed.

Bang!

I dove, burying my face into her mane. My body flattened on her back, expecting the worst. Her neck curved, pushing my face out of her mane. You fool! It was only a backfire from their shitty muffler. Get a hold of yourself. You're making her job harder. Get up and off her back you coward. I chide myself. Do you want to be captured? Do you want to be a prisoner of war? No! Then sit up and take it like a man. At least fight for your last moments of freedom.

I sprang up on her back, legs gripping her sides, back straight, shoulders level. They haven't started shooting yet. Could it be that they don't know what happened to the previous four-man team? I glanced back. The enemy sped after us in an uncontested race, sure of their prize. The fog of war must be real for them as it is for us. But they will know…soon enough.

The lead truck pulled to the side, letting the seemingly more aggressive red truck pull up beside. My eyes filled with terror as the pickups, side by side, easily covered the distance and flashed their lights.

There was the faintest of hopes these were CIA operatives sent to rescue lost American soldiers like me but the moon light revealed a Persian slogan on the side of the blue truck. Radicals, I grimaced. Revolutionary guard or professional looking militia? Faces were covered by the shadows of their camouflage helmets. Their uniforms were appropriate for the desert, not so for the urban environment.

The air shook with the blaring of a truck horn. The red truck lunged forward, pulling up alongside Elly's right with great bravado. The men brandished rifles down unto us with eyes full of hatred, barrels gleaming. All gave me chills.

"Surrender!" Shouted the biggest with a thick Persian accent and beard to match. His lips pulled back in a snarl. His brown eyes filled with cold determination.

"Alright," I shouted.

My hands remained where they were, not a muscle moved. Elly continued cantering. Stone faced, the young men stared at me. Soon they began to glare. Did they expect this to be easy? For me to raise my hands and surrender? How naive of them! How do they expect me to whoa her with no reins or rope? Tension electrified the air. I hesitated then shook my head.

"I refuse!"

The blue pickup cut in on our left, with a mechanical roar. Men in the back brandished their rifles into my face, one of them casually holding an rpg, too close to be effective. Both trucks sandwiched Elly between them like a cattle cage as we rode down an abandoned moonlit two lane street. Shouts and obscene gestures started pouring from both sides, some in english.

"American devil."

"Bastard."

"Surrender you yankee doodle."

"Yankee go home!"

I ain't no yankee, I thought bitterly. I'm a southern born and bred Texan. God damnit. I'll do it…I'll surrender right now but my horse isn't so willing. There are no reins or bridle so how do you expect me to stop her? I stared into the barrels of their rifles.

"You murdered my family," The words were spoken in a flawless British accent.

A kick straight into my ribs through the armored vest. I lean from the blow. That hurt! It felt like my rib bones cracked as the pain surged through me. The adrenaline rushed in. My heart thumped faster. Fingers clasped the rifle in my lap. No I can't.

The blows began raining down. Rifle butts slammed into my helmet, back, and shoulders. Boots kicked into my chest and sides. A lucky one caught my neck stunning me, tasting blood. Elly could do nothing. I made myself small on her back, resting my chin on her mane as the pummeling continued. My arms covered my face and rifle.

I held my tongue. Resistance was futile. I could not give them more reason to go on. I had to take it quietly and hope they grew tired.I had to…no I must- I gulped, trust her, trust my horse. I had to wait for Elly. A stray blow hit my left leg, right on the ankle. It lit the fire in my soul. I screamed.

Under the withering assault, a growing urge arose in my heart, a feeling of terror and weakness. I was reaching my limit as blow after blow came, most of it cushioned by the body armor with a few lucky hits getting in. The bandage on my arm took more than its fair share of kicks. I wanted to cry out. To yell for Elly to do something. But the blows continued as a peculiar sound came from below. The trucks rumbled their engines as we inched forward. She was galloping.

"American devil."

"Go home you foreign devil"

"Death to America."

They repeated one word over and over…devil, leave devil, go home devil. Like I was the devil himself, a scourge to their lands and their own lives. The american devil riding on a sorrel horse bringing death and destruction to their country. Anger flared. I drew in breath.

"That is what you get for storming our embassy and taking Americans hostage," I snarled.

"America punches back!"

The blows ceased before confused faces. They exchanged looks with one another speaking words too light to hear. The leader stepped up, barking orders with a wave of his arms. He pointed upwards with a face covered in wrinkles and much frustration. Men stopped then shuffled on both sides.

Many brown hands reached out grasping my uniform, taking hold of my arms and legs. They began lifting me off Elly's back. My heels dug into her sweaty sides as my legs clamped down onto her. My hands buried themselves deeper than ever in her mane.

Their knuckles turned white. Lips shouting out swears in Persian mixed with Allahs. Scowls lit across their faces. Their arms flexed as they strained to lift me. Frustration seamed among them with anger in their voices.

I kept my head down, clenching teeth in sheer grit. To hell with you bastards, you're going to have to pry my cold dead hands from her. I ain't afraid no more. There's nothing you can do to make me yield. I ain't giving her up. I'm not letting go.

A young teen broke from the group and slid his way over to Elly's front holding his AK-74 aloof. He casually leaned over the side on our right and jammed the barrel of his rifle into her neck.

I blinked, squeezing the mane ever tighter. Are you stupid? If you shoot her, I'll fall, preferably underneath her body, crushed. Then what? I'll be dead. The dead aren't worth much on live tv. It will only enrage those back home in the states. I'll be a hero…to them and my family. I would have died for my country.

His face was a scowling mess with bony cheeks and dark eyes shadowed from the faint moonlight. He jabbed the gun barrel into her neck again. Unknowable words rolled off his tongue drowned out by engine noise. He screamed at me. I scowled back. I could smell his stench.

His facial expression fell stone cold. He jammed it again, twisting the end of the barrel into Elly's neck. His finger lightly glazed the trigger. The air itself became unbreathable.

No I can't. I slowly shook my head. His finger swept the trigger before resting on it. All the blood drained from my face. My hands released her mane.

He smirked, elated by the slow results. His finger wrapped around metal like a snake coiling for a strike. His eyes flashed. His lips formed into a crooked grin with a missing tooth. His one finger lovely caressed the metal trigger.

My hands uncoiled from the long strands of mane. My shoulders slumped. I held out my rifle and he grinned, reached down over her mane for it. He took it and held it high like a prize, a trophy of war from a soon to be prisoner, his. I raised both hands, slowly. I give up. You've won.

Elly's ears flattened to her skull. My eyes jumped from his face to her head. What does that mean?

The mare's head swung right, flashing her teeth, colluding into his side. He shrieked. Him and his rifle tumbled to the bed of the truck. My m4 disappeared with a clunk.

My own hands dove to the safety of her mane. The young man's voice cried out, drawing the attention of his comrades as he stumbled back to his feet. His shocked face disappeared behind a free flowing flaxen mane. Oh-

I face planted into a wall of mane as my ass lifted into the air. Sliding upwards, I scraped against the strands by sheer momentum, the air forced from my lungs. I gasped, blinded. The aroma of horse sweat flooded my sense of smell bringing tears. I floated for a brief second then gravity took over as I came tumbling down.

Hands snagged strands of hair as I rolled onto her angled back, legs freely kicking. The terror in my eyes matched my pounding heart. Mouth agape. We came to a sliding stop in a narrow street.

The two trucks zoomed past, red lights lit as they slammed their brakes. The screeching echoed through the entire city block, off the facades of buildings, ending in an ear popping crash. Then came silence.

Elly leveled herself as I sat clumsily on her withers.

"Warn me next time please, when you do that," I said with trembling hands.

She eyed me then shook her head up and down to my surprised face. An acknowledgement, from a horse.

Voices of angry men came from the trucks wedged together in the narrow one lane road.

Elly drew her head towards them, listening. Her lungs breathing in and out with great noise. Her sides dripped with sweat, soaking my legs. Serves them right, she made fools out of them. I just hope they aren't as mad as they sound. A tense shouting came from the trucks, making me clutch at my missing rifle. Oh yeah they're pissed.

The tired mare made her way to my dropped rifle, snatching it off the ground as she walked by and held it by her side for me. I took it back to welcomed relief.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She blinked then gradually worked her legs into a canter, heading back the way we came, straight to the roundabout. She took the previous left turn and pressed into the darkness where the moon refused to go.

Her mane licked the tip of my nose. Cold as ever, the wind brushed my warm cheeks. I squinted ahead. They will be on the hunt for us, pissed as killer bees. They must be by the way we ditched them, escaping their grasp.

I jerked my head to the side. Did I hear something? A faint vibration at the edge of perception, almost to the point of disbelief but I did feel it, did I? My body did I thought. Soreness erupted throughout my muscles. I took a hell of a beating but I feel numb. It must be the adrenalina they say.

A nearly unseen three way crossway came into view. Elly's left ear dropped. In near pitch blackness, her shoes scraped as we swung into the turn. She drifted to the right, slowing to a trot while breathing heavier than before. I placed my rifle up across my lap, front and center, while holding onto mane. My mind raced.

If we are going to escape then we'll need to ditch them and hide out somewhere till our trail goes cold. As long as they have trucks and radios, they'll find us. We will have to camp out, preferably in a closed interior space, then wait for them to lose interest. Let the ongoing siege of the city divert their attention away. Elly's pace slowed, unexpectedly.

At the end of the block, a four way interaction loomed. The moon bathed the way crossing in silvery light, holding darkness at bay. The white markings stood out from the grayness. Dead traffic lights swayed in the breeze. Abandoned, broken down brown sedan parked or more likely, dumped next to the street corner. It's windows were broken, with trash piled inside.

The wind blew into my face, bringing the smell of decay and dryness. I licked my chapped lips, wanting to take a swig of my canteen. But a familiar sound drew my eyes towards the intersection in front of us. Elly's ears twitched. The rumbling grew with every stride.

A block away, a navy blue pickup rolled into the intersection, to my unexpected gasp, carrying armed men. The truck stopped in the center, with headlights shining directly down a different street.

I sank down to her neck, Rifle in one hand, mane in other, my eyelids involuntary twitching. How did they know we were coming? Did they have a spotter we passed unseen? I peered at them. Are we being watched?

Four youths ,carrying unfamiliar rifles, wore jeans and colored t-shirts, their heads on the swivel. They held out flashlights as they surveyed the deserted, urban jungle as the moon's rays shined down. Their voices heard over Elly's hooves even at this distance.

A quarter a click away and closer I estimated. Still it would be too risky to engage, best if we take a different route. I tugged her mane. Her gait unchanged, propelling us forward toward the enemy to a nervous jitter.

Clip-Clop Clip-Clop

I squeezed my legs.

Clip-Clop Clip-Clop

Hoofbeats echoed off storefronts, growing louder as the distance closed to the enemy. No response.

Thank god for shadows. I sat up on her, battling the bouncing as I grabbed my rifle. They can't see us. I jerked her mane. But they can hear us. We have to- she changed pace to a fast trot.

The realization dawned on me. We're not going around are we? A soft grin came to my lips. Then let's show them how it was done when we charged those technicals, on the desert plains. I checked the rifle, pulling back the bolt with a chuckle.

Nervous voices streamed from the back of the truck as the sound of her hooves drew their attention. More flashlights clicked on, their beams swung about completely missing our approach in the dark. Frantic whispers as they shoved each other to get their eyes on what was coming. I raised my rifle, peering down the sights on their clearly visible bodies.

Their heads swiveled towards us. Their Persian lips spoke excitedly. Flashlights swung in our way, still missing by yards. They leaned over the truck's side, looking for the source of her hoofbeats.

Clip-Clop Clip-Clop Clip-Clop

Voices grew closer, breathing slowed.

Inhale.

Release…

Inhale.

My lungs swelled with the cool night air.

Flashlights swept the road below. Their beams locked onto our figures. Men's voices rose in pitch. Heads finally turned our way, eyes drew upon us.

Now!

My lungs ripped open. Out came the Rebel Yell.

The whites of their eyes flashed. Mouths dropped ajar. Bodies froze as they stood. Heads twisted on necks. Elly broke from shadows into the moonlight at a dead run, heading directly for the enemy.

Close enough to see their freckles, I squeezed. My rifle came alive with a kick.

The air cracked with lead. The boys screamed, firing with wild abandon, hitting asphalt, poles, roofs, boarded windows,trashed sidewalks and a lone parked sedan.

Bullets snapped by my head as I aimed my sights at the driver. The windshield popped with two holes, side by side. The panicked driver dropped from view.

The vehicle roared to life in reverse, kicking up dust while I squeezed the trigger repeatedly. The screams drowned out by more gunfire. My hearing deafened as I continued to hammer the trigger, filling the truck's front hood with holes.

Elly flew through the headlights with mane and tail trailing. The smell of gunpowder was thick as the 4th of july. The truck burned rubber as it fled down the cross street. Things fell off as it retreated, driving onto the curb then street then back to the curb again. We blew through the crossing at a gallop.

Serves them right, I laughed while looking back, for playing at war. I puffed out my chest. This is no kid's game and you just got yourself a taste of it, a bitter one. We slipped back into the shadows leaving the intersection littered with shell casings.

I noticed the rifle's bolt was all the way back with the chamber exposed. An empty magazine and it was one quick engagement. Did I waste a whole clip in seconds? What the hell. I removed the empty mag and put a full one in and pushed the bolt catch. The bolt slid a new round into the chamber. Locked and loaded. Fresh air pushed away the taint of gunsmoke.

Elly drifted to the side of the street dropping down to a trot with heavy breathing. Sweat formed on her neck in patches where the mane refused to cover. Her sides pressed and contracted against the inside of my legs. It was getting harder to grip her with my sweat soaked trousers not to mention the mane getting raggedy.

My left hand gripped her mane while I held the m4 in the other. My shouting had encouraged her to push herself. I need to remember she is a horse after all, every bit flesh and blood even though she is an…alien one. I should- no I need to be more careful.

What is her limit? Could she have one? If so, does she even know, or even aware of such a thing?

As her rider, I had the responsibility to lookout for her and protect her. But I had no saddle, nor reins or tack to speak of. I have a weapon but I had no way to direct her from sitting on her back. She didn't say anything more than to watch her ears. So I watched, as ordered.

She is a horse, both body and soul. But what if she pushed beyond her limit. Could I even stop her if she refused to yield?

We rounded a corner in the pitch black, coming into full moonlight. Two camouflage netted trucks parked on either side of the street and a long thick rope stretched between them chest high.

A trap! My mouth dropped. A god damn posse. They knew we were coming ages ago. The other truck was a scout-

Without hesitating, Elly charged.

She could have done the smart thing, the right thing. The best choice for her. The one choice that would save her from injury and possibility of death.

But she did not.

She threw that choice away for she knew that the taut rope would have slipped in between us and ripped me from her and swept me to the ground.

That would be unthinkable. For as a horse, her heart lay with her rider. There was nothing sweeter to know that I was in her hands. Bound together in an unspoken agreement, Two souls destined to share one fate.

Therefore, she lifted her legs and rose above it.

Elly left the ground. Her neck stretched out, mane flying. I embraced her with all I had, holding on for life as she flew. Together we rose, higher and higher, her ears amongst stars as the ground drifted away. Never have I been this high, on a horse soaring into the wind. She cleared with room to spare to the awe of men. Then her front sank. Her head dropped. We came down, crashing.