Date: June 15th, 2020

Location: Iraq, Qalat Sikar Air Base

Time: 0500

PFC Samuel Higgs groaned and slapped at his alarm clock, groggily trying to switch off the loud beeping. His hand fumbled over the snooze button and he pressed down hard enough to stop the alarm. Sam rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to rub the grit out.

The sand in Iraq got into everything. Housing, clothes, weapons, vehicle engines… the food. After eating enough sand as part of your diet, the taste of grit was just another thing you dealt with everyday. Cleaning was a constant, grueling task. Clean your gun, clean the magazine, and make sure it can still shoot straight. As soon as you finished, a sandstorm would roll through and the compound was put on watch. When you came back in from guard duty, it was back to cleaning.

Sam shoved his military issue wool blankets off and put his bare feet on the gritty wood of the barracks floor. His bunk mate, Private Johnny Elliot, looked at his watch and groaned.

“I thought we got today off.”

Sam stood up and stretched, cracking his knuckles and his back.

“I don’t know ‘bout you, but I need a morning run like most guys need coffee.”

Johnny threw his hands in the air.

“We both drink coffee! That’s how I stay awake during the day!”

Sam grabbed a pair of socks and his tennis shoes. While he tied his shoes, Johnny hopped from his bunk over Sam and looked into the small mirror that hung on the door. As Sam finished lacing his shoes, Johnny grunted and said,

“I think your running alone today Sammy boy. I’ve gotta shave.”

Sam stood up and walked to the door.

“Then you’d best get to it. Big things are happening tomorrow.”

Johnny grabbed his shaving bag and followed Sam out. They walked down the hallway, Sam periodically knocking on doors to wake up his squad mates. He stopped at one door in particular. Johnny face-palmed.

“I think you do it just to piss her off.”

Sam shushed him and knocked on the door loudly.

“Wake up beautiful, its time for breakfast!” he sung through the door.

He heard a thud and then Sergeant Elizabeth Williams was shouting.

“PFC! I swear to God if I open this door and I find you standing there the Tali’s won’t have anything left to pick at!”

Sam grinned and took off down the hallway at a light sprint, Johnny running slightly behind him. Sam heard the Sergeants door slam open.

“You sonofabitch!” she screamed

Sam ducked as he heard the clang of a metal canteen being thrown down the hallyway. Johnny tried to pass him as Sgt. Williams threw more miscellaneous gear at the fleeing pair's backs.

“Guess your going for the run now?” he joked to Johnny.

“Hell, I’m not staying here with that lunatic!”

The two slowed slightly as Sam pushed the barracks door open, blinding them briefly with sunlight. After sprinting for a minute, they slowed down to a brisk jog and began a run of the perimeter fence. As they ran they would wave at the pilots ere jets and helicopters for the upcoming mission. Some of the pilots looked up from their work to cheer on the two runners, driving them both to run faster.

The impromptu race picked up speed as they pushed through the halfway mark of the perimeter. Sam slowly fell behind as Johnny pushed ahead. As they neared the barracks once again, Sam pushed his hardest and pulled ahead of Johnny, outdistancing him by several feet.

As they thundered to a stop outside of the barracks, Sgt. Williams gave Sam a cup of coffee and a middle finger. Johnny came in behind him and spread his arms.

“Where’s my coffee?”

“What was that Private?”

Johnny cleared his throat before saying,

“Where’s my coffee sir?”

Sgt. Williams smiled and took a sip from her cup.

“Only the winners get coffee Private, now go get cleaned up before I announce a surprise uniform inspection or some other shit to get you in trouble.”

Johnny grumbled, but went inside the barracks to shower and shave. Sgt. Williams took another sip of her coffee before speaking again.

“I’m gonna have to apologize for my actions this morning Corporal, I shouldn’t have tried to shoot you.”

“No prob Sarge, everybody has a stress reliever, you should see Johnny’s stack of… Ah, Sarge, I’m a PFC remember?”  

Sgt. Williams took another sip of her coffee.

“Congratulations Higgs, you just got promoted.”

Sam frowned.

“Who died?” he asked.

Sgt. Williams laughed.

“Don’t be such a pessimist; Corp. Smith got shot in the foot on guard duty. Lucky bastard is getting shipped home today.”

She pointed to the barracks door with her thumb.

“I guess I’d better tell Elliot that he got a promotion too. Clean up and be ready for a briefing by 0900.”

Sam snapped a salute, which she returned before walking inside. Sam turned away from the barracks and stared across the airfield. As the sun began to rise, he saw that more and more pilots were coming out of their barracks to perform maintenance checks on air and ground craft.  

His gaze shifted away from the airfield and moved to the horizon, where he could faintly see the dot that was actually a floating country. He sighed and took another drink from his coffee. It had been just over two years and the pain was still fresh. He had just “walked the line” when a soldier in dress uniform walked onto the stage and whispered in the principal’s ear. The principal had then called his mother to the stage and had told Sam to come to the podium.

The soldier had given them an American flag and a letter that said his father was MIA. After the ceremony was over, the soldier had driven them to the military installation that Sam’s father had worked at. He remembered what happened next like it was yesterday.

The private led them down a long white hallway and stopped them in front of a blank white door. In a low voice he said,

“We captured this… pony in Iraq and he told us that he had a special message for you. He wouldn’t give it up, demanding instead that he deliver it in person. I will be in the room to prevent anything from happening; I do not want any violent moves made towards this soldier, am I clear?”

Sam nodded grimly. His mother looked like she was going to tear the soldier apart already, and they hadn’t seen him yet. The private opened the door and motioned for them to enter. At a table with two chairs sat a white pony. The pony was looking down, his face a mask with a hint of depression leaking through. Sam felt his mom tense up beside him.

Before she could leap forward, he grabbed hold of he arms and pulled her back. She yelled at him to let her go, to let her hurt the pony. He didn’t listen and instead pulled her into a tight hug. She stopped struggling and instead began to sob into his jacket. He rubbed her head and tried to soothe her.

“It’s okay mom, I miss him too. I miss him too.”

As she continued sobbing into his jacket, Sam said to the private.

“Can you take her somewhere to calm down? I can handle talking to him.” He nodded at the pony who was still staring intently at its hooves.

The private looked like he was going to protest for a second. Then, he simply nodded and led Sam’s mother from the room, saying over his shoulder,

“Use the comm system if you want anything to drink or eat.”

Sam nodded and shut the door. Taking a deep breath he turned around and sat down in the chair opposite the pony. Crossing his arms, Sam stared in silence at the pony, studying him more closely.

The pony was battered and scruffy, his white coat covered in dirt and grit. Bags were visible under the pony’s green eyes, giving him a tired look. A pair of dirt, brown bags were slung over the chair. One had a long hole in it while the other looked slightly burned. Sam continued his study for about another minute before he stopped and got to his feet. He took of his coat and casually dropped it on the back of his chair.

He turned to the comm. system and asked over his shoulder,

“How do you like your coffee?”

For the first time since Sam had entered the room, the pony looked up.

“W-what? Why would you even… I don’t like coffee.”

The pony withdrew again, going back to staring at his hooves. Sam shook his head and pressed the small red button on the comm’s.

“I was told I could ask for drinks, so could I get two black coffees please?”

Sam watched with surprise as a small panel slid back in the wall next to the panel and two coffee cups slid out, both filled with fresh, steaming coffee. He chuckled to himself.

“Fancy machine you’ve got here.” he said to nobody in particular. He took the coffee cups and set them on table, one slightly closer to the pony. The pony looked nervous at the sight of the cup of black liquid and he seemed to inch back a little from the table. Sam looked from the pony to the cup and back to the pony.

“What, are you allergic to coffee?”

The pony shook its head.

“N-no.” he stuttered. “W-what’s in it?”

Sam stared at the pony with a bit of a slack jaw.

“It’s coffee, the only thing in it is coffee bean.”

The pony clamed a little bit but still didn’t touch the coffee. Instead, he reached into his bags and pulled out a bloody piece of paper and pushed it across the table towards Sam. As Sam reached out to take it, the pony pulled it back slightly.

“You are Samuel Higgs, right? Your dad was Daniel?” the pony asked.

Sam nodded. “Yes, but how do you know my name? And how could you tell I’m his son when you’ve never seen me before?”

“You have Daniel’s face. For a second when you walked in it was like seeing a ghost.”

The pony pushed the letter back to Sam who took it and put it in his shirt pocket. The pony stared at him expectantly.

“Well aren’t you going to read it?” he asked?

Sam took a drink from his coffee.

“No, I’ll let my mother read it first. She has a right to know first hand.”

The pony nodded slowly. Seeing Sam drinking the coffee, he seemed to deem it safe and reached for his. They both sat quite for a moment while they simply sat there and drank their coffee.

“What’s your name?” Sam asked.

“Swiftfoot. Former private.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“Former?”

Swiftfoot nodded.

“I was thrown out of the guard when I “abandoned my post” to deliver that letter.”

Sam nodded silently and leaned back in his chair. He really could think of only one question in his mind.

“Why?” he asked.

Swiftfoot looked confused.

“Why to what?”

“Why did you shoot down the convoy? Why did you ally with the Taliban? Why is my father dead? Why would risk yourself to deliver the letter? Why? Why? WHY?!?”

Sam slammed his fists into the table, his rage built to its maximum. As quickly as it had blown, his rage faded, like a candle blown out in the wind. Sam’s head fell into his hands and for the first time since they had received the news that his father was gone, he cried.

He sobbed into his hands, asking over and over in his head, why? After a while he felt a hoof on his back. Before he knew what he was doing, he had Swiftfoot wrapped in a tight hug and was sobbing uncontrollably into his fur. A small part of his mind told him to stop, but the vast majority was swimming in confused circles, lost on what to do. Swiftfoot just sat quietly and let it happen, trying his best to grasp at what Sam was feeling. Quietly he said,

“I can’t say things are going to be alright, but they can get better. You just have to make things better instead of just waiting.”

Sam sighed with nostalgia. That had been a long day. The two had talked for hours after that. Sam asking questions about Swiftfoot and Swiftfoot asking questions about what life was really like in America. When the base commander, followed by several scientists, told Sam to leave, Sam had demanded that Swiftfoot be released.

Originally the base commander said no, and then Sam tore into him, calling him some particularly nasty things. Then, when Sam turned on the scientists, the base commander relented. He placed a strict guard on Sam’s house and said that if Swiftfoot left, he died.

Sam looked at his watch to find that it was fast coming on 6 o’clock. Cursing, he finished his coffee and began to makes his way to the barracks washroom.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2 Estimated time remaining: 16 Minutes