Author's Note

Just a word of warning. This chapter came out rather dark, and contains some traumatic events. If that’s not your thing, it can be skipped without missing any major plot points, but there is a bit of character development that may make the upcoming chapter a bit confusing if you miss out. (Also, sorry for it being a bit shorter than normal, but don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you in the next one.)

Chapter 8

“Charlie Actual, Charlie two-six, passing CK three now, over.”

“Acknowledged, two-six. We have you at checkpoint three, your MSR is green at this time, and you are clear to proceed to your next point, over.”

I idly monitor the radio chatter echoing through the cramped confines the Humvee as I ride shotgun, staring out through the thick armored windshield at the seemingly endless sea of sand, the desolate expanse only marred by the ocasional sight of a distant village, and the taillights of the vehicle ahead of us as the convoy makes its way down a poorly maintained road, kicking up a cloud of dust that stings my eyes as it finds its way into the vehicle, tinging everything inside a dusty tan.

We had done similar missions so many times I had lost count. Every time it was made out to be some kind of heroic endeavor. Patrol the area, keep the peace, track down the dreaded insurgents. Of course that last almost always meant sitting on the outskirts of some village for hours, if not days, and watching the locals going about their day in the slim hope of spotting something nefarious.

The first few times I’d gone out were a nerve wracking experience, constant warnings and horror stories of enemy contact, IEDs, and dead soldiers being sent home in mass coming to mind. After countless missions with nothing to show for it, boredom and complacency had set in. Patrolling felt less and less like what I’d signed up for, and more like a menial chore to check off the list.

My eyes growing tired, I’m beginning to get lost in my own thoughts, the minutes passing by with the landscape as our dusty convoy trundles its way down the road. My eyes settle wearily on the red taillights ahead of me, their soft glow almost hypnotizing until they suddenly disappear behind a wall of brown earth and smoke.

I hear bits of rock and other debris pinging off the vehicle, and it’s not until a thundering boom reaches my ears that my eyes shoot open as the driver mashes the brakes, causing my helmeted head to slam into the dashboard.

“Aw…fuck…what the fuck!?” The driver, Specialist Mendez, looks over to me, eyes wide in as he trembles in shock. “Sergeant Chandler, what should I do!?”

“Back us up, get clear!” I shout back as my hand darts to the radio. “This is Charlie Two-Two, IED! IED, Two-One is hit!” I yell into the mic before nearly hitting the dash again as Mendez sends the vehicle hurtling backwards.

“Stop here!” I shout, sending the Humvee jerking to a stop again. “Mendez, stay in the truck, gunner scan our three o’clock, Johnson, on me!” I yell, giving my M4 carbine a quick check before throwing the door open. Despite my thundering heart, and the insistent ringing in my ears, I manage to pull myself to my feet and begin jogging forward as I hear Private Johnson’s hurried footsteps behind me.

I barely notice the slamming of doors as soldiers in other vehicles do the same, many of them fanning out to scan the hills while I set my sights on the smoldering wreck before me. I go to open one of the doors before freezing as I realize that not only is there no handle to grab, but the door itself is completely gone. Bile begins to rise in my throat as I peer shakily through the haze, and see nothing but splotches of blood and viscera splattered across what remained of the crew compartment.

“Sergeant Chandler!?” I hear a concerned voice shout behind me, but I can’t focus on it as I turn away and double over to hurl onto the chalky ground.

Suddenly pain blossoms in my back as I feel something slam against the ceramic plate that was nestled there, sending me sprawling to the ground and robbing me of air. A staccato of heavy machine gun fire sounds from somewhere nearby as I struggle to push myself up, fumbling with my weapon as I desperately scramble to make sense of anything through the thick cloud of dust and char that swirled around me.

Somewhere behind me there’s a cry of pain, and I hear something fall to the ground. “Fuck…Johnson…..JOHNSON!?” I scream, becoming more and more panicked when I don’t hear a response. The sounds of battle are deafening as I try to fumble my way blindly towards where I’d heard him fall. And then….everything falls silent.

Even the ringing is gone, replaced by an eerie calm as the dust begins to drift away. I look down to see the road is gone, replaced by a soft green grass that blows gently in a wonderfully cool breeze that brings a chill to my sweat-soaked body. When I look up again, everything is gone, and I’m standing in a moonlit field, the vibrant green interspersed with scatterings of purple wildflowers that seem to shine under a starry night sky. And standing there before me is Princess Luna in all her glory, wearing a look of intense concern. Her teal eyes appear glassy, as barely holding back a flood of tears.

“What was that?” She asks softly. “I have seen terrible nightmares, indescribable horrors over the course of centuries, but this…”

I feel incredibly refreshed, my sweaty uniform and gear gone, and replaced with a simple silk robe that flowed in the gentle breeze, and though loose, seemed to hug itself around me comfortingly. Even so, it takes me several moments to calm myself enough to respond.

“That’s because it’s not just a nightmare. It’s a memory. One that I haven’t been able to forget since that horrible fucking day.” I answer, clenching my face as I try to hold back tears of my own.

“So you were a guard….some kind of warrior?” She asks in that soft motherly tone.

I nod. “Yeah….a soldier. A defender of freedom as they’d say, what a fucking joke. There was nothing worth fighting for in that lousy desert besides each other.” I point a hand to my right, as if I’m still where I had been standing, and I swear I see a few swirls of dust threaten to invade the peaceful landscape. “And Johnson, he didn’t make it.” I say, my face growing hard as I focus on keeping my voice from wavering. “He died, and for what!? I never should have told him to follow me! It’s my own goddamn fault, if he had just stayed in the truck….”

My outburst is cut short as I feel a pair of soft wings wrap around me. I look up to see those warm teal eyes staring back at me as her mouth twists into a sympathetic smile. “No Dave, you have done nothing wrong. There was no way you could have known, and just as you chose your actions, he made the choice to follow you, and his fate was his own.”

The rage inside me begins to crumble, but it’s not through yet as I sneer. “Fate? He went home in a fucking casket. He had a family, a wife and a son who will never see him again, and do you know what I got? A medal! A fucking medal for running around like an idiot, and getting someone killed!”

“Shhhh.” She coos softly, tightening her wings around me and leaning forward to nuzzle my cheek. Her muzzle feels so warm and soft as its velvety fur brushes across my skin, and I feel the tears I had been holding back finally start to flow.

“I will not pretend to understand the nature of your people’s conflicts, and the nature of your pain is one that may never fade entirely, but until you can forgive yourself, it will never release its hold on you.” She whispers, her muzzle resting beside my ear. “You must learn to let go….”

I don’t say another word as I remain held tightly in her embrace. As close as she is, despite it being nothing more than a dream, I’m able to pick up the steady thumps of her heart, and the soft inhale and exhale of her breath, the warm gusts tickling my ear with every exhale as hot tears run down my face and drip to the ground below. I don’t know how long we remain like that, but eventually everything slowly grows dark.

I wake to find her wings replaced by a blanket I had pulled tightly around me some time during the night. My eyes flicker open as I lift my head from my now damp pillow to take a bleary look around the dark storage room. A glance at my phone tells me it’s only half past three in the morning. With a sad, tired sigh, I flip the pillow over and lay my head back down. Spilling everything had left me thoroughly drained, and it only takes a few more seconds before I fade away into a blissfully dreamless slumber.