Dawn. The sun bleached the landscape through cloudless skies. The clouds, I assume, had retreated just like the rest of the folks in this forsaken town. Disused equipment lay scattered in the streets. The rare bicycle lay in a tangled heap, another casualty of this war, and in the middle of the road sat a teddy bear. Its tiny button eyes were fixated on me. It blinked. I blinked.
We had holed up in a small, dust-ridden house in a state of severe disarray. In one corner of one room, we huddled, the seven of us – six noncombatants and myself, an unwilling fighter in a war that was not mine to fight – and waited for the dark. We would move under cover of night. God willing, we would reach a friendly outpost on the edge of this enemy territory, fraught with merciless dogs of men. Only I didn't believe in God, so the sentiment was for naught. No, and even if I did believe in a God, this war would leach the last vestiges of piety from my pathetic mortal form. I was a servant of none. I was no soldier, and this wasn't even my war.
Not my war. No soldier. No God. My mind ran in circles. To quiet it, I briefly took inventory of what little supplies I had remaining:
A half-empty semiautomatic pistol and one additional magazine.
A fully-loaded bolt action rifle, and a pocket full of extra rounds.
A slightly crumpled cigarette pack with two remaining – a small victory in and of itself.
An empty flask. The watered-down whiskey barely burned as I poured the last drop on my tongue.
I was a reveler in an exotic city when this war broke out. I ended up unwillingly taking orders from a man twenty years my senior. He ordered me to kill my fellow man, which I did, gladly even. We took on these civilians, the twenty of us, days ago. They were in a truck bound for who knows where. Figured twenty fighting men could protect six civilians, right? Wrong.
We happened upon an ambush not a day into our impromptu mission. I watched as one by one our men were gunned down like animals. The sergeant ordered me to carry on the mission alone as he dove on a grenade that would have spelled my doom. In a stroke of luck I hadn't seen since I totaled that roadster back stateside, I escaped with no more than a bullet graze to the shoulder. When I think of it, it burns as though the wound itself possesses a malevolent sentience.
The mission. Escort the six of them to safety. These civilians would become my sole purpose for existence in these long days. The rest of the men are gone – not in heaven. Just gone. I didn't so much as stop to collect their dog tags. I just ran. Like a coward? No. I was just following orders like the obedient soldier boy I wasn't for a war I wanted nothing to do with. This mission, though, was special. It drove me. I'm not even good with people, but I'm nothing if not adaptable. Just then, I notice one of them start to cry.
“Hey now, what are you doing?” I manage in my most soothing tone, “If you cry, you're going to make me cry. You don't want me to cry, do you?” She managed a meek 'no' as she tried to stifle her tears. “Come on then, let's dry those eyes.”
I am a rusty goliath. My motions were mechanical, not natural, as I maneuvered a hand past the shroud of pink that was her mane and wiped away a tear. It fell, heavy as though it carried the weight of the world, off of my fingertip and splashed to the wooden floor where it pooled with the rest.
Fluttershy, they called her. A diminutive pegasus with a yellow coat, a mane of pink, and a heart of gold. Her wings quivered as they clung to her side. One of her friends, the orange one with the southern drawl that reminded me of home, rested a hoof on her shoulder. “There there, sugarcube” she said reassuringly, “we'll get out of here, right?” she asked as she turned to me. “We will.” I pronounced a promise to them then and there, and I don't know who I was trying to convince but Fluttershy stopped shaking. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, and victoriously I lit a cigarette.
“Ugh!” she cried, shaking her styled violet mane as she melodramatically protested my habit, “the smell will cling to me forever and a day! Must you? Must you really?” I had opened my mouth to speak to the irritated white unicorn, but was beat to the punch by Twilight, the one they seemed to defer to. “Rarity's right,” she started, “what you're doing isn't helping us at all – and it's likely hurting you!” She was right. They both were. I hung my head and pinched the cherry out. “Sorry, Twi” I said with a sigh. “Just needed something to clear my mind is all.” I stuffed the cigarette back with the others in its crumpled little prison, and stowed the pack back in my jacket. “What we need is rest” she said imploringly. I protested. “Ain't tired, Twi” I said. She put a purple hoof on my knee and looked up to me, begging me to get some rest. I would be wrong not to cave in, but this mission has been nothing but wrong turns.
“Alright, Twilight. If it's so important to you, I'll get some shut-eye. Let's do this in shifts – I'll take first watch, then I'll wake you.” She thanked me before returning to the others. Nearby, a light blue pegasus with a wild, multicolored mane lay sleeping on a pile of clothes while the energetic, and aptly-named Pinkie Pie, watched a spinning top, clearly hypnotized. I waited for an hour or so for the last one of them to drift off to sleep before I made my move. Slowly and stealthily, I snuck out the door and into the rest of the house.
It was dark, dusty. The sun etched horrible shapes in shadow on the walls. Whoever had lived here was gone now, and they had left in a hurry. They didn't make it out with more than a suitcase between them, I'd imagine. I examined the family room. I found old books in languages I couldn't understand, but I paged through them anyway. Nearby were stashed albums of what was most likely horrible music. I'd never know. The phonograph didn't survive the evacuation. It, along with just about everything else, lay on the floor and underfoot.
I observed the horrible paintings, contemplating their meaning. One of them told me that the previous owners were religious, bunch of fools. One of them appeared to be that of a happy family. A man, his wife, and their three daughters. I grimly wondered which of them were dead. Suddenly I spied a decanter which I eyed hungrily from across the room. I licked my lips in anticipation of what might be inside. Slowly, I made my way to it, as though it may be a trap. The bottle clattered and rang as I picked it up, and I did everything in my power to silence it before it woke the girls. I'd never hear the end of it. Not from them. Not from myself.
Whatever it is, it smells horrible. And whatever it is, it's definitely alcoholic. I made my way to the home's tiny kitchen to finally enjoy that victory smoke, and sip on whatever I'd just found. I did my best to silence my every move, but it was for naught. Every step shook the house. Every breath rattled the windows. The chair scraped the uneven kitchen floor for a second too long before I saw fit to stop dragging it and lifted it instead. Its legs stamped down on the wood floor with the kind of crack that could have only been thunder. I slumped my heavy, unwieldy form onto it and lay my pistol on the table before me, setting the stopper next to it and my still-lit cigarette in on a tea saucer. Bravely, I took a pull from the bottle. I consider myself a strong man. Strong enough to see this through, and certainly strong enough to put away the stiffest of drinks, but I winced. With teeth grit, I saw through slit eyes a flash of light cut across the stove. Movement. Danger.
Action. I threw my body at the floor, raking my fingertips at the pistol as I did. I brought the gun under control, and felt the texture of the grip etch its pattern into my palm. I crawled to the window and held my breath listening for footsteps. When I heard none, mercifully, I slithered up the wall and scanned the bleak streets. Nothing. Only a bird preening its feathers in the way of a side view mirror belonging to a truck parked in a garage across the street. My eyes widened. My mouth watered. If I believed in a God, I'd thank him. Dumb luck and frayed nerves saved the day. I pulled my cigarette from the dirty saucer that I'd stashed it on, and took a triumphant drag. Another swig of nasty, and I was ready to break the good news to the girls. I padded with stealthy purpose to the room where they were sleeping, and found the sight too peaceful to ever interrupt. I wouldn't admit it, but I smiled. I imagined their eyes lighting up as I told them the good news, as I told them I could deliver them safely tonight. I contemplated waiting, but there was something else burning me aside from that bullet wound, something in my brain. A warning. We weren't safe. We had to move now. I tapped on Twilight's horn. She woke as peacefully as she had slept.
“I... wh- what?” she stammered, “What'd I miss? Is it time for me to take watch?” I shushed her instinctively, then shook my head. I wanted them all to wake up. I wanted them all to hear this. “Dashie, Applejack – everyone.” Rainbow Dash awoke with flared temper “Don't call me Dashie” she commanded. Rarity giggled. “ladies,” I started, “I've got great news. We won't have to hoof it to safety. I can drive us. Across the way there's a truck, and if it starts we're home free. I'll go check it out, but I need everyone to stay here, and stay calm until I get back.” Twilight objected. “Friend, you haven't slept in days. You need your rest. We can do this at night when it's safe.” I knelt down before her and looked into her eyes pleadingly. “We aren't safe here, Twi. We need to move. I got a bad feeling about this town. They'll be here soon enough, and their guard dogs can sniff us out.”
“Fluttershy can handle that, remember?” Twilight bargained. “They'll be packing guns!” was my rebuttal. “What are we going to do about that?” Rainbow Dash interrupted. “Psh! I can take 'em! I ain't afraid of whatever the hay they're packing!” “It's too dangerous” Applejack replied. Rarity cleared her throat. “Girls, please. This man has been true to us thus far, and I, for one, have absolute faith in his judgment. Thus far, he has been as stalwart and true to his cause – to us – as anyone we could have hoped for. He has been both our guiding light, and our rock to lean on.” Such a silver tongue. I wouldn't admit it, but that was the kindest thing anyone's ever said about me. I didn't deserve it, not one word, but I would earn it before this day was up.
The girls exchanged nods and knowing looks. One by one, they turned to face me. Twilight spoke. “Alright. We trust you.” “But if anything happens,” Rainbow Dash followed, “I'm right behind you.”
We moved to the door, and I looked them over. Even Fluttershy seemed calm, a display I found as eerie as it was reassuring. Suddenly, I noticed a pale blue glow around my collar as it straightened itself, and I felt the sensation of a breeze running through my hair. I saw the glow fading around Rarity's horn. I shot her a confused glance. “We can't have you performing dashing deeds without looking the part, darling” she said with a hopeful smile. I hope I smiled back.