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In the hills outside Fallujah there lies a grave

I hated waiting. It had never been my strongpoint, ironic I guess given my work over the years. Waiting was one thing I could always look forward to plenty of. Still, I hated it. I hated how it gave me time to think. Ever since the appointment a month ago, I'd hated it even more. I couldn't stand to be inside my head now, listening to the answers and not liking them one little bit. Self reflection was not my favourite pastime...but I found it impossible to avoid in the long hours of night. The piper was demanding payment, as I always knew he would one day.

In the hills outside Fallujah there lies a grave...

One day, a few years ago, deciding to give myself something to occupy my brain and maybe, just maybe, exorcise some demons, I had begun to write, just try to put my thoughts on paper. I couldn't decide what it was supposed to be though; all I managed to get on the page was the first line. Then my brain stuck fast like a hummvee in a bog.

In the hills outside Fallujah there lies a grave...

I guess I could blame my current assignment for bringing all that back to the forefront of my mind again. One of the many things I could blame Woz for. It would help; I needed to find the hate right now.

How long will the useless fuck take?

The scrape of metal on metal was loud inside the sparsely furnished flat, key moving in a poorly maintained lock. Not much furniture to absorb the sound; not much of anything really. How much he had come down in the world, my Woz. In spite of the risks, I had to know why. It was my job.

Hinges creaked, and the front door opened. I heard him drop something on the small table by the door, a long drawn out sigh that spoke volumes in a language I didn't quite know yet. Then some muttering, something about fucking kids, then the heavy tread of hooves on the industrial carpet as he traversed the length of the small entry hallway and opened the door to the lounge room. A muzzle poked round the doorway followed by the rest of its owner; a tall, heavily built equine, with appaloosa colouring and slight greying in his mane. I knew the sight, even though there was little light in the flat, all the curtains drawn tight to keep out the sun.

I triggered the light beside the couch with one paw, and bought the muzzle of my Beretta to bear on the stallion, pointed right at his sternum. Plenty to hit there, and I never miss, not even with much less to hit.

"Hello Woz"

His eyes bugged, wide white saucers of fear and shock, then he reached instinctively for his hip.

"Don't even think about it Woz. Stop right there, don't move, and do as I say. You might just live to see tomorrow."

I could see the look in his eyes. He clearly didn't think living till tomorrow was guaranteed to be a good thing. He was right in that, of course, but something held him back, something trotted across those soulful brown equine eyes for a second, making him hesitate. I saw it. He saw me, seeing it. Fear redoubled for a moment, its scent clear as day for this wolf, before he calmed his expression, using all the training we both knew. He wasn't calm though; that was all on the outside.

"Good. Now, the Glock...slowly, pull it out and throw it over to me."

Long equine fingers reached for his favourite, wedged at his hip under his jacket. He moved slowly, glacier slow, and I nodded in approval as he took out the pistol and casually threw it towards me. It bounced off the couch and hit the floor at my paws. I ignored it for now, of course.

"And the Smith and Wesson...at your ankle."

Now he frowned a bit, screwing up his muzzle but obeying, once again slow movements so as not to arouse a response. I held the cards, and he didn't know yet how I was going to play them. So he did what I would have done; play along, stall for time. A second weapon joined the first on the floor at my paws. Never taking my eyes off him, I bent slowly, picking them up and dropping them into my jacket pockets.

"Better, now, take a seat and lets have a little talk Woz."

He moved jerkily, like his body didn't want to respond to the commands and only did so with reluctance. I couldn't blame him for that. He knew the jig was up.

"Why did it have to be you Brad?"

"You know better than to ask that Woz. Of course it was going to be me. Who else would Maximilian send? I know how you think. Or at least I used to; I must admit I don't know how much you might have changed in the last six months. Not so much that I couldn't find you though, you stupid pony. Returning to your old home town from when you were a kid. Who the fuck tries to disappear by doing that?"

His ears flattened then, and he looked at his hooves. I think the professional rebuke almost got to him as much as the fear.

"So...let's recap shall we. You were sent out on a pretty simple contract, by all accounts. Routine really, as much as what we do can ever be. And you fucking disappear. The guy is still walking around bright as a button, and you are nowhere to be seen. Client fucking pissed, Maximilian worried sick. We thought someone might have tipped off the target from inside; you have no idea what happened before Max was sure he didn't have a leaker. Let's just say a couple of the guys' nuts had an appointment with Mr Sparky there."

"Fuck Maximilian."

Ahhh, defiance. His head was up now, and he was staring at me, right down the barrel of the Beretta. He was angry, really fucking pissed. Good. I loved him like this, if I'm honest. I love him...I loved him like this.

"He'll appreciate the sentiment I'm sure. Last guy to tell him to get fucked was that bull, you remember, Paris, the ex air special forces wingnut. Took him three days to die, so I'm told. Do me a favour and can it, when you get the chance. I don't want to see that happen to you Woz. Even after everything..."

"Really? I'm flattered by your concern you skanky bitch"

"Stop trying to get me to kill you Woz. It's not going to work. Oh, if you force me, I will take out your kneecaps, just to make you nice and compliant, but I'm not allowed to kill you. Maximilian wants to talk to you. He wants to understand why, and what, and who. Think very seriously about telling him Woz. Please."

"You have been just fucking waiting for this chance haven't you..."

"Would you blame me Woz? Would you? You know...you know how I felt...and what you did...what we did..."

He dropped his head again, but it didn't give me any joy.

"I'm sorry B"

"Me too Woz. You waited way too long to say that...once upon a time, it might have made a difference."

"So...is the condemned horse allowed a cigarette?"

"Yeah, but move slow...it would be a shame to have to kneecap you now..."

The shaking horse reached slowly for his pocket, alert enough though to show me his movements so I wouldn't become concerned. A single pack of Marlboros and an orange Bic...he hadn't changed that much after all. He flicked one cig into his muzzle, clicking the Bic a couple of times before it lit, sucking hard on the tip as the end glowed like an angry sun over the desert. Smoke curled into the air, a ghostly third person in our little two handed play.

"One for you?"

I twitched at that.

"I don't smoke any more. Not since Fallujah. You know that Woz, stop trying to provoke me."

"Sorry...I...really...fuck..."

"Why Woz. Fucking why. If not for Maximilian, tell me. You owe me...you owe me if no one else, at least this. You know in our line of work..you don't just quit your job and fuck off into the sunset. You know that...so why the fuck you stupid pony?"

"I had my reasons..."

"Then fucking tell me. It doesn't make any sense. You are doing fine, the real hotshot of our little devil's band. Fuck, the moral shitstorm threatens to suck me under every second Tuesday, but I know I can keep doing it, and if I can't, I know better than to just fuck off back to Bakerstown. But you...I never thought you of all of us would get squeamish. You liked the good stuff too much, and you always were a cunt with an eye to the main chance. I found that out the hard way..."

"Shows you don't know me after all..."

"...Instead, here you are, working in a fucking warehouse at nights, living in a little dive of a flat in the most roach infested shithole in the country, two thousand miles from your nice big house with your home cinema and your Mercedes and your procession of lingerie models bent over the designer table for a hot fucking. You don't touch your bank accounts, you don't touch any of your stuff at all, and then you make stupid amateur mistakes like visiting your Mom and using your old buddy from highschool to get your forged ID's. Are you fucking retarded? Did aliens kidnap my Woz and replace him with a moron? So fucking tell me!"

"Fuck! Andy! He coughed..."

"Relax Woz. He did so reluctantly...trust me..."

"You asshole. You wouldn't know. You wouldn't understand. I had my reasons. Now fucking get this over with wolf or shut the fuck up will you. Or do you like the sound of your own voice? You used to when you got your ass pounded, that I remember...ohhh, harder, deeper, yeah, fuck me, yeah..."

He was goading me again. Why was he so eager to get this over with? Why were his eyes darting all over the room...

The scrape of metal came a second time this afternoon. This one was having as much trouble with the skanky lock as Woz had, key finding the metal hard to budge. I kept my eye on Woz, a question in the tilt of my eyebrow. Now he was terrified. I saw him eye me now, right into my soul, and shake his head a little. Just once...but the message was clear.

The new player managed to get the door open finally, grunting with satisfaction as he opened the door. It was a he, I could tell...the scents came through before he did. Male...and another horse...a young one...

"Dad!"

Dad? The...Dad? The fuck?

"Dad?"

Another muzzle came around the corner, strikingly similar to the first. My head moved fast, keeping the new horse and the old in view at once. This one was tall, just as tall as Woz, with the same Appaloosa colouring, though his mane was a vivid black where Woz's was chestnut. He had feathering too; black like his mane. Still, he reminded me so much of the Woz I first met, I almost cried out in recognition. This one was wearing a school uniform though, rumpled and dishevelled, instead of fatigues...

I caught myself remembering our first meeting, my concentration wavering for an instant. I mentally bitchslapped myself and got it together. This was insane. I had pulled the Beretta under my jacket with my right paw, keeping it concealed but close. I could see the tension in Woz's body, every muscle twitching. This was a complication I did not need.

"Dad...who's the..."

"An old friend Mikey. From my army days."

"You don't have any old friends from then Dad...that's what you told me...I thought they were all dead..."

"Hi! I'm Brad young stallion...and you are?"

The colt blinked a couple of times, looking me over suspiciously. I saw a flash of something when I said my name...but he didn't make any further sign of recognition.

"I'm Michael. I'm Mr Wozniacki's son...I didn't meet him till recent though, my mum never told me about him till then. How long have you known my Dad?"

"A long time young Mike. A long time; he was about your age when we first met. He never mentioned a colt though. A lot of things make sense now though..."

I looked hard at the stallion. His ears were quivering, and he looked back at me with a mix of pleading and anger. So...my stud had a sprog, and he didn't want his sprog being part of his old life. So he started a new one...I had to admire him a little for that.

"Mikie, do you think you could run off to the store or something for a while? Brad and me have a lot to catch up on."

"Dad...I really need to talk to you..."

"Mikie, it can wait, whatever it was you did..."

"So you got the call from school?"

"Yeah, I know you were suspended, just not why, but it can wait and..."

"No, Dad, I really need to talk. I thought about it all the way here, and I need to tell you myself, now. Before someone else..."

"Mikie, surely it can wait."

"No! Fucking hell Dad, I know you don't like to talk and shit, but I need you! This once, just fucking listen please?"

"Mikie, I'm sure your Dad..."

"Fuck off! Whoever the fuck you are...just fuck off ok? This is none of your business..."

The colt was angry now, his ears pointing forward and his chest heaving. He stepped between us, his arms waving and his tail flashing side to side. I was about to yell at him when I caught sight of a flash of mane from behind.

"You stupid fucking colt!"

I roared, springing from my seat to my paws. Not fast enough though. I gripped the colt by the collar of his school shirt, throwing him to the side and sending him crashing to the floor. He threw out one arm to try to break his fall, catching on my right arm just as I brought it out from my jacket. As we struggled, I realised I was too late.

I had seen the flurry of movement, the flash of denim and hooves as Woz used the confusion and cover of the colt's approach to do a fast jump and roll behind the couch. Just as I pushed the colt out of the way, I saw him hurtle through the doorway into the entrance hall. I had enough time to pull out my Beretta finally and let off one round at the fleeing stallion, punching a hole in the flecked off white surface of the door. There was no cry, no scream.

Growling, I picked the colt off the floor, his face a mask of terror. One hard slap across the muzzle with the butt of my pistol got his attention, his eyes rolling like billiard balls.

"Get moving stupid pony!"

With a hard grip on the back of his collar, and my Beretta by his cheek, I pushed the colt down the hallway and out the front door into the street.

I was surprised to see Woz still around. He had not gone far, just down the street to his battered old Chrysler. It was far enough though. As we turned on the sidewalk, the colt and me, I saw him pump the action on a Remington he had pulled from the trunk, his eyes wild and nostrils flaring. Fifty yards....maybe seventy five. Ugly.

I brought the muzzle of my pistol to the colt's temple, all the while looking at Woz. I saw his look, and I knew enough. Now was the time to think...

"Stop right there Woz...unless you want to see your kid's brains all over the sidewalk."

The colt whimpered then, and I smelt urine.

"Fucking leave him alone Brad!"

"I mean it Woz...back off..."

"And if I drop the shotgun, you kill us both..."

"If you come with me, I promise to leave the kid alone."

"Yeah, and Maximilian will go along with that. After all...he's no security threat at all."

The fucker had a point. I had to think...and I had to think fast.