A PALE HORSE

The sun baked the still bubbling blacktop and the smell of the mid-afternoon Mississippi mingled with the odor of fresh tar greeted the pilot exiting the old Huey. As he slung his gear over his shoulder and grabbed his flight log, he paused to wrinkle his nose and note the fresh tarmac that was not present earlier at takeoff. Abe Sims had just returned from his second flight of the day, and he was feeling his age at the moment. He had shuttled a few disabled Korean vets to the newer memorial in Houston, as the current situation in Washington, DC prevented them from visiting West Potomac Park. Abe always enjoyed talking with the old soldiers and hearing their stories, and this was no exception. The sergeant in the wheelchair that had talked his ear off for most of their journey had been in Pusan in 1950 and was not short of humor, detail, or, profanity. Abe could easily relate to the man’s tale, he himself being a veteran of Desert Storm in the early nineties. All veterans and active duty had a special place in Abe’s heart, and he could think of nothing better that he could be doing than giving these old timers a lift and listening to their war stories. Abe had always wanted to be a soldier, but not a leader. He had grown up in Alabama and, after experiencing a lot of what black folks in the south had experienced in the sixties, he vowed not to carry resentment or hatred around with him. Luckily, as a young man, he had been taught the value of self-respect, respect for others even when they don’t respect you, and, most importantly, Christian love for his fellow man.

His father, an itinerant preacher who eventually settled himself and his family in a small Baptist community around Birmingham, had always told him, “You carry that around with you, you’ll be no good for anybody. You’ve never been a slave or in chains, and if you find yourself in chains, dollars to donuts they are of your own making, son. Rise above and get your respect by respecting others. Remember what Jesus taught, listen to Dr. King and you’ll be alright.” That’s how he had lived, and, even after Memphis, after they shot and killed one of the greatest men who had ever walked the Earth, he didn’t hate or riot or do any of the other stuff that those around him were advocating. His father’s words were still there in his heart, and he lived them. He joined the army at eighteen and did just what his father had instructed, and he became an NCO in two years, gaining respect as he gave it. He became a warrant officer a year before the air war broke out, and a pretty damn good chopper pilot, too. He had lived as an Army officer for years, but he had found little respect when he returned from the Gulf War. He received no hero’s welcome at the airports and bus station enroute to his hometown of Gardendale, Alabama. He remembered not understanding why people at home were so upset with the returning soldiers.

We did what we were sent to do, nothing less, he thought to himself as he walked into the lower hangar and dropped his gear. He grabbed a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap as he sat on an old metal stool, looking back at his helicopter. They wanted us to follow orders; we followed orders. It’s not our fault that it escalated the way it did… and cost what it did, he thought bitterly, absently glancing down at his left thigh. He had been loath to accept the derision of the folks at home, and even had gotten into a fight with his old gym teacher at a service station when he spat on him and called him a murderer. He rolled his eyes to himself and drove the memory down into the depths where it belonged. Yeah, we probably deserved better, and, if not respect, at least appreciation, he thought. Those boys I flew today... the ones in Kabul and Tikrit and all of those other hellholes no one wants to find themselves in- they deserve honor and respect. He wanted to make sure that the soldiers returning home to loved ones either whole and in person, missing limbs or in pieces, or even in a casket for burial, received the respect that they deserved. He felt that anyone who had served in the military understood why these soldiers did what they did, anyone else could only presume to know and, sadly, the majority didn’t understand or didn’t care. Abe was exhausted from his flight and the emotional toll it took on him. He was a humble man and did not expect praise for giving a soldier a lift home in his plane or in his chopper on the shorter hops. He looked out on the old UH-1 that he called Betty and smiled. She was in no way a replacement for the Chinook he flew in Riyadh that he had named Betty, but Abe loved her. He got the old chopper at an Army surplus sale a few years back. Abe stopped for a second, and let the old twin prop helicopter occupy his thoughts.

God, I loved that bird, he thought. His job in the war was evac; get a medic crew or extraction team to the soldiers that needed it and get them out before hell found them. Abe had been in his share of it in the two tours he served, and they finally did get him in the summer of 1991, shot down, along with his cargo, in this case two wounded and a forward observer he was taking to Bahrain. Abe carried the guilt around with him still that he was the only one to survive that incident. Abe had been able to ditch in the dusty foothills of the Zagros Mountains, but the damage had been done. No survivors and his cyclic control stick had tried to bury itself in his left hip, burning its way in. He remembered feebly working the safety harness, but the rest was lost to the fog of his injuries. He was told later that the bodies of the two hurt soldiers and the FO were nowhere in sight at the ditch point. He also knew that, were it not for a passing artillery officer, he would be six feet under. He owed everything to him… Captain Michaels. He had come to in an area away from the ditched bird and the searching Iraqi troops , armed to the teeth and determined to not come back from their patrol empty-handed. He started to panic, realizing where he was and what had transpired, but a hand on his shoulder steadied him and let him know he wasn’t alone or without help. They both waited in silence for the patrol to pass, staying hidden in the brush, barely breathing. Once the enemy soldiers were out of earshot, the young captain found a cave in which to lay low. He saw to Abe’s wounded side and leg and gave him some water, letting him know that they may be unable to evac him for a little while. Abe was in and out over the next several hours, but when he was alert, he and the young artillery officer swapped stories and talked about their lives back home. Captain Michaels was an excellent storyteller, and they became friends, often seeing each other in the convening years. Abe shook his reverie and gave himself a quick once-over; he needed to get a shower before his two o’clock meeting with Dr. Jo. He had been seeing her for more than a few years now and enjoyed their time together. She had helped him in so many ways and, on more than a few occasions, seemed to have just the tonic for what was bothering him. Not to mention… she was easy on the eyes. He smiled as he made his way around the boxes and crates in the hangar for his next flight. He climbed the stairs to his loft apartment, built years ago, by his much younger hands and back, into the hangar itself. He loved planes, or anything that flew, really. He had never married or had kids of his own, and, other than his niece, Abe considered his many craft his kids. He took care of them and they took care of him. As Abe reached the top of the stairs leading to the loft he heard singing coming from inside. Abe called it a loft but really it was an open plan two bedroom one bath apartment. He smiled as he opened the door and found his niece joyfully dancing and singing to an invisible audience as she mopped the floor. She did not see him step up behind her and during her last pirouette, opened her eyes to see her uncle grinning at her from the door.

She raised her hand to her heart and exclaimed, “You nearly scared me to death!”, rather loudly with the Michael Jackson tune still blaring in her headphones. She slipped them from her ears and said in a softer voice, “I wasn’t expecting you back yet! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Hey, not my fault, baby girl. You looked like you were having so much fun, I didn’t want to mess with your groove!”

She dance-stepped her way to the door and gave her uncle a brief hug, asking, “How long have you been back?”

“Just landed. Man, I need a shower! It’s stifling out there today!” Abe told her as he blotted his moist forehead with a bandana. He stuffed it back into his pocket and said, “What brings you around? Surely it wasn’t just to mop this old man’s floor?” He had raised Naomi after her mother had passed ten years earlier. Naomi’s father was a deadbeat and had not shown any interest in the girl, so he didn’t put up much argument when Abe suggested Naomi live with him. She came to him at the ripe old age of twelve, and now at twenty-four she was a beautiful young woman who, unfortunately, had decided that she liked planes and helicopters as much, if not more than Abe. He tried to pique her interest in other hobbies and activities for a while before he ultimately gave up. Naomi was who she was, and Abe figured that there were worse things she could be doing than flying, which, in his opinion, was the best thing man had ever figured out how to do in the first place. Naomi looked at the floor, decided that it was clean, and began to wring the mop in the bucket.

“New order into the office today.” She used the term office lightly considering his office consisted of a table in the corner with a calendar, phone and a decrepit computer that should have been replaced three generations ago. “What and where to?” Abe asked her all business now. “It’s not that kind of order,” Naomi giggled at the look of puzzlement from her uncle, “This order came from a Captain Michael Michaels… is that a joke, by the way?” she quizzed her uncle, raising one eyebrow at the unusual name. He shook his head no, but motioned for her to continue eagerly. She shrugged. “Anyway, said he was an old friend of yours. He asked if you would be free to talk with him.” Naomi was surprised by the mix of emotions that flashed across her uncle’s face, and she knew that whatever history her uncle had with the captain was significant . “I told him he could stop by to see you tonight. I hope that was okay?” She sounded nervous and Abe smiled at her in reassurance.

“Yeah, yeah… that’s fine. I would love to see him. Good for you!.”

“Well, that’s wonderful, because he will be here at 1400,” she told him. She forestalled his next sentence by saying, “oh, and Dr. Jo’s office called to cancel your appointment today. You can call and reschedule for tomorrow or they will just see you next week at the same time.” she told him.

“Thanks,” Abe said kissing her on the cheek on his way past her, “I’m gonna take a shower before Mike gets here.”

“Okay, I gotta jet anyway. Will you be going out or do you want me to throw a lasagna in the oven before I go?” she asked him as he walked towards his bedroom.

“Put the lasagna on if you will, Naomi. Where you headed?”

“I have to run some errands and get my nails done. Darius is taking me out tonight.” Abe scowled at her daffy expression. The girl didn’t have many faults but the ones she did have were doozies. She fell in love too easily and it usually got her into all kinds of trouble. She also had a generous nature that made it exceedingly easy for her to be taken advantage of now and again. “Aw, c’mon… Don’t look at me like that! Darius is a good guy.” She pouted a little at his scowl, and was about to expound on Darius’ finer qualities, but Abe spoke first.

“That’s what you said about the last one! I swear, Naomi! I thought I was gonna have to put him through a wall before that was over! You let these boys walk all over you! You deserve respect and you should expect to be treated like the strong, smart lady you are.” Abe told her.

“That’s how Darius is with me! If you would only meet him and talk to him, you would see.” She reached out and took Abe’s hand in hers and looked him in the eye. “ I know you want to keep me your baby forever but I’m out in the world now, and I get to choose who is in my life.” She told him emphatically.

“I know, but as long as you are in MY life” he said, shaking her hand for emphasis, “I will always want to protect you…at least until another man shows he’s up to the task.” Abe grasped her by her shoulders, demanding her full attention and fixed her with his kind, pleading gaze. “Please be careful. Your mother, God rest her, fell in love at the drop of a hat and it caused her nothing but heartache until the day she passed. I don’t want to see you end up like that… you need to exercise caution and discernment. You’re going places! You’re bound for great things, and you need a man who recognizes it!” Abe looked determined, and Naomi was touched by his concern, although she thought it unnecessary ALL the time.

“I promise, I will be careful.”, she said. As she spoke, his expression softened into his typical easy half-smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as if they were taking in too much light.

“That’s my girl! Take the taser.” Abe chuckled turned and disappeared into the bathroom as Naomi pulled the lasagna out of the freezer and popped it into the oven. She set the oven timer and, humming to herself, she grabbed her purse and went out the door. After a quick, refreshing, nearly ice-cold shower, as was his custom (he hadn’t taken a hot shower since 1990 as he found them uncomfortable), he changed into fresh clothes and grabbed a Red Stripe from the refrigerator. As he popped the cap and seated himself to gaze out the massive window into the afternoon sun, he took a long pull from the frosty bottle, swallowed, and breathed deeply. Abe’s thoughts turned to his old friend. He absently fingered the pendant he kept on a chain around his neck, a token from the young officer after a most unusual conversation that he, for years, thought he had concocted in the confines of his own warped memory. He wondered what Mike wanted to talk to him about. It had been almost ten years since their last conversation at a memorial for another soldier. As it had been over the decades whenever they met, either by accident or intentionally, the young officer appeared much the same as he always had; tow-headed, slightly sunburnt, great teeth, smiling eyes and a firm handshake. The oven’s buzzing timer snapped him out of his thoughts. He made his way into the kitchen and grabbed the pot holders off the counter, and pulled the lasagna out of the oven. He had just set it on the counter when he heard a knock at the door. Abe made his way to the front door and eagerly pulled it open. A man dressed in boots, jeans, and a royal blue, yellow, and red striped polo stood on the grated landing, fanning himself. He stopped when Abe opened the door, and he flashed a brilliant smile.

“Mike!” Abe exclaimed excitedly, “Get in here! How have you been? You look pretty good for an old war horse!” Captain Michaels took Abe’s proffered hand and shook it energetically, using his other to embrace the shorter man warmly.

“Abe, my friend! How are you holding up, chief?” , he said, breezing past Abe from the stifling hangar into the air conditioning. Abe closed the door and turned to catch up to the taller man, crossing to the battered sofa.

Abe eased himself into the chair adjacent to the microfiber couch and gave a slight groan. Mike looked questioningly at him, and Abe waved away his concern. “Can’t complain, cap. Well, I could but it wouldn’t make a difference.” Abe chuckled, settling into a more comfortable position in the comfy chair. Almost as soon as he had lit on the closest cushion, the captain popped back up.

“Mind if I grab a beer? I’m dry as a bone!”

“Absolutely, Mike… mi casa es su casa.” He snatched open the door to the fridge, and Abe wondered to himself how the man always managed to move with such energy and vigor. They were very close in age, but the captain seemed just as spry as ever, and just as strong. The man was not small, and he was not short on muscle, having pulled Abe from the wreck along with his gear and his trashed communications equipment and medical supplies all by himself.

The man returned to the sofa, plopped down, snatched the cap off of the Red Stripe and took a deep slug, finishing with a satisfied “Ahhh!”. Abe surveyed the man across from him, and figured he was on a mission… he always was. Mike wasn’t a guy that dropped by; he moved through the world like a man whose time was valuable, and his itinerary reflected that; last Abe had heard, Mike was in Sevastopol, and before that, Canberra.

“I’m always glad to see you, cap, but I know you. What brings you to my sweltering neck of the woods?” Mike grabbed a couple of coasters, placing one under each bottle on the table, and sat back, his fingers steepled under his chin, as if he were about to say something important and thought-provoking.

“Abe, we’ve known each other a long time, right?” he asked.

“Well on to thirty years now, I’d say”, answered Abe, considering. He cocked an eyebrow, gave a questioning look to the officer, and said “Don’t reach, cap… just say it. The suspense is killing me!” Abe reached for his beer and took another drink, being careful to place it back on the coaster that Mike had placed under it. Mike was like that, Abe thought. The utmost respect for his surroundings and the people he dealt with, but at the same time, Abe couldn’t recall ever seeing someone more at ease at making themselves at home than Mike. He liked that about him.

“Do you remember when we were pinned down in the Zagros? You were banged up pretty bad, in a lot of pain, and you had come upon my unit, but could only move a few out at a time.” Michaels looked up at Abe and said, “You were the bravest man I had ever seen; fearless, and more concerned with getting all the men out of danger than for yourself.” Abe took another swig of his beer, remembering, and a bitter smile came to his face.

“I was scared stupid! More afraid than I’d ever been, honestly. I had never had my wings clipped, and there hadn’t been a time in my life where I ever thought I could walk away from getting shot down. I thought for sure that, even after I knew that I had survived the crash, I figured that they would capture or kill me. They never forget a face, you know.”, Abe joked. “I think my picture was up inside a post office in Tehran!”. Abe laughed, hoping he seemed at ease with the memory, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

Dammit!, Abe thought. Let it go! The damage is done. Your mind, your body. What you did. What you saw. Let it go.

Mike reached out and placed a steadying hand on Abe’s arm and continued his recollection.

“I remember, too, chief,” he said softly. He removed his hand and grabbed again for his beer, took a drink, and set it on the coaster. “You went into that mess five times before they brought you down with that last round. We were incredibly fortunate that you crashed not too far from my remaining men and on the other side of the insurgents. We were able to get to you and set up a perimeter to hold a decent line, but it never would have happened without you. Your bravery inspired my men to fight and hold that zone! We were also able to call in another team to extract the rest of us. You had so much courage, and you were so selfless. I think you were looked after that day, for sure, but you inspired men, and the world is now better for it.” Michaels looked at Abe gauging his response to his most recent comments.

Abe looked right into Captain Michaels’ eyes and said, “Just did my job the best way I knew how, Mike. I know that someone was looking out for me that day. I know it! I remember it all…everything about that day.” Abe affected a thousand-yard stare and turned to look wistfully out at his small fleet of aircraft. He was in his little apartment physically, but in his thoughts he was there once again, flying through the enemy’s territory, death below and above him. “I remember you being at my side as we waited for two days… Man! Longest two days of my life! I remember waiting for the second extraction team. They couldn’t reach us right away, and the LZ had to be cleared. I remember the stories you told me to keep me calm. Mike, I remember this…” Abe reached down into the neck of his shirt and pulled out the medallion that he had worn on a silver chain ever since returning from the field hospital where the young captain had given it to him. It looked like a coin blank that someone had taken the time to carve a symbol into. It almost looked like an astrology sign. It had a small hook at the top that came into a long line into a triangle at the bottom flowing into another line rising from the triangle, then bending down to finish in a circle. Abe didn’t know what the symbol stood for, and had, on many occasions, taken the token out to admire the workmanship of the etched design. “What is it, anyway? Did you make it?”

Abe smiled at his friend, and Mike laughed good-naturedly and said, “Nah, I’m not the Craftsman who made that, Abe. It’s a symbol of our friendship, chief!”

Abe looked up at Captain Michaels and said, “We’ve been good to each other, Mike. Helped each other out for over thirty years. I owe you my life, and you know I would do anything you asked. Anything, ’cause I wouldn’t be here without you. I am pretty tired, so no heavy lifting, okay?” Mike raised one corner of his mouth in a half grin and let Abe continue. Abe went on, seriously now. “I am still ready to fight. Just give me a mission.” Abe’s eyes took on a glint that the angel recognized. Michael smiled and in his mind knew he could count on Abe once again to get done what needed to be done for the Master.

He clapped his old friend lightly on his still-sinewy shoulder and said, “Okay Abe, but this will be the last one. One last mission. You’re gonna be gone for a little while, though. Will Naomi be okay without you?” he asked his friend.

“I will have to talk it over with her but I’m sure she will be fine. She’s like her mom, and Miriam was smart and stubborn. It served her well.” Abe told him with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Then we are five by five, chief!” said Mike. Abe strode to the refrigerator, grabbed two more cold bottles, crossed back to the sofa with Mike in tow, and sat down. He handed the second beer to his friend, popped the top on his, took a long drink, and placed it on the table. He turned to Mike.

“OK, you’ve got me. What’s the mission?”

“I need you to take someone to meet… someone.” Michael paused as he took in Abe’s puzzled expression.

“Someone to meet someone. I’m tracking, but that’s awfully cryptic.”

“I know,” Michaels sighed, “but this time you really just have to trust me.” The man rose from the sofa and paced to the kitchen, thinking hard, obviously exasperated. “He’s been too selfish for too long! We need him in a position to make choices… take action that will benefit someone other than himself.” Michael was speaking as himself, and for a second or two, Abe was confused. Michael continued wearing out the small patch of floor from the couch to the kitchen. “I think he is going to be able to make a great difference with something important… he just needs a little help. That is where you and Peter come in.” Michaels said.

“Wait, who is Peter?” Abe asked. The angel stopped his pacing and looked up at Abe.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry about that… he is your mission. Peter Devereaux. That’s who you are taking to meet… the other someone. Just need them to get together… that’s where you come in.” Mike told him, smiling. Abe’s mind flashed back to a sign-in sheet at Dr. Jo’s office. Peter Devereaux is a name that he had seen on that list, and, racking his brain a bit, he was able to conjure an image. It didn’t impress him. Lean, small, bookish. Didn’t look like he was good with his hands, didn’t look fit to fight. Abe figured the kid was probably a nice enough person, but nice wasn’t good for missions. Nice probably wouldn’t even survive a mission.

“I’ve seen him… he’s not what you want for this, trust me.” Abe said indignantly. “I have always tried to help you with your missions, but this is…” Abe trailed off as Michaels stared him down.

“Just like Turley wasn’t what you wanted, right?” Michael referenced a young flight medic that Abe had rejected twice for his crew, until ultimately taking him under his wing. “You know he’s a highly-decorated pilot in his own right, now, right? He was going to be a washout, and you almost made that happen. You remember what you told me back then?” Abe put his head to his chest, thinking about the kid that had originally come to him, fresh from his mama, apparently, and green as a stalk of spring grass.

He chuckled to himself, and said, “He’s too soft… trust me.”

“And were you right?” Mike probed.

“Obviously not… it was the first time I was able to mentor a kid, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done, other than Naomi. Alright, you’re right… again. Does that ever get tiring for you?”

Mike grinned, “Never! You know that there is a reason for everything. Even if you can’t see it.” Michaels told him patiently. “We need Peter to succeed, he may be the only one who can. I need you because you have the experience that he will need; you have the knowledge and capabilities that Peter does not. Abe, you are a shaper of men! Come on, chief! You are the best at getting blood out of a stone that I have ever seen. Peter needs you to make him fit and ready to face what’s coming… and I need you to keep him safe.” Michaels explained.

“I only have one other question…” Abe said.

“Just one?” Michaels quipped.

Abe rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, two questions: How do I get in touch with Peter? I know he lives down in the Quarter. I’ve seen him walking to get to the doc’s office. And… when do we need to go?” Michael smiled. He picked up his beer from the coaster, drained it in two or three long gulps, and replaced it on the coaster. He started towards the door and Abe followed his lead, opening the door for the man.

Mike said over his shoulder as they exited the little loft and started down the metal catwalk to the stairs, “I’m starving! Feel like going to see Momma Rose?”