Lord I have not wandered, yet I have been gone, I am a stranger in the place that I am from, seeds I saw fall are now great trees, the seasons have all come and have all gone, the crops have been reaped, as have lives that were sewn, Lord I have not wandered, yet I have been gone.

     The Apartment felt like it was one big room, one flowing cavern of unlocked rooms, open drawers, missing things. The bed was missing the sheets, because they were hers. The Chick Flicks, the photos, the make-up that had always cluttered the sink and made his razor look out of place. She was gone. She haddnt disturbed the uniforms, haddnt thrown his gear around, haddnt taken anything that he would get in trouble for not having. But she was gone.

     Brian stood in front of the TV, the cable on because he needed something, some sound. She had always been making sounds, had always been talking to the puppy or shouting at it, washing dishes or cooking, on the phone or on the computer or trying to play COD and messing up his K to D ratio. Now he had to make it, now he had to fill his free time with himself. He put his fist through a wall, which wasnt that hard, the apartment wasnt exactly a high class one. He wasnt mad. Was a little sad. Really he was confused, because he diddnt really know how he should feel.

     After he covered the hole in the wall with a poster and sat with a towel wrapped around his slightly cut up hand, he tipped back the beer he had gotten from the fridge, and he thought. Then he drank, and thought some more. And a little more. Then another beer.

   ”Fuck.”

     No new text messages, no new calls, just the picture of him holding her above his head. He was smiling without showing his teeth because he hated his smile, his hair long because it was just before he enlisted, hanging just over his eyes, a deep brown, his blue eyes alight with something he remembered always made him feel good. Her face was frozen in a half scream, half laugh, her arms and legs a blur because she was kicking the whole while, her silky blonde hair pouring down behind her. She fell a few seconds after the picture was taken. She was alright, they were at the beach, and he caught her half way down, but she was still mad.

     He called. She answered, but she diddnt say anything.

   “Matty.”

   “What, Brian.”

   “Dont say what, it sounds like there’s nothing wrong.”

   “There’s plenty wrong Brian, I just dont understand why you’re calling.”

   “You’re my fucking wife thats why I’m calling.”

   “I told you I wasnt happy.”

   “You’re still my fucking wife, I dont give a shit how you were feeling, you dont just walk out while I’m on duty like it’s not going to fucking matter, where the fuck are you Matty!?”

     The phone beeped twice then went back to the main phone menu, the same photo. He pitched it against the wall, it shattered into three pieces, the battery landing somewhere in the kitchen, the back flying straight down, the main body sliding off somewhere against the wall near the puppy’s food bowl.

   “God Damnit!”

     The Apartment Complex’s security guard showed up about an hour later, uninterested but obligated, and asked a few questions, constantly looking back out over the balcony towards his office, the dull blue hue of a TV glowing through the yellowed glass. Brian nodded to him as he left, the jangling of the million and one keyes on his hips fading as he slowly strutted back to his office, his air of authority returning now that there wasnt actually anything for him to do.

     Brian Laid out on the couch and looked at his hand, the cuts were fine, would heal up on their own, but his hand still hurt. He drank a little more, daubbed the blood from the wounds and watched some more TV before he drifted off to a heavy sleep.

     The next morning was a blur, it was Saturday, he drank some more, ate something he couldnt remember if he tasted at all and stuck to the couch, playing Call of Duty and fighting back the thoughts of why his hand hurt and why he felt like shit. She still haddnt called, or texted, when he put his phone back together. He stood in front of the TV, with the cable on, only this time he had turned the volume down because he couldnt stand hearing anything. He cried, briefly, then went back to sleep in his bed, tossing his sleeping bag on the mattress instead of getting out new sheets.

     The horse was well fed. Angry. Restless. It would do. The young man crawled as low to the ground as he could, as low as his training had told him to, as low as his body would endure the jagged stones and rough patches of earth. The Black Rain had moved on north, the winds giving the area a respite from the storms, the earth dead and harsh in it’s wake, greasy puddles that sucked away shoes and stranded small animals spread all across the countryside. The poncho helped him blend into the blackened ground slightly, but he knew that even in this poor light and camoflauge that he was an easy target in the flat expanse around him. Just a few more feet.

     The round impacted about ten feet away from him, but it wasnt a missed shot, it was his warning, a polite gesture. He stood slowly, putting his muddied hands in the air.

     I’m not aiming to hurt nobody.

     Neither am I son, thats why I diddnt hit you.

   The farmer approached silently, not a single footstep making a sound, a scoped hunting rifle leveled at eye level, the young man could feel the barrel burning into his head.

     I’m not going to lie sir, I was going to steal that horse right there.

     I’m aware, not much else round here worth dying over.

     Not much anywhere left dying for sir, thats why I wanted the horse.

   He stopped a few feet away. The overbearing fear of two men unsure of eachother was heavy, but the young man senced understanding, or, at the very least, something akin to empathy.

     How old are you.

     Turned twenty a week ago sir, at least by what I could remember.

     You’re wearing fatigues.

     Sir?

     Your trousers, you’re in a uniform, or whats left of one.

     Yes sir, its actually come in handy, people trust me a little more, at least they used to when there were more people to run into and I had help to give.

     You steal it?

     No sir, its mine.

     Hairs a bit long, aint it?

     If you can point me to a military barber I’d be more than happy to get a cut.

   Nothing but the distant roar of the ungodly storm and the impatient snorting of the massive horse filled the moment of silence that followed.

     I dont have much ammunition left son, it hurt my supply to warn you.

     Maybe you should have shot me then.

     There’s still time for that.

     Time doesnt count for much anymore sir, nothing left to wait for, nothing to expect.

     Where were you fixing to go, once you stole my horse.

     West, sir, California.

   A deep, sick cough rattled out of the farmer. The young man was still facing towards the horse and diddnt see what it was the old man spat up.

     Aint nothing more west neither.

     Family, sir, at least thats what I’m hoping for.

     Thats whats left to die for son, family?

     Figure the hope at least’ll get me through a few more days.

   He heard the rustle of the rifle being slung and lowered his hands slowly. He turned and looked at the farmer. Couldnt have been more than five feet tall, the thick winter clothing he wore to keep the cold and the Black Rain out making him look stout, but the one, ungloved hand he put forward showing the frailty underneath.

     I’m Tyler.

     David.

     You can take the horse, its not worth anything in trade anymore, no one to trade with, no one sane anyways, besides I’m just as liable to kill it for meat as I am to keep feeding it.

     Maybe I should have just knocked.

     No, son, you shouldnt’ve, Then you would be dead, I dont give warnings to people that make it to my door, not these days.

     Good to know.

   The old man removed the wide brimmed ranch hat and looked North to the storm.

     Killed everything, crops, unprotected livestock, like the stuff was alive itself, trying to smother everything.

     It hasnt moved west, last reports I heard.

     Last reports also said the military was working on relief efforts, know anything bout that.

     Sir, I crawled through mud in a tattered uniform hoping to steal a horse from one old man and his rifle… if there’s something big going on its going on without me.

   Tyler put his hat back on and shoved his hands into his pockets, turning back towards the farmstead without a word. David thought, and thought, and looked for something to say, but there wasnt anything. There was no sentiment in the moment, there was no understanding. There was just an old man that gave his horse to a young man he had almost shot because there wasnt any reason to kill anyone anymore.

   David hastily saddled the horse and led it out of the gate, the great beast arguing with him every step of the way. He looked to the Farmstead and saw Tyler in the doorway, he waved, David waved back, and then he was gone back into the house, not a single light on, not a single sound. David mounted the horse and urged it forward, but it would only defiantly trot, jostling him about in the loosely tied sadddle.

I asked if you wanted to fuck.

Coming up.

If you’ll be my cowgirl.