The oath

Fatima woke up to the sound of the phone ringing as the sun peeked out from the white clouds. She stretched her arms, seemingly oblivious to the noise interrupting her sleep. Her husband answered it for her, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. The phone conversation was unusually short, and her husband, Micah, only said goodbye with an “I got it.”

“Who was that, my sweetheart?” Micah, however, just sat in silence on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily. “So, who was my love?” Fatima hugged him tightly and pressed a slow kiss to his neck.

“They called.” Micah grumbled under his nose, sighing as he did so.

“But who called?”

“It was that call.”

“You mean?”

“Yes, they called me too.” Micah took another deep breath and got out of bed.

“B-but that’s impossible! You’ve served twice!”

“Yes, I know, but the fighting has escalated and now everyone is needed.” Micah’s voice held a different dread in each word, something that was different. Perhaps this war differed from previous experiences. And Fatima knew that, too.

“We talked about this, honey. Please remember!”

“I remember, I can’t help but remember.” He walked over to his locker and took out his HK416A5 assault rifle. He dusted it off. He’d been holding it in his hand for a long time. Micah pulled the slide back and opened the dust cover. He hadn’t had to clean the gun yet; he can do that when he arrives at the base.