Sniper

No zombies or gladiators in this one. Here’s a crack at something a bit more contemporary. Just finding my range(no pun intended… read the story to understand my sad attempt at humor).

I want that pink mist.

I’ve been sitting here for what seems like the better part of an eternity staring out into the dry, unforgiving landscape. All around me in the distance I can hear the sounds of warfare. Muffled gunfire pumps out a steady rhythmic beat, broken only by the deeper, more sporadic thunder of random explosions. Instinct tells me to abandon my position and rush out to aid my comrades. I know better. I have only one target in this whole sorry mess and intelligence tells me that his convoy will be at my position presently. So here I wait, sitting under the scorching sun, dust and rocks forming a particularly uncomfortable platform from which to take my shot.

I see a dust cloud forming at the mouth of the small canyon and the first few units of the convoy make their way closer to my position. They’re nothing but the vanguard of the main force. The temptation is great but I stop myself from taking a shot. Killing one of these grunts wouldn’t be worth giving my position away. The men begin to move, securing the perimeter and making sure there aren’t any snipers overlooking the grounds. They’ll never find me under this ghillie suit. As they work, the main force begins to arrive. The urge to fire is even stronger now. It would be extremely satisfying to switch the selector to full automatic and wreak death into the mass of soldiers below. That it would be wasteful would be an understatement, and doing so wouldn’t accomplish anything other than to unravel all I’ve worked for. No, my target will be at the rear of the column where he’ll no doubt believe in his infallible safety.

Suddenly I see it. The target’s command vehicle. It stops amidst the milling troops and I see the target step out, shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight. He stands there overseeing troop deployment blissfully unaware that death has marked him with a 7.62 mm armor piercing round. It’s time for me to prepare for my shot. Distance: 325 yards. Elevation: -42 feet. Wind speed and direction: NW, 5mph. I slowly, deliberately settle the crosshairs over the target’s neck and my finger gently tightens its grip around the trigger.

The relative monotony is violently broken by a single deafening roar. The bullet finds its mark. Through the scope, I see the target’s head snap back, his face showing momentary surprise as the bullet punches through his skull and exits out the back. The exit carries with is the coveted pink mist, the ultimate finality of my deed. In that instant, the troops within the immediate proximity of the now dead officer burst into disciplined action that only military training could instill in a man. An alarm blares somewhere in the camp and a swarm of soldiers begin to ascend to my position.
It’s time for me to leave.

Gathering up my rifle, I turn and begin my trek back to my own camp. Suddenly, my shoulder feels as if the very hand of God has smashed into me. Searing pain erupts and I fall to the ground. I grit my teeth and turn over, bringing my rifle to bear. The pain is becoming unbearable. Flipping the selector to automatic, I begin to fire into the mass of oncoming soldiers. There’s no way I’ll be able to win. One soldier falls. Two. Three. I’m suddenly thrown back as a stray bullet slams into my abdomen. Pain flares up and blankets my brain. All thought begins to disappear as my vision slowly fades to black.

. . .

The cool indoor air conditioning caresses my sweat drenched face as the virtual reality helmet is lifted. I get up and look around the simulation room at the other people slowly detaching themselves from the computer generated battlefield. I see those who I had killed looking at me with smiles on their faces. My team had won again.