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1
CASH
Breathe.
Adjust two clicks.
Check the anemometer one last time.
The sand blowing in the distance was all we could use to gauge the wind speed. I needed to be accurate. If not, I’d give away my position and put the rest of my Marine Scout Sniper Team at risk.
With the wind blowing hard, the bullet could land damn near anywhere. If the wind either picked up or died down, my shot could completely miss the target and hit the brick wall one building over. Not to mention, the target was nearly a half-mile away, and only part of his head was visible. It was an impossible shot, one that many would not even take a chance on at this point. Our team could move out and try to sneak up on him, but the chance of him catching our movement was greater.
Even though we’d cleared the small village when we first arrived in town, we had to keep our guard up. In the desert, there were always hidden tunnels and passages where someone could easily slip in and out. We couldn’t be sure that he didn’t have reinforcements in the shadows, waiting for us to make a move. Either way, I had to take out that sniper if we had any chance of leaving here alive.
I took a deep breath, checked my target’s position one last time, and placed my finger on the trigger. He knew we were over here somewhere. His rifle had shifted in our direction. It was now or never. Kill or be killed.
I took one final steadying breath, my heart slowing to an even beat as I prepared to pull the trigger. The only sound filling my ears was the thumping of my pulse as I blocked out everything else, including my team.
Deep breath. Exhale. Squeeze.
I watched through the scope as the target shifted slightly. His body appeared to slump away from his rifle, but it was nearly impossible to tell if it was a clean shot. I waited, staring through my scope for any sign of movement. Five minutes passed before I pulled my gaze from my scope.
“Jones?” I asked, waiting for confirmation.
“Target down,” he confirmed.
But there was only one way to be sure. Handing my rifle off to my spotter, I pulled my pistol from my holster and slowly moved from my position. He gave a slight nod, resuming his position beside me, his rifle at the ready in case something went wrong.
After laying in the same spot for the better part of two days, my muscles were protesting the movement. But nothing would stop me from collecting that HOG’s tooth. It was well-known among snipers that there was a round waiting out there with your name on it, meaning as a sniper, another sniper would eventually have his sights on you. It was a superstition that in collecting that bullet, you couldn’t be killed by gunfire on the battlefield because you collected the bullet that was meant to kill you.
Sticking to the shadows on the crumbled rooftop, I left my team behind to collect that chambered round from my enemy’s rifle. They didn’t think twice about me leaving. They knew all too well that it was something I needed to do. I pulled out Betty, pressing my lips to my good luck charm just before I turned the corner.
I crept down the stairs, gun in hand and ready to fire. The rubble that had fallen on the stairs made it that much more difficult to make my way down without making any noise. The dust from the building clogged my throat, forcing me to stop and take a drink of water so I didn’t give away my position by coughing. When I finally reached the entrance of the building, I scanned the area for any potential threats.
The sunlight reflected off metal from various pieces of rubble, making it difficult to spot enemy combatants. Now I had to rely on my team to keep an eye out for me.
“Ready to move,” I said, placing a hand to my ear.
“All clear.”
With one final scan of the area, I made my way across the open road to the buildings on the opposite side of the street. I should be on edge, wary of being so exposed, but I had my team at my back, and I trusted them with my life. I made it across the street and slipped between the buildings, hugging the walls as I ran down the alley.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I searched the next street, the most dangerous part of this in my mind. My team couldn’t see me anymore, which meant I was on my own. I continued weaving through the streets until I reached the building that housed my enemy.
With a final glance up and down the deserted street, I jogged over to the war torn building. My enemy had chosen a good hiding spot. With all the rubble and destruction, he had much to hide behind and blend in with.
I climbed my way through the fallen pieces of concrete until I reached the roof where my enemy lay dead. Cautiously, I approached and knelt beside the man I’d taken out. His eyes were still open as he stared up at the clouded sky. Some men said words of prayer when they came upon a slain adversary. I had no words for this man. He wasn’t just my enemy, but a man who fought for an unworthy cause. There was no justification for the cruelty his people inflicted on others.
I picked up his rifle and emptied the chamber, holding the round up in front of my face. A small grin split my lips as a weight was lifted from my shoulders. This was my calling in life. I’d known it from the moment I first entered Marine Sniper School. When that rifle was in my hands, I felt untouchable. I was unwavering in my duty, bound to the weapon that not only took lives, but saved mine many times over.
I was a Hunter of Gunmen.
2
BETH
“Have a good night,”I said to my last patron, and by far my favorite person in the world right now.