The sun gingerly peeked through my tinted window and my eyelids twitched open. The dust particles in the air floated freely as if they had been freed from a cramped prison. I stared into my dirty uniform, but the name I read was not one I felt familiar with. I read it over and over in my mind.
“Derrick Wade, Derrick Wade,” I mumbled under my breath.
Since retiring nothing felt real, nothing had a purpose. The countless raids and missions hardened my soul leaving me a shell. I threw my sheets to the side and I slipped into my plaid shirt. As I trudged down the stairs, I glanced at the passing traffic and the red-hot brake lights that blurred by. My coarse hands gently gripped my marble mug, but the smoky liquid ceased to bring me to life. An unusual gust of wind howled furiously as it pelted to exterior of the glass windows. My grip loosened and I clenched my eyes shut. The song of birds quickly faded and a light rhythm began to tap against my eardrum. I opened my eyes, as the entire world seemed to slowly stop. My coffee rippled softly and I lifted it back into my hands. I gazed into the smoky brown center and I let go of the warm cup. The cup smashed against the cold ground and I stared ahead with a stern smirk. I calmly slipped into my boots and pulled my slender rifle to my shoulder. I lightly tip-toed to the door and waited. The sun’s rays illuminated my chrome barrel and I slowly exhaled through my pink nose. Suddenly chatter began to erupt from behind the door and the hinges exploded violently. The door smacked against my chest and sent me flying through the air. My back furiously slapped against the ground, and I quickly rose to my feet. As they flooded through the door, I fired and my bullet struck the thin chain that suspended my chandelier. The decorative shards of glass pelted the intruders and multiple men dropped to the ground. I quickly sprinted up the stairs to my room where I gripped my compact handgun and my former marines knife. As I slowly loaded the bullets, I stared at my filthy uniform and I slipped it onto my shoulders. I cocked my pistol and slipped onto the roof. Several men surrounded my door cradling their large machine-guns. I slowly moved above them and aimed at their shrouded helmets. My gun popped furiously and the men dropped bullet by bullet. As they turned to me I jumped to the ground and sunk my blade into the men’s chests. Jab by jab they dropped to the ground and blood soaked the carpet. As their bullets zipped past me my heart buzzed as, and adrenaline flooded my veins. Suddenly a shotgun shredded through my shoulder and I ducked behind the sofa. The last two men fed quickly and I ran in pursuit. Their engine purred as I lifted a small propane tank. As the truck began to move I launched the propane tank into their trunk. The car drove further and further, and I lifted my pistol. The wind rustled my hair and the radiant rays of the sun pounded upon my skin. I yanked the trigger and the propane exploded violently sending their truck several feet into the air. As the fire smoldered wildly I staggered back into my home and gripped one of the whimpering soldiers.
“Why are you here!” I screamed
“ Watkins, its Watkins. He wants you dead because you saw too much back Albania,” he whimpered to me.
I dropped to my knees and looked dead ahead at a small sniper I had mounted years ago.
6 years earlier
The frosty wind whistled through the air and my hair rustled freely. Jack Freeman, my spotter and friend, adjusted his scope while he pressed his ear to our radio. The Humvees finally drifted into the small village of Drobunick, and I glanced at our Intel. I was told that the villagers would not be harmed at the briefing, but Watkins constantly broke the rules. Since becoming a sniper, I had never met such a radical general. My sniper brightly glinted in the moon’s light as our troops slowly exited the Humvees. Jack focused his scope on the target. Watkins was head of intelligence and espionage, and he had created many enemies including those who were supposed to be our allies. The targets name was Aldrin Latifi, and he had been supplying the Marines with key information in the Balkan region. When Watkins began to approach him Latifi began to nervously shake his leg. As they conversed quietly I studied the mountainous terrain that surrounded the village. Dozens of jagged cliffs and lush trees were scattered upon the area. Suddenly Watkins raised his revolver to Latifi’s forehead, and Jack screamed into the radio.
“Watkins, what the heck are you doing. He our only source of intel!” Jack yelled.
As Jack continued to scream, a gunshot rang through the canyons. Latifi sat motionless with a small hole drilled through his forehead. Watkins gripped Latifi and tossed him to the ground. His grin beamed ignorantly and our troops stood staring in pure agony. When the villagers came to the body, Watkins began to slaughter the innocent people. Their shrill screams echoed from within my skull, and tears began to flood my eyes. As Watkins raised his arms in the air, dozens of shadowy figures appeared in the thick forests. They slithered through the grass followed by vengeance and hate. Jack immediately spit out wind direction and coordinates, but part of my body left my hands paralyzed. After Watkins’ theatrics I didn’t feel driven to protect him, but I brought myself to pull the trigger. Several men dropped as my bullets punctured their shrouded bodies. When gunfire began to erupt Watkins casually grabbed the last villager and his voice appeared on the radio.
“Wade, you have the honors of killing the last scumbag in this village. Kill her or I will have you killed for betraying a general!” He yelled.
As I picked off the last men in the forest, I laid in terror with my eyes bulging. The cold winter moon shrouded me in agony and the crisp wind of betrayal whistled.
“Whatever choice you make, I’m with you man,” Jack whispered.
I shook my head in hate and tossed my rifle to the side. He nodded happily and entered his Humvee with the others. Jack and me sat silently in terror, but we were instantly filled with courage. Suddenly an apache helicopter emerged over the mountain. We rose to our feet and sprinted down the hillside, and a stream of bullets followed us. As we sprinted through the fields, missiles exploded left and right, but we continued to run. We finally reached the Cliffside but we were greeted by a sheer drop-off and the apache sat several feet in front of us. We stopped and stared, and the last rays of the moon enveloped us with light. We looked at each other and Jack handed me a thick rope. He suddenly launched himself off the cliff and collided with the helicopter. I watched as he broke the front glass and jerked the controller stick down and the helicopter plummeted down the Cliffside. As they descended the helicopter exploded and fire launched me onto my back. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I fell unconscious.
Present
I rose to my feet and stared at the old rifle lying against my wall. Grass and dirt stained the handle and the butt and barrel were crippled by fire and blood. I pulled it my shoulder and gazed through the lens with sadness. As police sirens began to wail, I quickly ran to my car and turned the ignition. Bullets began to pepper my car and I zipped down my driveway. My front grill rammed against one of the small sedans and I speed down the highway. The sirens echoed throughout the sleepy Seattle highway, and I accelerated with power. The crisp smell of burnt rubber crept into my nose as I sped up more and more. Suddenly I collided with a semi-truck and I was launched through the windshield. The asphalt pressed against my chook and my burnt skin seared in the sun. As the cars approached I began to desperately sprint to the river, and I leaped off the dock two bullets pierced my thigh. I plummeted towards the water and slapped against the frosty surface. The strong current pushed me through the water and I held the rifle tightly to my chest. The water rushed over my skin and it cleansed my wounds, and its shear coldness left me nub throughout my large body. As I approached a dock I swam to the shore where I gingerly crept out of the water. The air greeted me and I slipped into a small sedan. As I warmed up, I pulled a small note from my coat that I had found on one of the soldiers. The coordinates of Watkins sat right in front of me and I would kill him the same way he had killed jack in cold blood.
The warm sun rose above the horizon as I entered the small gun shop. A grizzly-looking man greeted me and showed me to their rifle section. I glanced as the long, slender weapons and picked up the bulky Barett 50 caliber sniper. I immediately slapped my money on the table and snatched a bulky ghillie suit. I left the store and I glanced at the cabin perched on the mountainside and I smirked happily.
The cool air brushed against my car and the lights of the cabin ahead shimmered. I slowly exited the car and slipped under the perched cabin. Multiple footsteps thumped above and I pressed the barrel of my pistol to the wood. As the footsteps grew louder I yanked the trigger and the man above began to yell in pain. When he dropped to the ground I sent a bullet through his chest. Chaos broke out as I continued to fire from beneath them. As soon as the whimpers ended, I crawled into the home. The lights were extinguished and I searched for Watkins. As I approached the room I began to hear him whisper. I broke through the door and gripped Watkins by the neck. As he cried for mercy, I pulled Jack’s pistol from my back pocket, and I ended it with a single bullet. I dropped him to the ground and grinned happily. As I left the cabin, I smacked the butt of my gun against the gas line. The frosty wind whistled and the cabin exploded violently.