I Wait
By Zachary Furr

Mercenary Scott Stevens
Journal Entry Location: CLASSIFIED
Journal Entry Date: CLASSIFIED

0530
I feel the weight of the gun in my hands, it is heavy and cold. I make sure that the bolt is not frozen. That the frost has not ruined my chance of changing the world for the better. I have been on this hill top for the better part of five days always staring down into the valley, wondering when my mark will come into my crosshairs.
0620
I hear crows cawing in the distance. I shift the weight of my body in my elbows, I settle on the sandbags, as I grow more comfortable. The cold of the night air seems to be leaving, as the sun is rising again. The morning dew almost instantly freezes to parts of the exposed metal. I peer through the scope and view the road below. A shepherd had been taking care of his sheep. The town on the other side of a small forest has not quite woken up. I hear a rooster crowing, and cows mooing.
0626
The shepherd wore a turban and a robe that cover most of his head. His wrists and ankles were a dark tan, as if he had been working in this field all his life. He is herding his sheep across the road that ran in between two fields. The sheep eat the frozen, dew soaked grass as if it were a rare delicacy.
0644
I eat the other half of the meal bar from last night. I do deep breathing to wake myself as I prepare for another day of waiting and not know if my mark will come today or tomorrow. I drink some water, I check my rations to see how much longer I can stay here. I was given enough for four days, this is the sixth day. I have one full meal bar left and half of my canteen, that is enough for another solid day. I dare not move too much as I fear that I may disturb my covering too much. I crack my joints and it feels so good.

0735
The clouds are overcast, it may start raining soon. I will still wait, even in the rain. Five days from cool sunny days to cold dark nights. The road below is used by villagers in the day and is rarely used at night.
I was told that my target was coming at night, coming on six days ago. I still have not seen him. I wait for him to come within sight of my scope. I secured my hilltop, with trip wires and silent alarms, to tell me if someone else is here. There has been no activity on my hill for six days.
0900
I look through my scope in the mid morning. The mountain’s vale shows the pasture down below, the shepherd is taking his flock back to another pasture farther down the hill. A pair of women carrying baskets containing breads stop and wait for the sheep to cross. A small group of children play near the women, children that play without a care in the world.
0910
A man is carrying a large fish from out of the near by forest. The thought of the fish frying in a pan over an open fire makes my stomach growl. I resist the urge to get up and go to the village and get some decent eats. I resist the urge by imagining my drill sergeant telling me that good food is only for good soldiers. Soldiers that finish the job that they were assigned to do. I stifle the urge and think about the large bounty at the end of this, and how the food over an open fire will be nothing compared to the meals that I can dine on.
0922
The town on the other side of the forest begins to erupts with noise, the morning sun has awoken the town. The town carries its noise into the air above me. The noise reverberates off of the mountains’ sides, and up and down the range. The noise carries in the cold air, the noise seems to warm the air around me, making the hill and valley seem pleasant for the terrible deed that I have to commit.
1030
A guilty pleasure of comradery that I would so like to join, last for the whole day. I must not be tempted to leave my perch for even a moment. The shouts of vendors pawning their wares, the cries of children playing in the street, and the general rabble of the crowd makes me wish that I was back at home.
I left my home right out of high school. My mother is a drunk and my older sister is an addict. Never knew my dad, so no loss there, I suppose. My drill instructors became my new fathers and mothers. My fellow soldiers became my brothers and sisters. I look back at the time in boot and realize that that was the best time in my life.
I got high marks with a rifle and got sent to sniper school. Met my best buddy there, Samantha Wilson. She and I were to be partners. We trained together, fought together, bled together, and yes, even slept together. It was a beautiful time in my life.
But, alas, it was not meant to last. After some time, she was honorably discharged on pregnancy leave. I was told that I could support her by doing some jobs that would take me to some bad places. This was one such place.
I remember what I am here for, and who is waiting for me at home.
1749
As the afternoon comes to a close, the town becomes quiet. The tavern’s bar music plays slow music, as if it was trying to encourage its patrons to leave and go home to their families.
1825
The birds that were all around earlier have become silent. The dusk moves in, a car engine is heard coming from the town. This is the first car that I have seen in this area. I prepare my rifle, I lock the barrel for the first time since coming here.
I check the description of the man that I am suppose to shoot, a tall, white man with black hair and scar across his forehead. If the driver turned out to be this man, then I might be able to go home for a little bit and see her again.
1829
I look through my scope back at the grassy intersection. The shepherd was taking his flock back across the road looking for more food, The car stops right before it hits a ewe. The driver exits his car and shout a vulgarity at the shepherd. I look through my scope. I line up on the driver, a brown man with blonde hair.
The driver was telling the shepherd to hurry up and move his sheep. The shepherd walked up to the driver and began to talk to him, explaining that he was going as fast as he could. There was a lot of sheep, I had counted them many times, always sixty-seven.
The shepherd took off his turban, and wrapped it around his hand. The driver took this as a serious threat, as if he recognized the shepherd that stood before him.
1830: TARGET LOCATED.
I saw for the first time that the shepherd was a white man, he had black hair, and a scar that covered his forehead. In that instant the world around me stopped.
I checked the bolt once again, just to make sure that it was not frozen. I took a breath, I sighted down my scope. I was lined up on the shepherd that I had watched for six days. The town was little more than a murmur of activity. The sheep had grown quiet, as night was quickly approaching. The river in the forest could more openly be heard.
1831
The car’s headlights illuminated the two men. The sheep were no longer in front of the car. The last light of the sun made the night appear. I pulled the trigger as the shepherd started to swing at the driver.
A flash of what could only be lighting filled the valley. The boom that followed surprised the driver as the shepherd fell over.
The silence that filled the valley was broken as the rain started to fall.

 
I Wait
By Zachary Furr

I feel the weight of the gun in my hands,
It is heavy and cold,
I make sure that the bolt in the barrel is not frozen.
I wait.
I hear crows cawing in the distance,
I shift the weight of my body in my elbows,
I settle on the sandbags,
As I grow more comfortable.
The cold as only started to set in the past five days.
I wait.
The sun is rising again,
The morning dew almost instantly freezes to parts of the exposed metal.
I peer through the scope and view the road below.
A shepherd had been taking care of his animals,
He wore a turban and a robe that cover most of his head.
The same shepherd is herding his sheep across the road,
The sheep eat the frozen grass as if it were a rare delicacy.
I wait.
I eat the other half of the meal bar from last night.
I do most deep breathing to wake myself.
I drink some water,
I dare not move too much as I fear that I may disturb my covering too much.
The clouds are overcast,
It may start raining soon.
I will still wait.
Five days from cool sunny days to cold dark nights,
The road below is used by villagers in the day and,
Is rarely used at night.
I was told that my target was coming at night,
Coming on six days ago.
I still have not seen him.
I wait for him to come within sight of my scope.
I secured my hilltop,
With trip wires and silent alarms,
To tell me if someone else is here.
There has been no activity on my hill for six days.
I wait.
I look through my scope in the mid morning,
The mountain’s vale shows the pasture down below,
The shepherd is taking his flock back to another pasture farther down the hill,
A pair of women carrying baskets containing breads stop and wait for the sheep to cross,
A small group of children play near the women,
Children that play without a care in the world.
A man is carrying a large fish from out of the near by forest.
The town on the other side of the forest begins to erupts with noise,
The morning has awaken the town.
I wait.
The town carries its noise,
The noise reverberates off of the mountains sides.
The noise carries in the cold air,
The noise seems to warm the air around,
As if the coming of winter was the beginning of a new year.
A guilty pleasure of comradery that I would so like to join,
I must not be tempted to leave my perch for even a moment.
I wait.
As the afternoon comes to a close, the town becomes quiet,
The tavern’s bar music plays slow music,
As if it was trying to encourage its patrons to leave.
The birds that were all around earlier have become silent,
The dusk moves in,
A car engine is heard coming from the town.
This is the first car that I have seen in this area.
I check the description of the man that I am suppose to shoot,
A tall, white man with black hair and scar across his forehead driving a gray car.
I look through my scope back at the grassy intersection.
The shepherd was taking his flock back across the road looking for more food,
The car stops right before it hits ewe.
The driver exits his car and shout a vulgarity at the shepherd.
I look through my scope.
I line up on the driver,
A brown man with blonde hair.
He was telling the shepherd to hurry up.
The shepherd walked up to the driver and began to talk to him.
The shepherd took off his covering,
I saw for the first time that he was a white man,
He had black hair,
And a scar that covered his forehead.
In that instant the world around me stopped.
I checked the bolt once again,
Just to make sure that it was not froze.
I took a breath,
I sighted down my scope,
The silence of the hills was broken as the rain started to fall.