Solace
The snow danced gently around the end of my scope, ever so slightly blurring the visage of the man I had hunted for such a long time, the man who had taken everything from me. As I adjusted the rifle's sights, I observed the scene that was playing out in the valley below.
The bastard and his escort of twenty or so thugs were stopping to siphon gas from one of the derelict trucks lining the ancient, snow laden road. The fat, balding fuck was smoking a cigar whilst his goons continued to search for whatever fuel was left in the rusting vehicles. In the ashes of his lit cigar, I could see my town burning, being consumed by the remorseless inferno, and everything we strived to create fell to ashes.
As one of the guards shifted his prewar Kalashnikov to the other shoulder, I flick the safety off on my brother's old Remington sniper rifle. As I aimed down the slightly fogged-up scope, I caught a glimpse of something tucked into the belt of the man who I was going to kill: An aging .357 revolver, the man's initials carved into the wood stock. I know that gun well; the pain in my shoulder intensified a hundredfold around were a bullet from that gun had found its mark, many years ago. This was the six chambered
metallic serpent that had taken her from the world of the living, the same demonic spawn of Pitt steel that had been forged in hellfire, man's cruelest creation, creation that had stolen her from me.
A mixture of perspiration and the constant snowfall clouded my already damaged vision, but despite the hindrances, I still carried on with the sacred task laid out before me; I slowly moved my index finger, numb from the cold, onto the rough, yet inviting metal of the trigger.
All of these years, all of the hunting, all of the killing, all of the loneliness, all had led to this moment, all of the longing for her and the burning, seething hatred for the man standing before me, these all were my guides throughout this unending wilderness, they had brought me onto this frozen hilltop, perched above this narrow, winding mountain road. All the hardships I had endured, all the dead men left in my wake, all for this very moment. All would not have been in vain. "Now", I thought, "this monster will finally be brought to justice for the sins of his past.
His life ends. Now."
As I savored the moment, the triumph of my whole existence, my mind tuned out all noises, save the rhythmic beating of my heart and the in and out of my breathing, both synchronized as I lined up the shot through the scope of my rifle, my last tie to the life this man destroyed, the only thing I could trust, the only constant in a world of liars.
Perhaps this is why I did not hear the rustling of the leaves behind me, or the soft crunching of leather boots on new snow, or the whistling sound of the wooden rifle butt cutting through the crisp winter air, and the sharp crack it made when it collided with my skull.
As I drowned in a sea of pain, I only had one thought on my mind and one thought only. Her name floated above my conscious like a specter, forever damned to weave in and out of the dreams of the living. As everything went black, her ethereal voice danced across my tortured mind one last time; then, all was consumed by the sweet darkness that enveloped me...