Chapter 48: Downpour
The winds were picking up, and the rooftop on the cloudy July afternoon was getting chillier by the minute. And it wasn't all due to the weather.
The man gripped his silenced sniper rifle with rising anxiety. Scanning through the scope, he saw people pass by in the streets below; hurrying towards their destinations to escape the inevitable downpour. The orders were clear: civilian casualties were acceptable. The man swallowed nervously, trying to ease the suspense within. His headset buzzed to life, relaying new information.
"Target approaching your sector Echo-3. Eyes peeled, you're authorized to take the shot." The man closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. Steadying himself, he peered through the scope towards the crowd of civilians once again.
Seeing the target approach, the sniper brought his crosshair on point. He didn't have a clear shot as the target weaved her way through the crowd of people. She was a brunette female in her thirties, wearing a brown leather jacket with aviator sunglasses perched in her hair. There was no doubt about it; this was the one they called Sheriff.
Tracing her through his scope, the man waited for the opening. It came right when the target approached the end of his sector. The crowd of people parted and his crosshair locked in place, leading slightly in front of the steadily walking woman. Readying to pull the trigger, the man froze in place. Is this what he wanted to do with his life? Would this really wash away all the doubts in his mind?
As quickly as the moment had come, it passed. With relief, the sniper watched the woman disappear between the buildings as she moved on to the next sector. Letting out a trembling sigh, Echo-3 reported to his headset, "Target is gone, I did not have the shot. Repeat, target moving on to sector 4."
Listening to the response, the man closed his eyes as he let his shoulders relax. The respite was brief as the cold barrel of a silenced pistol exerted its pressure against the back of his head.
"Looking for someone?" a query came from behind him. It was the voice of an American female, with the slightest tint of the orient to it. A chill ran down the man's spine as he knew his end had come. Without thinking, he spoke the words.
"I had the shot. I didn't kill her." A brief moment of silence followed the words, seemingly stretching on for an eternity as Echo-3 waited for the bullet that would end his life. Would he realize the moment when it came? That brief millisecond between the lead leaving its chamber and burying itself in his brain, would he get to experience that? Or was he already as good as dead?
"Drop your rifle over the edge", a cold command rang in the air. With shaking hands, the man complied. The sniper rifle clattered over the concrete edge of the building, the barrel striking the wall as the rifle spun wildly on its way down. "Your pistol too", the voice spoke from behind him, and Echo-3 didn't hesitate. Pulling the weapon out of its holster with his index finger and thumb, the man tossed it over the edge, holding his breath.
The barrel lifted from his head, followed by a blow to his temple. Echo-3's vision darkened as he fell to the hard concrete of the roof, gasping for air. Rolling over to his back, the sounds of receding footsteps and incessant ringing filled his ears. Stars danced in his eyes as he tried to focus on the sky above. Rolling his head to the side, he glimpsed the back of the woman: a kevlar vest, dark ponytail and the nape of her neck, the color of sweet, sweet caramel.
Groaning in pain and nausea, Echo-3 turned his eyes back towards the sky. The clouds were dark and heavy with rain, and he was quietly grateful for the absence of sunlight. As moments passed, the stars disappeared from his vision and he felt his stomach settle. Feeling he could stand without throwing up, the man gingerly rolled over, pushing himself to his knees. Shaking his head, Echo-3 brought his hand up to his face and froze in place once again.
His hand was touching the mic protruding from his headset. Pulling the headset off, the man stared at the gadget. It was bent slightly on the side where the woman had struck him, but even if it was broken, he had spoken the words before the blow. They had been listening. Throwing the device on the ground, Echo-3 jumped up and brought his foot down on it, smashing the dark plastic to pieces.
This isn't worth it. Fuck this. Grabbing the red-and-orange scarf around his neck, the man angrily yanked it free. Staring at the cloth for a moment, he tossed it into the air. The winds picked up on it, sending it spiraling through the air and over the streets as the first drops of rain came down on the city. The drizzle quickly turned into a downpour, and the gray concrete of the roof was stained a darker hue.
At least it's not stained red, the man thought to himself, watching the scarf flutter down with the rain, disappearing from his sights. Turning to the door, Echo-3 took off in a tentative jog, his balance still rattled by the blow from earlier.
Outside in the rain, the scarf continued its descent with increasing speed. It would reach the ground soon enough; inevitably, without fail.
