I stare down my rife scope waiting for Randolph's order to take the shot. At the tip of my green triangular crosshair is my target, Nana. She chats with multiple people on top of an open roof. A burst of wind coming from my left brushes the overgrown grass I'm lying on towards my face. I remain my aim steady, not letting any distractions affect me. I'm dying to pull the trigger to send a round into her chest, but I can't disobey his order. The desire to pop a shot is so intense that I have to distract myself by watching Moses eat a peanut butter granola bar next to me. A piece falls out the corner of his mouth, but he catches it before the tall grass consumes it.
"Huh? Why are you looking at me like that?" Moses says, taking another bite of his snack.
"Probably because you're eating like a pig. Plus, I'm trying my hardest not to shot this bitch prematurely by distracting myself." He stops chewing and moves his head away from me with both his eyebrow up his forehead. I move my rife off my shoulder, place it on the ground, and lay on my left side.
"My back is killing me," I say, popping bones in my lower back. The pops are so loud that I cautiously return back, laying on my stomach. "Come on, Randolph. Give me the fucking green light."
"Relax. Here, have a snack. It'll keep you occupied."
He puts an unopened peanut butter granola bar near my right ear, shaking it wildly. The crushing sound of the aluminum wrapper instantly annoys me. He continues to shake it while whispering my name. I flip up my visor and stare at him, giving him my full attention.
"Do you want me to break another part of your helmet Moses?" I say.
"Please, no." His hand away, but I grab the snack out of his hand. With his mouth, he silently says, "Owie," then rubs the back of his hand against his leg. I take my helmet to use as a headrest. I take a bite out of the sweet sugary snack. The pleasant yet painful sensation behind my jaw makes me stop chewing. I massage my jaw joints till the pain vanishes.
"God, that is sweet!" I take more bites to the point it's halfway gone. He pulls out another bag and hands it to me. Seeing as I hit his hand too hard, I open my hand out to catch the snack.
"Some good shit, eh?" I stuff the rest of it in my mouth, place the second one in my arm pocket, then return scoping on Nana.
Nana lights two cigarettes in her mouth, individually puffing the cigs. A few people surround her, holding tall red beer cups in their hands. She grabs a blue bear cup and sticks it into the air. Everyone holds their cup up and yells loudly enough that I can hear them 200 plus yards away. A man comes up to her with his back to me, blocking my shot. He's wearing a black leather jacket, red jeans, and three gold chains around his neck. The gold shines in the sun as he moves to his right in the sunlight. He turns head to the right, revealing a scruffy beard and thick curly mustache. I radio Aplah 1, Randolph's callsign, relaying what I see through my scope.
"Hmm, weird choice off attire," Moses says.
"This is Alpha 1. Go ahead," Randolph radios.
"I have an unknown lavish-looking male that just entered the roof," I say. After saying that, the man and Nana begin making out with each other. For the looks of it, the man gets caught off guard. He spills some of the liquid out of the cup, and his left arm isn't around her waist. She has her arms fully wrapped around his neck with the cup draining behind his back. "Nana and the man might be couples, over."
"Roger that. Over and out." I gently slam my face down on the ground. I'm losing my patients ever so slightly with each minute that passes. I put on my helmet halfway down my head and turn on my visor to check the time. It reads 15:00, then turns to 15:01.
YOU ARE READING
Story Projects
Short StoryThis is my compilation of stories I wrote. Most of the stories are tests to see where I can take the plots if I decide to make a series out of them. Some of them have intros, while others start in the middle of the story.
