Sweet Dreams

Not Your Average Christmas Story

December 24, 6:12 p.m.

       
Joy. That's what everyone thought of on Christmas Eve. It filled people with joy to spend time with family and friends, eat dinner together, watch each other's face light up as they opened their presents, and sip hot cocoa by the crackling fire that warmed their cheeks. The only thing that brought Grady Richards joy tonight was the nice stack of cash sitting in his client's vault. The client wanted his political rival and family dead by the runoff election. Grady didn't ask any questions.
       
He crouched on the roof of the Erastus Corning Tower rising above Albany, New York. The building was a good lookout point for him to survey the mansion grounds not far away. The New York Executive Mansion was a beautiful victorian-styled government building that housed the Governor and his family. The American Flag on the tall flagpole fluttered in the chilly wind. Sheets of snow covered the lawn and dusted the pine trees. Smoke drifted out of the chimneys and disappeared into the cloudy night sky. Little snowflakes fell from above and immediately melted once they touched Grady's rifle. He twisted on a silencer and looked through the scope.
       
Only six security personnel were posted around the residence; two at the gate, three around the lawn outside the house, and one at the door. They each carried rifles and wore heavy winter clothes and a vest.
       
Grady set the crosshairs on one guard behind the mansion and pulled the trigger; the muzzle released a faint hiss. The guard fell softly into the snow without a yelp, dead. He aimed at the two other guards and gave them the same fate. The snow where they lay had dyed with blood. Then, Grady shot the security guard at the door. Blood sprayed out the back of his head onto the white door.
       
Instead of taking out the two guards at the gate, Grady rose and took the elevator to the first floor of the building. As he marched through the lobby, the shape of a man's shoe on the floor entered the corner of his eye; the receptionist was still behind the desk, knocked out from the Melatonin he snuck into his coffee.
       
The mansion was just down the street. When Grady walked alongside the fence surrounding the residence, he unloaded his rifle and threw it over. He heard a faint crunch as the gun hit the snow. The guards at the gate couldn't see a random man walking in with a gun. Too suspicious. To hide his identity, Grady dressed the same way the security guards did. He also disabled all the surveillance cameras earlier to keep his position hidden.
       
"Good evening," Grady greeted, touching the brim of his cap.
       
The one guard with black hair nodded in response and glanced over his shoulder. The other guard, whose gut practically spilled over the top of his pants, punched in the code to open the gate. A buzzing sound came from the keypad before the gate rattled open.
       
Grady strolled through and turned to the right, retrieving his rifle. Now, no one would stop him from completing Phase Two: climbing the roof.
       
The one thing he didn't know how to disable was the security alarms, which was his original plan. So, he had to go with Plan B: act as a tourist and take a guided tour of the mansion. While inside, Grady mapped out the entire interior so he would know what fireplace to slide down. Was it dangerous? Of course. His job was the definition of dangerous, but it was worth it to get paid well.
       
His grappling hook caught onto something on the roof; Grady began the climb. His gloved hands lifted him higher, pulling his body with him.

     
"Come on, Grady!" someone yelled up to him while everyone shouted their motivations.
       
Sweat soaked his back; the California sun beat down on his dark skin. Below, the wood mulch seemed like thousands of long, sharp poles threatening to take his fall. Grady swung on the thick rope, his hands holding on for dear life. His drill instructor's scowl almost scared the soul out of him.
       
"What the hell are you doing, Richards?! Get up there!" he commanded.
       
All eyes were on him. If Grady fell, it would be the end of him. He would get mocked at, screamed at, and maybe sent home if he didn't climb. Climb, Grady.
       
He reached higher; everybody held their breath. The higher he went, the more cheers he received. Higher, higher.