Just a Crosshair [1]

[r_Masquerade2 98]

Read Part Two

Just a Crosshair

 

The man who built it doesn’t want it; the man who bought it doesn’t need it; and the man who needs it doesn’t know it. I’ve always thought that coffins are rather unappreciated things, although not to me. The merits of a coffin have been evident to me for as long as I can remember: they are neat, easily stored, and once all is said and done, they are easily forgotten. Unfortunately, not every problem fits into an 84-inch box. But in the end we all do what must be done, snip off the loose ends, and clean up the mess. 

 

A distant punch of thunder shatters my dark reverie. Rain cascades down the mountain slopes, sending drops of moisture showering down from the tropical leaves. I am always glad when it rains; the relentless hordes of mosquitos abate slightly during the downpours. The clouds are so close to the ground that it is hard to see more than a few yards into the vapor. If only the sun would come out.

 

 I turn my head and see that the helicopter’s blades are whirring, palm fronds flying, and the pilot gestures for me to climb aboard. I jump into the back of the bird, confronted by nine other men clutching rusty automatic rifles. The helicopter lifts off the ground and soars into the air. The noise is deafening, but the dazzling view distracts the occupants from the nuisances of the flight. Beneath them, the mountainous jungle is laid out, some parts completely obscured by the fog. The helicopter flies higher over the clouds, revealing the gleaming sun. In the distance, smoke mixes with the thick white mist rising high into the sky. The plume is intimidating, and beautiful. The helicopter flies once more into the clouds, hoping not to be spotted in the early morning sky. The voluminous white pillars grow darker and darker, and the red glimmer of fire can be seen in the sleepy labyrinth below. Here, the dark machine ducks lower and lower, stopping to hover just above the green tapestry. I walk toward the door, gripping my rifle, and take the step into oblivion. 

 

I land on the soft foliage, the jungle noises enveloping me. It was a perfect landing. The helicopter still circles above me, distributing its members to other locations and missions. Meanwhile, I creep forward toward the fire. In the distance I hear the shrieks of a wild dog. It must have been caught in a trap, and I wonder how much longer it will be before the dog serves as a Jaguar’s dinner. I keep moving forward, hearing the shouts of men in the distance. The smoke leads the way. The gruff voices sound only a room away, but I know that the forest can have an eerie effect on sound. The landscape is too dense to see, too thick to move forward without making a sound. Eventually the dim outlines of tents and roughly constructed buildings can be made out in the distance. I move closer, identifying the shapes and shadows of numerous figures. I crouch beside a vine-covered tree, unfolding the stock of my rifle, adjusting the scope. I check the distance and windspeeds- all in optimal condition. I could hit the nose off a clown from three thousand feet, let alone three hundred. I peer through the scope, gazing at the people in the camp. There are roughly forty individuals- thirty appear to be civilians, thronging together in a tight, scared group, avoiding eye contact with the other armed men. The ten guards all wield AKs, and from their combat vests I gauge that each man must be carrying several magazines. In all, I reckon a hundred times the number of hostages could be slaughtered by the group of men.  

 

The crosshair darts across the group, focusing on various hostages. With one shot panic would burst- the thugs wielding guns could not prevent any escapees in the confusion, and would resort to frantically shooting into the jungle after the runners and invisible attackers. My crosshair drifts onto a device situated in the center of the civilians. It was an electronic rig connected to a massive quantity of triacetone triperoxide, set to detonate if the ones being extorted made a false move. Incidentally, triacetone triperoxide is very temperamental, and a well-placed bullet could easily do the trick. I could eliminate the civilians, and naturally it would all be blamed on the host. Rage would be emptied upon the ones holding the captives, and heads would roll. That was the objective. It was nothing personal, we are simply widening our opportunities, and eliminating rivals. 

 

It was just a crosshair, a crosshair planted on a device set by others to end lives. It would spell the end of the guards, and the end of the larger party who devised the entire convoluted quagmire. It was a shot at success that my employers could not resist taking- in more senses than one. My crosshair wavers uncharacteristically. I suppose we all have our crosses to bear. I take a breath, brushing aside any moral compunctions. It was just a crosshair, just a twitch of the finger, a simple sleight of hand. A dog must sever its foot to escape from the trap and elude the jaguar, and a bird must break its own wings in order to fit through the bars of its cage. 

 

I release my breath, and, deliberately, I pull the trigger. Then, with equal conscientiousness, I venture a smile as I raise the crosshair to the sky, and send a bullet whirling into the circling helicopter that I jumped from. The dual explosions light up the jungle, sending capybaras scampering into the undergrowth. Now I have outwitted both my employers and the extortionists. This is a game that two can play. The knots of the trap have been twisted against the ensnarers. And, after all, it’s just a few more graves without coffins. What harm can it do?

 

 

 

Edited August 6, 2016 by r_Masquerade2

[Penguin40 1,714]

Whoa, simply epic! I recommend you apply for Reporter, your writing skills are awesome!

[Hex 11,522]

^ Eh, not just yet. Let him practice quite a few articles here :)

---

 

Superb! Bravo!

Edited June 30, 2016 by Hexed

[BlueDragon_tamki 3,204]

Cool story b)

[Spit_Fyre 334]

Wow! I'm kinda speechless right now. You got SOME talent! As I was reading I was wondering if this could do with a stronger title, but who cares, just wow! So atmospheric...

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

This was simply incredible! I extremely look forwards to future writings by you!

[anuclearbomb 220]

Read the first few lines, I already know this is going to be worthy of my time.

^{(I don't know what Isn't worth of my time, I haven't had any time to think about that...)}

Post reading edit: B... It was an innocent helicopter... That man is EVIL!!!

 

But srsly, the standard helicopter (that is cheap, available, and seats nine w/ side doors and outwards facing benches) is the UH-1 (212/214 series) which because of it's military lineage make it a very robust helicopter. (although not bullet proof) So...  unless he planted explosives, there is no way it exploded just randomly.  

 

Awesome story, must... have.... more...

Edited June 30, 2016 by anuclearbomb

[TTK_229 1,080]

Read the first few lines, I already know this is going to be worthy of my time.

^{(I don't know what Isn't worth of my time, I haven't had any time to think about that...)}

Post reading edit: B... It was an innocent helicopter... That man is EVIL!!!

 

But srsly, the standard helicopter (that is cheap, available, and seats nine w/ side doors and outwards facing benches) is the UH-1 (212/214 series) which because of it's military lineage make it a very robust helicopter. (although not bullet proof) So...  unless he planted explosives, there is no way it exploded just randomly.  

 

Awesome story, must... have.... more...

yep, it's a story about a Huey, probably in 'Nam. Murica!! *goes back to red, white, and blue motorcycle*

[mydoom.exe 5,154]

Lovely story, you have quite the talent!

[Yisroel.Rabin 16,224]

^ Eh, not just yet. Let him practice quite a few articles here :)

Sorry, but I'm laughing.