CW2, D.R. SMITH [little readers .TXT] 📗

while under the oppression of tyrannical monsters. How had the United States of America come to this, he thought. As he searched for the cap through the crosshairs of his scope, he pondered what might be happening to his own children at this moment. At the time of his wife’s death five years ago, his relationship with them had slumped leaving him far lonelier than he could have ever imagined possible. But just prior to CW2, a healing had begun and he now felt responsible to locate them and keep them safe… preferably without them knowing this fact. They had developed a propensity to reject any offers or inclinations of assistance from their father and Shane had slowly but surely quit offering it. But he still loved them all, grandkids included, and he could not see himself abandoning them during this horrible moment in history.

It had now been several minutes since he had last seen the cap near the boulders. With the rifle tucked in close to his face, he could hear his own breathing rate increase. His muscles were tightening up and he had to remind himself to regulate his finger pressure on the trigger. In the absence of an infrared scope, the only method of brightening his view was a white/green flashlight attached to the side of the AR which, unfortunately, would be much too visible to his opponent and would paint Shane as an easy target. More than likely, cap guy was too far away anyway. The moonlight would have to suffice.

He was getting anxious trying to figure what had happened to Mr Baseball Cap. In an effort to evaluate potential escape options should the need arise, Shane attempted to assess the opposite side of the cave. When he first occupied the notch two days ago, he had made note of how the trail continued on beyond it but had failed to explore it. At this point running in that direction in the dark, not knowing how far that path went and what kind of condition it was in, could prove very risky. He brought his attention back to his opponent. Swinging his aim to the trail that lead to his nook, Shane scanned it from his doorstep down to the bottom of the scree. Nothing. Just as his line of sight through the scope swept away from the path, he picked up on some movement down near the trailhead. It was the cap guy. Shane fought to keep a bead on the jogging figure, scrunching his eyes open and closed to rinse dust and night blur from their surface. He was most certainly headed up towards Shane.

“Please… stop. Don’t make me do this.” Shane pleaded quietly. He sensed determination in the man’s physical mannerism, a kind of ‘forging ahead’ as though he had been ordered to ‘take the hill’. In the utter silence of the arid region they were in, Shane was now able to hear the crunching of shoes into the steep gravel route. He had learned a lesson long ago about shouting “FREEZE!” or “HALT!”. It only complicated things. They never halted and they ALWAYS leapt for cover, rebooting the whole search process. Shane felt his adrenalin kick up a notch causing a slight jitter to surface. This, combined with his opponents jerky running movements, made it difficult to keep the character targeted in his scope. That dude must be pretty new at this or he would’ve realized how suicidal his actions are, Shane concluded

“Heavenly Father forgive me for what I’m about to do” Shane prayed. Oddly, this prayer or mantra usually produced an eerie calm that enveloped all of nature and all of his being. Birds, crickets, coyotes, and even the wind would silence, seemingly defying time and science while Shane applied pressure to the trigger.

CRRRACK! The sound of the shot reverberated between buttes and mesas and trailed off with an almost growl-like sound that dispersed into the expanse of the desert. His target spun to the side causing them to lose balance and tumble down the rugged talus. The rag doll, end over end plunge, left Shane believing his foe was definitely dead. He flipped the gun around to his back, dangling by its shoulder strap, and quickly brought the binoculars back into play. The body had continued on, into a gulley near the bottom, veiling it behind a ridge. Although unhelpful, he yanked the glasses from his eyes and stepped forward a foot or two in a squinted effort to view the ‘big picture’ and possibly spot the human form splayed below. No matter how bright a lunar lit landscape may seem, it just simply not bright enough for the naked eye.

Shane crushed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose while contemplating his next move. He opened his mouth and then bit down on his lower lip. An exhaustive breath released which turned into a yawn. He had not yet slept this entire night and fatigue was becoming more than an obstacle to conquer, it was inhibiting. There was a cool almost moist feeling around his eyes. It was that feeling that begged for sleep, a nap, anything that would slow metabolism down in order for true rest to do its healing magic. But right now wasn’t the time. A falling star that streaked across the flawless star spackled sky caught his eye. The left corner of his mouth turned up as he remembered lying on his back on the driveway of his home with his children… waiting and watching for meteors and satellites.

His line of vision fell back down to the gully below.

“OK bud. Now I have to locate you.” Shane said out loud. In recent months, he had found that verbally talking to himself had actually helped with the isolation heaped upon him. No one was around to hear him do it anyway… so who cares, he had thought. Since he had adopted a rule to never walk more than a few feet away from his pack and other possessions, he bundled everything up and weaved his arms into the backpack straps tightening the whole of it down snug and secure. He then perused the rocky cavity with a flashlight one last time making sure nothing was left behind and then began his recovery trek.

Within only a minute or two, Shane reached the point where the aggressor had stumbled over the edge. Slowly sweeping the fan of light his flashlight produced, back and forth over the rock, he successfully located several small splatters of blood. This would definitely indicate thorough penetration by his bullet and, as it was a hollow point, the back side of the area of the body that was struck would have blown out tissue damage. After locating a safe point to step over the edge, Shane started the steep and treacherous crawl down the scree, doing his best at locating foot holds by merely the beam of a flashlight. Adding to the difficulty was the fact that he was also trying to track to route which ‘cap guy’ tumbled down the slope. Lying upside down on the slope was the infamous hat that had triggered this entire scenario, giving Shane a sense that he was moving in the correct general direction. It had flipped, what appeared to be about 6 feet, off the beaten path inspiring Shane to just leave it be. At that moment he realized he hadn’t seen the gun this person would’ve been packing. Now, only a few feet ahead of him, was a large rock that would offer a perfect ambush hiding spot, should his ‘cadaver’ not yet be a cadaver. He positioned himself with his back against the forward side of the stone, rifle straight up in front of him.

“OK! Listen. I’ve got you covered right now! It would be best for both of us if you’d just come out with your hands up... unarmed” Shane shouted. Just then, the moonlight glinted on something long and shiny lodged in the branches of a juniper bush a short distance back up the hillside. When a minute or two had passed without any response from the opposite side of the boulder, Shane climbed towards it and immediately recognized a lever action 30/30 with an inexpensive low power scope mounted on it. Doesn’t mean he’s unarmed, he warned himself. A pistol in a holster could’ve survived the fall, he thought.

“I have your long weapon! I don’t think this will end well for you if you don’t surrender.” Shane shouted once again. He went perfectly still and silent waiting to hear a vocal response, the click of a gun safety switching off, or any indication of movement.

Nothing.

He shouldered his AR and removed his pistol from its holster. Holding it out in front of himself in a ‘police entering a dangerous area’ fashion, he moved slowly forward sweeping the gun and his line of sight from side to side. The only noises were the slight breeze coursing through rocks and desert flora and Shane’s boots crushing down on sand and pebbles ever so gently.

Suddenly a form, unnatural to the geography, materialized in the fading lunar glow. I’m guessing right now it would be smart to fire a shot or two into the body to insure I’m approaching a corpse, he thought. But this just wasn’t in him. This ‘dog eat dog’ world he had been thrust into had not altered his compassion and respect for human life one iota. If that person over there was even barely alive, he knew he would have to nurse him back to health, regardless of the risk. All this created a conflict of interest in his quest for continued existence. Although he was not willing to risk his life by simply stepping out from hiding places and attempt friendly surrenders on any kind of regular basis, he whole heartedly refused to stoop to animalistic behavior to preserve it.

Moments later, Shane Collins holstered his weapon standing before the crumpled figure whose life he himself had ended. Shane glanced up towards the upper edge of the gulley he was now at the bottom of. He concluded that the dead man had rolled off the edge of the gulley, bounced once or twice and landed in this posture. Using the end of the barrel of his AR, he pushed at the lifeless form until it toppled from its perch, making a sandy thud in a puff of smoke-like dust.

Shane’s eyes went wide with shock. Although in the scheme of things it shouldn’t really matter, it was always more heart breaking to kill a woman. Instinctively, he began looking around in all directions. He had come to find that 75% of the time, a woman would be found to be guarding or protecting children. With a shaking hand, he closed the woman’s eyes and turned his head to one side, squeezing a tear with his eyelid. Even in this near total darkness Shane could see that she was American Indian. Young. Maybe 25. This was wrong on every level, he thought.

The moon was quickly setting, making a flashlight a necessity. In what had become a well-crafted routine, Shane searched the woman for any items that he might find useful. It became apparent she had left her essentials back behind the boulders where he had originally spotted her.  

About 30 minutes later, as he carefully laid her into a shallow grave he had scraped out, he hesitated before tossing the hole’s content on top of her. He had for some reason, noticed she an unusual beaded necklace that bore several claws and tiny well-worn feathers hanging around her neck. It was apparent this piece of jewelry was of importance to her as it seemed out of place to the rest of her apparel. Shane had sworn to never confiscate anything impractical. Excessive weight hinders mobility and mobility was everything. But something from deep within compelled him to remove the trinket from her neck and slip it into a pouch on his