Ghillie

May 16, 2008
By
Water seeps out from the muck of the ground,
it cools both his body and mind,
he lies there covered in his green-gray moss
like the ghost of a swamp ogre,
blended into the hillside perfectly

“Rifle One-Two, target acquired.”
The scope on his Barrett reveals target Alpha,
his reticle sweeps across the unknowing skull,
but the time has not come, he must wait a bit longer,
in this foreign land, escape will be delicate.

His earpiece rings softly, and then next he hears,
“Weapons Free…LZ in fifteen, Vega.”

He regulates his breath as the man crosses into view,
it’s dusk here, and the breeze has prompted an easy,
still target in the window,
He takes one last inhale.
As the window goes down,
the suppressor chirps softly.
The glass shatters and the bone cracks,
neither impeding the .50 caliber projectile’s path.
The bullet propels the man into nonexistence,
as the fragments shred through his brain,
his final breath cut short.

Outside there is nothing—
he has already vanished.

He’d been taught and trained in the fiercest scenarios,
and now he maneuvers alone through the forest,
much like a fox that will never be caught.
After ten short minutes he tears into a grove,
Extraction Point Delta—it’s time to leave.
He leaps onto the bird hovering over the ground,
those powerful rotors spin quickly,
and it’s time to go home.





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