Come In The Woods: A Short Story

“Come in, Woods.”
“Woods here,” replies the marksman.
“Remember your mission. Take out the target and radio in for evac’. More info will be given asap.”
“Roger that, captain.”
The soldier makes his way to the window of an old abandoned home. He rests his rifle on the edge of the window frame. He mounts the scope, adjusts the cross hairs, and waits.
“Sigma Three to Woods.”
“Woods here, in position and ready to go.”
“Your target has black hair, a white sweater, and goes by Menendez. He will be coming out of a black van, license plate Z2364 with security; with the job done right, they won’t be any trouble.”
“Understood. One shot, one kill.”
Shortly after, a black van pulls over on the side of a villa that is across from the soldier’s
“It’s important to return order to the policia. We need to cut all power within the cartel family tree. Failing this mission is not an option, soldier; we are not the only ones who believe in this. If you don’t do this, I can assure you that others will,” responds the team leader.
“Message received.”
The soldier grips onto his rifle, finger cocked onto the trigger. He thinks to himself, You have never failed a mission before. Just do it. He is just another enemy. . . .
He aligns the cross hairs, moving the rifle along with each shift in movement of his prey. His muscles become tense. His mind tells him he is ready to do it, yet his body prevents him from accomplishing an act that is against his morals. He takes a deep breath, sweat running down the side of his face. He forces himself to shoot.
A loud bang echoes through the streets. The kid’s body is knocked back, and in the blink of an eye, he is no longer moving. The soldier looks down. His feeling of regret and stress has become fear. He never shot the bullet. Out of nowhere, a second shot is released, and this time, he knows it is meant for him. He had not been