Chapter Eleven
“Reconnaissance - the process of obtaining information about the position, activities, resources, etc., of an enemy or potential enemy.”
Dex
My recon mission didn’t really go the way I planned.
I couldn’t call it a complete failure because I found out where she lived, but I wouldn’t call it a success either.
I acted so weird she probably wanted nothing more to do with me, and then I started feeling sick.
My being sick probably had nothing at all to do with her (and everything to do with that nasty BLT), but I couldn’t really shake the knowledge that as soon as I put some miles between us, I started to feel better.
Maybe the idea of killing her in such close proximity made me nervous. I’d never been the nervous type before. I mean, living on the streets really wasn’t a peaceful place, so me getting nervous to the point of feeling sick around one girl seemed dumb.
Still, I wanted to go back to my decision to not get close to her. To just kill her and be done with it.
So I bought a gun.
Not a big one, nothing that would draw too much attention, but enough that it would get the job done.
I stared at it now, taking in the black metal and every detail from the trigger to the tip of the barrel.
I never had a gun before. All my years on the streets, I avoided guns because the fact was if you carried one around, it usually got used against you.
That or someone was always a quicker draw.
I used to carry a knife for the times violence was unavoidable. But I didn’t want to get close enough to use a knife on this Target. Of course, I really wasn’t all that excited to use the gun either, but hey, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.
She was a college student; that much I heard during my recon mission.
Someone asked her about her classes and she gave a fairly generic answer.
I had no idea what she studied. I really didn’t care.
I figured she probably took most of her classes by day, then worked early in the morning or at night.
There was one college here in Fairbanks so finding her shouldn’t be a problem.
I glanced at the clock. Not quite lunchtime. I took the gun and slid it into the waistband of my jeans. Then I pulled on my coat and shoes. I was going on a field trip.