Saint
The vengeful barreling of waves curling and crashing into the rocky shore at dusk was something only the Lord could have crafted. The roaring was incessant and indicative of the ocean’s power. Despite the chaotic cripple of the collision, there was symphony. Though a chaotic concerto of water, it lulled me flawlessly.
The sun was plunging into another realm where inhabitants would soon be waking to meet a new day, but on this side of the world, it was concluding, leaving the cover of night to loom. The beach was deserted, with even the smallest of marine life tucking in for the evening.
Still, the tiniest evidence of human life existed despite the hour. Closer to the shore and away from the rocks, a small fire persisted. Large stones contained the flames, encouraging the fire to remain in place. At least three hundred yards from the location, my ears captured and logged the sizzling and cracking of wood. It was, indeed, evidence of my target’s existence.
Elevated well above the rocky shore, crushed prone against the granitelike surface, I waited. Years of training drafted me for moments like these. It had taken months of reconnaissance and false leads to draw me to my present position.
The smell of salt water, tinged with burnt wood, tickled my olfactory system. An unwelcomed perturbance, it served as a reminder that despite my mission, the promise of peace lingered. Above me, the clouds shifted with haste to make way for a waxing moon. Competing against the sun at present was imprudent, however. It triumphed in its departure, dribbling reflective shades of lavender against the clouds, highlighted with neon pinks and reds.
Still as stone, my body remained motionless against the immaculate view. For as beautiful as it was, as tranquil as it was, danger in such close proximity to the sea was imminent.
A violent end was contracted for an unsuspecting soul. The author of said violence lurked stealthily and lethal in the form of six feet paired with two hundred and seven pounds of muscle. Sheathed in melanin, my deep umber skin was clothed in lightweight cargo gear identical in color to the obsidian rocks pressed against my limbs. It coordinated well with the steel weapon, who’d been my main acquaintance for the last ten hours. Firmly, I’d planted it against the detachable bipod and monitored through its scope for my victim.
The primary mission was simple: place a long-range precision shot on my intended target. From my days in the army, I’d been steeped in the mission, mastering it with aptitude.
It was an admission made humbly. The art of the sniper was no small feat. There was more to sharpshooting than merely pulling a trigger. Marksmanship, range estimation, target detection, and stalks were all incorporated into the craft.
Various uncontrollable elements could affect a shot, including precipitation and the wind. A shot so close to the shore was no simple task. For this assignment, my brother Supreme served as my spotter, making call adjustments to my scope through my earpiece. Having shown up within the last two hours, his presence was welcome. Though he was right beside me, discretion and stealth were necessary, so we only spoke through the small device and only when needed.
Everything was entirely mathematical, from the range of the intended target to their height, build, and anything they’d utilize for transportation. Prior knowledge was integral to the mission’s success, and the lack of certain details could derail us.
After nearly half a day of observing the shore, the end of our stakeout was near. With the slightest movement, my fingers fenced around the scope rings to adjust the long-range sniper’s line of sight.
“The target is present. Engage that motherfucker, Angel.”
From the hidden transducer lodged in my ear, I was granted the authorization to subdue the mark, who would soon be in my gun’s crosshairs. Dressed in white linen, his familiar frame appeared in my peripheral, slowly approaching the crackling fire. As he neared, I watched his arms stretch wide to warm his bulky limbs. The gesture would be his final governed movement. With a composed breath, my right hand squeezed, applying five pounds of pressure to the destructive yet masterful piece of equipment positioned before me.
With anticipation, I braced myself for the harsh sound of the gun as it connected with the atmosphere. A single shot rang out from the 338 Lapua semi-automatic, confirming my success. The riffle had yet to fail me.
From my distance, I watched as brain matter projected upon contact with the bullet from my weapon. I imagine chunks splattered upon the ground as well. The concluding movement of Javier Reed was undisciplined as his body collided forward into endless sediments of pink sand beneath him. Mission complete.
Supreme and I remained planted for countless seconds, wordlessly observing the scene. Javier was as good as dead, but there was only one way to be certain. Another shot was sent in the direction of the collapsed body in the sand, landing at the side of his dome. For an additional sixty seconds, we watched through our scopes as viscous red fluid spilled from Javier’s head. For the sixty-first second, I rose from where I stood and began hastily packing my rifle.
Once that task was complete, I tossed my bag over my shoulder and climbed down the rocks, with Supreme following closely behind. Javier’s entourage, including his detail, would soon be canvassing the area for evidence of his killer. With stealth remaining our primary objective, we moved with haste while attempting not to slip against the slick onyx surface of the rock.
My feet landed on the ground with a ninja-like thump as I proceeded to move away from the place I utilized for the assassination. The shuffling of an unwanted presence halted me, causing Supreme to shoulder-check me from behind. I’d felt him drawing near but failed to voice my concerns before he made contact with my limbs.
“Pre, wait,” I whispered, sliding the concealed Sig 365 from my holster. With my knowing glare connecting to his oblivious one, he halted his movements to retrieve his Glock. Now equally armed, we crept toward the sound that had emanated from the far left side of the rock. Whatever or whoever it was had assuredly bore witness to our deed.
Scanning the area, I searched for marine life, hoping it was the culprit. Disappointment was heavy as my eyes fell upon the unfortunate soul. Crouched in a crevice, she cradled a tortoise in trembling hands. Tears stained her sepia-brown-hued face as her eyes blossomed at the position of my pistol.
A timeless beauty, I regretted the moment I’d be forced to squeeze and rearrange her thoughts. Despite her hysteria, she wielded an ephemeral glow, causing me to wonder if she was an angel stalking the earth. In my limited understanding of otherworldly beings, she didn’t belong where she now cowered. Lacking the pleasure or hesitation, I agreed it was time to return her to the appropriate realm.
At a range of three-quarters of a meter, she was sure to stain my immaculately grunge attire with red droplets. Trained at the dome, I advanced the sig closer, prepared to send her home.
“Ange! They’re here. Don’t do it. Come on. We have to go,” Supreme half whispered and shouted.
“And what about her?” I asked quizzically, my eyes darting from the woman who’d robbed me of coherent thoughts to glare at my brother.
“Bring her,” he shrugged as he hurried toward the dense cover of trees and bush situated away from the beach.
Unmoving, the woman remained in her crouched position as if she’d lost brain function. She hadn’t uttered a single word. The cocking of my gun and the motioning of my hand was enough to restore life back to her head. Only after placing the tortoise into the nook where she once hid did she move. I appreciated her care for the helpless creature, but I saved my gratitude for another time. Grabbing ahold of her arm, I darted in the same direction Supreme had disappeared to.
My eyes dashed to the place our limbs connected, sensing currents more charged than the ripple of the waves as our skin touched. Depleted of time to scrutinize the phenomena, I continued moving, maintaining my grasp against her.
Under the cover of trees, I tugged her arm firmer to encourage a quicker pace. We treaded through the dense brush, ascending the mountainous region one hurried foot at a time. At fifty yards from our escape, the woman was slowing me down dreadfully. Unable to shutter the sound of her strenuous breaths, whimpering, or stumbling, I slackened my haste. Her bare feet against the forest’s undergrowth were the culprit to our delay.
Sliding my rifle to settle against the floor, I lifted her from her abused feet, tossing her wispy frame across my back. In my free hand, I gathered my rifle bag and resumed moving through the trees. The task was arduous, but years of training my body to endure made it possible.
Twenty-five yards ahead, Supreme disappeared into an off-road Land Rover. The shifting to a fixed surface under my feet informed me we weren’t far away. Slowing my movements along with my load, I lowered the woman onto her feet.
“In front,” I ordered her, once again presenting the slim pistol in her face.
I hated to command her with fear, but I didn’t know the woman or her affiliation with Javier. Our lack of acquaintance had me yet to assess if she would be a threat. Though she cringed, her movements were swift as she planted her frame inside the vehicle.
From the backseat, I kept my gun trained at the base of her neck.
“We don’t want to hurt you, but what were you doing by that rock, love?” Supreme probed as he maneuvered the truck with haste toward the airstrip twenty minutes out from where we’d been.
“I won’t tell anyone anything. Please just let me go.”
His eyes connected with me for a fleeting moment, speaking things I didn’t need vocalized.
“That was the wrong answer, Beauty,” I voiced raspier than intended.
“What’s your name?” Supreme asked, issuing a glance in her direction.
Keeping my pistol trained on her, I sighed at the brazen truth of her fate. Unable to foresee her future, I pulled a silencer from my bag. The army had trained me for this. Locate the threat, subdue the threat, exit the area, mission complete.
But this woman didn’t strike me as a threat. She was –
“Victoria.” She swallowed hard as her attention turned toward Supreme.
“You from here, Victoria?” Again, he hunted for information from the beauty clothed in a threadbare dress.
“No… Just visiting,” she revealed.
“From?” Supreme snipped, audibly frustrated.
“I… I’m from Paramour. South Pointe, Paramour.”
My brother and I exchanged a pained look but said nothing. I simply kept my gun trained on Victoria. My mind was working overtime to find her a solution to the current predicament. One that didn’t include a bullet lodged in her temple.
When we arrived at the airstrip, I scavenged my pockets, reaching to locate the earplugs that would assist me in tuning out the hum of the plane’s engine. Only after placing one plug and then the second did I remove myself from the truck. The beauty was shuffled from the front seat and ushered up the stairs into the jet’s main cabin, where I motioned for her to have a seat.
“Bro, you know I got you if the noises are too much. Pop your Ambien. You don’t have to stay awa–”
“–I’ll be fine,” I interjected.
Supreme was always looking out for my well-being, aware that certain experiences –like plane rides– overwhelmed me tremendously. In this peculiar instance, however, I wouldn’t dare miss a thing. Telling myself it was for our protection, I couldn’t.
Victoria took to staring out the window, inching as close as humanly possible to the cabin wall. I’d gotten a myriad of things wrong, but I knew fear when I witnessed it. The small-framed beauty was terrified, and rightfully so. She’d seen me commit a monstrosity and was trembling out of her pretty skin.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t comfort her.
Comfort wasn’t my strength. Uncannily, I knew how to seek it out for myself, but in others? You may as well have been speaking another language.
Graduating high school at sixteen afforded me the world as my oyster. Opportunities boundless, I was sought out by some of the most prestigious universities. My family always encouraged me to pursue a higher education. Gifted, genius, virtuoso, they called me. From my parents to my siblings, everyone urged me to stay focused on my studies as if not doing so would attract me to the lifestyle they lived. Against my father’s wishes, I joined the army when I was seventeen. I was the golden child.
It came as a shock when I revealed I wouldn’t be heading off to college as they expected. My response to their disappointment was impassive. I’d already made up in my mind what I wanted from life. Positioning my nose in a textbook wasn’t going to obtain it.
I passed the ASVAB with the highest overall score available. It arrested the attention of several high-ranking officers for special ops, but my sights were set on becoming a sniper. In my youth, I assumed it was the most exciting and powerful position I could obtain as an enlisted member.
How wrong I was.
The five-week sniper course taught me how to be one of the deadliest marksmen in the field. It also triggered everything that disturbed me mentally, rankling my sensory processing like an itchy ass crack. The clamorous firing of a gun, immersion in mud, being exposed to various climates… It was all torturous to my senses.
A reverse psychological occurrence of triggers, it was intended to make me stronger and assist in seizing control of my narrative. In many ways, it worked. I could anticipate the piercing sound of a gun before it hammered into the air. The forceful integration of me firing the gun made the sound less triggering. It offered me a sense of discipline I hadn’t mastered under my father’s rule.
Eventually, I grew tired of overstimulating myself. It hadn’t made me less sensitive to sound. It hadn’t made me more receptive to touch. It hadn’t done anything but incite anger. My pursuit was for something less gnawing to my senses. Something soothing. I located that in the mammalian diving reflex.
So, I finished my final years in the army, walking away with a Master’s in marine biology. I loved the ocean. I loved the perfectly imperfect lull of the tide. I loved aquatic life. I loved the peace woven into the beach.
Exiting that world, my gaze anchored to the beauty before me. I couldn’t exactly give Victoria the beach. Not while we were 30,000 feet up in the air. Dedicated to the task of locating her comfort, my mental faculties worked overtime to find it.