Wind whistled through the trees, leaves spun in tornadoes, and the cool autumn air nipped his nose as he lay silently on top of the wooden shed. No movement, only the faint sound of shallow breaths and a keen eye watching and waiting. Timing was key.
The deserted street nearby was dimly lit by only a handful of streetlamps, most of them needing a replacement. Not a single car drove by; it was like a ghost town compared to what it is in the summer months. Full of life and vibrant activity like children on a playground. Houses were kept in pristine condition inside and out, even while away. Yards were trimmed once a week by a highly trained staff. Only one stuck out like a bent nail.
A glimmer of light was seen out of the corner of his eye. As they darted around the general area, the light seemed to disappear just as quickly as it came. He reverted his gaze back to where it was and continued scanning the yard in front of him.
Nothing.
Adrenaline started pumping through his veins. A moment of fear overcame him as something didn't seem right. A single beep from his watch indicated it was midnight.
Still nothing. Wind continued to whip through the surrounding tree limbs.
There was no way he missed his chance. He planned everything accordingly down to the exact detail. It was supposed to happen only seconds after midnight struck. He would scope, shoot, and jump like nothing happened. No evidence left behind like always.
He began to panic, eye darting around again for any sign of movement. Carefully, he shifted positions on top the rickety shed being sure to spread out his body weight as much as possible. The roof squeaked beneath him, and then, he froze instantly.
A bright light blinded him but he continued staring, not willing to break contact. The light slowly moved to the side and a clearer image of the other man in front of him became visible. His hair was unkempt, clothes torn, face unshaven, and he still had the same crooked grin. The same man he grew up with hadn't changed his ways.
"Hello, brother." His scratchy voice matched his appearance as it always did.
The sniper's instincts were too slow to react to the speed of the knife moving towards his throat.
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