Page 15 of The Bones We Break
My longtime friend and tech genius, Eli asks. I’ve known Eli since we were both in college together. I went on to join the Marines and he went on to university to study all things computer. Admittedly, that’s not my forte. We reconnected years later after I left the Marines. He’d become a genius at hacking into some of the most secure computer systems. A few taps of a keyboard and he’d have every detail fromyour life. Where you went to school, your bank details, your relationships and who your mama is. So, obviously when I started this job I needed eyes and ears everywhere that I couldn’t get physically, turns out he was the perfect person.
“I’ve got eyes on Jones. There’s a fucking kid in the room though.” I grit through my teeth. My fingers twitch over the trigger, the clicking of a keyboard taps through the earpiece.
“Harry Jones, ten years old. He was supposed to be at home today but their nanny had a medical emergency to attend to, so the Jones’s had no choice but to bring him along.” Eli says.
Dropping my head, I blow out a harsh breath. Maybe I can target the Senator when Harry isn’t in the target range.
“This isn’t right, Storm. I might be a cold bastard, but I’m not heartless when it comes to kids.” My own parents failed me from the moment I left my mothers womb. I spent my years growing up as a personal punching bag for my father. His coke induced rages were a regular thing in our household. If it wasn’t me in the firing line, it was my mother. Every single day she stood there and took it from him, but never once did she step in to protect me. Broken bones were a regular thing by the time I was in my early teens. The wounds never fully heal, physically and mentally. I stayed in that wretched household until I was sixteen, then after returning from the Marines I came back to the hell hole, to find my parents dead. Both of them overdosed. I tried to feel some semblance of heartache, but it never came and I’ve been on my own ever since.
“You know the rules man, we need to get this job done.” Eli’s voice breaks me out of the dark memory. “Finish this and meet me back at the van. You’ll have approximately three minutes after the kill before security floods the place.” Blinking my tired eyes, I bring myself back to the present and rest my chin on the gun again.
“Heard.” I reply to Eli.
The earpiece goes silent.
My eyes focus through the scope again to find the Senator. I have him locked in my eyesight. He sits across from Counsellor Williams, facing directly to me through the window. My finger is heavy on the trigger. One move is all it will take to end this man›s life. Another one added to my kill list.
“I have eyes on the target. Shoot to kill.” I say to Eli to confirm.
“Copy that.”
I pull the trigger. The blowback of the rifle pushes into my shoulder but I don’t feel it. Everything around me stops. There’s no sound. No wind. No smells. Just nothing. I see the glass window break into a million pieces as the bullet fires through it, going straight for its intended target. Just before the solid metal makes contact with Senator Jones’s forehead, Harry jumps into his arms. Killing them both instantly in front of me.
What the fuck have I done?
He wasn’t supposed to be there!
I had it lined up just right.
My whole world comes crashing down before me, a sour bile rising up my constricted throat. Before I’ve even had the chance to get my frozen body to move Eli’s voice comes through the earpiece.
“What the fuck happened Viper?! Security is storming the place. You need to move, now!” His voice sounds so far away. I can’t seem to move, or think. I release my shaky grip from the trigger and drop the sniper rifle, moving on autopilot to collect my gear as I finish taking apart the gun and packing it into the black case in record time. As I stand and turn to leave myface comes in contact with the solid butt of a gun, causing my vision to blur for a split second, before landing on my back on the floor with a hard thud. Security must have found my spot whilst I was having an internal panic.
Fuck! This isn’t like me at all. I need to get my bearings before the fucker who lamped me with his gun ascends on me. A sharp crack lands on the side of his head, sending him off kilter before I wrap my forearms around his throat and squeeze tightly, keeping him in a headlock. He puts up a hard fight. I wrap my thighs around his waist, his back to my front as we end up rolling around on the floor before I feel a blistering heat in my thigh, the pain is so visceral that I end up losing grip on him.
The fucker shot me!
My jaw aches as I grit my teeth until they feel like they’re about to crumble, and tighten my grip around his slim neck again. I do everything in my power to reach my knife that’s tucked into the holder on my black cargo pants, my fingertips barely grazing the handle, just out of reach.
When will this fucker die!
Leaning further to my right, my free hand grips onto the handle for dear life before plunging the blade into this bastard’s neck. Hot blood sprays over us both from his carotid artery like a burst pipe, covering my exposed arms and face. I stab and stab until I know he’s dead, the crimson liquid soaking through my shirt. His body goes limp in my arms and I shove the dead weight off of me. My chest heaves with the strain of the scrap, then bullets start to fly around the empty room until another one of Jones’s security makes his way into the room, firing his gun aimlessly, probably hoping that a stray bullet will hit me. I reach over to my left, patting my hand on the dusty floor until I feel the metal of the gun thatwas used to shoot me in the leg. Bringing the weapon up in front of me, I hold it with both hands before firing one shot into the fuckers forehead. His head snaps back from the force of the bullet and sends him falling to the floor like a sack of shit. I drop the gun at my side, my arms laying out at my side. Closing my eyes for a moment I attempt to catch my breath.
“Viper! Where the fuck are you? Talk to me man!” Eli shouts into my ear, his voice full of worry.
“I’m here. I’m alright. I was ambushed. The fucker shot me in the thigh, I’m bleeding pretty badly but I’m alive.” I manage to say, my voice cracking.
“Thank fucking God. You’re about to send me into an early grave! I just know you’d haunt my ass from the grave if I ever let you die.” He chuckles, but I know we’d be lost without each other.
“You bet your ass I would, now get up here and help me.”
I’ll never be the same after this. My body starts to go into shock before everything goes black.
“Fuck!” I wake myself with a sharp inhale, instantly throwing me back into reality. Cold sweat pours down my face and chest. Every single night I’m plagued with this ongoing nightmare, like a purgatory I’ll never be able to escape from. My own mind choosing to torture me on a daily basis, as if I don’t do that to myself enough anyway. The room is still shrouded in darkness, a sliver of pale moonlight just peaking through the curtains. Stretching, I lean over to the bedside unit to check the time on the alarm clock.4:00am. It seems I’ve managed to get a total of three hours of sleep this time, that’s a new world record for me.
I pull the damp sheet off me and swing my legs out of the plush bed, the lasting pain from the gunshot wound is still causing me grief in my thigh as I stretch my leg in front ofme to ease the tension. The pads of my fingers run over the healed wound, the scar a stark white against my tanned skin. A prominent discoloration that will stay with me forever. Quickly, I pull my hand away, wanting to forget the memory as best I can to rest my elbows on my knees, my head dipping low, the inky black strands of my hair falling over my forehead, brushing my eyelashes. I stay there for a moment just to collect my thoughts, lifting my hand I run it down my face, my fingers brushing over the four day stubble. I should probably shave it but Eli says the ladies love it nowadays. The thought makes me chuckle, I wouldn’t even have the first clue on how to be in a relationship. I’ve had one night stands, what guy hasn’t? But the thought of a proper relationship has me retreating into my shell to keep a safe distance from anyone. I’m meant for a life of solitude and nothing more. It’s only what I deserve.
Standing from the bed, my muscles are tight and sore. I can feel my forties laughing at me in the distance. After a quick stretch, I walk over to the chair that’s sitting in the corner of the room, the cold, hardwood floor sends a shiver up my legs. Grabbing the white t-shirt and shorts that’s hung over the back, I step into the black running shorts and pull them up over my legs until the waistband hits my boxers then slip the t-shirt over my head, proceeding to run a hand through my hair before putting my black cap on backwards. My hands scramble through the set of drawers that sit next to the chair, locating a pair of socks in the mass of mismatched ones.Don’t judge me alright.
