Covert

The rain was coming down in sheets. There wasn’t a bird to be heard nor a squirrel stirred. The deep dark green of the trees was in contrast with the eerie gray sky. I felt it in my bones the storm was coming.  I ran my hands over the wet hair that came loose from my ponytail. The dark brown strands caught in my hands. My clothes were soaked, I should have worn better clothing for this op. My weapon rested in my hands its weight comforting me as I watched my target through the scope. The Op Order could have been written better, but I was making do. No one told me about the rain, nor did they tell me about the target being my ex-teammate. Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair again. I am trying my hardest not to be pissed off, but damn, it was hard. Why did it have to be him? I should have walked out when he did, but here I am still working for the same damned people who screwed us over time and time again. He turned around and I got a better look at him. It’s been 4 years since that day, but he still has the same green eyes and that same serious look he had back then. His skin was darker, and his natural brown hair was now black. I could almost hear the deep baritone voice with his southern accent from where I sat watching and waiting. My cheek rested on the but stock of my rifle. The rain was dripping into my eyes but still, I sat on the ledge of the cliff watching from above like an angel of death. My spotter called me over the radio, but I didn’t want to hear her. I knew what she was going to say. I knew it would only take 4 pounds of pressure to send the 50-caliber bullet to the crease right between his eyebrows where my crosshairs aimed. I took my earpiece out of my ear. I knew I was going to get into trouble for going radio silent on an op. Hell, trouble doesn’t even describe what is in store for me though I couldn’t care less at this point. Why couldn’t they tell me that my target was Eric Cole? My finger was on the trigger frozen in place. I couldn’t squeeze the trigger.  Something hit my boot. I looked behind me to see my handler, Steven. He shouldn’t even be there. I don’t even know if Steven is his real name. I rolled my eyes at him, turned around, and laid my cheek back against the butt stock. “Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Wolfsong put your earpiece back in. We have trouble.” He whispered. Being careful not to give away our position. I put the earpiece back in and immediately I hear. “Wolfsong, my position is compromised. Take the shot! I say again take the shot!” My muscles froze as I looked back through my scope. A million thoughts were running through my head, but I am unable to pinpoint one specific thought. I don’t know how long I was frozen. A cold sweat had formed over my brow and dripped down my face. “Kayah, Kayah, earth to Kayah. Get your head out of the clouds sweet girl. I need you here.” The sweet baritone voice with the southern accent sounded amazing in my ear and broke me out of my stupor. Wait did that just happen? Oh no, I was too late, he has Sarah. That was the only thing that made sense. “Kayah, I know you can hear me. Sarah won’t be harmed if you give off your position.”  “You do it, Wolfsong, and I will personally put a bullet in your head. Take the damned shot!"Steven exclaimed. I took in a breath, held it for fifteen seconds, and released it. I felt my muscles relax and become limber. The plan came together and it was going to be glorious. The violence sang to me like a wolf calling to the Goddess. No song is sweeter to my ears than this. The countdown begins. I count my heartbeats and get ready. Three, two, one........