The Shootist

During her dreams some horror had caused her to thrash about and whine for a moment. When I placed my arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight against my chest she nuzzled her head into me and sighed loudly before she was quiet again and peaceful.

I was practiced at separating any emotional attachment when pulling a trigger but not when it came to this, more personal, aspect of field work. I had only worked with "targets." Usually these targets were responsible for atrocities comparable to the worst henchmen of the most evil regimes. Seldom do the top men actually do the blood letting, they always leave the messy work for the middle managers. That way the leaders can hold up their unsullied hands to the cameras secure in the knowledge that middle managers always want to move up the ladder and when things get dicey they can be purged, usually by some other middle managers eager for promotion, in a quick shift of blame. It was easy for me to internally justify my actions with targets but this young girl half-asleep on my chest required a new set of directives.

I sighed and tangled my fingers in her short blond hair. This was answered with a contented moan and a hand that found my growing shaft in the darkness of the cave. Again I took this young girl, making love to her like that act alone was going to save me from my uncertain future. Slamming my flesh deep inside hers repeatedly brought pure joy to her and her lithesome body shook violently when I finally pumped her full of my seed. Lena was still clinging to me when I pulled her up. Hot tears rolled down her cheek as she pressed her face into my chest and shuddered against me.

It was time to leave. I figured I could drop her somewhere along the way near her home and she could be free of the horrors of her servitude. We dressed in the dark quickly and crawled out into the open air of an overcast night.

We made good time along a trail that I knew from my primary briefing would be nearby. I lit a fire on an outcrop and moved to my meeting place. The fire was a signal to my secondary contact and we were supposed to meet at a place well hidden from the fire's glow.

Lena sat next to me shivering until I finally pulled her onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. Quickly, she warmed up and nuzzled her head into my chest where she promptly fell asleep.

I tried several times along the way to signal her leave whenever we got close to her home or something she recognized but I couldn't be sure she understood what I was trying to explain to her.

A soft crumpling of leaves meant someone was approaching. I put my finger over Lena's lip and whispered into her ear. She awoke quietly.

"Maxwell, it's Mikos. It is good." Our prearranged signal meant he had not been followed or suspected of helping the shooter that had put lead into an ill-fated distant silhouette.

"Mikos, I need you to talk to someone for me." The footsteps stopped in the darkness.

"Maxwell, you not alone?" I heard the soft click of his gun's safety.

"It is good, Mikos. It's a girl." I spoke quickly and listened closely until I heard the safety click back on.

"Why you have her?" The man asked.

"Mikos, talk to her. I need to let her know she can go home, now." A short gnarled man stepped into view and he eyed the girl momentarily.

She stood quickly and prattled to the short man. Then Mikos answered. They exchanged a minute's worth of conversation in an odd dialect that I could not determine.

Mikos clicked the safety off on his weapon, again.

"Go, Maxwell. I shoot girl."

"No, Mikos. She's not one of them."

"Girl cannot stay."

"Well, I can't take her with me."

"My friend," Mikos said in his heavily accented English. "She is not'ing. Family would have funeral when she is taken. Better she is dead than the whore for Serbs."

"Can't you keep her?"

"No. She will be recognized," he struggled with this last word. "Dey kill her... dey kill me."

"What am I supposed to do with her?" I pleaded. Mikos shrugged in the pale light of the oncoming dawn. "Can I leave her in Zagreb?"

"She will be whore 'til dey find her."

"Until 'who' finds her?"

Mikos turned his back and began marching down the trail. "We must hurry, my friend."

I turned to look at Lena standing next to the trail. A quivering bottom lip and tear-filled eyes told me she knew the gist of my exchange with Mikos. My stomach churned to see her sadness in the dim light. I touched the hands she held clasped in front of her slim hips and I heard her sniff quietly. With a sigh of resignation I wrapped my hand around hers and pulled her ahead of me on the trail. A smile that threatened to outshine the new day burst onto her face and she dashed along the narrow pathway.

A couple of hours later I was seated in an army Blackhawk helicopter with a young girl comfortably draped across my lap. The crew stared suspiciously at this unexpected passenger who nestled her face into my neck as we flew, mere yards, above the Adriatic Sea. The bosses wouldn't be happy about my cargo but I didn't care. I was done with their field work—I would be happily office bound—there was nothing they could threaten me with now.

Life can be gone in an instant, I should know. Who can tell? We might be very happy while it lasts. That was a risk I was willing to take.