EPT
It was the first day of school.
It was fucking hot - it was the rainy season.
It was my first mission alone, my first mission since St. Petersburg. My first mission without Tom. I thought I'd be out by now, on a beach somewhere restoring boats and forgetting about all this shit. There was one more mission though. One more mission, for Tom.
I had an hour before before they'd be out, so I crouched out of sight and pulled out my sidearm. I cleaned it quickly but carefully, to make sure there were no mistakes. I learned that the hard way. I learned that from Tom.
There was thunder and lightning.
For five minutes I held my head back and let the raindrops fall straight at my face. For five minutes I was somewhere else; the raindrops took me away.
It was 5:05 pm. It rained. He had less than an hour to live.
A few minutes later I was watching him through the rain-obscured glass panes that walled the computer laboratory. I thought about taking the shot through the window. One shot and I can go home, or atleast somewhere else.
It was wet and windy - I needed to be sure he died.
I know it's fucked up. You worry about the rain and your clothes, and getting to your final class of the day. You don't know you'll be dead before the clouds part. You can't know. The lights on the 2nd and 5th floors went out. I kept my eyes on him through the windows from a distance.
It was 5:20 pm. Lightning fell and thunder clapped. I wondered if the minutes were passing quickly or slowly for him.
The rain hit the blacktop around my feet and smelled like spring rain does, warm and earthy. My senses make me nostalgic for a second, before my brain remembers it's just the Actinomycetes. Life's never as romantic as wish. The boy and the girl were still in the library. I didn't want to kill her too, but I would do what had to be done. The hand on my watched ticked as I looked at it, closer to 12.
I let the watch tick and the rain pour, although I was truly powerless over both, just as he was. I watched him look at the clouds and his shoes. He was worried about the rain. I almost felt sorry for him, spending his final minutes worrying over such a trivial thing.
I moved to a more elevated position on the hill and mapped out my approach. It was 5:40. He set out from the building. The rain hadn't stopped, and I smiled. It would cover my advance.
He moved swiftly but his eyes fixed on the ground, and he was slowed by the puddles. I wouldn't need to shoot. I'll get close enough to use my knife.
I was five paces behind when his umbrella snapped closed, dumping its rain on him. I pulled out the blade and lunged forward. The point zeroed in to make contact when I saw it. I saw his face. He didn't kill Tom. The information was bad. I slid the knife up my sleeve and bumped passed him. He didn't notice.
It was 5:45. I almost killed the wrong man. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.
...
It was 6:00 - the rain stopped.
It was 6:45 - I was buying a plane ticket home. The air conditioning in the airport gave my goosebumps, and my hair stood on end. I wonder if he felt it at all, if he felt how close I was.
What a fuckin day...
