Dead Silence

Gregory collapsed down on the ground, winded. He had been running for hours, still holding his rifle and his backpack filled with food, provisions and equipment. He worked the backpack off of his shoulders and laid his gun across his lap. He leaned against a nearby tree, and for the first time observed his surroundings. The autumn air was cool and crisp, cooling his sweat-drenched face. He was in the forest, surrounded by trees, all preparing for their winter sleep. Their leaves had fallen off, and their dead, cold branches hung overhead. The twilight sun shone a crimson light through the dead claws on to the golden carpet of fallen leaves, shining like the beautiful ore. It felt like a dream.

Gregory removed the helmet from his head, allowing his sweaty brown hair to flop over his face. He placed the back of his head against the tree, and closed his eyes. The events of the day played over in his mind. He had stood in the bell tower of a church in the town, lording over the urban battlefield with his sniper rifle. From his perch, he easily killed ten enemy soldiers, three of them to avenge his fallen comrades. The battle had been going well. Gregory’s army had been easily pushing the revolutionaries out of town. What exactly they were revolting against, Gregory was unsure of, but he didn’t really give a damn either. He just wanted to make a good living. The battle eventually moved out of Gregory’s range, behind a large building that appeared to be a bombed out apartment building. The sound of gunfire filled the air and Gregory’s ears. He heard the sound of men shouting, comrades or enemies, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He simply reached into his pocket and removed a cigarette and lit it up, despite the strict orders he had been given not to, so as not to attract any hidden snipers. But he saw no one else, so he simply lit up and took a deep breath. A voice rang out “Retreat!” Gregory recognized the voice of his commanding officer. With a moan, he rose, gathering his equipment and in a minute he was in the streets, looking to see where the rest of the men were escaping. But he couldn’t see them. What he did see was dead bodies of soldiers, enemy and ally. He recognized one he himself shot. Gunshots sounded and a bullet whizzed by his head as an enemy commander shouted something hostile-sounding in a foreign language. He ducked and weaved in and out of the rubble in the street, keeping himself hidden from them. When he was long out of their sight, he picked a road and ran. He continued until the pavement turned to a dirt road, and the dirt road disappeared into grass and barren trees.

He sat, replaying the events over and over. Where had they gone? he pondered. And where is the enemy? He looked around his surroundings again. He saw no trace of anyone, enemy soldier or comrade. Where are they? he questioned. And why didn’t they wait? Could they be looking for me right now? Or do they just want me to die…? Nah, they wouldn’t do that… I think. Maybe they think I could survive on my own…. I CAN survive on my own. I’ll get back to those guys, we’ll have a big party… Maybe I can get drunk… He drifted off in thought and fell asleep.

He awoke with a bullet grazing his ear. He clasped his hand over his ear as it bled. Muttering various violent obscenities, he quickly gathered up his equipment and his gun and ran to find a safe spot to hide. Another bullet was fired, then another. His radio equipment and most of his gear was ruined. He groaned and dropped his backpack, sparking and sizzling, on the ground.

Ducking behind a tree, he tried to gather his thoughts; it was somewhat startling to be awoken by being shot at. His situation was bad. He had no idea who or where his enemy was.  He didn’t even know where he was himself. He did know, however, that this person wanted him dead, and Gregory wasn’t going to let him get what he wanted. But how? I should move, he thought calmly, if I stay here he’ll get me sooner or later. Keep moving and keep quiet. Sound was his enemy, as well. There was a deadly silence ringing in his ears loudly as an alarm. The leaves at his feet crunched with his every step, his own heart was roaring. Every sound seemed a million times louder. The golden leaves had turned matte; the sun had disappeared during his nap. The full moon hung overhead. He must have been asleep for two or three hours.

Moaning, he loaded his gun. He had little equipment, and was at a severe disadvantage in both knowledge of the area and in preparation. The enemy had gotten the drop on him. Rifle fully loaded, he ran for the next closest tree, just barely avoiding two more bullets. Pressing up against the tree, he looked around to assure himself of his safety, yet he remained unsure. The forest was dark, pitch-black, and the density of the trees made it difficult to tell where anything was. He placed his helmet at the tip of his gun and poked it out from behind the tree. Two shots rang in the air again, and the helmet was ruined instantly. Gregory dropped the helmet and pulled the gun, his only ally, back to safety.

As he stood, preparing for his next move, he heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the leaves. This was his chance. He listened to the sound of leaves crunching. The sound was too faint, and he couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from. He pointed his rifle in the general direction of the enemy and fired a shot. There was a loud thud. Did I get him? he asked. No, my luck isn’t that good. There was a scrambling sound, and his enemy seemed to be trying to run and hide, and Gregory could find where he was. Climbing up the tree as nimbly as a cat, he lifted his gun and looked through the sight. Scanning the area where he heard the noise, he carefully observed the area searching for evidence of the enemy’s location. And then a swift shadow blew by. Gregory followed the figure with his sights, trying hard to lock on to him. His hands were shaky, as he had not eaten since early in the morning. He tried to force his hands to steady, but to no avail. The shadow stopped, obviously thinking it was safe from the gaze of its opponent. Grinning at his soon-to-be victory, Gregory forced his hand hard, just for an instant, to be still, and squeezed the trigger, firing a single, perfect shot at his enemy. The sound of the gunshot rang in the grave of trees into the night sky, and then one more thud. Gregory watched the other sniper fall to the ground. He lowered his gun, with a relieved grin. Not that he had killed his enemy, but that his enemy hadn’t killed him.

Sure that he was now alone, he yawned loudly, stretching his arms out, and resting the gun in the tree’s branches as he leaned against the trunk. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and a light, and set flame to the tip. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the tobacco smoke, filling his lungs with the taste. He placed his hands behind his head like a pillow, and started to think about what he’ll do when he meets up with his company again, and drifted off into thoughts as he closed his eyes. Then another thought occurred to him. Most professional snipers worked in pairs… Was there someone else…? His eyes popped open and he reached to snuff out the cigarette light, but it was a second too late. One last bang filled the sky, and a flock of birds flew away from their perch, disturbed by the noise, and Gregory slipped out of the branches, followed by his gun. On his way down, he exhaled, sucking in the taste of the cigarette one last time, and with his last breath, simply muttered “Damnit.” He landed with a sickening thud on the ground, blood pouring from his chest on to the leaves, turning them scarlet. After that, there was not a sound, and the graveyard lay in a dead silence.