Loop

The sun had long set, the wind was blowing wild, and the rainfall's constant din overhung the quietness of the nearby forest while the cloud-covered moon's bright light pierced through its droplets.

He held his gun still, sight on the target, waiting for the right opportunity to take the shot; he stalled his breathing after exhaling for one last time.

As his lungs emptied, the surrounding noises muffled, amplifying his ever-growing heartbeat.

Grasping his father's old handgun, he could feel the cold metal as he pulled the trigger, anticipating recoil.

Nothing.

He lifted his head and opened his eyes wide before tensely resetting his aim on the moving mark.

He pulled the trigger a second time.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he leaned back into cover, crouching in the mud.

With his leather boots and ankles drenched in the cold mire, a shivering sensation rushed upon his back, reaching the base of his neck.

Suddenly, a loud shot fired from a near distance, piercing through an echo.
He darted his sight around, puzzled.

As he leaned to his right, he caught a glimpse of a downed man lying on the gravel; shortly after, a second shot fired, striking the concrete wall beside him.

Stunned and shaken, he fell backward, hitting his head on the ground, briefly fainting face down in a puddle.

What seemed like seconds later, gasping for air, he pulled his head out of the murky shallow waterhole, noticing its color change; blood trickled down from behind his left ear, blending with the water.

Panting, he hastened to his feet, stumbling toward the forest.

Hidden by a fallen tree trunk on a slope, he could hear footsteps approaching; then, the light cone from a flashlight illuminated the night.

Scouring through the ground, he reached and clutched his fingers tight around a rock as the rifle's barrel slowly began to show from behind the musky log.

He jumped on his feet without hesitation, pushed the gun's barrel away, and swung the stone to the man's temple.

The hit spun the man's head to his left, dropping him senseless.

His right hand relaxed, freeing the bloodied rock.

Breathing heavily, he picked up the rifle, strapping it to his shoulder.

He climbed the ascent and retraced his footsteps back to his initial cover to retrieve his old man's handgun.

Closing in, he began to see the firearm's handle ditched on the dirt, which wasn't the only thing he had left behind.

He had been left behind, face down in the puddle.

With a loss for words, limbs trembling, and a tormenting sense of fear, he confusedly kneeled in front of the body, which he wavered to touch.

He couldn't believe it.

He tried to unscramble what had happened without success.

It didn't make any sense.

He carefully listened to the suspicious snapping of branches and the rustling of leaves from the woods before getting back to his feet.

Overwhelmed by the emotions, the gun was once again left behind.

He walked and hiked roughly two hundred yards until his touch of the wound on the back of his ear made him light-headed.

He first sat and then laid face down on the slightly elevated ground.

As the dizziness faded, he used the rifle's scope to observe the area where he came from, worried the man he had hit in the forest might be chasing him.

Minutes went by before a silhouette of a man roamed past his sight.

He held his gun still, waiting for the right opportunity to take the shot; he stalled his breathing after exhaling for one last time.

As his lungs emptied, the surrounding noises muffled, amplifying his ever-growing heartbeat.
With the man's back lined up, he pulled the trigger anticipating recoil.

With a hurtful kickback to the right shoulder and a loud blast, the bright muzzle flash briefly clouded the target.

He opened his left eye and barely lifted his head.

The shot had found the mark.

From the corner of his eye, he could spot the movement of a second man from where he had previously found himself.

He quickly shifted his positioning to set aim again, but the dizziness rose back, making him miss the shot.

He began to run toward him.

With the flashlight held together with the rifle's grip in his left hand, he turned the corner and shined a light on a bloodied puddle and a muddied handgun.

He followed a trail of blood marks that led into the forest before the rain washed the red from the ground.

The light cone brightened the greenery of the otherwise unclear path and showed a steep descent to the place he once used to hide from the shooter.

With no signs of the body nearing the fallen tree trunk, he felt his rifle's barrel yanked away and saw black as he fell unconscious on the ground.

An increasing ringing made him open his eyes, and every time he blinked, the blood that leaked from his temple colored his sight redder.

He grunted and crawled, stumbled, and walked with all his remaining strengths amidst splintered branches, wet moss, and sharp gravel, only to hear one final shot.