Standard Procedure

Standard Procedure: Target

The air shifted as the sky began to darken, it looked like rain. The young man pulled back the binoculars and tugged them inside his leather bag. He tugged the listening device from his ear, turned it off and slid it into the bag beside the binoculars. The first raindrop fell and slithered down his cheek, he made no motion to wipe it off. His eyes remained level with the building across the street. He watched a helicopter land on the pad on the roof, its blades slicing through the light rain. His gaze turned back to the room he was monitoring. No movement inside for the past five hours, besides the nurses going about their daily duties. The old man held no particular interest in any of them, he just watched the ceiling day and night. Why did they want him dead, he was so senile and detached? He shrugged off the question, he'd learned long ago to stop asking questions, if they wanted him gone, then he was already dead.

They'd contacted him a few days ago with a job. He'd taken it of course, no large amount of money needed. The order had come from very high on the food chain. The government is a complex organization, with its intricate parts and plentiful share of secrets. The man swept his hand through his crew cut, feeling the cool raindrops that had collected there. He was perfect for the job; nameless, faceless, without emotion. After all he was trained by the best if the heartless. He was trained in the heart of the CIA. He stared at his diver's watch and reared back up on his haunches. He'd watched the room for twelve hours now. Reaching for his leather case he thought about what lay ahead for tomorrow. The mission held no particular emotional distress for him. Another body, another name, another mission. They had trained the emotion of killing straight out of him, he felt nothing, for no one, at no time, after all he was the government's best, he was a NOC.

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David lay awake that night, his eyes constantly turning to the hospital window, the rain was coming down hard now, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet outside the window. David felt uneasy, he felt like he was being watched, he shifted his gaze back to the door to his room. Nurses rushed by attending to other patients or chatting amongst themselves about whatever petty gossip they'd heard.

His gaze turned back to the window, his mind was playing tricks on him, he decided, but he still couldn't shake the feeling. He struggle to see through the thick sheets of rain that obscured his view to the building across the street. It was completely and utterly pointless, the rain was coming down far to fast. And besides, who ever had been watching had left. David no longer felt his presence, but he knew he'd be back. Looking about his room he felt utterly alone, the man in the bed next to him had been comatose since they brought him in last night. The only indication that he was in fact still among the living was the constant beep of the heart monitor, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. David simply stared at the ceiling, wondering, thinking.

He felt his mind sway back toward the past. In his mind he had left the hospital room and was transported to a parallel dimension, another time, another place.

His green army fatigues hung on his bed post. He couldn't sleep here either, it was after all the first of his many nights to come that would be filled with unrest and troublesome secrets. It was ungodly hot in the compound, with the rain gone, the only cool that persisted was from the luxury of a few fans circulating stale air. David was ready, tomorrow would be his day, he would join the search group. His unit had been sent on retrieval duty, to search and rescue captives of the Vietcong. David listened to the loud snores that echoed it seemed off every surface. He was wide awake, excitement pulsed through his body. He loved the feeling, he was addicted to it, every muscle in his thin body tightening and loosening in anticipation. His eager eyes scanned the darkness, looking for any indication of the start of a new day.

A loud bell sounded through the compound. The men were up in an instant. Frank groaned beneath him. The officers were grabbing their uniforms and directing the new soldiers to do the same. David swung out of bed, tugging on the camouflage uniform over his bare chest. Frank started to do the same. The movement was practiced by months and months of training. David finished lacing his boots and stood at attention beside his bed. He felt Frank's presence beside him and moved to accommodate his large comrade. Frank's face showed that he too had not slept well that night. His expression was impossible to read, so David instead turned his attention to the commanding officer and joined his fellow soldiers as they strapped on guns and loads of ammunition. Finally he put the helmet on his head and joined the line to exit the compound. David's unit broke off from the main expedition at exactly two miles into their hike.

They continued to walk on, separating from the other squadrons. Sargent Green, his commanding officer checked his coordinates and proceeded through the thick jungle. David took it all in, every sense was tingling, he was in his prime. Sargent Green motioned for them to stop. David crouched low on the ground like the rest of the group and pulled his gun. They sat motionless for thirty minutes before standing and resuming along the trail. They made it back to the compound just as the sun dipped behind the treetops. David was tired, every muscle ached and his head throbbed, presumingly from lack of sleep.

He blinked, he was back in the hospital room, with it's off-white walls and florescent lights. The pretty nurse, Jane hadn't been in today, she probably had the day off. He could feel that things would end very soon now. He could feel his body shudder now with every ragged breath and he was coughing up more blood then ever. With his hand that wasn't tethered to the bed with tubes he reached to the nightstand. He pulled at the knapsack they'd brought him from home. He turned it over on his stomach and ran his hand along the interior. He found what he was looking for as he pulled out a small black book, worn from years of careful hiding and moving to keep it safe. He no longer trusted the knapsack to conceal it, he had to keep it safe, keep it close, now more than ever. He wasted no time. David slid the knapsack back on the stand and held the black book in his hands. He smoothed his wrinkled hands on its worn leather surface, feeling every fold and crack. He turned on his back and tucked the book underneath the small of his back. Pulling the sheets to his chest he listened to the whir of machines and the steady drip of morphine. Things were happening fast now, too fast. That book held everything, and he would do anything to keep it safe now. He had to pass it off now. Wether she understood it or not yet it had to be done, he thought as he closed his eyes. She would have to do what he could not, she would have to live.