The year is 2016. Joseph, a survivor of 9/11 follows his father's footsteps and enlisted in the military. Not long after, he along with two of his friends were deployed to Iraq among the ranks of some of the best American fighting men: the US Army...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
16.10 hours
April 22, 2009
Archangelsk, Russian Federation
Natasha V. Belova
The northern air was getting colder as the day goes further into the evening. On the edge of the forest clearing, nailed on a pine tree, a man-sized target board stood a hundred meters in front of me. My eyes were looking down the iron sights of a Mosin-Nagant 1891. I held my breath, steadied my aim, and pulled the trigger.
*BANG!*
The bullet grazed the left edge of the target.
"Oh suka..." I muttered. That was the second last round loaded in my rifle.
"Aim to the right, and up..." I heard a man's voice behind me.
Didn't have to even look. I know who it was. I simply did what he says. Aiming to the right to compensate for the wind, and upwards for the gravity. I felt the wind blow on my hair... it blows to the left...
I don't feel the wind is going to stop any time soon for me to take the shot...
"Last one's the charm..." I said to myself.
I pulled the trigger.
*BANG!*
It hit the target. Close to the right edge of the innermost circle.
Well, at this range I'll consider it a bullseye. I smiled, as I stood up and set my rifle on the table. Then I turned to the man behind me, who appeared in a Flora camouflage jacket and a black ushanka. My guess was right. Uncle Sergei. He was a family friend who happens to be in the military, and back then he often goes shooting or hunting with my late father, and sometimes they take me along.
"Privyet, Uncle Sergei," I greeted.
"You are doing well, Natasha," he replied, as he approached me.
"This feels better than university," I said bluntly, as I picked up a spent bullet casing.
"Listen... do you have time? I have information that would interest you."
"Hmm... sure. Make it quick, I have a Sambo class in 2 hours."
"Okay. It is about your father."
I sighed. You may be wondering what is a 16-year-old girl doing, shooting guns way into the evening and taking Sambo classes later in the night, instead of going to university and studying for examinations (and I was pretty damn good, to be honest) or at least procrastinating about it while going in and out of bed. Well, it is a pain to remember, but I might as well tell you... Alright, here goes...
. . .
Six months ago...
I was only one year into my studies in Saint Petersburg University, when I've just came back home and found my mom crying... sitting in the living room. Uncle Sergei was trying to comfort her.
