Jonesy
had made up his mind that he was going to be the one to get that
son-of-a-bitch, come hell or high water. The adrenalin of the
situation was keeping the tiredness of his muscles at bay... that
and the thoughts of shooting Carter.
Jonesy
had been tracking his prey for hours now and so far had evaded
capture by the others who were also tracking him. It was ironic;
the hunter was also the hunted.
The
sun was sinking fast, coloring the sky blood red. The nights sounds
of the jungle were deafening at sundown, as if already in celebration
of the coming night.
Carter
had always been a wise ass. Always one step ahead of Jonesy, always
gloating and filled with an air of smugness... Today was payday!
Today was going to be the culmination of all the little digs thrown
his way by Carter…
Jonesy
grinned to himself. It was almost collection time.
It
was going to be a pleasure to pull the trigger, point blank, right
before Carter's shitty brown eyes. He defiantly wanted Carter
to see it coming. Carter may have been a few steps up the ladder,
but tonight, the ladder was going to be kicked from underneath
him and Jonesy was just the one to do it.
The
night sounds suddenly ceased. All was silent, a sure sign there
was about to be company. It was hard to see in the light of the
newly risen moon. The jungle vines and trees were so close together,
creating a canopy to keep out any but the thinnest shafts of light.
Hunkered
down, Jonesy waited, his heart pounding and his trigger finger
aching. Everything looked the same, tangled and dark. He waited
patiently to see what would appear.
When
nothing did appear, Jonesy moved forward silently, with his eyes
scanning the darkness for movement. Up ahead was a small clearing,
with moonlight filtering down. He paused on the edge of it, gripping
his weapon tightly and straining his ears to hear.
Through
the vines, on his left, there was suddenly the shape of a man,
outlined in the dim moonlight. Carter!! At last Jonesy had Carter
in his sights! He could see clearly the camouflage pattern of
the man's clothes. His back was to Jonesy.
Jonesy
moved a tiny bit closer to get better aim. There was no way he
could afford to miss. It seemed an eternity before Carter turned
slowly to face Jonesy's direction.
Just
as they made eye contact, with a war whoop, Jonesy squeezed the
trigger and as Carter looked down in shocked surprise at the red
dye from the paintball, staining the front of his vest, Jonesy
had a feeling of satisfaction that he had never, in his life,
ever known the likes of before.
