Page 89 of Stone

Within thirty minutes, we’d been rounded up and marched to a bright-green Bedouin tent, where our colonel already waited.

He called a battalion formation, and after we lined up, we settled in to listen to our orders.

“I’m pleased to announce that we’ve been selected as one of the first battalions to take part in a coalition force called Operation Desert Shield,” he announced proudly. “Our objective is to protect Kuwait, its citizens, and its oilfields and operations. The Iraqi government wants the same thing as our government… resources. It’s our job to ensure they don’t get them.” He walked down the line, eyeing us individually as he went. “You’re gonna hear a lotta chatter from home. There’s already an anti-war movement forming. Expect to read shit that’ll make you wonder why you’re here. The fact is, it’s not our job to debate politics. We’re here to defend, serve, and follow orders.” His mouth hitched into a smirk. “Our conditions here are dire, but we’re doing our best to give you as much comfort as we can. As you can imagine, it’s been a rush, and it shows in the facilities, but you’ll receive the basics, and remember, Marines, you’ve been trained for this. I have no doubt in my mind we’ll be A-OK.”

He nodded to our commanding officers to lead us off to our billeting, which turned out to be a massive warehouse with a corrugated roof and walls. My unit found its own corner, andwe bunked down on the ground, opening our sleeping bags and setting up our shit.

It was sweltering, it stunk, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least.

I plonked down on my ass, looking around me at the steady stream of military personnel milling around, and my heart sunk inside my chest.

“Well, boys,” Jackson, one of our unit buds bit out. “Looks like we’ve been transferred from the Marine Corps to the damned Oil Corps.”

Chuckles filled the humid, clammy air, and despite myself, my lips twitched.

Jackson wasn’t far wrong.

“Who’d have thunk it?” Spence mused. “One minute, we’re working for the U.S Marine Corps; the next, we’re working for Saudi sheiks who wanna pay us in crude.” He cocked his head in thought. “I wonder if my bank teller will take an oil barrel over the counter?”

More laughter rang out, and all the boys started making jokes about our new bosses and how they’d transfer our salaries back to the States, which, in a way, comforted me.

It didn’t matter where in the world we went or what we were doing. I loved how we could find humor in the most fucked-up situations. In fact, the more fucked-up our lives became, the more we joked about it.

One corner of my mouth hitched as my gut warmed, filling the uncomfortable hole that resided there.

Typical damned Marines.

“Target ETA four minutes,”Laska’s voice crackled through the comms in my ear.“Over.”

“Roger that,” Spence replied quietly. “Over and out.”

I closed my eyes, listening to the wind whipping around my ears.

The ground me and Spence were sprawled on was covered in dust and sand. Every muscle ached, and every inch of skin itched from the uncomfortable heat, but I tamped down the need to move from my position, belly down, and breathed.

“We’re all set, Stone,” Spence murmured. “Everything’s set up, transport’s half a mile away out of range, and our weapons are ready to go. We just gotta wait.”

My index finger tested the buoyancy of my trigger, and I peered through the sight at our target, checking it was all clear.

The wind blew from the east, so I needed my trajectory to begin a little to the west. The breeze was strong enough to move the bullet a millimeter and a half. The tiny chunk of metal had one mile and three yards to travel, and I wanted one clean hit. We couldn’t afford to miss this one. Lives depended on the target outing themselves and being played at their own game.

We’d been here for twelve hours, in the same spot, undetectable. Our target was already here, too. It arrived about two hours after we did. However, we knew its roundabout position to the nearest meter. The problem was we needed more than a meter as a point of reference if we wanted to get a direct hit.

The comms crackled again.“Sixty seconds ETA, Stone. Get ready.”

I checked my sight again. It was clear.

“Thirty seconds, Stone. Look for the signal.”

A truck came careening down the road.

“Wait, stone,” Spence whispered. “Let him make himself known.

I breathed slow, quiet, and steady, listening to the air whipping hard around my ears that whispered directions. Myracing heart began to thud steadily, the adrenaline in my veins making the world around me shrink inward to a small point of tunnel visionthat only existed through the sight of my rifle.

That’s when I caught a sharp flash of light from up the tree we’d stalked for hours, as the Iraqi sniper shot at the truck that had been planted to draw him out.

The sounds quietened until a voice in my head whispered one word.

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