Page 12 of Eternal
I’m a shadow among many, and no one knows who I am, or what I do. My balaclava hides my face, while my sniper riflerests against my back as if I didn’t use it to take the life out of someone.
The van awaits me and the team is already inside.
Vlad smiles at me with a thumbs-up, Oleg is still texting his girl, and Roman and Yuri are arguing about something stupid again.
In a few minutes, we’re back at the camp.
Inside, I hang my gear on the rack and unclip my vest, letting it fall onto the chair.
I sit at the table, the flames in the fireplace lighting up the room, but I’m still only in a t-shirt.
I don’t like the heat much, I prefer the cold.
Maybe it’s because I’m used to it, Vlad is the same. He’s the only one who doesn’t complain, probably because he’s used to it too. We slept outside so many times when we were younger, the rain, the wind, it wasn’t easy, but we got through it.
My hands move through the familiar motions, dismantling my sniper rifle with precision. The clicks fall into a rhythm as I go through the same routine, double-checking everything.
Strip, wipe, oil, reassemble.
I never knew why I was so strict about it, maybe it’s because no one ever taught me how to live, only taught me how to survive. Out there, nothing stays clean for long, but here, at least, I can make one thing right.
One thingmine.
I see Roman standing in the corner, his eyes still red from the cold, he’s trying to hide it, but I can tell he’s pissed. It’s not often we end up in a mess like that, and his mistake nearly cost us, and it did cost a man’s life. He should’ve listened.
Vlad and Yuri are busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and Oleg is on his phone. But their eyes flick toward me every now and then as I stare hard at Roman.
Roman looks up, but he doesn’t meet my gaze, he knows I’m pissed, but not nearly as much as he should be. He should’ve been more careful.
“Roman,” I call out, my voice low. “Get your shit together. I know it’s hard, this mission’s a long fucking one, but with the money, you won’t have to work for a few months and you could eat as many pizzas as you’d want.”
He flinches at the sound of my voice. “I know, boss. I fucked up,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “It won’t happen again.”
I stay silent for a moment and look at him. He’s younger than us, too young, and I hate that he has to live like this, killing, destroying lives, walking through violence like it’s normal.
He never gets anything soft, nothing kind.
He’s still a child, no matter how steady his aim is.
And I hate that I see it, that I see the child in him while he kills to survive.
He shouldn’t be here, but I guess life doesn’t care what we should be.
After a few drinks and when the food arrives, the mood starts to lift. Roman leans back, he laughs more, and it’s probably because of Yuri's exaggerated story from the field, making even Oleg laugh so hard he almost spits out his vodka.
But Vlad? He’s sitting across from me, holding a beer but barely drinking, his usual spark is… gone, and it’s replaced by something distant.
Roman notices too, throwing him a mock-scolding look. “What’s wrong with you,Malysh? Missing the women? I can come to you at night if that can help relax you.”
Vlad forces a weak smile before tossing a piece of bread at his head. “Son of a bitch. Nothing, just thinking.”
Yuri rolls his eyes. “Thinking is dangerous, my friend. Stick to what you know: not thinking.”
Laughter rolls around the table, but Vlad doesn’t take his eyes off his beer, and that’s not like him.
When he stands and heads for the door, I set my drink down and follow him outside into the cold night.
The air hits us like a wall of ice, almost slapping us immediately. There’s no one out here, only us and a church not too far away.
