The sun glared at the camouflaged tarp covering the small hidden outpost. John Freeman’s watch compass displayed 40º Celsius, which translated to more than 100º Fahrenheit. A record high for the Nawzad mountains at that time of the year. There wasn’t even a breeze to cool him down.

Beads of sweat ran down his face, and the inside of his army fatigues were soaked. None of it took his attention from the binoculars in front of his face, though, and he watched over the terrain like a hawk. A very bored hawk.

The mountains were the same as the day before and the one before that. Every once in a while either a goat or a wolf would wander by. Watching them was the most eventful part of being on guard duty. When they would eventually leave, John was back to watching oversized, million-years old rocks.

Gravel crunched behind him, so lightly that John’s ears almost failed to pick up. Still he didn’t move. Cold metal wet with condensation touched the back of his neck, and he finally removed a hand from the binoculars to grab the soda can. “What’s the special occasion?”

Corporal Scott Walker was John’s spotter and bunkmate from training. Unlike John who went straight from boot camp to SOI and finally Scout Sniper School, Walker had already served a tour before. “Congratulations on your first month overseas. How does it feel to finally be in action?”

“The excitement is killing me,” John answered as blankly as he could. He glanced down at the soda can and found it still sealed. Good, else he would immediately discard it considering who gave it to him.

Walker wasn’t a bad man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was known to mess with his fellow marines to pass the time. And time was something they had aplenty.

Nawzad was a small town in the south of Afghanistan. It saw some combat a couple of years back, but it had been mostly peaceful in recent times. Which was certainly good, but it meant that John had nothing to do all day.

This was not what he had envisioned when he enlisted.

He enlisted because he wanted to protect his country. And being a firm believer that the best defense is a good offense, he wanted to be deployed so he could nip threats directly at the bud. Instead, it felt like waiting while the weeds grew.

John pulled the tab up with one hand and brought the can to his lips. The refreshingly sweet taste filled his mouth and brought back memories from childhood, when he would go to the park with his parents. His father would carry him on his shoulders until John became too big for that. His mother buying all sorts of tasty treats for him and his brother to eat certainly aided at that.

He only noticed himself smiling when Walker pointed it out.

“Seems that you liked it,” Walker commented with a smirk that made John wonder if he hadn’t somehow messed with the soda.

John peered inside before taking another gulp. “It’s good,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” That would’ve been a nice ending to the exchange, but of course Walker had to overstay his welcome. “Isn’t it nice to talk to people every once in a week? I keep telling you, you need to talk more. The guys think you’re some sort of robot from the way you always…”

John had already tuned out of the conversation before he even noticed movement in the distance. Zooming in, he discovered two men trekking down the mountain towards the town.

That by itself wasn’t a crime, but it was suspicious. The mountains were notoriously difficult to travel through, which was why the locals used the roads. The only reason to do otherwise was if they had something to hide.

“...more, you know?”

“I see movement.” John offered the binoculars to Walker. “There, at eleven o’clock.” He downed the rest of the soda, discarded the empty can, and grabbed his rifle.

“I see them. Just radio the guys in the town and they will send a squad to intercept them.”

John went down on one knee and propped the rifle’s forestock on top of the waist-high cover.

“They’re almost a klick away, no way in hell you hit.”

John adjusted the scope for the distance and for the first time he was grateful there wasn’t any wind. The difference of elevation was negligible. The men walked one after the other, with the one behind following after his companion through the meandering path.

Crosshairs tracking the one behind, he waited until the path eventually led them both to almost face towards his hiding spot before finally squeezing the trigger.

The rifle’s butt kicked hard against John’s shoulder, and there was a deafening crack despite the suppressor being attached. Contrary to popular belief, he had learned, a suppressor didn’t magically make shots silent. It only muffled them enough so that one couldn’t immediately pinpoint the shooter’s location.

He pulled the bolt handle up and back, ejecting the spent cartridge. When he pushed the handle forward again, it was just in time to witness the results. Little more than a second after shooting at the man’s chest, a spray of blood erupted from his hip. Slightly off the mark.

He corrected it for the next shot, aiming at the companion’s shoulder when he squeezed the trigger again. The man had just flinched at the sudden noise when the bullet caught him in the heart, killing him instantly.

In turn, the first man was still alive. Barely. From how much he was bleeding it wouldn’t remain so for long.

Not a shot wasted, John noted with satisfaction. Not bad for his first shots at live targets.

“Holy shit,” Walker exclaimed, and John smiled. A smile not unlike when he recalled his childhood. “Two tangos from a klick away. Wait until I tell the guys about it.” He slapped John on the shoulder. “The robot is a killing machine.”