The sniper lay quiet, watching the convoy of US Humvees swirling dust in their wake as they rumbled across the open valley below. Akhmad had given his life over to the Taliban 6 years ago after his mother, father and beloved sister were blown to vapour by a US Drone. Until that time, he had been a struggling carpenter, making ends meet with what little work he could find, exchanging his skills for scraps of food for his family. His greatest joy was being able to help his little sister, Jainu, learn English – which he himself learned from his mother before she was left mute from a nearby explosion. He saw in his sister a strong desire to learn and besides a naivety common with most girls in their village, she was very mature and strong-headed. She once commented to him, “When I go to America, I will work to buy a video camera to take movies of all the wonderful things women can achieve and freely do and show it to all the girls in my village.” Even though Akhmad knew he couldn't let her do that for fear of reprisals, he joked, “If you can learn enough English to go to America, I will let you hide in my suitcase when I go!” To which she warmly punched him in the arm and followed with an embrace, saying, “Akhmad, if you can help me learn even enough to go to school in Kabul, I will be your slave for life..”
He had to hold back tears and the choking feeling that always came when he relived those final happy days. Then the anger would take over, followed by the coldest resolve he could bring forth.
His village was a mess, his family murdered, no work, no money. It all added up to not only complete hopelessness, but mostly with the loss of his young sister, and he now at age 33, the only reason to become this cold-blooded killer - but not for the Jihad, nor for Al quaida. It was his own personal war now.
As the Humvees approached the ridge below, Akhmad focused his deadly rifle through the windshield at the passenger of the first Humvee. Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! The bullets were clean and ended the first American's life immediately, followed by the three rear passengers' and finally the driver's. He had done this many times before, just slightly spacing each shot enough to sweep the vehicle – always leaving the driver last so he didn't swerve and mess up his planned aim. The first vehicle was “initiated” in just a few seconds as he slightly moved aim to the second vehicle that had yet reacted to his first initiation. Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Exactly the same as before. His chances of accuracy lessened with each second, and by now the first Humvee was careening into the side of the ridge, followed by the second ramming hard into its rear-end. With the two vehicles causing a road-jam, he was free to riddle the third and last Humvee with bullets, still in a controlled back and forth sweep. This Humvee was already trying to avoid the front ones and was wildly swerving when the barrage of bullets slammed into it, jerking the driver even harder, it hit the lip of the road, sending it into a roll that left it smashed up against the ridge. Now that the drivers were out of action, he pummeled the vehicles with bullets, making sure there was very little chance of survival for any of the American dogs. Now he was able to go down to tidy up his work.
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