Blink - 10thDoM A Shot In The Dark

He blinks. The sky is dark and the scene is moving in stop-motion animation at a slow motion speed. He has plenty of time to register that the bullet that just whizzed by his head would have gone straight through his cheek and lodged itself in his occipital lobe or the back of his helmet had it been two inches to the right. Instead, time slowed. Sounds are muffled. Once every few moments, he can hear a command clearly. His body instinctively follows orders. Mostly, he hears what sounds like the ocean during a storm - waves thrashing, thunder roaring, lightning cracking. It doesn't matter, though. It acts as a filter. He hears what he needs to hear; all else is swallowed by the storm.

***

She blinks. The price on her kids' favorite waffles has nearly doubled. She vaguely recalls hearing something on the news about food poisoning and a plant being shut down and a waffle shortage. She tries not to watch the news these days. She puts the waffles in her cart anyway and continues pushing it down the aisle. The whirring of the grocery's freezers has her entranced. She ambles mindlessly through the frozen foods section adding to the waffles and the dry goods already there: a couple of Bertolli meals, a Stouffer's Lasagna Italiano, a couple of pints of Häagen-Dazs, and some frozen vegetables. She thinks of him. He loves those Bertolli meals.

***

He blinks. Sweat has mixed with the powdery sands and is sliding into his eyes, blurring his vision. Aren't eyebrows supposed to protect my eyes from this shit? It's an odd thought at an odd time, but when seconds are ticking by this slowly, time is an abundant luxury. She doesn't cross his mind.

***

She blinks. She reads the nametag of the cashier again, wondering why anyone would name her child such a thing. The girl seems nice enough even if she doesn't make eye contact, smile, or speak. She watches as the girl scans item after item and places each one in plastic bags on a turnstyle. As the bags are shifted towards her, she picks them up, one at a time, and places them into her cart. "Debit?" The girl finally speaks. "Credit," she responds, swiping the card. The girl's eyes are dead, mouth slightly agape. This place must suck the life out of its workers. Buttons are pushed; she signs on the electronic black line in the electronic greenish box with the electronic pen provided and waits for the receipt. Out of habit, she scans the long white strip of paper, stopping momentarily to muse about the socks she bought for him. He loves new socks.

***

He blinks. His vision is restored. Click. Kill. Click. Miss. Click. Maim. He's an excellent marksman even if he does miss the occasional target. There is more yelling, but it seems further away. Time seems to be speeding up. Bullets are moving faster, commands are becoming more frantic. The oceanic storm is no longer filtering. He thinks of his buddy, looks around, can't see him. Momentary panic. Move on. Click. Kill. He moves position. Click. Miss. He thinks of his men, calls out, gets muffled response. This is not good. Click. Maim. He doesn't think of her. Click.

***

She blinks. Tears fight their way through. She sets the bags on the floor, noticing the red marks crossing her left arm from elbow to wrist from carrying the heavy bags. She finds a new bruise, presses on it. It doesn't hurt. It's just like the others. She has no idea how she got it. The only ones that hurt are the ones she knows exactly how she got. One tear streams down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly even though no one is around to see, to judge. The manila envelope on the counter haunts her peripherals. She begins putting away the groceries - first to the freezer, then the refrigerator, and lastly the cabinets. They'll have hot dogs tonight. She stares at the envelope. She closes her eyes. He will be so angry.

***

He blinks. It is quick. The bullet enters his eye at just the right angle and a fragment lodges in his brain stem. His body is limp. Blood oozes from the eye socket. His gun is still in his hand. It was a lucky shot, a wayward bullet. They don't know how to aim. They just shoot and hope. Their hope pays off in death. He fought the way he should have. She never crossed his mind.

***

She blinks. She cannot believe what she is seeing. It is dark. Two men, both in uniform, one carrying a Bible. She closes her eyes. There is sadness. Breathe. Her heart begins to race and the tears begin to fall. She breathes too quickly for a moment, but it is interrupted by a thought. There is relief. Between the sobs, there is relief. Knock, knock, knock. Three quiet raps against her front door. She presses her lips between her teeth, squeezes her eyes tightly shut, new tears fall. She places her hand shakily on the doorknob. Sigh. Smile. Deep breath. No one will know about the manila envelope. She can be free. He can be a hero.