Young Writers Society

The tinted windows gleamed in the sun, allowing all the rays of light to bounce off them, each with its own purpose, each with a different path to follow, but the man sitting in this car, was waiting, waiting for someone to come.

Waiting seemed so boring for the man in the car, the heat from the sun had made the dust in the car intoxicating and the fumes were distorting his vision, he shook his head as if to say he couldn’t go on, was his malaria returning?

Each year there are approximately 515 million cases of malaria, killing between one and three million people, the majority of whom are young children in Africa, but he didn’t care about them, he just cared about himself. He could remember back in the Ethiopia Desert where to reach his destination he had to trek in unbearable heats, and all he could see for miles around were endless waves of sand, he was sick of the sand and that’s why he had left that life behind him, but the intolerable sun with its hordes of light and heat kept stirring old memories, which were best forgotten.

The pristine gleam shone off the car as the beams of light ricocheted off it, however the man inside was not perturbed and his cold hard eyes glared on. The car wasn’t extraordinary, but it just didn’t seem to fit in, it was as if the car was surrounded by an eerie fog, and this shroud covered car’s attention was fully focused on the building in front of it.

Onlookers all noticed the car, and when they snuck a glance at it, the reflection of the building in front could be seen, and it was as if the car was trying to warn them of its master’s intentions, but none took heed, so the car had no choice but to linger on outside the building waiting for its master to make his move.

The man inside was tired of waiting, he had been in the car for so long he was doubting whether he would ever leave, but strangely he felt attached to it and it was as if the car had become one with him and as if it was trying to warn him about something, but what?

Questions started entering his mind, questioning everything he had been briefed on. Why wasn’t he here yet? Had someone tipped him off? Am I just a sitting duck? Paranoia gripped the man in the car, he risked a glance upwards, and someone was watching him. Was it a sniper? He could imagine it now, the moment he walked outside the car a bullet would be shot from 5 storeys up, with the velocity and power to kill him within seconds.

The image of him being shot kept on replaying in his mind, as if fate was toying with him, maybe he was being misled. The man was panting; sweat ran down him like a chill crawling down his spine. The images had been so vivid, so lifelike, but he knew they weren’t real. He had to concentrate on his target, he couldn’t fail again.

His gaze was fixed on the building in front of him it was packed, with endless hordes of people, each with their own lives, their own problems, but he only cared about one. His eyes wavered, not lingering on anyone for longer than a couple of seconds, waiting for someone to match the blood stained picture in front of him. A touch of sympathy entered his heart, looking down at the man in front of him, maybe he was married, and what if he had a family? How could he wreck another family?

No! He couldn’t think of the past. It had all happened 3 years ago, but there was no point dwelling on the past, but he couldn’t stop himself. The man felt a trickle down his cheek; but he wiped it away without a seconds thought. He pulled down the mirror above him, and looked at his reflection. Things had changed too fast.

As he looked at himself his eyes softened, they glistened as the sun gazed upon them, but they also revealed his fatigue. He hadn’t had a proper nights sleep in months and it was beginning to take its toll. His once healthy face was the image of weariness, his bags stretched across his face, and they seemed to make him all the more sinister, he liked it.

What was he becoming? He enjoyed seeing people fear him; it gave him a sense of domination, was that so wrong? All he wanted was a bit of respect and he didn’t care how he got it. A conflict in his head was being fought, but the good in him was dying and it was fading fast.

The internal battle inside him raged on, but he had already chosen his side, now all he had to do was prove himself. His eyes flashed to the watch on his hand, it was getting late. He smiled to himself; at least he had the cover of darkness. He watched the sun as it fell and from the horizon a man seemed to appear.

Orange light bathed the distant hills. Adrenaline pumped through him, he glanced at the picture and then at the man walking towards him and his face formed a sinister expression, then he opened the glove compartment and took out what he needed. His gloved hands gripped the object, as he rose out of the car. He looked at the man, and raised the object in front of him. Then the silence broke.