Saint Michael

A single dirt road bisected the village and simple houses lined both sides of the dusty strip. Simple gardens were kept in the back of nearly every house and there appeared to be only two cars for the entire village of thirty or so houses. Woven baskets sat on the front porches of the homes, most likely holding the grain necessary for sustaining life of the simple souls that occupied this small plot of land.

As they huddled in their covered positions, they watched the people of the village settle in for the evening. Fires were lit and children were ushered inside as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. The random livestock that perused the grounds of the village didn’t seem to notice their presence. Chickens continued to pick at the ground without concern and cattle walked clumsily about, unaware of the chaos that was soon to be unleashed on their masters.

One of the men removed a pair of binoculars from his military issue rucksack.

“Three men and one woman.” He whispered to his partner.

“Roger.” The man replied. “We move on my signal.”

Seconds passed, and the men remained motionless in the bushes, crouched like tigers in anticipation of the kill. They controlled their breathing and pulses with techniques that had been programmed into their minds years ago. This was not the first time they had waited in bated anticipation of action, nor would it be the last.

Before the men had time to move against their prey, a twig gently snapped twenty meters behind them. The blood in their veins began to race and they froze, stopped their breathing and listened to the steps slowly approaching them from behind.

The steps came closer and closer, and finally stopped right behind them. The older man slowly turned around to face the heavy breathing that was no more than a few inches behind him. As he turned to face the threat he was met with a low growl.

Snarling at the men’s feet was a black dog, teeth bared while saliva oozed from between his open lips. The hair on the dog’s back was raised and the animal was crouched in the position of an imminent attack. The older man slowly moved his right hand behind his back and drew his K-bar knife from its sheath.

“Shhh!” The man whispered to the dog, moving his free hand in front of the dog’s face to distract him from the movement of his other hand.

With little sound or warning, the man lunged at the dog’s throat, crushing his larynx between the strong fingers of his left hand, prohibiting further noise from the animal. The dog violently thrashed about and quietly yelped in response to the decreased air supply. With his right hand he brought the knife around and into the rib cage of the now terrified animal. The knife plunged into the chest cavity of the dog once, then twice and finally a third time before the dog whimpered slightly and crumpled to the jungle floor, its blood tuning the ground around the now silent animal a dark brown.

The younger man gave him a quick nod and they both turned their attention back to the village. After a cautious assessment of the scene they decided everything was as it should be.

“Now!” The second man whispered with heated breath.

With a quick set of movements the men bounded toward the simple shacks, keeping their weapons aimed in the direction of the unsuspecting people of the village.

As they approached, a man poking a fire quickly looked up and his eyes grew wide. Before he had a chance to scream, a round from one of the men’s weapons was fired and exploded into the man’s right eye, leaving a pink mist hanging in the air where the man once stood.

As he collapsed into a heap of lifeless flesh, the other villagers began to open their doors and investigate the sound of the weapon.

With a surgeon’s precision, the men raised and fired their weapons at every moving body that appeared, using no more than three shots for every victim, two shots