He climbs the rest of the ladder onto the rooftop. Keeping low, his rifle slung under him, he moves slowly across the flat roof, until he takes up position at a low wall. Distant gunfire. A good view of the city and surrounding rooftops. He sets up the rifle and scans around through the scope. Nothing obvious.
He sits for a long time. Cold, but not uncomfortable under his thick fatigues. He scratches his nose and thinks about how nice a cup of coffee would be right now. The fighting is still far away but that doesn’t mean there aren’t enemies close by. On the contrary, there’s a good chance enemy forces will try to outflank their positions through this district if their assaults continue to get rebuffed, which means there’s a good chance he will have to shoot someone today. He’s still not sure how he feels about that, after all these years of war.
When he does kill, there is a sense of heightened life. The adrenaline sharpens his senses, in a way that makes him feel both powerful and unstable, like a live wire. The implications of what he has done don’t announce themselves until much later. In the moment there is just the increased sensitivity of his body and mind, and that is both addictive and repulsive. Right and wrong. He can see why some people want more and some people never want it again. He isn’t sure what that makes him, to be stuck between.
Paddy Dobson
13th November 2022