Ready to fight, with the same meticulous care he exhibited in Afghanistan, William cleaned and oiled his weapon.  Like a new personal relationship, a new gun posed a problem. Getting acquainted took time. Adjusting to change could make or break you. Adapting sometimes meant the difference between life and death.

This rifle felt very different, so different William read everything in the owner’s manual that came with the RAP4 T68 M240. Four grand all but guaranteed clean shots and lots of them. With depression ruling his emotions for some time, William welcomed the warm sensation he enjoyed just holding the gun.

Imagining its spacious field of fire bolstered his desire to complete this mission before hanging up for good any weapon of war. When William christened his most recent call to duty “Operation Pacify” he felt like he mattered again, that he could help save lives and maybe one day truly rejoin civilization.

Pacifiers worked on babies for a reason. Security offers comfort to the vulnerable. Trying to soothe makes sense in an increasingly cruel world.

Using a microfiber silicone cloth to gently lubricate the barrel with Extreme Duty Gun Oil, William focused on his new responsibilities. Mindful of his quest, he made slow soft circles on the dull steel, breathing slowly and deeply as he polished.

Of all people, the nurse needed to understand. Mixed messages distracted people. The nurse needed to be more of a role model. Despite the good he did at the hospital, he needed to remain disciplined when he got home.

Slowly climbing the stairs at midnight, Darryl couldn’t help but look for the man who recently accosted him.  

All clear.

Nobody on the street.

Nobody on the landing.

Nobody.

A shadow moved slightly at the end of the hall.

Darryl flinched.

Nothing.

Inserting the key into the lock, he sensed movement.

Wincing, he hoped for another shadow.

What he got was William.

Kneeling at the end of the hall, William stood. Wearing a green ghillie suit that made him look like a cross between a straw man and Bigfoot, he slowly approached. Raising the rifle, William whispered.

You’re not wearing a mask again, he said.

Darryl raised his hands to his cheeks.

Don’t touch your face, William said.

The man was right. Even before Mahlik died, with everything on his mind and COVID-19 death all around, he couldn’t wait to pull the mask off as soon as he finished his shift, rushed to the street and inhaled fresh air that didn’t stink of disinfectant, medicine and destruction.

You are putting me at risk, William said.

I’m sorry, Darryl said.

You are putting others at risk, William said.

I’m sorry, Darryl said.

William raised the rifle and put the stock snug against his shoulder.

No, Darryl said.

I need to teach you a lesson, William said.

Please, Darryl said.

Looking into the scope, William applied slow, steady pressure on the trigger.

Darryl closed his eyes.

Next time, wear a mask, William said.