Time/Date Error (Damned of the 2/19th-Book Six) - Done

Airborne

GPS LOCATION ERROR!
(R)etry, (I)gnore, (A)bort
>I
2/19th Special Weapons Group
CANNOT LOAD UNIT SPECIFICATIONS
(R)etry, (I)gnore, (A)bort?
>I
SECURE AREA
CRC FAILURE  IN BOOT SECTOR ADDRESS
(R)etry, (I)gnore, (A)bort
>I
WARNING! TIME/DATE STAMP ERROR
CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURES!
(R)etry, (I)gnore, (A)bort
>I
I

I

    I was laying under the camo'd tarp, the old M14 rifle socked into the socket of my shoulder. My Father was laying next to me, looking through his binoculars.
    "He's at three hundred yards, boy. Remember, just behind the foreleg, you don't want him to suffer," My Father said. "Otherwise, if you wing him, we'll have to track him down so he doesn't have to suffer."
    "Yes, Father," I said, my voice cracking. I was 12, my first hunting trip where I'd carried a rifle. I looked through the scope, moved the scope slowly until I could see the buck. Eight points each antler, he was large and obviously had managed to escape hunters.
    "He'll be good eating, you get him," My Father said. "You don't have to fire, boy. You can let him go if you want."
    I looked at him and he smiled. "When you're hunting, boy, the option to not kill is always there. You weigh what have available to eat against what your shot will provide. Now, you know we've got food, but we always need more food. We've got a lot of mouths to feed."
    "And Sissy makes venison sausage," I said.
    "And Sissy makes delicious venison sausage," My Father chuckled.
   I fired.
   "Nicely done, boy. Now let's go get him. We'll carry him out and dress him," My Father said, standing up. "Get your canteen cup though, there's one more thing you have to do."
    I nodded.
    It was time. I'd made my first kill.
    It was time to drink the blood...
   ...eat the heart...
   ...and take my first steps toward manhood.

The memory shattered as I put pressure smoothly on the trigger until the M5 Winterized Trigger system went back and the hammer hit the primer of the 7.62mm NATO round. The primer went off, igniting the cordite, which exploded, rapidly expanding in gasses and explosive force, which tried to create space by pushing the only things that would move. The bolt, and a heavy grain full metal jacket bullet. The bolt went back against the recoil spring, driving the weapon against my shoulder, against the pins and clips holding the muscles and tendons into the spots where they were naturally attached on normal people. The bullet travelled down the barrel, the rifling putting a spin on the heavy round, which exited right before the burst of unburnt propellant, which caught fire as soon as it was exposed to the oxygen of the air, causing a bloom of flame from the end of the M14A1 7.62mm battle rifle.

The barrel rode up, and I let it go, allowing it to drop naturally back into position, just maintaining my grip. It dropped just like it should, right back into the sweet spot.

I ignored the pain in my shoulder, staring through the sight. There was a BDU clad figure down in the snow, a flashlight beam sweeping onto the body. Grinning as I panned left, I followed the flashlight beam. Someone was standing there, staring, holding the flashlight.

...center mass...

The trigger went back easily. The retort was loud and I saw snow shiver off of the trees as the heavy caliber round plowed through their stomach. When the scope dropped back down I could see them kneeling in the snow, screaming. The scope brought their screaming face into focus with crystal clear clarity.

Female. Brown hair with a few curled locks out from under the hat. Green eyes wide and full of tears that were freezing on her cold whitened cheeks. Wide open screaming mouth with yellow teeth and a white coated tongue.

I pulled the trigger again, and the round punched through her open mouth.

Someone had knelt down next to the woman I'd just killed. The crosshairs were aligned just at the top of their head.