Hope is a moving target and Clare I are static ― locked in the sights of a madman, awaiting a voice in Cyril's ear. ― John J Geddes
*
Kill Shot
I dreamt of Sarah, my dead partner, again that night. It was symbolic, returning to the place where she was murdered. I had tried not to think about it in those terms and my mind complied but my soul rebelled. It wouldn't let her die.
But it was why I dreamt of her at all―to maintain that tie. I wasn't ready to het her go and she wasn't ready to say goodbye.
I was at the quarry on the wooden walkway that zig-zagged across the marsh. At first, I was alone but then I saw her, standing on the opposite end of the duck boards awaiting my approach.
I ran to her but suddenly had to stop―there was a chasm where the boards were gone and all that remained was one slender plank.
"You can't come across," she said. She was smiling and crying all at once, as she did the day I told her I wanted to marry her.
But this time she wasn't reacting from joy but despair and that crushed me.
She died the following day and now I only see her in dreams. It's torture―I can't embrace her and my arms are aching with loneliness and need.
I want to cross over and be with her, but she shakes her head and sadly waves and walks toward the cliffs.
I panic and try to follow her balancing on the plank, but lose my balance and plunge into the icy marsh. The water is waist deep, still I press after, but rushes and weeds hold me back. By the time I flounder to the other side, she's gone and all that remains is the scent of her perfume.
I awaken In Clare's dark den, lying on the couch.
The fire has gone out and I feel darker and emptier than the untended hearth.
I get up, light a fire and put on the coffee maker. I'm awake now and have no intention of returning to the nightmare.
Maggie, Clare's Golden Retriever, has heard me stir and has decided to come downstairs.
I pour fresh water in her dish and give her a sweet potato chew treat―she deserves it for opting to be with me. But she can't fill the yawning chasm inside me or ease the aching in my arms where Sarah used to be.
And I'm wondering if anything or anyone can. And I'm unsure if at at the end of today, that will even be a question, or will a sniper's bullet put an end to my suffering?
"Rough night?" Clare asks over morning coffee.
"Just lovely—the usual nightmares, " I add cynically.
"I'm so sorry, Cam—all loss is hard. I still miss my Mom. I empathize with you."
"I think I'm being punished for lacking empathy with Sarah."
She shakes her head sadly. "I think you're punishing yourself."
"Maybe I am, but maybe I deserve it."
"Give it time, " she whispers.
Time? I muse bitterly...
that's one quantity I don't have plenty of, and after today may not have any.
I'm not looking forward to offering ourselves as decoy targets for an elite forces sniper, but there's a chance we might flush him out of hiding and end this nightmare today.
It's a bitter-sweet moment but it may end successfully and redeem the time lost to pursuing heartless killer.
To be continued…
© 2025, John J Geddes. All rights reserved
