Bullet 4 Part 13

1500hr

I was told he is in there; the old manor of the ex-King. The copter was forced to land here by a series of copters which block its escape. So the copter had to land here and upon landing its rotor was severely damaged by some well placed shots.

"We have cleared the area and he is alone now. He will see you for tea I believe."

We met at the porch. General Diego is a marksman himself; a seven time winner of his army best. He likes better to deal with his enemies with a personal duel of marksmanship.

"Its to be a personal duel."

And we agreed.

We flipped a coin and he won. He gets a spare ten minutes advantage. He also gets to select his weapons. He took a Artic Warfare 50 and his personal Glock 7. I took what was there which is the Remington and the SIG 226. 

He select the jungle well where there are no trodden paths and thick undergrowth with large trees of thick branches. It did not take him long to sight me and he showed his skills to me. The shot missed me by inches and now I am in need of cover. I crept into the bush and move slowly along it. The second shot came just inches again before my head. The General is picking his time on me. I took my sniper lens and looked through it. I slowly picked the bushes and trees as I scan the path where the shot could had come from. Then I caught hold of his barrel thrust through the bush thickets. It was also then he took his fourth shot but I rolled away in time. But not without the bullet grazing my left shoulder.

"General, four shots and you down to your last bullet. There are no spare clips for you. I forget you have the Glock. Ten shots clip but that is not a weapon of the sniper. That's a handgun." But he did not shoot.

Now its my turn. I set back the lens and checked the ammo clip. Four rounds to do the job.

I lined up the rifle to the last known position when I saw him shoot me. The barrel is not there anymore. He has moved and now I will hunt him. I tracked him for one hour and the clock is clicking at 1659hrs. I saw the bastard now in my sight and I tracked him as he moved by the trees. He is moving back to the Manor to get more ammo. But I will hasten him in his move. I breathe in and took the shot at his heel. He jumped ahead on my shot and dropped himself to a bush. From there he stayed to assess his next move.

But I can wait.

He may not be like me. He moved. And I shot that hit his Artic Warfare from his hand to be flung to the right of him.

A sniper to lose his rifle is like losing his life.

He reached for it and I let it go at him. It struck his left wrist and he is crippled. As a sniper. But not as a killer.

He drew his Glock and fired from his prone position. A seres of shots from a desperate man who was once one of the best. But his aim can be wild but random possibility can extract miracles.

Of the eight bullets he shot, one was to hit me although it was weak in its trajectory at over two hundred yards but it hit me in the chest. Its not fatal but it bloody painful. I dropped my Remington and reached for my wound. It was then he disappeared into the jungle again. I tore off a right sleeve of my shirt and wrapped it around my waist.

Darned he is gone. I checked his last position and so is the Artic Warfare. I got one more shot in my Remington. But a full load in my SIG. I stood up and looked at the surrounding and in this situation that is an invitation to be shot at. He did as I predicted with the Glock but his bullet grazed my left shoulder but now I got his position pinned down.

He's over by the tree behind some bushes and about a hundred yards to the green yard of the Manor. I am laying down on the ground and I dragged my Remington to my fore. I rest the barrel on uplifted roots on the ground and laid it on the curve to serve as my tripod. I adjusted my body to have my full weight behind the rifle. I sight the scope lens as I scan the tree. I moved it down by the inches down the side and into the bushes covering every gap I could see.

Where's the bastard?

It was not the tree or the bush that told me but the late evening sunlight that breaks itself through the lower branches and leaves. It reflected off his lens and that all I need to see. I pushed my right shoulder forward and raised my left elbow ever slightly to trained the barrel on him behind at the the mid tree trunk. It was a shot taken from years of experience and skill. The bullet propel from the barrel to cover the two hundred yards to hit into his rifle lens and into his right eye. But his last shot was on target but not to destination. The bullet from the Artic Warfare tore into my left thigh and exit just above the knee.

But the duel was over.

And the rebel champion has been declared winner.