Lost Girls

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In the night there is death.

It was one of the first lessons they had taught the Sniper and he had never forgotten it. Night is a common denominator regardless of terrain, enemy or mission. It will always come with the movement of the planet. He knew how to move unobserved, like a ghost, in daylight, but the night was his special friend.

He was dressed in a one-piece flight suit dyed black, underneath the full body ghillie suit, which consisted of burlap strips woven into green elastic. The natural color and uneven surface of the ghillie suit allowed him to blend in perfectly with his surroundings. He’d been in the same position for three days. His urine smelled of the jungle as he’d eaten only local food procured from it for a month prior to this mission. He’d had no need to defecate because he’d stopped eating two days before being infiltrated by covert Nightstalker helicopter into this Operational Area along the Caribbean coastline of Colombia close to the border with Panama. On one mission he’d gone eight days without the need. It wasn’t just the lack of food either.

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