story: Tuesday

Tuesday

by Rod Drake - mrdrake@cox.net

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“I’m in position. Target sighted.” Ray York, SWAT sniper, whispered into his headset. He crouched on the roof, his rifle resting on the parapet wall.

“Copy. Stand by,” came the response from his captain.

Through the high-powered scope, Ray could see one guy, the target, either drunk or high, yelling at his ex-wife, now the hostage, and waving his handgun around. A real piece of work. Beer belly, balding, wearing a wife beater t-shirt. Every so often he would fire out the second-story window at the police cars barricaded below and shout obscenities.

Sushi. That would be good for supper, Ray decided as he waited. Maybe stop at Samurai Sushi on the way home tonight. And stop next door to pick up a lottery ticket. I’m feeling lucky today.

He shifted his position slightly. Planet of the Apes movie marathon on cable tonight. All five of the films, one after the other in order. It didn’t get much better than that, Ray smiled to himself. I really love the second one, Beneath the Planet of the Apes. Those surviving mutant freaks worshipping the last atomic missile. Classic. And even good old Charlton makes a cameo at the end.

The t-shirted target weaved around the apartment, still shouting it looked like. Ray followed him with the rifle. The marathon doesn’t start till later; with any luck, I can be home before Beneath the Planet of the Apes begins with my sushi. That would be sweet.

Should I ask Caitlyn over? Caitlyn lived in an apartment on the floor below him. They had done a few things together recently. I’m guessing she’s not a big fan of scifi films, but I know she likes sushi. I wonder if she’ll be home tonight? Probably. It’s Tuesday.

Ray’s headset crackled, “Still have the target?”

“Affirmative.”

Was Tuesday the night Caitlyn took that night class? Or was it Thursday? What was that night class; cooking? No, some kind of art. Pottery maybe. Ray flexed his fingers, one by one, maintaining his grip on the rifle all the time.

Ray suddenly remembered his nephew’s birthday was only two days away. I’ve got to get something for him tomorrow, without fail, and drop it by the house before I forget.

I was late last year and still haven’t heard the end of it from my sister. Maybe a super soaker. That would be a cool gift for a nine-year old.

The headset ordered, “Take the shot.”

Ray fired, once, and the target went down hard and fast. Ray put the rifle aside and stood up. For some reason, the line “Get your hands off me, you damned, dirty ape,” flashed through his mind.

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Biography: Rod Drake is a native of the Midwest, but currently resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. He has written creatively for himself and a few friends for many years who advised him to share his stories with a larger audience. His favorite writers are Kurt Vonnegut, Richard Brautigan, Ray Bradbury and Mickey Spillane. He hopes to be a success one day.