Dead Aim - a deadly short story by L.A. Cargill

Somehow Michael's unit had found itself hunkered down behind some old deserted buildings out in the wasteland that was called east Afghanistan.

Michael and his five member scouting team had been scouring the area for, who else, Osama Bin Laden and his merry men. They were mercenary men intent on the 25 Million dollar reward for his capture. Oh, and the additional 2 Million dollars from the airline association.

They had been out in the field for 10 days, moving at night, scouting and avoiding any form of civilization which is no mean feat in the nomadic, sheep herding, peasant infested land. They had seen a few camps here and there composed of tents and armed Taliban guards. Well, they supposed they were Taliban. They could actually be any number of rival civil war factions. Who knew?

Mike and Steve were the two semi-disputed leaders of this little para-military group who had come to the war torn land to hunt down America's number one enemy. Like other groups, they were surprised how hard it was to find information on a six foot tall Arab with a bad kidney rumored to be on dialysis.

The group huddled in the wind, smoking their last few cigarettes and figuring they had to head back as soon as dawn broke. They were down to their last six bullets and were suspicious that some roving band would come across their trail soon and they would be caught in a shootout with the very talented marksmen of the Afghani tribesmen.

Mike outlined their plan, "We'll divide up the ammo, one bullet each. If we are attacked, we'll have to each shoot one man and overpower anyone left standing. Get some sleep, guys." The group agreed that this was a good plan and after all, they were trained in hand to hand combat.

Dawn came early and as the group prepared to rise. Sure enough, they heard the sound of a battered old jeep bearing down right on them. They jumped up and chambered their rounds. Just as the jeep rattled into view, three of the Americans went left and three went right and they took aim on the hapless enemy jeep containing the seven Afghanis.

The order to fire was given. Much to every one's surprise, only one man in the back of the jeep died, felled by six well-aimed bullets. The Americans found themselves in deep with empty guns, disbelief on their faces, and hands up in surrender. But, unfortunately, the Afghanis didn't feel like taking prisoners that day.