I was ready and in position, looking through the scope of my rifle. It felt heavier than usual. But I was sure it was just me, breaking deep down inside. I had used this rifle for as long as I could remember. After a long time in my life I was nervous, I was scared. Life suddenly seemed like a blessing even with all the hardships that I had endured. May be because my life was all set to get back on the track. I had spent the last ten years wanting that to happen and the fear of losing everything all over again started to get on my nerves. I felt like a rookie, too green for the field.

Fearful thoughts were constantly bombarding my mind when the sounds of wailing sirens fell on my ears. Finally the wait was over. The caravan was approaching. It wasn’t hard to hear it even from far a distance, the screaming sirens of police cars and accompanying ambulances were a dead giveaway.

It was a matter of seconds before the gates of the Governor House opened to let the caravan in. With just a glimpse of the approaching caravan I had a realization of the coming death.

The Governor’s black BMW was accompanied by half dozen police cars and special forces jeeps along with four or may be five private security vans and countless political party workers on motorcycles who wouldn’t think for a second before sacrificing their lives to ensure the safety of their new leader.

But all that security was not my problem, at least not yet. I got a hold of myself and steadied my hands. I had only one shot.

The caravan stopped in front of the house. The black BMW was parked right at the house’s entrance.

The Governor stepped out of the black BMW. It was no rocket science in judging that he’d be wearing bulletproof vest under his expensive suit. I moved the crosshair straight to his forehead and without giving it a second thought I squeezed the trigger.

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