Moments Frozen In Time

"What do you see when you look through that lens Knox?"

Knox continued to photograph his comrade. He sat on his haunches rather than the groundin an effort to keep the sand out of his fatigues. Not that it ever worked. Every crack and crevice would be chaffed raw by those tiny little grain devils by the time this mission was over. He didn't usually go on sniper manuvers but his orders were to document this one.

"I see moments frozen in time."Knox finally answered lowering the camera a bit.

"Don't freeze any of my moments in this hell hole." Barker half-laughed, half-scoffed, pulling his face covering closer against the swirling dust.

"What do you see?" Knox asked, jutting his chin toward the sniper's rifle that Emerson held across his lap.

"A target" Emerson lied dryly, as he spat uselessly against the sand in his mouth. He would drink some water but when the wind kicked like this it just mixed with the moon dust. It's times like this that made him 100% certain that he would not be re-upping.He was already swinging his short-timers chain. Less than thirty days to go. Besides if he signed up again he'd just be sent back to this slice of desert or some other sandbox like it . Or a jungle somewhere. He had made 139 kills. Nope, they weren't gonna' keep him state-side. 139 was a lot of faces to see up close through the scope. He turned his brain off. It's was, this was his part in it.

"I don't see how you have the nerve to do it."

"Do what." Knox again lowering his camera, this time looking at Barker.

"Have a freakin' camera up to your face in the middle of a TIC. Them Tangos ain't shootin' water guns you gotta have somethin' to answer'em with!" He said, stuffing the last bite of his MRE into his mouth before readjusting his face covering. partically rising, he moved into his spotters position. He'd love a smoke right now but he couldn't risk compromising their location. He was wearing a nicotine patch so it was just the habit part pokin' at him not the addiction. He could deal.

"We're up Emers." Barker added as he trained his sights on the terrain their team had been surveying for the past three days.

Knox quirked the corner of his mouth. "I got nothin' to worry about when you and Emerson got my six. Right? He received a grunt in response.

Knox smiled. The three of them had grown up together, enlisted together at eighteen and survived boot camp as a team. Barker and Emerson had gone on to sniper school and he had chosen to shoot the war in a different way. Being a Combat Camera was actually terrifying. Was it exhilarating? Yes, and he was absolutely out of his freakin' mind. Especially being right here, right now.Knox acknowledged this to himself as he pulled out a small black book from his field vest and made notes about the pics he had just shot. Laying on his stomach beside Emerson he leveled his long, anti-reflection filtered lens on the heal of his hand behind their sniper's hide. Zooming in he began to scan the area looking for subject matter to photograph. He was basically acting as a second spotter with his high powered attachments. Still alert to the situation he let his thoughts wander. He loved this job, loved the Marines and the sense of brotherhood it provided. At least he used to, he was bumping 43 this year. He was a lifer, had put in his 25. Time to go home and double-dip. When this tour was over he planned to continue this career as a civilian. The photography part, not the combat gig. He would help his daughter hone her eye. He had presented her with her first camera on her thirteenth birthday five years ago. She was already really, really good. She was always sending him her stuff making him smile. She was a natural. Maybe they'd work together after college. Pride glimmered for a moment.

A reflection more than movement caught his attention.

"Hostel at ten O'clock!" Knox said quickly as he zoomed it, snapping pictures in rapid succession. He could see the narrowed eyes of the gunman. Then, there he was looking down the throat of the rifle.

Emerson and his mark pulled their triggers at the exact same time. He saw the red explode out the back of his counter parts head. 140 kills.

He felt the hot wetness splash against the right side of his face. He heard the sickening sound of the impact of projectile hitting flesh. For a split second he thought the he had finally received his due until he saw the crimson stain creeping down the side of his friend's head. The head that had been mere inches from his own moments before. The other sniper had not taken into consideration the wind drift and his bullet had hit Knox instead of him. Cursing, Emerson pulled Knox out of the line of fire. He took the camera from his hand. His finger was still squeezing the shutter button. Knox's warning had alerted Emerson to the snipers position but he had not been quick enough on the trigger to save him. Knox's eyes were looking at nothing. Death has a particular type of stare.

Emerson felt the bump of the wheels as the plane touched doen on the run way. Knox had designated him to escort his body home. The knife cut deep as he noted the grief on the faces of Knox's wife and daughter. Lily was eighteen now. As her godfather he knew her almost as well as her daddy. He had watched her grow up and intended to continue doing so in Knox's stead. Barker had re-upped all fire and fury with the loss of their friend. He himself? He was done.

"Are you sure about this?" His CO had asked. "That's a lot of money to turn down Marine."

Seeing his lack of yielding, the older man added the always tried and true.

"Your country needs ya' son." It had worked before. not this time.

"Yes. I'm sure Sir." Emerson assured him as he racked his cleaned weapon for the last time.

"Permission to be excused, Sir." Emerson snapped a salute holding it, waiting for it to be answered.

"Permission granted." Disappointment and resignation tinged his CO's response. The salute was returned. "Dismissed."

140 kills. That's a lot of blood to stain the ground. Emerson thought to himself as he lifted his duffle bag onto his shoulder and walked away.

Lily Knox looked at the framed, matted photos mounted on the wall then down at the check she held in her hands.

"$20,000." She read out loud in amazement. That's a lot of money for a lowly college student she thought, looking back and forth from the check to the four photographs.

She had shown the prints to her boss at the gallery where she interned.

"Ce sont fantastiques!" Monsieur Dupree had gushed in French. He insisted that he be allowed to show them. They had sold in one day.

She had named the collection "Moments Frozen In Time". That was the last phrase her father had written in his little book. That little black book was were he catalogued any thoughts he had about his shots. It had been two years since he had taken them. Two years since he had been killed. She discovered the pictures only six weeks prior when she had been photographing her father's personal camera. The one he had been using the day he died. Surprisingly enough, the images had been undamaged. She had excitedly processed, cropped and edited into the night. The results.... were breathtaking.

"You did good kiddo. You're dad would be proud." Emerson had a catch in his throat as he squeezed her shoulder.

He felt a sharp pang of discomfort as he looked at the photos from that day. The first shot of the series was of the opposing sniper crouched behind his rifle. A close-up of his eyes and face as he aimed through the scope. The next was a shot down the barrel of the gun. The gun was seen with full clarity, the shooter was out of focus. The third, was an impossible, terrifying but incredible shot of the bullet coming straight toward the camera. The last picture was one that Lily had taken herself of her fathers camera. The camera had a snipers bullet holein the dead center of the lens and was covered with her father's dried blood.

Emerson looked into the eyes of his last kill. They stared back at him from the wall.

"What do you see when you look through that lens Knox?" The question so long ago, so far away.

"I see moments frozen in time...What do you see?"

"A target." He had lied.

What he really saw was what he always saw. What he would always see every time he closed his eyes. What he had seen 140 times. A man, to him, who was niether good nor bad. A man with a life, maybe with someone who would miss him. Someone who would never see his children grow up or get to meet his grandchildren. Who would not see tomorrows dawn. He saw a man who had accepted, as he had, that today he might die.

Frozen there before him was what he always saw before he slowly squeezed his finger. He saw....

....That persons last moments in time.