I know I haven’t spoken specifically about any of my jobs beyond the superficial, but I need to now because this specific job – the most difficult one on every level – was when I really knew I had committed myself to the work. It was depraved and it was the point of no return. Commitment, even when committing to something positive and worthwhile, is the hardest thing a human being will every do because in committing to one thing we are giving up the possible alternatives. With every commitment, be it a relationship, a career, or a simple coffee, we must sacrifice the alternative in the present for our choice. Sometimes the alternatives aren’t what we want anyway, so the commitment is simple. Other times, well, you get it I’m sure. But, again, it was only after this job that I realized how much I was committed to this life and though there were alternatives I wasn’t prepared to give up anything for those alternatives to play out.
It was Christmas night ten years ago and the contract was brutal. Putting the plan in place took a week and it involved a snipe and an explosion. One was to create shock and the other was the end result. I laid the explosives the week prior under the guise of some kind of inspector. It’s been years and I have used many different infiltration techniques, but that is the only specific I forget about this job. The house backed onto a ravine and it was there I set up shop with a clear view of the dining room. It was mild for December so it made for an easier getaway leaving no trace in the snow that had yet to fall. I remember thinking that if I was to do this what was the accomplished effect? It made little sense, but neither did any of this fucking fiasco. The family sat at the table. The father at one end facing me, the mother at the other and flanking the sides were their three daughters and son. You flashed through my head right then as I peered through the sight. I pictured us and the future we could have had. The father stood, picked up the carving tools and loomed over the turkey for a moment, eyeing his family for what would be the last time. Just as he was about to drive the serving fork into the beast my elbow slipped on the wet leaves and my finger yanked the trigger. With haste, I picked up the weapon and was able to see the shot had hit the wall on the far side of the room and the family was racing out of the room towards the front of the house. I had seconds to act. Take them all or fail the job and possibly lose everything. It was just meant to be him with the shot and the house after it was empty to send “a bigger message”. I’m not sure if you remember the news story, but they did manage to find all of their bodies or at least parts of them. At least those parts were laid to rest.