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Posts: 376
Join Date: Oct 2008
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BIG BLUE in ‘The Patient Man’ Prologue
It had been twenty-three days and nights since he had began his lone visual. He had weathered the baking sun and the frozen chill air of the long desert night. He had witnessed the rising of the moon stained red by the swirling dust thrown up by the howling winds. He had felt the coarse scales of the rattle snake slide across his back and the hairs upon the scorpions feet prick upon his face. Nature had accepted him as one their own as he knew they would.
Following the rise and the fall of the land, the subtle ebb and flow of the breeze he had like the seed in the wind found indeed fertile ground.
On the third night as the moon rose high full and bright he had spied a lone Indian brave ride across the desert lands that had one held his ancestors. But now his horse was one of steel not flesh. But even so as the distant cloud rose up from the dog soldiers wheels there echoed across the plain the cry of the solitary coyote, as if guiding the traveller to some safe haven.
But it is under such spells as this the hunter must beware. For it is not for him to dream of such things. Only time would bring him his reward for been the patient man. A skill he had mastered in the burning jungles and the shattered streets of other men’s wars. For his thirty pieces of silver he was the willing Judas, the wolf in the fold, the viper in the nest.
On the seventh day just before the sun broke the horizon he saw the burning flame of a meteor ghost across the sky. Portent to some of evil on its way, but he held no sway for myth nor legend. Men like him believed only in the here and now.
On the tenth day as the sun cracked the land there hove into view a creature fierce, wild and strange. From his secret lair the patient man watched all as a battle ensued between the scaled skin beast and two costumed men. The identities of which flashed upon his silvered scope, though one remained unnamed, a man without previous history so it would appear. But these were not the ones he was waiting for, a curiosity to be recorded for his paymasters for future worth.
And it was with silent pride that the fight descended upon the very spot that he had concealed himself, and yet he remained unobserved, invisible to those who fought tooth and nail before the creature fled to find new ground to fight his battles.
Then quiet once more fell for thirteen days and nights. Only the match of the soldier ants marked the passage of time. Time he spent well cleaning his gun, preparing for the final hunt beneath the big blue skies. Soon so very soon his time would come. And the Viper would strike death.
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