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A Man must Die

By January 10, 2023 8 Comments

By  Lewis M. Mwangi


The man glances at the tawny bullet in his hand. Designed for long distance and optimized for maximum damage. It is the primary cartilage of choice in this line of work. He admires the .300 Magnum bullet as he loads it into his .50 calibre anti-material rifle. He is nervous but cautiously handles the automatic firearm. He wipes the weapon for the umpteenth time, checks it, loads the bullet and checks again.

Finally, he assumes the prone position, a bipod supporting the long barrel, and the gun stock against his sweaty cheek. The man rests his eye on the rifle binoculars, giving him a telescopic view of the backdrop. In the distance, the majesty of the sunset fills the horizon. The cloudy sky is a splendid yellow proceeding from the setting sun. The distant hills form a silhouette against the sunset.

Slowly, the man adjusts his zoom, allowing him to refocus closer, about one and a half miles away. He scans the surroundings, observing the flurry of activities below. Palm trees swaying in the wind, glass skyscrapers reflecting the busy highways beneath, cars going to and fro, clamouring crowds lining up close to the main highway, military vehicles and personnel strategically securing a reserved lane. An important man is passing through in a couple of minutes. The seemingly ordinary scenery is surreal. The mob throngs excitedly along the highway, oblivious to what is about to happen.

For a moment he is haunted by guilt. He does not wish to disturb the sense of normality. In the corner of the lens, a dark line emerges, hurtling along the reserved lane. It becomes distinguishable as it takes shape. It is the dark convoy of the important man. Dark because all the dozen SUVs are black, typical of most so-called important men. The man with the rifle scoffs. He dislikes important men, especially government people. They just sit in expansive offices to repress you and fill their pockets.

As the convoy approaches, time slows. Everything is in slow motion. How did it get to this? The man recalls his time serving in the army, how he was deployed in Afghanistan, how he killed innocent women and children in the name of following orders from above. Orders that senselessly labelled these women and children as terrorists. When he decided it was enough killing, these government people betrayed him. They labelled him a deserter and placed a kill order against him. They put a bounty on his head, deployed a kill squad, and lied to his family he died in action. His family must have been devastated by the news. His heart dies. Forced to hide, flee or fight for his life. Once, he had to survive alone in the Afghan jungle, always looking over his shoulder. He faked his death to stay alive. His family must be devastated, his heart dies.

He is not the same now, not a soldier anymore. He works for a ruthless covert syndicate. The promise of a million-dollar payday, his seething fury against the government and the warning of death in case of failure fuel his adrenaline. He does not care about the sense of normality anymore, all guilt evaporates. He zooms in on one particular SUV in the convoy. Third from the front. It is sleek, with a delightful design and an enchanting contour. The Mercedes-Maybach is of imposing length, and its honey-comb grilles give it an exclusive look. Its gleaming rims are made of polished silver, quite impressive.

The important man sits at the back, behind tinted windows. With eyes firmly fixed on the zoomed binoculars, the man tensely rests his index finger on the trigger. He watches the important man calmly conversing with the security detail to his right. The important man is the president, and he is oblivious of what’s about to happen. The man pulls the trigger. He knows the stakes involved. If he hits his target, a man must die, if he misses, a man must die.


Lewis M. Mwangi is a passionate writer, Kenyan businessman and Christian. He pursued a Bachelor of Economics and Statistics but loves expressing his creativity and imagination through writing. When not doing business, Lewis spends his time writing creative pieces or taking nature walks with his daughter. You can follow him on Facebook @Lewis Nesh and Instagram @Munene_Lewy or browse some of his articles published at   


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