THE SNIPER IN HAND

My family and I stood outside to welcome my uncle, Adam Noah, as he alighted from his vehicle - a black Toyota Highlander. His presence was marked by his attire - a blue shirt and blue knickerbockers. His wrinkled skin and grey hair were a testament to his old age. He closed the door of his vehicle and stood there, smiling.

My father exclaimed, "Big bro," as he climbed down the stairs to hug my uncle.

Holding my father in his embrace, my uncle said, "You haven't changed one bit."

"Who's gonna change me?" my father asked.

"Are those my nieces? Y'all come on in," my uncle called out to my sister and me.

Emma and I joined the family hug, struggling to breathe in the tight embrace of my uncle. I wondered how he was still so strong at such an old age.

"Oh, there!" my uncle exclaimed, slightly. "We need to go inside. This sun is killing me."

Everyone chuckled and walked into the living room.

My uncle took a seat on a couch and said, "I was certain John wouldn't change these couches."

"These are the best quality ones you'll find in the market right now," my father defended, reclining on a couch. "Emily, why don't you get your uncle some water to drink?"

"I'll do that right now," I said, quickly walking to the kitchen.

My motion was halted when my uncle said, "Hold up. Don't y'all have beer around here?"

"We do," my sister answered.

"No beers for you, Adam. Your wife warned me not to give you beer because of your health," my dad shook his right index finger.

"That woman keeps tracking my life," my uncle scoffed. "I'll take the water then."

I continued my walk to the kitchen.

Adam Noah, my uncle, was a retired military officer. He had served the country for twenty years. Upon his retirement, he ventured into farming. Though he made most of his income from Wolfsbane cultivation, he was also into livestock farming. In fact, he had the biggest ranch in his state.

My uncle's business was also managed by his wife, Deborah Noah. The couple had been married for over thirty-eight years and had three adult children. Just like her husband, Deborah had her own enterprise - a hospital. Since they lived in a small town, her hospital made a significant turnover every month. Deborah's knowledge of health and versatility really helped my uncle a lot.

My uncle mostly visited when he was in the mood for hunting. Just like my dad, he was angry that his sister-in-law got murdered. On the field, we called him "the sniper in hand" as he never missed a shot.

I returned with a bottle of chilled water and a glass cup. I placed it on a stool, took it to where my uncle sat, and poured some water into the glass. I took my seat near my sister afterwards. My uncle sipped the whole cup of water and asked, "Where were we?" He cleared his throat and continued, "The full moon is tonight; we must get ready. I've got y'all some gear. Those wolves ain't doing anything this time around."

"Are you supposed to go hunting, though?" my dad inquired.

"What do you take me for? A plastic bottle?" my uncle countered. "I've got the girls some gifts too. You can go check them in the car."

"Thanks so much, uncle," my sister expressed her gratitude.

Before I could appreciate his kindness, my uncle fell asleep on the couch.

"He hasn't changed one bit," my dad said. "Come on, kids. Let's go see what your uncle got for us."

My family and I walked to my uncle's vehicle, and my father opened the trunk. There were loads of boxes. My dad opened a box and said, "Guns; so typical of Adam."

"For a moment, I was excited he actually got us real presents for the first time," Emma shook her head.

"What an awesome family," I said, sarcastically.

"Come on, kids. Let's unload the trunk," my dad requested.

My family was so unconventional. It was literally the only family that received weapons as birthday presents for their kids. I guess the grown-ups skipped parenting class, or better still, they didn't have that back in the day.

The boxes my uncle brought consisted of sophisticated firearms, backpacks, a medical kit, survival kit, body armors, GPS units, camouflage gear, and explosives. This hunt seemed more like a war.

My sister and I spent our afternoon in the field, practicing how to effectively use firearms. At some point, I wanted to stop, but I remembered that my mom's killer was still out there, roaming freely. I persisted, burning with an intense desire for justice. I sensed in me that we were getting closer. One day, that murderer would come out, and I prayed he would fall into my hands.

The night was characterized by the sounds of crickets and the howling of wolves from afar. My uncle, before anyone else, got dressed in his battle dress uniform - a black sophisticated camouflage that enabled him to blend into the night. He had a tactical flashlight on his head and a bulletproof vest around his chest. His demeanor exuded confidence.

My dad, after he had finished dressing in his black battle dress uniform, loaded the trunk of his Ford F-150 with firearms and the gear we needed in the field. My sister and I, after we had finished dressing in similar outfits, sat in the back seats. My uncle sat in the front while my dad took the driver's seat. We began our journey after we all said a silent prayer.

"I believe you all have your communication devices with you," my uncle said.

"Yeah, we do," everyone else replied.

"I have a strong feeling that today's hunt is going to be different," my uncle said, sighing.

When we got to the woods, my father parked the truck somewhere safe. Everyone alighted. We all took bullets laced with wolfsbane, along with daggers and pistols. Each person had their own survival kit in case something terrible happened. The radios were tested and ready for battle, and our flashlights were turned on.

"Looks like we're good," my dad said.

"Let's move it," my uncle commanded.

My uncle led the way while my sister and I stood in the middle. My father stood at the back, relentlessly searching for any unusual movement. Our mission was to track where the wolves were making their sounds, so we could attack all at once.

For thirty-three minutes, we climbed the hill with no sight of werewolves. To rejuvenate our bodies, we drank some water from our survival kits. When my uncle spotted a wolf howling at the top of a rock, he gave us a warning signal with his hand.

"Get down, everyone," my uncle commanded, whispering.

Everyone leaned their backs on trees, breathing heavily and preparing to attack.

Once more, my uncle glanced, but this time, he didn't find the wolf. He stood up in amazement, searching with his goggles for the werewolf he had seen.

"What in the world," my uncle stressed.

My attention was shifted away from my uncle when I heard the snarling of werewolves. My family and I immediately jumped to our feet when we saw a pack of fifteen wolves.

"Holy mother of God," Emma said, slowly drifting backward.

My uncle was swept off his feet when the wolf, he had seen, jumped on his chest.

"Emily, go protect Adam," my father yelled. "Emma and I will take care of this."

The night was filled with gunshots from my father and sister. As I rushed to help my uncle, who was falling off the cliff, my gun was dislodged from my hand when a wolf jumped on my chest. Falling through the cliff, I struggled to retrieve my dagger from my belt. The voracious wolf had one goal - to tear me apart.

I managed to get the wolf off my chest, but I lost consciousness when I hit my head on a log of wood.