GENRE: YA Sci-Fi/Dystopian
The only thing moving is my heart beating and the blood pumping through my veins. I breathe without my chest rising or falling. Everything else sits as still as the dead; the mock grass, the fabricated shrubs, even the tree that I sit perched in, waiting.
Waiting. So much of my training has been waiting, patience. Sitting still for four, five, six hours at a time, training my muscles not to go numb, and my mind to stay alert. Sub-zero temperatures, over one hundred degrees, I’ve been through it all. Like now, for instance, waiting in this tree as I have been for two hours. It’s hot, at least over ninety, but I do not break a sweat. The smell of sweat could give away my location. I keep my breaths silent and shallow, regulating my body temperature. And I wait.
Movement flickers in my right peripheral, and I dart my eyes in that direction, keeping my head fixed straight ahead. There he is: my target. He moves silently from one tree and shrub to the other, almost imperceptibly. Had I not been waiting so long and become so familiarized with the environment, I might never have noticed him, and then I would have failed. Failure is impossible. Passing is mandatory. So much time and money has been put into my training, that if I fail, I would be putting the lives of my trainers at risk. And I would be letting down the Leaders.