Lowary glanced down at the hand. Tudor removed it. He spoke directly to the corporal, "I said see if you can pick him off!" The soldier hesitated. Lowary knew why. The figure down there was in uniform, probably a friend.
The Captain snatched the rifle from the corporal's frozen fingers. He slapped the stock against his own shoulder.
"He's probably just a scared, bewildered kid," Meyers cut in quickly.
"If I'm wrong, I'll apologize," Lowary said as he sighted down the barrel. He planted his feet firmly and squeezed. The stock slammed him in the shoulder. He cursed, then he squeezed again. This time he remembered to hold his breath. The figure slumped, fell off the concrete, into the water.
Lowary juggled the gun once by its balance, then he handed it back to the corporal who was staring dully at the small figure floating and bobbing in the water. "You can send that squad down to get him now, if you want, Lieutenant Tudor," he said before he turned away.
He walked slowly. He could have explained, but there wasn't time. Decisions had to be made quickly, right or wrong. Perhaps the kid down there was afraid, just running away. But he couldn't take that chance. There was no reason to believe that the military didn't have some subversive elements within; the Reds had infiltered everywhere else. And what better time for the rats to come out of their nests, then now, when the country was on their target list! One man could be as dangerous as a Red Division.
Lowary climbed into his jeep conscious of how tired he felt. I'm getting old, he thought. He leaned back and took off his helmet and looked up at the clear blue sky, letting the breeze fan his face. A high, distant speck caught his eye. It was trailed by a four-forked stream of white. He felt his stomach grow cold, as he stared in fascination at the four vapor streams that could only be one thing; a multi-engine bomber. It was coming in from the Northwest, heading for the City. The enemy had slipped one through the defense.
He tore his eyes from the sky. Perhaps no one else had seen it. It would be better if they never did.
And so it comes, he thought. The end of an age ... back to the sticks and stones for good. He drew in on a new cigarette, thinking of Dorothy and Susan and Ronnie. He became conscious of Meyers standing beside him. He wished he would go away, there was so little time left to daydream. He wanted to be alone.