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Schwartz

He crouched low in the undergrowth and trained his gun on the hill, the rise where the vehicle would appear. All about him, the massive trees stretched their bare arms to the sky in supplication. The harsh winter wind whipped through the dry leaves, causing them to shower onto the ground. The eerie sound of the wind as it wailed added to the desolate feeling. A land of emptiness despite being so rich, he thought as he waited. The stories these trees could tell, he thought as he glanced around quickly, the tales of wanderers going hiking, never to be found again.

James Schwartz had positioned himself in such a way that he could see the slope from where the car would emerge. Having donned his camouflage jacket, he blended well with the dull brown of the world around him. Having been a sure shot snipe in the US Army for many years, he was already calm and watchful, alert as ever, his mind clear as he focused on sounds and movement. He shut an eye and peered through the scope. H
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