Breaking Free

Am I dreaming? He tried to open his eyes but the sunlight was too bright and painful. Perspiration trickled down his face, tasting salty in his mouth. He wanted to wipe the sweat off his face but he couldn’t move his hands. The floor swayed under his feet, gently rocking back and forth. Where am I? He strained to open his eyes again, squinting hard. The light wasn’t as blinding as before, and in front of him a shimmering shape began to form drifting up and down. He continued focusing, gradually forcing his eyes wider. It was a woman, sitting across from him, silhouetted against a blue sky and blue water. He realized he was on a boat. Who am I? He couldn’t remember his name, where he was, or how he got on the boat. Someone was talking to him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Butler.” He didn't recognize the voice but it was guttural and tinged with sarcasm. “Enjoying the cruise?” He tried to turn his head, to see who was speaking, but couldn’t move. All he could do was sit, staring straight ahead at the woman. She was becoming clearer now, tan with blazing red hair, wearing a white tee-shirt tied above a pink bikini bottom. He thought he knew her, but wasn’t sure. What is she holding? There was something shiny in her hands. He strained to make it out but the sweat kept pouring down his face, stinging his eyes and blurring his sight. Sunlight danced erratically off the object in her hands, like a mirror. No, it wasn’t a mirror! She’s holding a gun! He was becoming aware of his surroundings; the hard flat bench he was sitting on; the boat railing pressing into the small of his back; the cry of seabirds; and something heavy in his lap. He couldn’t look down, but felt his fingers wrapped around a smooth metallic handle, damp and oily in his palms. What am I holding? In a flash of panic he realized it was a gun in his hands. He struggled to get up, run, escape, but instead sat frozen, unable to will his lifeless limbs to move. The man was speaking again, to both of them. He was telling them to do something, something unthinkable! What is she doing? He could see the woman across from him clearer now. She was raising her arms; holding the gun; trying to keep it steady against the shifting of the waves; pointing it at his chest. Inexplicably he felt his own arms lift as he brought his gun up to his eyes, taking aim at the woman. Everything was coming back now. He was beginning to remember it all, his old friend, the CIA, and the beautiful redhead facing him. This is real! He squeezed the trigger.