Wesley bit back his tongue and closed one eyelid for the other. He’d lost track of how long he’d been out in the field. Too long, he thought. Too long to come back with nothing to show for it.
He licked his dry lips.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he chanted under his breath. His arms grew heavy holding the weight of the KIAZER against his shoulder. He very much wanted to put it down and go home, to what he called home, anyways.
A glint of light flashed at the edge of the tree line. Wesley held his breath. A few quiet moments passed and Wesley exhaled hope.
A small group of zombies lumber out of the forest. They staggered into the sunlight. Wesley shifted his weight again and steadied the sight on the center of the group. When the moment was right, Wesley squeezed the trigger. From the barrel of the KIAZER, a large net shot up into the air and landed perfect on the small horde of undead. Most fell to their knees while two did their best to fight through the rope.
Wesley stood triumphant. The wait was over. They would finally have something to eat tonight other than rats.
