The docks, Sunday afternoon

[nofishinmypond.livejournal.com]

Jack was propped up in a deck chair on the docks, assault rifle in his lap, spare ammo under the chair, snoring away. Time was, he could go days without sleep when he was on an important mission, but... well, he was old now. He'd passed out sometime around 10 am, after the gremlins had all retreated to the shade. Someone should have told him YESTERDAY that these things were nocturnal.

At any rate, he had the alarm on his watch set to go off at 4:30, so he didn't miss the sunset.