As quiet as a graveyard at midnight. Then Bobby heard a muffled chorus of whispers. The flashes of tracer fire grew closer as the enemy encountered the hidden trench. Light. Weak. Distant. More of an afterglow, like lightning strobes flashing beyond a coal-black horizon. It wouldn’t be long now. They were coming. He ducked behind a thick concrete wall, pressing his back flush against it. His finger poised on the trigger, he waited for the enemy to make their move. “Stand down,” he whispered to his team members. “Hold . . . hold.” Then they came. The shuffle of feet on concrete as the raspy breath of his enemy drew nearer. “Now!” He sprang around the wall, leaning on the trigger. “You’re a dead man!” “Aw, geez.” A boy of around sixteen glared at him. “Dude. You’re way too old to be playing laser tag.”
