Marcos Ramirez, Zombie Hunter (continued)
Marcos checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. Dominguez was running twenty minutes late, this much was painfully obvious. As for why, though, the former soldier would not hazard a guess. He considered, briefly, just leaving the ruins and going back home, but his conscience prevented him. Dominguez was a man of the Cloth, and Marcos, a devout Catholic, was loath to disrespect that. Still, he was impatient. "Gorrammit, where is he?" Ramirez muttered, his voice a throaty growl. "And why didn't he just stay in his own town?"