Snippet #2496829

About a mile and a half south west of the Tent City up in the mountains was a small cabin. It was built near the edge of the mountain side by Sardines peak. It wasn't anything impressive, just a small 12 x 20 single room cabin , roughly made . Inside was a single army cot with a few pillows, and old dresser with a few nicknacks on it. A single bookshelf full of fantasy,romance, and a few nonfiction books.And one large rug in the center of the room. The rug covered a trap door, but well talk about that later. in the corner was a small cooking station with a camp stove and some cast iron.
The only thing really notable was the RCBS reloading bench that was on a heavy duty steel table , along with a gun vise and some tools and the gun case next to it.
There was an awning made of a camouflage tarp and an outhouse about 40 feet from the cabin.

That's where jack was living. Jack was out back right now rigging up a repelling system he had been wanting to make for a while.
As he secured the anchor lines his mind wandered. He thought about life before hand, how easy it was to get things and just do stuff for fun. He sighed a bit. Sure he had enough stuff stored away in the cellar he had dug out. Canned food for days, a good few gallons of clean water, some ammo, his gun collection and his tool set. Life was pretty easy now that everyone was a walking corpse, or damn near.

He finished off the double figure 8 knot he had been fiddling with and sighed heavily. He missed people. As much as he hated them he missed having someone to talk to. It was starting to get dark. Another lonely night was here and it bothered him more than it had in a while. He went into his small dwelling , shaking off his Flectarn camo jacket. Maybe I should go visit that city sometime... He tossed his rifle , an m1 carbine that had been modified, onto his bed. He pondered as he took off his boots, placing them upside down on the two sticks he had beside his bed. He looked over at the cast iron cookware and debated eating or not. 'No, you don't need to eat , you're just bored...' he shook the dirt from his hair as he went over to the book sheave. He had probably read each of these books a good 4 or 5 times by now. He picked up one he knew he had read at least 14 times...The Hobbit.

The old book was starting to fall apart and was probably missing a page or two. But Jack returned to his cot and started to thumb through the book. Soon he was lost in its pages.