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He had walked into the small town they occupied suspicious, he had ran out frantic. He had even let off a few shots from his rifle at some of them before he got out, and he knew he at least got one of them good. One of them good in the head. They had taken shelter in an old fast food restaurant, 'Fiends of the golden arches' he dubbed them. He chuckled aloud at that one.
They had chased him for about half a mile or so, before the appeal of his flesh had run out. "So much for fast food" he had thought. He laughed at that one, too. He had thought about lighting up a piece of cloth on a stick, to give at least a little light on his journey, and he almost had, until he heard a few lonely bird calls 'sun will be up soon' he thought to himself, 'might as well save the fluid for a better use..'.
He came across a road sign as the sun began to illuminate the land around him. 'Mclean'. An old town, obviously not a big one. '2 miles', he read. 'Not too bad, might be I'll find an old house to sleep in'. Fred had adapted to travelling at night very early on. Most of his dangerous encounters had been during the day, and he had not seen half as many people about during the darker hours of day. Much safer. But it made hunting for food a lot tougher. He learnt to be creative, he had learnt to look for clues to where the feral animals would be sleeping, to where they scavenged most, to where they hid from the roving bands of raiders and cannibals who might fancy a tastier bit of meat. They was usually chewed boxes, turds warm and cold. The smell of a felines urine was unmistakable. And if he smelt it, that meant more than once of the little pests. Why would a cat mark his scent unless he felt threatened?
He came across a cat almost as soon as he entered Mclean, it was basking in the morning sun. There was not much meat on the creature, he could see that through the scope of his rifle. The poor thing had a ruined ear, and a few seconds later, with the squeeze of his index finger and the sharp crack of his gun it had a ruined skull as well. He picked the animal up by the hind legs, and carried it over to a red barn he spied just south of the interstate. An empty field lay next to the barn. The weeds among the whole estate had grown unruly, thick and tall. He made shelter under a tree in the middle of the field. He skinned the creature, and indeed saw there was not much meat on the animal. Nevertheless, meat was meat.
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