Complete silence...not a sound but the constant crunching of vegetation by Jack's target. It was a buck, unfortunately for Jack, it barely had any meat on it, but if Jack could kill it, he would have enough meat for the month. He silently crouched behind a large shrub about 50 yards away from the buck. It did not seem to notice him yet, Jack had worn full camo, a hood to cover his head, goggles, a small backpack, and to top it all off, a wagon for the dead buck. He mounted the butt of his father's old .270 Winchester, aimed, and fired.

BANG!!

Jack's body shuddered and rocked from the recoil but he held his ground. With a muffled cry the buck galloped away farther into the forest, cocking his gun, he snuck up to the location in which the buck was first standing. He kneeled down for a closer look, there was red liquid in the ground, he dipped his fingers in the liquid in it and took a whiff. Blood, that meant that he hit the buck, it would die of blood loss soon. He followed the trail of blood into the forest until he found the body of the buck laying in a field. Grabbing his wagon and tools, he hung the body of the buck on a tree for about a hour in order for the blood to drain away. After doing that he skinned the buck, cut it and put the body in his wagon.

Jack wheeled the body back to his farm house and went into the back yard. Stopping the wagon in front of his smoke house, he grabbed the meat and placed it inside, that would keep the meat from rotting for a long time. After doing chores around the compound he looked up at he sun, it was setting already, and he needed to get dinner started, squirrel meat stew was on the menu. Jack walked back inside his house, tomorrow he would venture into the city, a place he had not been in since the start of the war.