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Rating: T (16+) for violence and sexual themes
This is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are made up or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Any referenced trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners, and their use speaks only to the characters’ opinions, not to the product.
This book is protected by the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
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Taking a deep breath, Lottie slowly brought the rifle to her shoulder, silently thanking her drill sergeant from Basic for taking that extra time with her training. All those extra pushups when she missed helped steady her hands as she sited down the barrel. The buck lifted his head and scented the air. “Come closer,” she whispered. The hefty sized deer was well within range but shielded by scrubbrush and a few small trees.
Lottie’s stomach growled. This had to work. She was so hungry.
The deer bent to nibble at the foliage and took a few tentative steps forward.
“Just one more,” she mouthed.
Leaves crackled under the weight of the animal and his neck stretched. But the bite of dinner remained elusive and the beast took that final step.
The sound of Lottie’s rifle cracked in the still fall air and the buck jerked as the bullet hit him. He bounded away two steps and then crashed to the forest floor.
Whooping, Lottie slung the rifle over her shoulder and lowered herself from her perch in the tree. She’d eat well today!
She dropped to the ground and hustled over to the deer. Pulling her hunting knife from her belt, she gulped. This would be her first real test of her butchering skills and the deer looked huge up close. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to settle her nerves and stomach. “You can do this,” she said. Her stomach growled in agreement. Taking the knife, she sliced the beast's throat. The blood gushed and she nearly threw up.
After her stomach stopped flipping out over the blood and the thought of finally eating, she was able to continue. As the deer was reduced to slabs of meat, Lottie found the butchering easier and made short work of the carcass. She dropped the pieces onto a blanket she’d brought just for this purpose and hustled to finish her task. Once done, she tried to swing the blanket up over her shoulder. Grunting with effort, she eventually gave up and instead dragged the meat back to the home she’d commandeered for the night.
Upon arriving back at the abandoned house, she dropped her haul at the base of the rickety steps and made her way up the stairs to the porch. Pushing the door open, she resumed dragging the meat inside to the small kitchen workspace she’d cleaned up earlier today. After the meat was secured in the house, she set to starting a fire. She needed to cook dinner and then find a way to save her efforts for upcoming days or she’d be hungry again before tomorrow was out.
Finally finished prepping everything for cooking dinner, Lottie put the pot on the flames and sat. She’d read up on preserving food while the meal cooked. She read for a long time but eventually the sound of wind whistling through the cracks in the drywall caught her attention. She stood and looked outside. Large fat white flakes of snow were falling, swirling in the breeze.
“It’s early for snow,” she told the empty house. “Glad I found you.” It wasn’t the first cold night she’d lived through, but it was the first with snow.
Bored with the view, Lottie sat back down and listened to the wind. It created a high pitched moan that could only be more perfect for a horror story if it was also accompanied by a rattle of chains or the shuffling feet and cries of the undead. As it was, the windows shook ominously in the breeze and the shingles on the roof slapped in a steady staccato guaranteed to unsettle the timid. Luckily, Lottie wasn’t the type to be afraid, living on her own in the woods for a little over a month had cured her of any unrealistic fears she may have harbored before leaving her home. Because, really? Who was out here in the Missouri wilderness besides herself?
The ARA… Maybe… But most soldiers lived near the city centers, so she wasn’t worried she’d encounter anyone. There was no one out here in the woods to stop her or tell her to have hundreds of babies. Lottie sighed thinking of her friend. Wendy would have loved it out here as well. She never wanted to be a baby factory either. Maybe Lottie should have asked her to come with. She shook her head.
Of course, Wendy never would have left the sanctuary of the St. Louis barracks, especially not at the end of summer, but Lottie couldn’t sit back and become a carbon copy of her biological mother. A sharp pain of regret and loss cut through Lottie’s defenses and she pressed a hand to her heart. She missed her friend terribly, but it helped to imagine Wendy by her side, sharing her adventures of escape and survival.
Pushing the depressing thoughts of Wendy and her mother aside, she returned to her fantastical daydream. Grinning, Lottie could almost see the steam from the dragon’s breath through the front window as he huffed on a broken pane or, better yet, she thought, pretending to hear the sounds of metal striking metal as the gallant knight fought the mythical beast in the preservation of her honor. Everyone knows dragons were deprived!
She snickered and shifted her weight into a more comfortable position on the floor and her stomach growled. The smell of venison stew floated in the air from the pot sitting next to the flames in the fireplace. Soon Lottie’d be able to eat the first real meat since she escaped.
It was a good thing she found this place when she did! Lottie hated to admit it, but the empty home had been a life saver. Not only did it give her shelter from the early winter storm that raged outside, but it had been a hidden storehouse of weapons. Weapons she could use to hunt game! She never thought she’d be so happy to kill a deer, but her dried food was dwindling and rationing only went so far. But a home—this home—full of guns, bows, and other hunting gear had given her what she needed to survive.
Her thoughts drifted, and idly she wondered why the prior homeowner never turned in the gear during the mandatory recall all those years ago. In the long run, it didn’t matter. The guns were here and so was she.
Lottie glanced down at the rifle by her side, letting her fingers caress the barrel. It was a beautiful gun, but it really wasn’t useful to her in the long run. She’d never be able to carry enough ammo. And then what happened to her when the ammo was gone? No, what she really needed was a big knife for gutting game and a weapon that never needed reloading.
Shifting her focus from the gun to her pack, she pulled out her copy of Emergency Survival and opened it to the page on non-industrial era weaponry. A picture of a sling stared back at her. It was the answer to her delima but it would take time to learn how to use it sufficiently to survive. Her eyes drifted to the gun at her side. She’d live here, she decided, and as long as the ammo held out, she’d be able to survive while she learned to hunt with a sling.
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