Scott watched the city from what he laughingly called his Penthouse.
They were there as always, the shuffling infected, clogging the streets like a putrid cholesterol.
Safe behind his barricade Scott spooned beans into a battered pan.
Three hours till night fell, the crowds thinned out and he could make another supply run.
Later, crossing the plaza, Scott saw them.
One fed, gnawing at a girl's neck. Scott fired once, shearing away it's head, stepping forward he discharged again into the girl.
Hearing others approaching he ran, scattering his plunder like chaff.
A muffled pounding shocked Scott awake; they had found him.
He opened fire indiscriminately from his shielded embrasure into the screaming throng below.
Behind Scott a heavily armed rapid intervention team spilled through a splintering door, a cacophony of shouted commands.
Scott heard only moans as they approached.
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