“Cattle’s spooked,” Jim observed. They were moving hurriedly towards the stream, away from the fence line. Through the scope, he saw what they were trying to escape.
A single figure, clothes disheveled, skin gone leathery from exposure and ashen from decay. It battered at the fence, straining to get at the food it smelled beyond.
“Does it want us or the cows?” Manny wondered aloud.
Jim shrugged. “I figure brains is brains.”
Manny watched it for a minute, before asking nervously, “it can’t get through that fence, right?”
Jim snorted disgust at the question. “We have rifles, there, city boy.”