The moment the meat began to sizzle, a wondrous aroma filled the air and Court breathed in deep. He had never thought something as bland as chicken would smell so good. He watched the pans for a long moment, willing the meat to cook faster, but he knew he’d have to wait. The last thing he wanted was to have survived the virus and made it this far only to die from eating raw chicken.
But there were more birds out there, which meant more meals if they stayed where they were. “If you’re right, Adam,” Court said, putting on his new sneaker on his left foot, “and I can’t be moved any time soon, at least we’ll have fresh meat for a while.”
“You can pluck the next one,” Bree told him. “That was a bitch and a half.”