At the mention of a horde, Jack recalled what he remembered reading in Desmond's journal. How the lawyer's group had lived in an abandoned school for months, only to have it besieged by all accounts must have been one of the largest hordes Jack had every heard about. Desmond wrote that he had lost roughly half his men, and that the decision - his decision - to stay and fight, and die, haunted him until the day he, too, was claimed. No, for Jack, settling down in one location didn't seem wise, even if Cougar Rock had an abundant food source and a sparsity of walkers. He stood, finishing his steak, and walked back to the fire to burn another two hefty sticks in the embers, speaking over his shoulder as he went.
"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure I'll still head west at some point, after I've gotten some rest here and stocked up on available food. After that, find a trustworthy group I suppose. I mean, I'm confident I could live on my own if I had to, but.. Strength in numbers, right?" Confident that the fire would go on burning for at least a while more, Jack made his way back to the dead deer, and began by removing chunks of meat, then slicing it into strips of what would later become jerky. Noting the bloodiness of the process, he removed his black t-shirt, revealing a well-toned physique that had come about as a result of the apocalypse. Prior, the long hours in Washington and lack of nutritious meals forced him to have an average build at best.

Remembering something he saw behind the small cabin he abruptly stood, and went back in search of it. He quickly returned with a small, sharp hatchet that had been left in a tool chest out back. Holding the weapon in his left hand and placing his right on the torso of the deer, he brought the blade down on the neck, creating a deep gash in the skin and biting into the muscle. Blood squirted upwards, spraying his chest - he chose to ignore it. Jack brought the hatchet down again, this time severing the sinew and muscle entirely, marking a dull thud as it hit the bone. It took three more powerful swings before the head was severed completely, and he resumed his process of preparing the meat as if the violent - but necessary - display had never happened. Inside he retrieved some salt that he had collected, and mapped out a plan in his head to smoke and salt the meat into jerky. Going about his business in silence, he suddenly gave an absent, rueful laugh, before turning to the two teenagers with an honest expression and eyes that had seen more than their share of grief.
"I remember when my biggest problem was whether or not I had the votes," the former politician reminisced, the blood of the deer spattered across his torso.