The sun was bright and burning, Maggie sat in the shade of the rockface. Maggie scanned the area and could make out two dozen of them, hiding behind buildings, burnt out cars and other forgotten relics of the past.
"We're pinned," Trump said; he had tucked himself into a dark nook trying to keep cool in the heatwave.
"What do you mean we?" Maggie asked him. She shot him a glance and a wink.
"Well, you know," Trump replied.
"When they come, you stay hidden," she told the cat. "Don't do anything to let them know you exist."
Maggie reloaded the guns, preparing for the eventual assault that was inevitable. She stuck the katana in the ground beside her and knelt before it. She hadn't been in a good old-fashioned, no-holds-barred battle in a while. She feared that she was getting rusty.
"Why is that?" Trump wanted to know.
"Because you are a talking cat!"
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