by D. B. Walker
“That ain’t no M-16, my friends. That sounds like popcorn.”
The men laughed grimly and stood up again.
But the amplified popcorn had drawn a horde of gluttonous walkers. They lurched over en masse, and attacked the bandits until there wasn’t a single one left uneaten.
When the walkers had wandered off again, Ronnie crawled out of the bushes where she’d been hiding and Trey resumed work on the engine. They’d have to hurry. Those walkers would be hungry again in an hour.
Pam looked around. Where’s Earl?
Semiautomatic Garlic-Parmesan Popcorn
SEMIAUTOMATIC GARLIC-PARMESAN POPCORN
serves 8
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2 garlic cloves, minced
½ teaspoon sweet paprika
½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup popcorn kernels
¾ cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 In a small saucepot over medium heat, melt the butter with the garlic, paprika, and salt. Cook for 1 minute, until the garlic is fragrant. Remove from the heat.
2 In a stock or pasta pot with a tight-fitting cover, over medium-high heat, add the olive oil and let heat for 30 seconds. Add the popcorn. When you begin to hear the kernels popping, shake the pan. Continue shaking the pan frequently to avoid burning. When the popping slows, remove from the heat and transfer to a large bowl. Drizzle with the garlic butter and Parmesan cheese. Toss to combine, adjust seasoning as needed, and enjoy.
Popcorn is rich in polyphenols, but be sure any walkers are out of earshot before enjoying.
PRETTY MUCH
FED ALREADY
Ronnie had gone out alone to search for her little brother. She was sick of being bossed by her mother, so she’d sneaked off. But now she was getting hungry.
She spotted Earl’s SpongeBob backpack in a ditch by the road. In it she found half of an energy bar her mother had made to keep him quiet. How far could a second-grader go on half an energy bar?
As the sun sank lower, Ronnie grew tired. There was a playground off to the right and she sat down on a swing to eat what was left of the energy bar.
A faint shuffling sound came from a playhouse next to the sandbox. She stood up.
“Earl?” she called.
From the house emerged a tiny shape, a child much smaller than Earl, trailing a doll.
No, it wasn’t a doll. It was somebody else’s arm.
The toddler walker kept falling over and couldn’t make much progress toward Ronnie.
Then a second child came out of the house. Another walker, larger, missing an arm.
It was her little brother. And as usual he was trying to bite her.
Ronnie drew a breath. She wanted to cry. Oh, you little pest. My stupid little pest.
She pulled the long string from her hood and ran toward Earl. She tried to tempt him with the energy bar.
“Come on, Earl. I brought you some food.”
He was clutching something. When she got close she could see he had two long, fuzzy ears in his remaining hand, and his chin dripped with blood.
He was eating a bunny.
“Ewww! Earl, how could you? You are so disgusting.”
TILL-YOU-DROP CHOCOLATE-CHERRY ENERGY BARS
makes 16 squares
2 cups walnuts, pecans, or cashews
⅓ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
¼ teaspoon salt
1½ cups pitted dates
1 cup dried cherries
1 cup granola
1 Place the nuts in a food processor and blend on high until they are finely ground.
2 Add the cocoa powder and salt. Pulse to combine.
3 Add the dates one at a time through the feed tube of the food processor while it is running. Add the dried cherries while the processor is running.
4 Press the mixture into an 8-by-8-inch pan and sprinkle with granola, pressing and pushing it into the cocoa mixture so it adheres. Place in the freezer or fridge for at least an hour or until firm. Cut into 16 squares and store in an airtight container in the fridge.
Pack healthy goodies. A treat can keep children well behaved while you’re busy saving them from reanimated corpses.
WINGS OF
DISASTER
Pam tossed a live chicken to Earl. The boy arched up and caught the cloud of feathers with his teeth. His mouth closed on the hen’s breast, gave it a violent shake, and came away dripping red.
She wasn’t surprised that he had turned. Earl had always been the first to catch whatever was going around the playground.
None of them could bear to end his existence, even as a walker, so they caught small animals to keep him calm. They were all exhausted from climbing trees to shake recently feral chickens from their roosts.
She watched him eat the still-moving bird and sighed. “I wish you could have the childhood I had,” she said. “I wish you could play hide-and-seek, make mud pies, run free in the woods …”
As a girl she had felt free in the woods—away from awkwardness and people, away from their demands.
One day she had wandered deeper than usual into the woods near her house, when she saw a boy in a sleeveless shirt aiming a gun at a tree. He fired and a squirrel fell out of the tree.
He laid the squirrel gently on a log, then took a hatchet and chopped off its head. He started to open it up to skin it. He yanked out a couple of bits and ate them. She couldn’t stop watching.
A twig snapped under her foot, and he caught her. Hiding his meal behind his back, he yelled at her to get the hell out of there.
She had no idea why, but she’d asked him to give it to her. She’d cooked it up for him. That was her way of making friends.
A helicopter roared overhead, making them jump. It appeared to release a cloud of fire on the town just over the ridge.
Had it come to this? Napalm, like some kind of pest control? Pam decided they had to get away from “civilization” as fast as possible.
Once Earl had gobbled his fill, they tied him up again and bundled him inside the truck with a sack over his head.
Trey eyed the chicken’s wings, still twitching on the carcass.
“You know,” he said to Pam, “we probably won’t want to waste those.”
Napalm Spicy Chicken Wings
NAPALM SPICY CHICKEN WINGS
serves 6 to 8
3 pounds chicken wings, patted dry with paper towels
Coarse kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil, plus more to fry
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
2 to 3 tablespoons honey
¼ cup Sriracha or hot sauce
2 limes, zested and juiced, plus lime wedges for serving
1 Place the chicken wings in a large bowl and season generously with salt and pepper. Refrigerate, uncovered, for at least 30 minutes and up to 24 hours.
2 Preheat the oven to 400°F. Spread the chicken wings on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer and drizzle with 2 tablespoons of the oil. Place in the oven and roast until the chicken wings are firm but not fully cooked through, about 20 minutes.
3 In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Whisk in honey, Sriracha, and lime zest and simmer for 1 minute. Stir in lime juice and remove from the heat. Season with salt and pepper.
4 Using a large pot, pour in enough of the vegetable oil to reach 5 inches up the sides. Place over high heat and heat the oil until it registers 375°F (190°C) on a deep-fry thermometer.
5 Working in small batches, fry the wings, turning occasionally, until they are crisp and golden brown, 5 to 7 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the wings from the oil and drain on a paper towel–lined baking sheet. Put the wings in a large bowl and toss with the Sriracha butter. Transfer to a platter and serve hot with additional lime wedges.
Serve with colorful cock-tail napkins. Unexpected combat with greasy hands can cost
lives.
HOW IS THAT
PREPARED?
Ronnie grabbed a key from her father’s house and walked to the backyard, past two decaying pit bulls still chained to a post.
“Here,” she said, testing the ground with her feet.
Trey peeled up a swatch of Astroturf and uncovered a damp metal door sunk in the lawn. Ronnie turned the key and pulled up hard.
“It’s jammed,” she said.
They had to attach the dogs’ choke chains to the handle and pull them with the delivery van to loosen the stuck hatch. The door finally pulled open with a dry squeal. Sour air escaped from the hole.
Pam shook her head and started down the aluminum ladder holding a flashlight. She called her ex-husband’s name.
“Ed, you down here? We need a place to stay. I got Ronnie with me. And Earl.” She looked back at the truck. “Sort of.”
A pathetic slurping sound answered from the dark hole. Pam shot back up the ladder.
Out of the hatch behind her popped a pale, chewed-up carcass in fatigues and the camo hunting hat she’d once bought her ex-husband for his birthday. His face was twisted with fury.
She hesitated, then dropped the hatch lid on him, cutting him in two. His top half crawled across the lawn and grabbed at her ankles until she brained him with the cleaver. Her ex oozed onto the neglected lawn.
The bunker was lined with a couple of iron bunks, a wide-screen TV, and metal shelves crammed with bottled water and canned food. One of the bunks held the corpse of Ed’s younger second wife, Angela, her middle gnawed out.
“Guess they pretty much ate each other up,” Trey remarked. “Ain’t one of these cans been opened.”
Pam sighed and slumped down on the lawn.
Just like you, Ed. Got yourself stuck in your own shelter with a ton of food and no can opener.
Crabby Prepper Puffs
CRABBY PREPPER PUFFS
makes 16 crabby puffs (serves 6 to 8 as an appetizer)
8 ounces jumbo lump crabmeat, picked
1 shallot, finely chopped
2 lemons, zested and juiced
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
½ teaspoon Worcestershire
1 teaspoon hot sauce or Sriracha
2 scallions, thinly sliced (about 3 tablespoons)
Coarse kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
16 slices white bread
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 In a medium bowl, mix together the crabmeat, shallot, lemon zest, half of the lemon juice, mayonnaise, Worcestershire, and hot sauce. Stir in three-quarters of the scallions and season with salt and pepper.
2 Use a 3-inch round cutter to cut the bread slices into rounds, and place the rounds on a baking sheet. (Save the scraps for bread crumbs if you like.)
3 Preheat the broiler. Whisk together the butter and the remaining lemon juice. Use a pastry brush to brush one side of each bread round with the lemon butter. Place under the broiler and broil until the rounds are golden brown, 30 to 45 seconds. Carefully flip over the rounds and brush with the remaining lemon butter. Top each with a heaping tablespoon of the crab mixture. Return the baking sheet to the broiler and broil until the crab mixture is heated through and the toasts are browned, about 1 to 2 minutes.
4 Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper, garnish with the remaining scallions, and serve warm.
Most canned goods stay at peak condition for 3-5 years unopened. Statistically, in an outbreak, canned crab will outlast most survivors.
THAT’S
GONNA STAIN
Trey’s pulse quickened at the smear of slime across his hand. He touched his tongue to it. It was the real thing. Wild blueberries! Trey felt he had finally found something to make the whole group happy.
They’d been trying to get to Fort Benning for weeks, but the truck was not fast and most of the roads were blocked with abandoned cars. Finally they had run out of gas. With little to eat but Ed’s canned spam they were all in a foul mood.
When Trey returned at dusk, Pam quickly mixed a batter from the ripe berries and the last of her precious ingredients. She placed improvised muffin tins in a Dutch oven, and heaped it with hot coals in the fire.
Each of them—except for Earl, who was tied to the truck bumper with the dogs’ choke chains—watched the pot in anticipation. Finally Trey had to get up to pee.
Pam was about to call him back when an agonized scream came from behind the truck.
Pam picked up Trey’s pizza peel. A biter came around the vehicle from Trey’s direction. Pam wheeled and thrust the peel just as Trey had once shown her. Hot brains smeared the side of the truck.
She found Trey on the ground with a gruesome bite wound in his shoulder. Several walkers were tripping over one another to get to him.
“You got to brain me,” he gasped. “Pam, I’m so sorry.”
A red mist descended over Pam’s vision as she attacked the biters. Ronnie had picked up the cleaver and dispatched a corpse in climbing gear as humanely as she could.
Finally, Ronnie fought her way back to Pam, standing vigil over Trey. The walkers just kept coming. She pulled hard at her mother’s arm and shouted. They fled their campsite with nothing but the pizza peel, the cleaver, and the clothes on their backs. The walkers followed.
Trey’s lifeless eyes reflected the stars, while Earl fidgeted against his chains on the truck’s bumper. From the fire, the Dutch oven exuded a warm aroma of fresh muffins.
False Sense of Security Blueberry Muffins
FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY BLUEBERRY MUFFINS
makes 1½ dozen muffins
Butter or paper liners for muffin tin
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1½ cups sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup buttermilk
2½ cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 pint fresh blueberries, stemmed
1 Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease 18 muffin cups or line with paper liners.
2 Using an electric mixer, violently cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy and subdued, about 5 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the bowl in between additions. Mix in the vanilla and buttermilk.
3 In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture to the batter and beat until just mixed. Fold in the blueberries with a spatula and be sure the batter is completely mixed.
4 Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin pans, filling each cup just below the top. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the muffins are lightly browned on top and a cake tester comes out clean.
For a special breakfast treat, these can be made the night before. But who knows if there will be a tomorrow? Hell with it, eat ’em now.
CANTERBURY
Pam ran hard with Ronnie until the walker swarm was far behind them. But what were they running to? They had no shelter. What would they eat? How would they cook?
Ronnie stopped dead and looked upward. Out of the morning mist, just behind a line of trees, loomed two crenellated towers. Between them was an open drawbridge with a portcullis.
Pam shook her head in disbelief. “This can’t be for real,” she said.
“It can be, and it is,” said a low voice.
Pam spun around. Behind them stood two men dressed in knights’ armor and helmets with visors. One held a rifle on her.
…
“What the hell is this place?” Pam demanded when their captor removed the blindfold.
They found themselves in a banquet hall right out of medieval times, its walls hung with axes and banners. Half a dozen people in modern dress were calmly setting a long table with pewter plates and mugs, as if for a sumptuous meal. There were armored guards at the door.
A tall, good-looking man strode into the room and whispered to the man who brought them in. He nodded twice and looked closely at Pam.
“Welcome to Canterbury Times,” he announced.
Ronnie glared at him as he held out a tray.
“Would my ladies care for a popper?”
Secretly Sadistic Jalapeño Poppers
SECRETLY SADISTIC JALAPEÑO POPPERS
makes 32 jalapeño poppers
16 large jalapeño peppers, halved lengthwise
8 ounces cream cheese (about 1 cup), at room temperature
4 ounces Jack or sharp Cheddar cheese, shredded (about 1 cup)
⅓ cup fresh or frozen corn kernels
¼ cup minced yellow onion
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
1½ teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
Pinch of cayenne
1 teaspoon salt
Nonstick spray
Lime wedges, for serving
1 Preheat the oven to 375°F.
2 Using a spoon, carve out the guts, veins, and seeds of the jalapeños. Rinse under cold water to loosen any remaining seeds and let dry hollow side down on paper towels.
3 Meanwhile, prepare the filling. In a small bowl, smash together the cream cheese, shredded cheese, corn, onion, cilantro, cumin, chili powder, cayenne, and salt until smooth.
4 Spray a large rimmed baking sheet with nonstick spray and distribute the jalapeño boats, hollow side up. Depending on the size of the pepper, fill each jalapeño with 1 to 1½ teaspoons of the cheese filling. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the peppers are tender and the cheese is bubbling and beginning to brown. Squeeze fresh lime juice over the top and serve hot.