by D. B. Walker
Theme restaurants make good hideouts during crises, with their large interior spaces, elaborate food preparation facilities, and defensible facades. But you’re better off bringing your own food.
MEDIEVAL TIMES
GONE BYE
Ronnie didn’t trust this place. It felt like a school play. It didn’t add up. And her mother was falling for it.
“ ‘King’?” she heard her mother ask. “They really call you that?”
“Some nicknames stick whether you want them to or not,” he said. “I was head chef. None of the others wanted to make hard decisions or even knew how to cook. I organized the watch, scouted propane for the ovens, and secured ingredients. These people look to me for leadership. If you prefer, you may call me Philippe.”
“So what’s with the armor?” Ronnie asked.
“It was made for shows at the restaurant, but walkers can’t bite through it. I mean, look around. Civilization’s been thrown back to the dark ages. Nothing out there but thugs, monsters, and awful food. In here, the men of the watch patrol the area. The mall behind the north door is overrun with walkers, but we haven’t had a single casualty inside the restaurant. We’ve got a vegetable garden on the roof, and we have livestock of sorts. We eat sustainably. We make the Middle Ages thing work for us.”
The inhabitants of Canterbury assembled around the large table. Servers brought out large trays of ham and biscuits with steaming coffee. It was more food than Pam and Ronnie had seen in ages.
“You see?” said the King, sitting back in his aluminum throne. “Life as it once was.”
Ronnie glowered. Her mother smiled stupidly.
Ronnie poked at the ham on her plate with her fork. She didn’t eat animal products, but she knew that this wasn’t ham.
The King added, “Hope you’ll stay for the show tonight.”
Ronnie made a gurgling sound deep in her throat.
Dire Ham Biscuits
DIRE HAM BISCUITS
serves 12
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus more for greasing pan
1 cup sour cream
½ cup whole milk
2 cups self-rising flour, plus more for dusting
1 tablespoon sugar
6 ounces cooked country ham, or any cooked ham, or any protein you can get your hands on, finely chopped
Orange marmalade, for serving
1 Preheat the oven to 450°F. Lightly grease a baking sheet with butter or spray with cooking spray.
2 To make the biscuits, in a small bowl or measuring cup, stir together the sour cream and milk until smooth. In a large bowl, mix together the flour and sugar. Pour in the sour cream mixture and fold together until a soft dough forms. Turn the dough out on a surface that’s been lightly sprinkled with extra flour. Knead the dough until it just comes together.
3 Roll or pat the dough out until it’s about ¾ inch thick. Dip a 2-inch biscuit cutter in flour and cut out the biscuits, placing them at least 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheet. Bake until golden brown, 10 to 12 minutes, and transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly.
4 While the biscuits are baking, make the ham filling. In a bowl, mix together the ham and butter until combined. Split the hot biscuits in half and spread one side thickly with ham butter and the other with a thin smear of the marmalade, then close them up to make sandwiches. Serve while they’re still warm.
Be wary of snacks offered by strangers. Trust is vital when sharing food in a world of dodgy food sources.
SWEETBREAD AND
CIRCUSES
A fanfare proclaimed the beginning of the evening’s show. The townsfolk of Canterbury crowded into the tiers around the arena at the center of the restaurant.
“Friends, welcome to Medieval Kitchen Stadium,” the King announced from his aluminum throne. “Let’s meet our challengers!”
From a curtained arch in the side of the arena emerged three men in armor. Behind them, on chains, they dragged six lurching walkers, including a dwarf. They locked the chains to rings in the walls.
“And tonight’s secret ingredient …”
Out of the curtain spilled nearly a dozen frolicsome fur-balls.
“Kittens!”
Ronnie gripped the rail in front of her. How could this be happening? “This is barbaric!” she screamed. She stormed out of the arena.
The King seemed taken aback. “We’re just letting off a little steam,” he said. “Besides,” he confided to Pam, “it’s fixed. The walkers aren’t near quick enough to catch those cats.”
It was true. The walkers staggered around after the kittens, who pranced around playfully but kept their distance from the foul-smelling creatures. The townsfolk of Canterbury cheered for their favorites.
But Pam wasn’t listening. Her attention was fixed on the dwarf.
“Earl!” she cried.
She jumped up from the table, the pizza peel in her hand.
The men of the watch tried to stop her, but they couldn’t keep up in their costume armor. She landed on the sandy floor of the arena and twirled the peel. She brained one walker with the blade and stuck the handle through the rotten skull of the other. The kittens scuttled away as Pam felled each walker in turn except for Earl, who held his good arm out to her. He was ready to feed.
The King scowled. She couldn’t be sure, but from the floor Pam thought he said, “Looks like we’ve got a new secret ingredient.”
SECRET-INGREDIENT CHEESE FINGERS
makes 48
1 cup flour
1½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
⅛ teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces
½ cup shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for sprinkling
3 tablespoons sour cream, plus more for brushing
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 In a large bowl or in a food processor, stir or pulse together the flour, baking powder, salt, and cayenne. Add the butter, Cheddar, and Parmesan and pulse or cut in with a pastry blender or your fingers until well combined; stir or pulse in sour cream and mustard. Shape the dough into a ball, wrap in plastic, and chill for at least 2 hours. And up to 3 days.
2 Preheat the oven to 425°F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough ⅛ inch thick. Cut into fingers ½ inch wide and 3 inches long. Brush each finger with sour cream and sprinkle with more Parmesan cheese.
3 Bake for 7 to 9 minutes, until pale golden brown on top. Serve warm or at room temperature.
As you prepare the cheese “fingers” pay close attention that no actual fingers get mixed in.
SELF-
PRESERVATION
A figure in a black hood melted into the shadows of the castle, away from the barbarous noises of the arena.
This place held a dark secret, Ronnie could sense it. She passed the walled-up entrance to the mall, and descended a staircase to the stillness of the kitchen. The large freezers stood silent and empty. The cupboards contained only dry goods and a few garden vegetables. But there was blood on the floor.
A corridor opened from the side of the kitchen. A long window looked out onto a stable big enough for ten horses. But there were no horses. In their place Ronnie saw a motley collection of small furry animals: guinea pigs, bunnies, kittens, puppies, hamsters, even an aquarium full of goldfish.
OMG cute! It was like a whole pet store had been stashed here in this basement—but why?
The answer awaited next door.
In the tack room next to the stable Ronnie found a wall of shelves arrayed with aquariums. Inside of them, hazy animal forms sat pickling in a cloudy, greenish liquid.
Ronnie drew a breath. She thought tearfully of the “ham.”
“So you’ve found our little secret,” someone said behind her, making her nearly jump out of her skin. She backed against the door to the stable as the King approached.
“You wouldn’t do any differ
ent,” he chided. “By the time we finished the horses, the woods were pretty much hunted out by the walkers. The mall had a pet store. In this world, either you eat the pet food or you eat the pets.”
“You’re sadistic,” Ronnie spat.
He smiled uncomfortably. “You have to get it where you can find it. We eat sustainably in Canterbury. It’s just, we eat smaller than before.”
Ronnie reached for the doorknob to the stable.
Gruesome Trophy Pickled Shrimps
GRUESOME TROPHY PICKLED SHRIMPS
makes 1 pound pickled shrimp
1½ cups water
½ cup white vinegar
½ cup apple cider vinegar
1 lemon, zested and juiced
1 fennel bulb, thinly sliced
1 garlic clove, peeled
¾ cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1 pound 16–20 count shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped basil
1 tablespoon finely chopped fennel fronds
1 tablespoon finely chopped dill
1 In a large pot over medium-high heat, combine the water, white vinegar, apple cider vinegar, lemon juice, fennel, garlic, sugar, black peppercorns, and salt. Bring to a boil to dissolve the sugar. Add the shrimp and cook, stirring, for 30 seconds. Transfer the shrimp and liquid to a large bowl and cool to room temperature.
2 Stir in the lemon zest, parsley, basil, fennel fronds, and dill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 3 hours, up to overnight.
Catch or pick food when it’s available and preserve it for those times when the living dead make shopping difficult.
THE ONE-EYED
KING
No!” shouted the King.
He dived to prevent her, but it was too late. Ronnie had thrown open the stable doors and released the livestock of Canterbury. Puppies and kittens darted out, leading a small stampede of guinea pigs, gerbils, parakeets, and a gecko.
He desperately tried to herd them back into the stable, but Ronnie stuck out her leg. The King tripped and crashed headfirst through the glass of one of the aquariums.
The shelves collapsed, spilling preserved victuals across the room, while the liberated pets scampered across the slippery floor in a panic.
The King fell to the ground and screamed, reaching for an oozing white orb that rolled out of his grasp. “My eye, you put out my eye!”
It was actually a pickled egg, though he had sustained a cut near his right eye. A puppy licked his briny face.
Ronnie fled.
…
Pam tied Earl with the choke chain he was still wearing, and led him out of the arena. The knights had run to find the screaming King. No one in this world had honor anymore, or even good sense. She wondered what Daryl would have done. He would have kicked some ass if he was there. But he wasn’t. She’d have to do it herself.
She had to find Ronnie. She was going to keep her family together if it killed her.
Medievaled Eggs
MEDIEVALED EGGS
makes 24 deviled eggs
1 dozen large eggs, hard cooked and peeled
¼ cup mayonnaise
¼ cup sour cream
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon prepared horseradish
Dash or two of hot sauce
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Paprika, for garnish
1 Halve the eggs lengthwise and pop the yolks out into a medium bowl. Arrange the whites on a serving platter.
2 Mash the yolks with the mayonnaise, sour cream, mustard, horseradish, hot sauce, and salt and pepper to taste until everything is thoroughly combined and smooth.
3 Spoon the filling back into the egg whites and serve them with a dusting of paprika.
A piping bag for the egg filling makes a cheery, pre-outbreak touch. In a pinch, make a piping bag from a pillowcase and a spent shotgun shell.
BEYOND
THE WALL
Pam and Ronnie dragged Earl through the corridors of the castle. The alarm had been raised, and Canterbury was in total disarray.
They found themselves at the mall entrance, where a tall, white wall had been thrown up to keep out the walkers. The men of the watch had deserted it as they scrambled to recapture the freed animals.
“What kind of sick mind pits kittens against the living dead?” Ronnie sobbed.
“The kind this world creates,” Pam said. “We might all be better off outside these walls than in.”
At that moment the King emerged from the basement, a patch over his wounded eye. He raved at the fugitives. “You won’t last a day beyond the wall,” he said. “Winter is coming! Winter is coming! The walkers will get you if the savages don’t!”
Pam and Ronnie had already torn open the wall and unlatched the glass doors to the mall. They found themselves in a multilevel shopping mall, infested with undead suburbanites.
The King’s screaming instantly drew the attention of the walkers. Many staggered toward the breech in the wall, where the men of the watch already had their hands full with the puppies. Others came toward Pam with hungry, dogged steps.
The biters seemed to ignore Ronnie as long as she stayed close to her brother. She held his leash and tried to get him to stop squirming.
Pam had whipped out the pizza peel and started jabbing. Heads went skidding across the mall floor as brains and gore accumulated in a wobbling heap around her.
“Earl, cut it out, you pest!” shouted Ronnie.
Earl’s sack had slipped.
“Earl!” she wailed, but it was too late. She fell, her brother’s teeth sunk into her neck.
Pam emptied the contents of one last walker’s head with the peel and knelt over her daughter, trying uselessly to stanch the wound.
“Ronnie! Ronnie, no!”
“Mother, please,” the girl said softly. “It’s Nica. Not Ronnie.”
Gratuitous Violence Jell-O Mold
GRATUITOUS VIOLENCE JELL-O MOLD
serves 8 to 10
2 cups pomegranate juice, not from concentrate
1 cup sparkling or dry white wine
4 (7¼-ounce) envelopes unflavored gelatin
¼ cup sugar
⅓ cup pomegranate seeds, plus more for garnish
2 (14-ounce) cans sweetened condensed milk
1 cup cottage cheese (optional)
1 In a mixing bowl, combine ½ cup pomegranate juice and the wine. Add the contents of 3 gelatin packets. Fill a large bowl with ice water.
2 In a small saucepan over high heat, bring the remaining juice and sugar to a boil. Stir it into the juice and gelatin mixture. Place the bowl in the ice bath to cool, then transfer the gelatin mixture to the refrigerator until it thickens, 20 to 30 minutes.
3 In a 10-cup Bundt pan, distribute the pomegranate seeds over the bottom. Add the gelatin mixture and return to the fridge for 10 minutes, or until set but still sticky.
4 Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, sprinkle the remaining gelatin over 1 cup cold water and allow it to absorb the water. Stir in 3 cups boiling water for 2 minutes, until gelatin is fully dissolved. Stir in the condensed milk. Chill the mixture in the ice bath and then gently spoon it into the mold over the pomegranate gelatin layer. Refrigerate overnight or until firm.
5 To unmold, fill sink with warm water. Dip the mold just to the rim in the water for 30 seconds. Lift from water, dry the outside with a towel, and loosen the edges of the gelatin from the mold. Place a cold, moistened plate over the top of the mold and invert the plate and mold together. Carefully lift the mold; if gelatin does not release, dip the mold in warm water and try again.
6 Before serving, scoop the cottage cheese into the center of the mold and serve garnished with more pomegranate seeds.
This low-risk dessert makes an arresting presentation, and it’s an elegant reminder that another gruesome battl
e is always just around the corner.
NACHO WORLD
NO MORE
Pam muzzled her teenage daughter with duct tape. Not that she hadn’t been tempted many times before, but she never expected to actually have to do it. When your kid turns into a living dead monster, everyone has different ways of coping.
After clearing a section of the mall, she hid her family in a booth at the Chuck E. Cheese’s. She wrapped the dog chains around both kids. Then, with exaggerated calm, she improvised a plate of nachos in the kitchen and tried to make sense of her situation.
She still felt like that timid girl hiding behind a tree in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Back then, Daryl had protected her and taught her to use a hatchet in exchange for the best cheese sandwich she knew how to make. Now there was no one to show her what to do and no one to make snacks for but herself.
She tried on Ronnie’s hoodie. The silkscreened pink skull felt about right. She strapped Trey’s pizza peel to her back using Earl’s SpongeBob backpack, and hitched the cleaver in her belt.
Her reflection, glimpsed in a shop window, made her shudder.
She exited the mall, undead children in tow. The hoodie, or else the presence of her biter children, seemed to mask her from the ravenous throng of walkers still clustered there. She relished her invisibility.
In some ways, little had changed. Earl still fidgeted and wandered. Ronnie still rolled her eyes and made that exasperated slurping sound. But at least she wasn’t a vegan anymore.
She led them out of the town into the woods. She found a clearing, tied the kids’ chains to a tree, and sat down to finish the gooey nachos. It had been their family dish, the one food they could always agree on. Now she’d have to throw in a live field mouse or a squirrel to get them to eat it.