by D. B. Walker
Maria spandex’s friends looked relieved and thanked him till his cheeks flushed. They tended to Maria’s head but gave particular attention to his nearly healed calf with their first aid kit. They all found some excuse to touch his leg.
“When the outbreak started,” the woman with the beads told him, “we were on a yoga retreat up near Chattahoochee. Guided meditation every day, no phones or radio. When we finally heard what was happening we jumped in the van with Maria’s dog and came home as fast as we could. But it took weeks to get through the chaos, and by the time we arrived the town was overrun.”
“You survived this long, just the six of you ladies?” he said.
“Yoga makes us strong,” said the bead lady.
“Also,” said another, “we looted a gun store.” She held up a semiautomatic.
“We’re heading for Fort Benning. We heard there’s still army there.”
“Yeah, we like soldiers,” said the woman with the gun.
The women stared at him a little too closely. He looked at his shoes.
“Well, I better get on,” he said after a pause. “You take good care of that dog.”
The bead lady looked disappointed.
“Have a little food before you go,” she said. “Maybe you can help a gal out with her fuel pump?”
SURVIVALIST HERO
Serves 4
¼ cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon prepared fresh horseradish
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
Coarse kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
One 24-inch French bread loaf with sesame seeds, halved lengthwise
2 cups thinly sliced romaine lettuce (about 1 head)
¾ pound sliced turkey
¼ pound sliced Swiss cheese
¾ pound sliced ham
¼ pound sliced Cheddar cheese
¼ pound sliced pepperoni
1 large tomato, sliced
1 In a small bowl, stir together the mayonnaise, horseradish, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.
2 Split the French loaf in half and spread both cut sides of the loaf with the horseradish mayonnaise. Spread the lettuce evenly over the bottom loaf and layer the toppings, starting with the turkey, then Swiss cheese, ham, Cheddar cheese, pepperoni and tomato slices. Top with the top half of the loaf, mayonnaise side down and cut into 4 equal pieces. Serve immediately.
Heroes don’t need to eat their darn veggies—if you can’t get tomatoes and lettuce, leave ’em out.
COLD
FORAGE
There hadn’t been much to hunt in the woods, and now Daryl was too close to town to find anything worth shooting at all. Good thing he knew poison oak from parsley.
He came across a gazebo swallowed by honeysuckle, surrounded by a weedy garden. He sat down on a bench to rest and think about dinner. He had some pitas and a little jar of yogurt the yoga ladies had pushed on him. Probiotic this and whole-grain that. His gut squirmed just thinking about all that hippie stuff. But he didn’t have much of a choice.
He dug through the garden. Pockets of mint and cress were holding out bravely against the ravenous weeds. He picked what he needed, then pulled the thorny weeds around the edible plants. They had a right to survive, too.
The weeds hid more than herbs, though. He found a detached forearm, its skin dried tight, still wearing a medical ID bracelet. A rag of skin covered the name, but whoever it was, in addition to having a missing an arm, was allergic to penicillin.
The salad sandwich was better than no sandwich at all. And anyway, he didn’t really feel like eating meat anymore.
In-the-Weeds Stuffed Pita with Garlic Yogurt Dressing
IN-THE-WEEDS STUFFED PITA WITH GARLIC YOGURT DRESSING
serves 3
1 garlic clove, peeled
3 tablespoons plain Greek yogurt
1 teaspoon white wine vinegar
¼ teaspoon salt, plus more as needed
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup olive oil
1 small bunch watercress (about 3 cups)
½ small cucumber, peeled and thinly sliced
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint
2 tablespoons minced fresh basil
3 pita breads, halved
1 Violently smash the garlic clove with a pinch of salt and crush into a smooth paste. In a small bowl, combine the garlic paste, yogurt, vinegar, salt, and pepper. Stir in the olive oil. Set aside.
2 In a medium bowl, toss together the watercress, cucumber, mint, and basil. Dress with garlic yogurt until just coated. Open up the pita halves and stuff the salad into the pockets. Serve.
Knowing what herbs, greens, and other vegetables grow wild in your area can mean the difference between snacking like a king and dying like a rat.
BANG
YOUR HEAD
Daryl was at the edge of town now. The houses were closer together and the only sound in the twilight was the crickets. But more houses meant more biters.
He came to a rundown split-level that looked like some lowlife’s squat. There was no decoration inside except a faded Motörhead poster. Kind of place where you just drank till you fell down, puked in the backyard, and raised hell all night long. It felt like home.
In a room with colorless carpet he found a beat-up boom box with a cassette tape still in it. He pulled out the tape—“Metal Mix.” Shit, he bet he knew every song on there by heart. Batteries looked good. He was sorely tempted to flip it on just for old times’ sake.
Daryl had spent a big part of his life in places like this. Had the world really changed that much? Did he miss those friends, the alcoholic assholes whose names he couldn’t recall? Where had the past gone? Where was the girl who’d fed him sandwiches?
He felt a wolf clawing at his insides. No, he could never let anyone close to that beast. But that girl had tamed it a little. The girl had been timid, pretty, and generous, but strong inside. He’d never worked up the nerve to touch her, but, man, he had demolished those sandwiches.
A sound in the backyard woke him from a shallow sleep. He spied six biters back there. Probably more coming. He was too tired to fight.
It was time to party.
He lit a small fire with newspapers in the middle of the room. In the smoky light he cranked up the boom box and hit play.
The flickering light and thundering bass drew the walkers into the house. Safely outside the window he could see them swaying mindlessly around the smoky room, looking around for something to eat, the thudding metal shaking the windows.
It looked pretty much exactly like his life before the outbreak.
He left it behind him without regrets. But he slammed his head to the music as he walked toward his goal in the light of the rising sun.
Up All Night Breakfast Sandwich
UP ALL NIGHT BREAKFAST SANDWICH
makes 4 sandwiches
½ cup mayonnaise
1½ tablespoons hot sauce
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Coarse kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large russet potato, peeled
4 slices bacon, cut in half lengthwise
2 tablespoons butter
4 large eggs
4 large English muffins, split and lightly toasted
1 cup grated Cheddar cheese
2 cups arugula or lettuce
1 In a small bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, hot sauce, and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper.
2 Line a medium bowl with a clean dishtowel. Grate the potato directly into the towel-lined bowl. Gather the dishtowel in a bundle and squeeze in a death grip until the potato is dry.
3 Place a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the bacon and cook until browned and crisp. Transfer to a paper towel–lined plate.
4 Spoon half of the bacon fat into a bowl and return the skillet to the heat. Add half of the potatoes and toss with the bacon fat. Using a spatula, divide the potatoes into four 3-inch round,
flat cakes. Cook, turning once, until the hash browns are golden brown and crisp, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer the rounds to a baking sheet, season with salt, and repeat.
5 Wipe out the skillet with a paper towel and add a tablespoon of butter. Return to medium heat and swirl the pan until the butter melts. Add 2 eggs and fry to taste. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer the eggs to a plate and repeat.
6 Place the English muffin halves, toasted sides up, on a plate. Spread each with a tablespoon of the spicy mayonnaise and top with a hash brown round. Sprinkle ¼ cup of the Cheddar on top of each bottom half. Top the cheese with 2 pieces of the bacon and carefully place an egg on top of the bacon. Top with ½ cup of the arugula and place each second muffin half on top, hash brown side down. Serve immediately.
Be prepared for morning munchies. Put one of these together and take it with you as you flee for your life.
THOSE WHO ARRIVE
SURVIVE
He shot bolt after bolt into oncoming walkers. Then he pulled them out and reloaded. The supermarket parking lot was busy this morning.
He stuck his knife to the hilt through the bridge of the last dead thing’s nose. It swooned and fell with an oozy squish. Finally he could shop.
The gleaming supermarket was dark and quiet. He banged the hatchet handle on the window a few times, then waited a few seconds. Nothing came. Let’s do this, he said to himself.
He scanned the produce aisle through his crossbow scope. Among the moldy bins he found the remains of a walker in a stockboy’s apron, his head lopped off and split like a pumpkin. Daryl hadn’t been the first to shop here, then.
He put his head to the floor to look for what others missed. Under the shelves were a can of tuna, a package of Slim Jims, a bottle of beer, some birthday candles, a box of cake mix. There were also some very old peaches and a lot of dead bugs. That stockboy had been out of commission for a long time.
TUNA SALAD MELTDOWNS
makes 4 sandwiches
2 (6-ounce) cans tuna packed in olive oil, drained
¾ cup mayonnaise
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 whole scallions, thinly sliced
2 hard-cooked eggs, chopped
Juice of 1 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)
¾ teaspoon celery salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons finely chopped Italian flat-leaf parsley
4 slices multigrain or white Pullman bread
4 ounces Gruyere cheese, grated (about 1 cup)
8 tomato slices
1 In a medium bowl, combine the tuna, mayo, celery, scallions, eggs, lemon juice, celery salt, black pepper, and parsley and mix well.
2 Preheat the broiler on low and place a rack on the top shelf of the oven. Line a rimmed baking sheet with foil and lay out the slices of bread. Toast for 1 to 2 minutes on each side or until crisp and golden. Evenly distribute the tuna salad on the pieces of toast and top each with a quarter of the grated cheese. Transfer the baking sheet to the top rack and broil for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and beginning to brown. Transfer to plates, top each with two tomato slices, and serve.
Canned tuna is at peak condition for 3 to 5 years. If the outbreak continues longer than that, tuna salad won’t be much help.
A LAST GOLDEN
HOPE
The winter after his brother had left for the Marines, Daryl’s only friend had told him she was moving away from the mountains with her family. Locust Grove was far. He hadn’t said a thing. He’d probably be better off on his own, anyway. He couldn’t meet her eyes.
Finally she’d handed him one last lunch bag and kissed him on the cheek. He couldn’t say good-bye. He’d just watched her back as she ran off.
In the bag was a grilled cheese, but not just any grilled cheese. It was pimento cheese. Exactly like his mother used to make him before she’d died. He must have told the girl. Now she was gone.
Just the thought of that last kindness was something he kept hallowed in his mind during the worst years of his life. No one had ever cared what he liked except her.
Pam. Her name had been Pam. A ray of light from a vanished world.
And that was why he’d come to this supermarket. Sure enough, he had tracked down what he’d been looking for this whole time.
A couple boxes of Velveeta.
He’d make grilled pimento cheese for them. Yeah, it was just a damn sandwich, but that was the point. It was the tiniest thing, a thing people used to do for each other before the dead rose to screw up everything. It was a taste of home, of family, of the world before it went to shit. He had to share it.
A world with grilled cheese was still a world worth fighting for.
Saving Grace Grilled Pimento Cheese
SAVING GRACE GRILLED PIMENTO CHEESE
makes 8 sandwiches
PIMENTO CHEESE
8 ounces (2 cups) shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
8 ounces (2 cups) shredded Monterey Jack cheese
8 ounces (1 cup) cream cheese, softened
⅔ cup mayonnaise
2 scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice, or more to taste
1 teaspoon dry mustard powder
1 (6-ounce) jar pimientos, drained and finely chopped
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Hot sauce, to taste
Splash of Worcestershire
1 jalapeño, seeded and deveined, if desired, and minced
SANDWICHES
16 slices white or whole-wheat bread
¼ cup (½ stick) unsalted butter, softened, or ¼ cup mayonnaise
1 Mix all the pimento cheese ingredients until smooth.
2 Make sandwiches using ½ cup pimento cheese mixture for each. Spread the butter or mayo on the outsides of all the sandwiches.
3 Heat a nonstick skillet over medium heat. Fry the sandwiches one at a time until the bread is golden and the cheese melted, about 2 minutes per side.
4 Halve the sandwiches and serve.
Be sure to make enough for your whole group. Scarcity of grilled cheese can cause dissention and even mutiny within survivor groups.
THE LIVING ARE JUST A SPECIES OF THE DEAD
Pam! Oh my God. Pam!”
The voices of her fellow refugees sounded distant. She’d fed and fought beside these people during the year since Earl and Ronnie had turned. She felt them pull the walker off her chest, but she couldn’t move her limbs. A vicious bite on her side burned like she’d been shot with a habanero.
The biter had crept up on her while she was heedlessly making toast by her tent. Rookie mistake. One she’d never have a chance to repeat. She closed her eyes.
She felt the pizza peel underneath her, still strapped to her back. She had tried to keep civilization alive with cooking. But the dead have numbers on their side, and they’re so much hungrier.
“Fast, you have to kill me,” she implored the man in the orange fishing vest as he crouched over her. She shut her eyes. “Please feed my babies. Take care of them like they were your own.”
He glanced nervously in the direction of the two biter children, muzzled and tethered to a tree. Then his eyes grew wide. He had no time to answer.
When she looked up at him again he had fled. A gurgling pack of biters chased after him. She heard screaming in the distance. Then she was alone.
The man hadn’t brained her, and she couldn’t move. The trees swayed gently above her, and Earl rattled his chain.
So there were monsters in the woods. The chupacabra was real. She didn’t blame Daryl for not saving her from it, but she wished he was still around somewhere.
She didn’t miss what was gone anymore. She had kept her family together despite everything. She had fed so many others, and kept her standards as high as possible. She had done her best in difficult circumstances.
Once, she had been just some shy girl afraid of her own shadow, and Daryl had put his hand around her
s on the hatchet handle. Lordy, he had been good-looking. He had promised to protect her.
Right now she’d trade him all the grilled cheese sandwiches in the world if he could just sink that old hatchet in her head.
She had a splitting headache, chills, and her neck began to stiffen. The light of the sun burned into her brain. But those sensations were gradually eclipsed by a ravenous hunger. It started from the wound and spread like a brush fire through her whole body. It wasn’t just her stomach that was hungry—every cell in her began to scream with famine. As her life ebbed away, a brutal craving was coming to take its place.
She had done everything she could. Now she waited helplessly for the inevitable.
Things were about to get messy.
LEARNING
TO WALK
She staggered mindlessly through an agonized fog. Every movement hurt, but stillness hurt more. The world was nothing but indistinct lights, muffled sounds, and a crazy sea of smells. Nothing came before and nothing after. She bumped three times against the same tree.
She had wandered for what might have been hours or years, when a new smell struck her like lightning. An unbearable burning hunger spread from her nose to her gut until it engulfed her. She had to eat. Now.
She saw images of herself biting, and gnawing, and swallowing. The smell made her brain writhe with craving. She had to snack.
The maddeningly delicious odor was trying to hide from her. She choked with rage that the one thing that could take away her distress refused itself to her. It wanted her to suffer.
The snack was sealed in a wooden shack. Thumping on the walls didn’t open it, so she hammered at the glass. The shards caught on her skin as she crawled through the broken opening, but she didn’t mind. It was snack time.
She caught it by the thigh as it tried to escape and took a taste. It was unbelievably hard to chew through muscle, but she put all her force into her jaws. The snack kept trying to twist away. She threw herself down on top of it to quell its thrashing and kept eating. The screaming and writhing finally died away, and she gnashed and tore in peace.