The Snacking Dead Read online

  3 Slice the bread into ½-inch pieces and make sandwiches with the remaining ice cream. Freeze for at least 20 minutes before serving.

  When the power grid is down, mobile engine-powered refrigeration will keep vital food fresh—for as long as you can find diesel to siphon.

  TELL IT TO

  THE COWS

  Meat is murder, you know.”

  Trey looked up from his plate of FEMA mystery meat at the girl in a black hoodie with a skull silkscreened on the front.

  “Tell that to the douchebags who ate my delivery guy,” he said, pushing his plate back on the school cafeteria table.

  The girl scooped a chip into a Tupperware tub of guacamole. She frowned and passed the chip to a boy sitting next to her. She had her arm draped awkwardly around his shoulders.

  “You didn’t get that stuff here,” he said.

  “Obviously,” she said. “It’s totally vegan. Made it before we came. Is that your shovel?”

  “It’s called a pizza peel.”

  “Do you bake, or fight with your shovel?”

  “Both. Works quiet, never runs out of ammo.”

  “You killed some, didn’t you.”

  “They were already dead.”

  The girl reflected for a moment. “I locked my babysitter in a closet.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “She caught a fever and woke up all angry and flesh-eating. My brother lured her into the pantry with my gerbil Ossie as bait.”

  She glared at the boy, but kept him in her protective embrace.

  “I’m making for Fort Benning,” he said. “Army’s there, it should be safe.”

  “That’s OK. I’m driving us to my dad’s place in Griffin in my mother’s car. She’s missing.”

  Trey nodded gravely. Jesus, this child ain’t old enough to drive.

  “OK, then,” he said. “How about a caravan? Guess Griffin’s on my way. Safety in numbers and whatnot.”

  She looked him in the face for the first time. “You going to protect us with your peel?” She handed him a chip.

  “I don’t guess you need much saving,” he said as he stood up.

  “Truth is,” she almost whispered, “I never felt so alive.”

  Guac and Load Guacamole

  GUAC AND LOAD GUACAMOLE

  serves 6

  4 ripe avocado, halved and pitted

  ¾ teaspoon salt, or more to taste

  Juice of ½ lime, or more to taste

  2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

  1 scallion, white and green parts, minced

  1 jalapeno pepper, seeds and veins removed, minced

  Few drops hot sauce, optional

  Corn chips, for serving

  Using a spoon, scoop the avocado flesh into a bowl. Add the remaining ingredients and smash forcefully with a fork, leaving the mixture a little chunky. Taste and correct seasonings, adding more salt and/or lime juice as needed. Serve with chips.

  A vegetable-based diet is likely to become more attractive when you think about why the living dead find you so delicious.

  WHEN YOU LEAST

  EXPECT THEM

  You had to admit, she’d been killing it these past few days.

  She’d, what, like saved her annoying little brother from a cannibal babysitter, driven her mom’s car like a NASCAR superstar, and whipped up a batch of vegan hummus from crappy cafeteria supplies. Now she stood shoulder to shoulder with the dozen or so survivors who hadn’t turned or fled, against an advancing pack of the living dead. And there was no one there to say she couldn’t. LOL

  She considered what might be the humane way to kill a walker. She had swiped a long bread knife from the school kitchen. The slurping mob of biters was pushing hard against the perimeter fence around the FEMA center. Trey raised his pizza shovel. The fence bowed inward. I so got this.

  “When’s Mom coming?” her brother asked. She had stopped even answering days ago. She squeezed his shoulder and tried to smile. He gave her the side-eye, then ran inside the school.

  A section of the fence gave way and toppled like an avalanche of sleighbells. At the same moment there came a racket of demented chimes from down the block. The walkers swerved toward the loud noise. WTF?

  Trey raised an eyebrow as an ice cream truck rounded the corner, loudspeaker blaring. Out from the ridiculous truck jumped a woman in a blood-covered apron, and she started splitting walker heads like canned chickpeas with a hatchet. Or wait—was it a cleaver?

  When the woman had cut down all fifteen walkers, she waved to the refugees. “Veronica?” she called.

  The girl pulled her hood down over her face. OMG OMG OMFG. My mother just climbed out of an ice cream truck covered in brains.

  “Ronnie! Thank goodness, I’ve been searching for you for two days. Where’s Earl?”

  “Mother,” she said barely controlling her exasperation, “it’s Nica now. Not ‘Ronnie.’ ”

  Please kill me now.

  POSTHUMOUS RED CHILE HUMMUS

  makes 2 cups

  2 garlic cloves

  ¼ teaspoon crushed red chile flakes

  1 tablespoon plus ⅓ cup olive oil

  2 (15.5-ounce) cans chickpeas, drained, ⅓ cup liquid reserved

  3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

  1 tablespoon tahini

  ½ teaspoon salt, or more to taste

  Freshly ground black pepper to taste

  Pinch ground cumin

  Pita chips, for serving, optional

  Raw veggies, for serving, optional

  1 Violently smash the garlic with the side of a knife, then pull off the peels. Finely chop one garlic clove and leave the other whole. Heat a small skillet over medium heat, then add the chile flakes and let toast for 15 seconds. Add 1 tablespoon of the oil and the whole smashed garlic clove and sauté until the garlic is softened and lightly browned, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from heat.

  2 In a food processor, combine the chickpeas, remaining olive oil, lemon juice, tahini, salt, chopped garlic, sautéed garlic (but not the red chile oil), and pepper to taste. Blend until smooth, adding the reserved chickpea liquid as needed, until it reaches the desired consistency.

  3 Spread the hummus on a large plate and drizzle with the chile oil. Sprinkle evenly with the cumin. Serve with pita chips or raw veggies, if desired.

  Most people will leave canned chickpeas behind, so look in the back of abandoned cupboards.

  HOW IT

  CRUMBLES

  How are we ever gonna get past them?” asked Trey. “They’ll smell us right off.”

  The duffel bag containing Pam’s vital ingredients and cooking tools was right where she had dropped it. But it was surrounded by a milling throng of her deceased former neighbors.

  They’d had to leave the FEMA center. The food was all gone, except for a wedge of overripe Camembert. Coffee-deprived refugees started to resemble walkers themselves, and the one or two who wandered out to look for a Starbucks never returned.

  So they packed up Trey’s pizza delivery van and the ice cream truck, after disabling its loudspeaker, and returned to Pam’s house to try to rescue the only things that might keep them from having to live on dry cereal.

  “Ronnie, bring me the cheese,” said Pam.

  “Mother, it’s Nica. And I’m not going near that stinky product of animal oppression.”

  Pam got the Camembert herself, and she and Trey smeared themselves in the smelly ooze.

  “Good lord, what a stink,” Trey said.

  Gagging all the way, they crept past the confused walkers, who looked at them a little suspiciously. When they got to the duffel they found two guys in aprons, draped in rotten fish, kneeling over the gear. The two reeking pairs stared at each other.

  “That’s my stuff,” Pam whispered grimly.

  “Finders keepers,” said the first guy. “Man, you stink a lot worse than us.”

  Neither side would let go of the duffel bag handle. Finally Pam broke the stalemate.

/>   “I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “You give me the bag, I’ll make you some cookies. Real good ones.”

  The men considered her offer.

  “Deal,” one finally said. “But you better shower first, lady.”

  Virulently Infectious Butterscotch Chocolate Chippers

  VIRULENTLY INFECTIOUS BUTTERSCOTCH CHOCOLATE CHIPPERS

  makes 2 dozen cookies

  2¼ cups all-purpose flour

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

  1½ cups packed dark brown sugar

  2 tablespoons vanilla extract

  2 large eggs

  1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

  1 cup butterscotch chips

  Flaky sea salt

  1 Preheat the oven to 375°F and line a large rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

  2 In a medium bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, and salt.

  3 In a large bowl with a hand mixer or in the bowl of a stand mixer, forcefully beat butter, brown sugar, and vanilla extract until creamy and subdued. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in the flour mixture. Using a spatula, fold in the chocolate and butterscotch chips. Drop dough by rounded tablespoons onto the baking sheet and sprinkle with flaky sea salt. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until cookies are nicely browned and crisp. Transfer to a wire rack to cool before serving.

  Bring hostile survivor groups together with baskets of cookies and other treats. Baked goods are the foundation upon which future civilization will be rebuilt.

  I’LL STOP THE WORLD

  AND MELT

  Quick stab like that, you take his head right off,” said Trey. He gave a mock thrust of his pizza peel at a gurgling dead state trooper. “Meanwhile the pole keeps ’em a few feet away.”

  First you chop the head … Her first love had taught her that many years ago. She wondered where Daryl was now. Still tracking squirrels in the Blue Ridge Mountains?

  Even now she could see his sleepy sexy eyes, his sleeveless shirt, the way he’d only steal quick glances at her. Once when he’d skinned a squirrel with his hatchet, he had seemed almost embarrassed for the exposed little creature. Then he ate its liver.

  She could never quite tell how he felt about her, but she had known they’d had some kind of connection. He’d told her he’d always protect her from monsters. Even a chupacabra. She had believed him.

  “Once we cut this squirrel up,” she had said, “how about we melt some cheese on it?”

  She came out of her reverie as the undead state trooper tried to move forward between two abandoned cars on the highway. Trey just bumped him back again with the peel.

  Pam was impressed, the weapon was even better than her cleaver. Trey put the peel in her hands from behind.

  “Like this,” he said softly as they beheaded the man together. The state trooper’s head fell from his shoulders with a splat. She felt herself melting a little.

  Why do I always fall for the bad boys?

  “Now we’re done with this asshole,” she said, drawing her cleaver, “who wants quesadillas?”

  Diesel-Strength Quesadillas

  DIESEL-STRENGTH QUESADILLAS

  makes 3 split-level quesadillas (serves 6 to 8 as an appetizer)

  LIME PICKLED JALAPEÑOS

  Juice of 2 limes (about ¼ cup)

  ½ teaspoon granulated sugar

  Pinch coarse kosher salt

  1 jalapeño, seeded if desired and thinly sliced

  QUESADILLAS

  4 tablespoons olive oil

  1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced

  1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced

  Coarse salt

  Freshly ground black pepper

  ½ pound spicy pork sausage, casings removed

  ½ teaspoon paprika

  ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

  2 tablespoons finely chopped cilantro, divided

  12 six-inch corn or flour tortillas

  2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese (about ½ pound)

  ½ cup sour cream, for serving

  1 Prepare the jalapeños: In a bowl combine lime juice, sugar, and salt. Stir in the jalapeños. Let sit at room temperature for at least 1 hour.

  2 Make the quesadillas: In a large skillet over medium-high heat add 1 tablespoon oil. Add the onion and bell pepper and season with salt and pepper. Sauté until the onions and peppers are tender, 7 to 12 minutes, then transfer to a plate.

  3 Add 1 tablespoon of the oil to the pan and place back over medium-high heat. Add the sausage, paprika, and cayenne, and cook, stirring frequently, until the pork is cooked through, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in 1 tablespoon of the cilantro.

  4 Preheat the broiler. Place the tortillas in a single layer on two baking sheets and brush with remaining oil. Broil until toasted, about 2 minutes.

  5 Divide the sausage among 3 tortillas and sprinkle each with 2 tablespoons cheese. Sprinkle ¼ cup cheese over another 3 of the tortillas. Top 3 more tortillas each with 2 tablespoons cheese and a third of the pepper-onion mixture. Leave the last 3 tortillas plain. Broil tortillas in batches until the cheese melts, 2 to 3 minutes.

  6 Transfer a sausage-topped tortilla to a plate and sprinkle with the remaining cilantro. Top with a cheese tortilla, then a vegetable tortilla, then a plain tortilla. Cut into 4 wedges. Repeat and serve with the pickled jalapeños and sour cream.

  The more time passes after the outbreak, the more ingredient substitutions will be necessary. The past is gone—learn to love what you can find now.

  HEADLESS BODY

  IN TOPLESS BAR

  The biters had helped Trey kick his coffee habit, but they kind of dropped the ball on the booze thing.

  “Let’s just have a look,” Trey called from the pizza van, pulling over at a roadside bar.

  “ ‘Billy’s Topless’?” Pam read with a snort. “No thanks, I’ll wait out here.” She got out of the ice cream truck and practiced with the pizza peel.

  The room was murky and stank of stale ick. A neat row of shot glasses, cloudy from evaporated shots, was lined up on the bar. Trey held Pam’s cleaver out ahead of him as he and the kids looked around.

  “Aw shit,” Trey sighed.

  “Ewwww!” said Ronnie, backing quickly across the room.

  Slumped against the kegs behind the bar was a corpse darker than a spoiled banana, its headless neck a withered stump.

  “Double-ewwww,” said Ronnie again, nearly tripping over something.

  At the foot of a little stage sat the bartender’s head, skin drawn taut and leathery across its angry face. It was snapping its teeth and rolling its eyes. A bottle of Jack Daniels rested a few inches from its nose.

  Trey winced. He knew how it felt.

  He grabbed the whisky and doused the twitching head. Taking a pull from the bottle, he tossed a match on the head and watched it burn. The flaming alcohol smelled kind of good.

  “Sure could use a bite to go with my drink,” he called so Pam would hear.

  Pam stabbed at the air with the peel and didn’t respond.

  Very-Last-Call Bar Nuts

  VERY-LAST-CALL BAR NUTS

  makes 2 cups

  2 cups raw mixed nuts (such as cashews, pecans, and almonds)

  3 tablespoons sesame seeds

  1 tablespoon unsalted butter

  3 tablespoons honey

  2 tablespoons light brown sugar

  ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

  ½ teaspoon coarse kosher salt

  ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

  ¼ teaspoon paprika

  1 Preheat oven to 300°F. Line a baking sheet with a nonstick mat or parchment paper. Place the nuts in a single layer on the baking sheet and roast, stirring halfway through, until golden brown, about 10 minutes. On a separate baking sheet, spread out the sesame seeds and toast until lightly golden and fragrant, about 8 minutes.

  2 In a small saucepan set over medium heat, combine the b
utter, honey, brown sugar, cinnamon, salt, cayenne, and paprika. Heat, stirring until the butter melts and the sugar and salt dissolve.

  3 Remove the toasted nuts from the oven and transfer to a large mixing bowl. Pour the honey mixture over the nuts and quickly stir to coat. Add the sesame seeds, stir to incorporate, and return the mixture to the baking sheet in a single layer. Bake for 15 minutes, stirring frequently, until the nuts are golden and fragrant but not dark brown. Remove the pan from the oven and set aside to cool completely. Break up the mixture to serve.

  Keep some salty proteins around for when you need to drown your sorrows to help absorb the alcohol. The last thing you need in an apocalypse is a hangover.

  FRIENDLY FIRE

  Come on out. It’s not like we’re gonna eat you!” laughed the hairy man with the big shotgun. He frowned. “But we’ll be taking the food.”

  A half-dozen thugs had surrounded the ice cream truck. They had hunting rifles, crowbars, and tire irons. Ronnie and Earl had gone off for firewood before they arrived, and Pam was worried they would return at the wrong moment.

  “We can’t just give up,” said Trey, hunkered on the truck floor. “This is all the food we’ve got.”

  Pam bristled. “What the hell are we gonna do about my kids? If anything happens to them, it’s on me.”

  Through the window, Pam spotted movement on the horizon. She grabbed the hot plate, a pan, and some oil. “Get me the microphone for the loudspeaker and switch it on.”

  The bandit sang, “Little pig, little pig, let me in.” He approached the back doors of the truck with a crowbar.

  “Cover your ears,” Pam told Trey.

  BANG.

  The booming pop made the bandit drop his crowbar. Then another bang, and a whole volley of reports like a machine gun.

  The bandits threw themselves to the ground.

  After a few seconds the leader smiled.