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inlocusmads · 2 years

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The Great Gratitude-Gorging Feast

Maura comes up with a brilliant plan to team up Eli and Troy together in the kitchen, in lieu of the anniversary of Camp Cypress's First Solstice.

Featuring: Eli Sipes, Troy Hassan & Maura Tauber (MC) from Wake the Dead

Word Count: 2.5k | Mentions of Gore/Teen & Up

A/N: Written for @choicesficwriterscreations's "For the Boys" event. I had such a fun time writing this! Big thanks to CFWC for hosting this event! I was bummed that Eli and Troy didn't have their moments. They give off such "older, tired brother" and "younger, spunkier brother" energy.

“I’m not reconsidering.”

Maura paused, inching closer to reconsidering the decision. She scanned the planner quickly, searching for an empty slot, but there was none. The kids handled the flowers and the centrepiece. The Builders took care of all reparations before the Ceremonial Feast. The Raiders, along with Angel Savage, were in charge of afternoon border patrol, so they couldn’t possibly be disturbed. The Ironmount Knights had fully occupied themselves in the armoury engaged in inventory-taking, and the villagers from Sunflower Creek offered to do the cleaning and maintenance.

Everything had to go according to plan, and Maura couldn’t afford to make last-minute changes. So she gave Eli Sipes an austere look and shook her head.

“If it is any consolation, perhaps I can supervise while you work. Make sure Troy isn't pulling off any of his crazy hijinks."

“It isn’t the cooking that bothers me,” he affirmed. “And you don’t have to babysit me. I can handle myself just fine. But the concerning bit is..”

“I know what bothers you and it is quite — baffling to me. Eli Sipes--” she let out a chuckle. “Famed for being calm in the face of grave danger, but somehow equally nervous when instructed to work in the kitchens.”

Maura dug into her drawer and removed a delicate leather-bound notebook. She placed it on the desk in front of Eli.

“It is just one hour. Elder Merryweather has offered to handle most of the main courses. These--” Maura pointed to the book. “-- are Shannon’s handiwork. One hour, Eli, and then I’m putting you back on patrol with Angel.”

“Fine. But if anything goes wrong, I will blame you.”

Maura shook her head with a grin on her face as she swivelled around in the office chair. “It’d be such a disappointment if you turned up dead! Try not to!”

Camp Cypress, under Maura’s governance, had its fair share of rules and traditions to upkeep.

First, under the Rules, nobody walks alone. The Camp thrived and survived thanks to everyone’s collective efforts during the Solstice Seasons and one’s personality matrix (introversion, “I work better alone”, shyness, et cetera) was frankly irrelevant to Maura. Everyone worked with a team and were part of a bloc. If they weren’t interested, they were more than welcome to leave and assume the role of a zombie’s breakfast.

It didn’t help Eli.

Second, also under the Rules, Play to your strengths and weaknesses. There was no such thing as a “weakness” according to Maura, just mere excuses. At Camp Cypress, everyone was given an adequate opportunity to play to their strengths and their weaknesses. If one had trust-issues, no problem! There were plenty of people to get along with, to form some sort of support group. Trouble lifting heavy weights? No worries at all. There was always a Raider ready to help. Can’t cook? The Sunflower Creek fellows were more than happy to pass on their culinary wisdom. There was no “can’t” at all.

It also didn’t help Eli, because there was no “How To Make Friends and Get Along” class.

Armed with Shannon’s handwritten recipe notes that she’d surveyed and collected from the many, many groups of people that Cypress housed, Eli entered the kitchen to find Troy Hassan, possibly his worst nightmare, sitting on a table and poking at the stove with an alarming wooden stick. Neither of them was sure what the other was really doing, and Eli was glad to remain that way.

It wasn’t the fact that Eli simply didn’t get along with Troy. After all, they experienced more or less the same trauma, the same losses, pain, grief, love, human emotions and they were humans, so that was something they shared too. But Troy. Ah. Sweet old Troy was just too— what was the word? Mischievous? Childish? Possibly dangerous being left alone in the kitchen? A fire hazard? Eli wasn’t sure, but it was all of them. Teaming up with Troy had never gone well. Eli still remembered the time Troy nearly got them both killed at the hands of one notoriously overpowered Scout. And ever since then, there wasn’t much to do other than simply respect each other’s differences.

“If we’re going to prepare the side courses, we’re going to have to issue some ground rules.”

“Still worried about me setting everything on fire?”

“Actually, that concern runs through my head. Every single day.”

“Aw, you think about me everyday?” Troy shot him a smirk before accidentally tumbling down to the ground from the table. “Ouch.”

“Ground Rule One. Let’s split up. That way, we can cover more dishes quickly.”

“What’s Ground Rule Two?” Troy asked, massaging his shoulders and knees as he stood up.

“There’s only one rule.”

“Could’ve called it The Ninja Rule.”

“Why would I call it that?”

“Because branding motivates people. It’s like calling colourful, but boring candy Awesome Rocks or something. To get kids to eat more and fall sick more. Branding!”

The Solstice Feast that once started to commemorate the liberation of the people in the Tower from Blackstock’s reign and to honour the Fallen, now became somewhat of a traditional get-together thing. Every year, around June, the Camp stocked enough provisions and some extra luxuries, like mushrooms and fresh fruit just in time for the gathering, that Troy had wonderfully dubbed, “The Gratitude Gorging”. It was the one thing everyone looked forward to, and Eli desperately wanted to get it right.

This year, thanks to Shannon’s data-hunting project, they’d successfully put together a melting pot of different cuisines, ranging from the Sunflower Creek’s infamous Cabbage Soup Delight, the Raiders’ Every-Meat Stuffed Turkey, Ironmount’s Royale Ramen Bowls, the Builder’s Dirt-And-Hardtack Cakes and everything else that Angel’s groovy and slightly grotesque brain can come up with, including her Zombie-Brain Surprise, which didn’t in fact, contain zombie meat, rather regular old chicken made to look like a zombie’s head.

“We’re going to start off with Ironmount’s simple salad recipe for the sides.”

Now, cooking in a post-apocalyptic world wasn’t easy. Though the ideas looked good, the recipes weren’t 21st century Michelin star classics. It was more about forging and figuring out what to eat, and luckily Cypress had some expert scavengers. Of course, sometimes the calories weren’t enough and somehow or the other, someone always went hungry, but it was the most they could do. And Eli, though incapable of wearing emotions on his sleeves, was much more capable of feeling sympathy and putting together this one good meal set a precedent for the rest of the year.

“Do not eat them!” Eli grabbed the plastic bag before Troy could sneak in another raw chickweed leaf. “Here’s what you do. Toss some sorrel leaves into that colander— no, not that one! The other one! Yes! God! Seriously, man. Now— according to the recipe, we’re going to need some finely sliced garlic, dandelion leaves and clover flowers. I think we have those in the cabinet.”

“Yep, we do.”

“Oh, great.”

“Is that a Yay!-Great or a I can’t believe for the first time in my life, I was not disappointed-Great?”

Eli blinked, running on nothing but blanks.

“I’ll slice the garlic. You get the ingredients. And wash the leaves!”

“Yeah, yeah, got it. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”

“Sometimes that’s very hard to believe. You are incapable of following instructions.”

“I believe my rebellious nature is to be blamed for that.”

“Maura will be disappointed.”

“Oh, I’ve known Maura for all my life and trust me, she can never possibly stay disappointed at me.” Troy proclaimed, boastfully. That I am cooking is a glorious service‌. Because I never cook and somehow, I’m fantastic at it out of the blue. For instance, I know where everything is! That’s a first for me, because I can never find the strawberry jam those Sunflower hippies make.”

“That’s Angel’s doing. I’ve seen her take some for herself. If “some” equated to “all”, then yes.”

“It’s always Angel’s doing.” Troy sighed. “I just want a frickin’ smear of jam, okay? I’m just so miserable!”

“Life is nothing but an endless cycle of misery, Troy. It’s high time you get used to it.”

“Never in my life did I ever fathom I’d be the one shovelling all the guts from the turkey.” Troy huffed as he cut out a large enough hole inside a butchered-up, de-feathered bird. He was seriously considering a conversation with the Raiders, no matter how much they scared him with their culinary monstrosities. Carefully, he made slow cuts and precise incisions to create some sort of pathway for the stuffing to go through; like some kind of sewage pipe, with mucus, muck, and excrement stuck to the sides.

“You severed a zombie’s stomach for fun a week ago.” Eli said, who was now in charge of word-for-word creating the Raider’s stuffing recipe with a bit of meat, egg, thyme and peppers - or whatever they could find in the garden that wasn’t poisonous.

“Yeah, because it was fun that way. Just going at it, like stab, stab, stab--” Troy raised his kitchen knife and poked it at the air. “It’s stomach practically drooling with black blood and the intestines slowly melting into the biggest pile of goo and clots you’ve ever seen and the skull. The skull! One final blow towards the side- somewhere near the ears and you can hear the loud pop of the bones and subsequent pop, pop, pop of its twisted spines--”

“And--” Eli chimed in, “Their mangly hands!”

“Oh, the hands! You just crush their wrists under your boot and they just--”

“Pop, pop, pop!” Eli chuckled. “My best kill was when I shot a direct arrow from the top of the roof at this Scout. It went right into the roof of its mouth and it let out this huge shriek and tried to get it out, but the arrow was super sharp, yeah? I worked on the arrowheads myself. Some sandpaper and a really sharp flint stone can really help you up the quality of your arrows.”

“So it severed its tongue?”

“Yeah! Its tongue was dripping with blood and promptly collapsed. The arrow had pierced through its throat and whizzed out from the back of its neck. And Scouts are especially weak at their necks; at least the newly mutated ones. It was trying its very best to hold on, but promptly exploded. Literally.. Exploded! You had guts and flesh on the grass and its rotten teeth floating on this big pond of rubbery jelly.”

“Exploded? Did you tell someone about it?”

“I informed Shannon. She said she’ll look into it and see if it was some recent development. Anyway, the stuffing is done. We need to smoke the turkey now.”

“Hold on— aren’t we in charge of the sides and the Sunflower dudes are doing the major stuff?”

“Yes, but the “Sunflower dudes” don’t actually consume meat.”

“Ah, okay, point taken. So it’s going to be all veggies on the table and this one abnormally large freakazoid Sewage Pipe Protein Turkey for the rest of us, then?”

Eli stifled a laugh, but it still showed as a subtle grin. “Looks like it.”

“Why bother with this survivor’s lentil soup, anyway?” Troy complained.

“Because we don’t have cabbage.”

“And it was you with this enlightening idea to replace cabbage with lentils? Seriously? I’d rather eat my left ear, but I won’t, because I’d hate to get up in the morning, admire myself in the mirror for having lived a great life, and find my ear missing from its place.”

“Stop complaining. We’re all doomed to die, anyway.”

“So lentils help?”

“Actually, they do the opposite. They make us healthier and increase our lifespans by eight to thirteen extra years.”

“God-frickin’-damn it.”

“Why? Were you hoping for a quick-early death or something?”

“No. I just hold this massive hatred for lentils, okay?”

“Holy crap, that’s a heck ton of noodles. Guess they’re not just a “side course” anymore.”

“The Builders have been busy. Clearly. Each individual strand of ramen is so efficiently rolled up and stretched. It’s akin to staring into the face of the Sun of Perfection.” Eli exclaimed.

“Are you— flirting with the ramen?” Troy chuckled.

“No, of course not. This is admiration. There’s clearly a difference.” Eli dismissed. “And of course, you wouldn’t be able to notice the difference. You were one boost of testosterone away from kissing that stray Drone that trespassed Camp borders, about a month ago.”

“Ah, but I killed it by shooting its rib, didn’t I? It’s that thing these kids say. What is it? Let me kiss you and then kill you or something like that. I don’t know. The point is, it got the job done! Eli, my friend, you have absolutely no idea what horrors I’m capable of.” Troy said, before exploding into mock evil laughter.

“Hey, Casanova Boy. While you were out there daydreaming, you added sugar to the pot instead.”

“Where did the salt go?”

“Dirt cake doesn’t sound like a word at all.”

“It’s two words and yes, it is frankly an unfortunate name. Do you have better ideas?”

“Muck Cake sounds better. Like some rapper’s name from the 2020s. Lil Muck.”

Eli audibly snorted. “We’re not calling it a “muck” cake. Something better.” he insisted, as he used a mortar and a pestle to crush up some hardtacks into dust. “Something like, say, The Civil Engineer’s Delight, because the Builders are indeed civil engineers, in one way or form.”

“No wonder civil engineers are constantly depressed. Come on man, think of something cooler, like Awesome Rocks!”

“This isn’t a rock.”

“Aah, but it will come out as a rock from the hearth. Seriously, how good do you estimate our baking skills to be?”

“I’m an excellent baker. Not sure about--” Eli gestured to all of Troy. “All of this.”

“So — how did it go?” Maura asked, as soon as Eli stepped into the lounge, exactly two hours later. He didn’t know where the time had gone, but he partially blamed Troy’s poor turkey dicing skills. If it weren’t for his little mess-up, they could’ve been done half an hour earlier, but Eli wasn’t complaining. Not anymore.

“It went — decent.”

“Did Troy behave?”

“You’re enquiring that as if he’s some child--” Eli chuckled. “He’s pretty good.”

“So, you worked well together?”

“I thought we’d be at each other's throats, but things ‌ran smooth. Troy wasn’t at his most hormonal teenage self and he actually is a decent cook and an even better baker, if I have to — admit.” Eli nodded approvingly. “I believe this could benefit Troy. He’s always been constantly on-edge. I’ve observed that it might be the post-traumatic stress disorder. And perhaps he should be encouraged to find such cathartic outlets to express himself.”

Maura peered at him with some curiosity. “That is the most feeling-sy thing I’ve ever heard from you. I like it.”

“This isn’t a recurring thing you know, I just thought it would be--”

“And that’s precisely why from now onwards, you’ll be his permanent Patrol partner.”

“Hold on--”

“I’m putting your name down on the Planner. I can never erase it. Once's it is on the book, it never goes away. That is, until you die, but I think that's highly improbable in the coming years.” Maura said.

“You know what? Do it. Go ahead. I enjoy working with him, anyway." Eli spoke, adamantly.

“You always continue to surprise me, Eli Sipes.” Maura smiled broadly before adding his name against Troy’s. “Have fun.”

A/N: The recipes were adapted from the book, The Art of Eating Through the Zombie Apocalypse: A Cookbook and Culinary Survival Guide by Lauren Wilson. (Except for the Raiders' stuffed turkey. That's just a big old gastronomical delight waiting to happen.)

Tag List:

Perma: @ofmischiefandmedicine, @quixoticdreamer16

If you'd like to be tagged for only Wake the Dead works, which are definitely in the making, please let me know! This is just the first of many coming right up. (But FYI, my WTD works won't contain any MC-centered romance, since Maura's aro/ace.)

Sidenote, I've kind of sort of lost all my tag lists after my, shall we say, "reboot", so if you really wish to be tagged for pure garbage like this, do drop a comment or send me an ask or in whatever way you see fit. Just let me know!

#eli sipes #wake the dead #troy hassan #maura tauber #cfwc for the boys

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