Dinner and Dishes
I hate washing dishes. Those stupid new kids act like a sink full of dishes washes itself. They walk into the kitchen day in, day out grabbing all the clean dishes only to forget them in some corner of the base. The worst is when they grab Jack’s favorite mug; the one with the Snoopy on it. I tell all the newcomers to not grab it yet one of them does every time. They’d rather get sent to etiquette than wash a damn mug, I guess.
​
I have Stacy looking for the latest offender. An absolute psycho who burnt fuck-who-knows-what in Jack’s mug then tried to hide it. I’m skipping etiquette and going straight to execution on that one. They’re out there lounging somewhere while I’m tearing my finger nails to shreds trying to scrape all the black crust out of Jack’s mug. I’ll show him my blackened nails once he gets back from the supply run. After that it’s just a matter of finding the newb who took the mug.
​
It’s not typically this bad since most people aren’t burning food onto plates. Usually, I only have stains to content with. If I’m lucky I have soap and bleach to help me, maybe even some Easy-Off. That would help with the last stubborn bit of this burnt crust. Currently, all I have is a bit of watered-down dish soap. I pour the last of it into the mug to help with my scrubbing. I really hope someone on the supply run remembers to bring me some soap and bleach…and napkins…and all the other dozen things we’re in short supply of.
​
Sighing, I set the soapy mug in the sink leaning my hands against the edge. My fingers ache, my arms hum with a deep throb. If Stace or I aren’t on the run then no one bothers bringing back the basics. I gave Jack a list this time but will he remember? It isn’t even an extensive list, the bare minimum really. Dish soap, bleach, napkins, disinfectant spray, new sponges, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss. What I would do for some good, extra-strength floss. They probably won’t find any, not locally anyways, since I cleaned out all the strong stuff from the local shops ages ago.
​
Scrubbing again, I’m tempted to throw the mug out. Only the thought of dealing with a grumpy Jack keeps me at it. What the hell did they heat in this? Who needs to heat anything anyways? The last time I scrubbed this hard was when my dad microwaved lasagna and burnt it. I had black crust under my nails for a whole week!
​
Huffing I switch arms. I can’t wait for Jack to come back. He always has an easy time getting everyone in order. I don’t have the patience for it. The new recruits get on my last nerve; they’re slow, they’re dumb. They stink. Granted I stink right now too. How can I keep my rank as “best looking in the base” when I look and smell like roadkill? Body wash, soap I’ll even take soap berries at this point. We need too many things and I’m tired of disappointment every time they come back. I know they pass at least a dozen stores; they can definitely scrounge something for me to use.
​
Finally, the crust comes off and I finish the last of the dishes. Jack and the rest will be back soon which means I can’t even be happy that the dishes are done. Sighing again, I dry my hands on a dish towel, side-eyeing the newbie pulling a jug of water out of the fridge only to let half of it slosh on the floor. My side-eye turns into a full-on scowl when I see him grab the last of the napkins with full intention of wasting them on the mess.
​
Running, I snatch them out of his hands, “We have a mop, why the hell are you wasting napkins?”
Twitching he glares at me, “The mop is dirty, besides this is faster.”
“If the mop is dirty then clean it. We barely have enough napkins as it is.”
“You clean it then,” he says, throwing a few stray napkins at me.
Grabbing his arm, napkins still in hand, I slam him into the fridge, “Are you an animal? Do you need lessons? Use the mop.”
He huffs trying to move but I have him in a vice grip, pressing him further into the fridge.
“Just because Jack fucks you, it doesn’t mean you run the place,” he snarls.
Snapping his wrist I delight in his yelp of pain, “That’s the thing, he doesn’t fuck me. I only fuck guys who can take me in a fight.”
Letting go he slumps to the ground, right on top of the spilt water. Holding his wrist he still manages a glare.
“Go wash the mop, clean this up.” I say stepping out of the kitchen into the common room. Scanning I spot Stacy.
​
“Hey Stace!” I call out, heading over to her. On my way I drop the crumpled napkins onto the cleanest of the tables. Mentally I add some waterproof tablecloths to my list.
“Hey babes, here,” she says moving one of the couch cushions and scooting closer to Malcom, one of the new kids. Well, he wasn’t really a kid but around here he was still fresh.
“Any word on the supply team? Jack?” I ask sliding in next to her.
“Nah, but I heard some of the lookouts say they saw movement coming from the big park so it’s probably them.”
I hmm’d, “Unlikely to be anyone else.”
“Think they got you the stuff?”
I shrug, “No…”
​
Stacy pats my shoulder. She continues chatting with Malcom. I let my eyes wander, sinking into the couch. On one of the further tables are all the older folk that weren’t picked for this run playing with some cards someone did manage to remember. Everyone else sits around in pairs or clusters not doing much of anything except chatting or napping. The group’s grown, there are quite a few new recruits. Nearly too many…we may have to consider moving again.
​
Chewing on my lip I wonder when I’ll finally be able to go on a supply run, a scouting mission, a perimeter run, anything! I’m tired of doing the fucking dishes. I should be out there, with Jack and the others like I used to be. Not stuck here worrying about the distinct lack of AC and the stench of lazing bodies.
​
“I’m sore.” I say rolling my shoulders back.
Stacy turns to me, “Me too.”
“Going to check-in with the lookouts,” Malcom says excusing himself. We watch him go.
“When’s the next run, do you know,” I ask.
Stacy hugs the cushion Malcom left behind, “Next, next Tuesday, I think? That’s what Malcom said.”
“Am I in the group?”
“No.”
I groan, “Again?”
Stacy shrugs, “Malcom didn’t mention you going and Jack said no. I asked him right before he left. He just said he wanted to talk to you about something when he got back.”
“I thought you didn’t talk to Jack before he left?”
“I forgot to tell you, it was right before the bathroom incident.”
“Oh, right…Are you going on the next run? Malcom?”
“No and yes, he said he’d actually bring us back stuff if we gave him a list.”
“You think he’ll remember? I gave Jack a list but I don’t think he’ll remember.”
“Malcom will remember and since he actually helps around here, he’ll know the stuff we like.” She laughs.
“I’ll write a list then, let’s just hope literally anyone remembers. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to stomach the absolute putrid stench coming off of me.”
​
Stacy rolls her eyes, “It’s not that bad, though I would kill for some body scrub. I’m starting to get those weird skin patches again,” she says showing me her arm which did indeed have the weird skin patches.
“They’re not too bad yet, I’ll help you wrap them later so they don’t get infected.”
“Thanks. Can you make sure to add detergent to the list? I’m almost out of the soap-water thing I made and Malcom says the clothes are starting to smel-” Before she can finish speaking, the room shifts.
​
“Jacks back! Call Bill!” Malcom shouts running into the room.
Jack walks in a few steps behind him, “Brought dinner, Bill?”
​
Bill walks in from the other side of the large room, likely waking from a nap, “I heard you the first time,” he says, heading straight to the kitchen. The room is moving, not needing any more instructions from Jack on what needs to be done while Bill prepares the meal.
​
Jack catches my eye, signaling me over, “Cindy?”
“Yes,” I respond, getting off the couch.
“The plates?”
“I washed them, did you bring my stuff? Dish soap? Bleach?”
“…No, forgot.”
“Dammit,” I say, reaching Jack near the entrance of the room. “We really need it, look!” I show him my filthy fingernails.”
“What’s that? Paint?”
“No, one of your newbies decided to burn something in your mug and I was the one who had to scrub it with the last of the dish soap! We’re out!”
He grimaces, “Sorry Cin, give me a list next time.”
“I did give you a list,” I say, pointing to his jacket pocket.
Fishing through it he pulls out the note, “So you did, forgot about it,” he says waving it.
“Can I please go on the next run? I won’t forget.”
Jack’s face stiffens, “No.”
​
Everyone scurries around us, happily chattering about dinner. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I try not to sigh but ugh, I really don’t want to scrub at stains again.
​
“I used to go, I-”
“C’mere,” he says, grabbing my upper arm dragging me into his office.
“Stace! Save me a plate, don’t let the newbies eat my-” I call out hastily.
​
Jack practically throws me into his office, slamming the door in the process. Huffing, I flop into the chair in front of his desk waiting for him to settle in. He takes his time; changing his shoes, taking off his jacket, wiping his face with a clean towel. As he sits behind his desk I note the healthy pink hue on his skin.
​
“You ate well while you were out?”
He smirks, “Of course, it’s too hard to bring everything back. Especially with someone nagging me for more things.”
“We all need that stuff. I caught a newb today trying to use the last of the napkins to clean some mess he’d made. You need to train them better they think they own the place.”
“Do they now?”
Ignoring his question I gesture around vaguely, “What did you bring me in here for?”
Jack leans back, “We’re moving.”
I sit up, “Soon?”
“Yes…not everyone though. Only the ones that can pass.”
A slow smile spreads across my face, “Time for etiquette?”
Jack nods, “I sent a few of the guys to give a final scope of the new place. It’s pretty solid. Has a basement. Has a dishwasher. Kinda far though.”
That really perks me up, “No more dishes?”
“No, I’ll get someone new on that once we move.”
“Does that mean I’ll get to go on more runs?”
​
Jack doesn’t answer waving a hand at me instead, “Go fast or you might get left with scraps.”
“I’m going on the next run.”
“No, I need you to listen to me. You agreed for me to be leader. I need you here to keep everyone in order.”
I scoff, “They don’t listen to me because they respect me, they think I’m tattling to you because we’re banging. Besides, I only agreed because you have an easier time with the newbies.”
“Yet you still agreed.”
“No, I agreed to keep the peace but the peace isn’t worth being gross, sticky, and wearing clothes that smell like mildew. I need that stuff Jack, if you won’t bring it I will.”
“Cindy, let me finish.”
​
I roll my eyes but let him continue.
“We need to cull the herd before the big move. Most of them won’t even make it past etiquette anyways. I was only gone for a few days and some of them are already acting spoiled rotten. Too slow, too sluggish. Did you see how long it was taking them to set the tables? How are they supposed to go on runs like that?”
“Etiquette will take care of that but don’t change the subject, I’m going on that run!”
His eyes roam across my face, “Alright.”
“Alright?” I ask skeptically.
“Not the next run though,” he raises a hand to stop my complaint, "there will be a run that same Thursday. Small, select. There’s a mall on the way to the new place. I was thinking of checking it out so we can get our stuff from there.”
“A mall?” The possibilities.
He nods, “Not sure how it is inside but if it’s good you’ll be the one to do all the future runs there.”
“Sick, okay. Thursday then.”
“Thursday,” he confirms. “You better go,” he says nodding towards the door, “it isn’t scraps this time.”
​
Understanding I excuse myself. I’ll have to hound him later but for now I return to the common room looking for Stacy. Spotting her at the center table I head over. Sliding onto the bench next to her I thank her for getting me a plate.
​
“I got you the best stuff, had to scare some of the newbies to the back of the line.”
“Don’t worry,” I say smirking, “They’ll learn some etiquette soon.”
She looks over at me with big eyes, “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I say. She smiles, digging into her food with more fervor.
​
Glancing around I see Bill’ s whipped up quite a feast. Judging by the mess the newbies are making it’s good. Granted, the real fun begins once Jack comes out and sees how they failed to correctly clear their plates. One in particular catches my eye, the napkin newbie. His hands are completely soiled, like we don't have perfectly good cutlery. It is, for sure, off to etiquette for him.
​
“Cindy, eat before it gets cold.” Stace says.
“Did you get Bill to save Jack some,” I ask, grabbing a knife and fork.
“Duh, he knows Jack likes to snack even if he says he doesn’t. It’s in the fridge,” she says, scoffing.
​
Focusing on my plate my mouth waters, it smells so good! It’s been a while since we had a good meal rather than whatever scraps the supply team managed to bring back. Taking a bite, I groan. Perfection. Bill really outdid himself. Taking a few more bites my stomach finally starts to settle. I try not to eat too quickly remembering the first meal we had after we moved here. Jack had brought back a massive deer which Bill prepared. We were so excited to eat meat that we gorged ourselves. The mess was astounding, even worse once it all came back up again. I still remember how hard it was to get the smell out even after we cleaned.
​
Chewing slowly, I savor the food. Bill really has a way with prepping meals. If he wasn’t with us I’m not sure how enjoyable meal time would be. He’s even good at prepping small things like squirrels and rabbits. Clean preparation, a little char. My mouth salivates further, luckily Stace grabbed us some of the last napkins or else I’d have drool dripping off my chin. Wiping it away I cut my meat even smaller to make it last. Squirrels and rabbits are fun, like snacks but I wish we could find deer again. There were so many around here in the beginning but they were picked off or ran away. Now there are none.
​
Finishing the last bite, I move onto the deluxe part of the meal. No one prepares liver quite like Bill. Granted, it’d be even better if it had the correct kind of onion but scallions are all I’ve managed to grow. The only good thing is no one else likes onion so I get to eat it all myself on the rare occasion the supply team find fresh livestock and manage to bring it back before it spoils.
​
Slicing it into small bites I savor the flavor. The liver dissolves in my mouth, the strong iron flavor raising my energy, the onions cutting through the flavor helping mellow the experience. Wiping my mouth to keep myself presentable I am momentarily distracted from my meal by a newbie from the next table over flinging food at me. I have him grabbed by the face in an instant. Silence falls over the room.
​
“I suggest you learn your manners or I’ll get you sent to etiquette,” I say.
“Sorry, I’m just so hungry.”
“Well, you better knock it off,” I say wiping my shirt with my free hand, “if Jack sees the mess you’ve made you’re dead meat.”
His face pales, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “I’m sorry,” he squeaks.
I tighten my grip, leaning in I see a black tar-like mess at the edges of his teeth, “What is that?”
“I-Something I ate earlier,” He sputters.
“In a Snoopy mug?”
He squeaks. My patience gone I rip his head right off letting it drop to the ground, “Don’t touch the damn Snoopy mug.”
Huffing I get back to my seat the noise slowly returns to the room like nothing happened. Satisfied I return to my own meal. Spearing another piece of liver I catch Stacy giggling at the situation.
“Cranky?” She jabs.
“You’re the one who’ll have to wash this stain out,” I say, pointing to the huge stain still on my shirt.
​
She groans. Returning to our food we keep eating. While the liver is delicious it’s gone too soon. Left on my plate is what I always find most exciting. The others don’t like it because there isn’t much meat but I quite like gnawing on the bones until they’re clean; it’s just like eating chicken feet.
​
I wipe my hands on my napkin for good measure before picking up the hand in front of me. The left one since Jack likes the right one, I think they’re the same but I’m not about to argue. Slowly I set about prepping the plump hand; I tear each nail off, sucking any loose skin and blood right off. Placing them back on my plate I inspect the hand for any hair, none; lucky! Tearing the index finger with a pop I set about munching around the finger. The meat isn’t the softest, the flavor quite gamey but I actually like that.
​
I clean off each bone, spitting it into the communal bone bucket in the middle of the table. Moving onto the next finger I repeat the process. The blood has long since concealed but the meat smells fresh, clean like it was vegan or something. I savor each finger, taking my time despite most of the group already having finished.
​
“I wish we could eat like that every time.” Stacy comments dropping her last bone into the bucket.
“Me too,” I say spitting out a bone.
She wrinkles her nose, “Hands are so gross.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“I did try, remember. You gave me a finger when we first moved and it was so gross!”
I shrug tearing off the pinkie finger, the last finger, “You know I like the weird pieces; hands, knees, spines! Ugh, what I wouldn’t do for a spine.”
“I didn’t see any spine?”
“Probably got split up…or Jack ate it, you know he likes these pieces too.”
​
Stacy agrees her attention taken by Malcom again. He’d finished so fast he didn’t even have his plate anymore. Sticking the whole pinkie in my mouth I bite hard. My body shivers as my finger shatters, my whole mouth filling with rich marrow. I chew as slowly as possible not wanting the flavor to dissipate. Eventually I swallow, running my tongue all along the inside of my cheeks to pick up any remaining pieces. Sighing I pluck at the remaining palm. Peeling pieces from it like string cheese, shoving them into my mouth. The palm isn’t really that good but I eat it anyways, having to chew hard to get it down.
​
Gnawing on the remaining meat I try and fail to not get any tendons stuck in my teeth. Tendons are the worst! I have to stick my hand far into my mouth to pull them out. Not that easy to do and much easier with floss which is threatening to take the top spot on my list.
​
By the time I finish only cold, congealed blood is left on the plate. Taking a spoon, I scrape it all off. Unlike those stupid freshies, I know how not to let food go to waste. Jack is going to have a field day when he sees all the meat left on the bones.
​
Right on queue Jack walks in. His expression darkens as he catches sight of the tables, “Who the fuck has been in here eating like a fucking animal?”
​
Silence follows. Jack steps down, prowling between the tables, “Food on the floor,” he picks up a bone from another table’s bucket, “so much meat on these bones, clothes a downright mess. We aren’t savages, we eat with utensils, we wash our hands, we keep ourselves clean.”
​
He walks some more kicking the fallen head without care, “It seems some of you need training. Bill! Stacy!”
“Yes, Jack?” Bill says, appearing next to Jack in an instant, bone still in hand. Stacy not far behind.
“Take these fresh fools to etiquette. The rest of you, I expect this cleaned.”
“Yes, Jack!” We respond.
​
The napkin newbie tries to bolt but Jack is too fast. He has the kid’s face in his left hand the other digging into his back. Before anyone can blink Jack rips the freshie’s spine right out of him: clean. There it is, I think, the reason Jack’s the leader. The fresh newbies hadn’t seen him in his element, not really since they were still to untamed to take on runs. They didn’t understand why Jack was chosen as the leader from day one. They might soon though, learn; if they can make it out of etiquette in one piece. A shiver runs through me as Jack throws the spine right into a bucket. I can’t wait for etiquette.