Bread!

[dog_eat_dog]

WHO: Tess and youuuu.
WHERE: A grocery store in Heropa.
WHEN: Afternoon.
WHAT: Getting a little bit emotional about fresh bread.
WARNINGS: None yet.

A few days after arriving in Heropa, on her first run for groceries, Tess finds herself utterly lost in thought in the bakery section. Everything feels off.

She can remember herself last doing this some twenty years ago, when she was complaining about it, wondering why she had to help get groceries when she could just help her parents unload them once they got home. Did her mom and dad really need her running across the store to get this and that just to make the trip faster? So what if going with them meant she could maybe pick out a few things her parents wouldn’t get otherwise? She had a part-time job. She could buy whatever snacks she wanted.

That was a long time ago.

Now, Tess is just standing in front of the bread racks in a sort of fascination. There’s baguettes and ciabatta and pumpernickel, and a half-dozen different flavors of bagel, and cheese sticks and croissants and all those things. Tess can’t even fathom turning down an opportunity to get groceries, now. It’s something like pornography, now, where she can just stand there in front of the shelves like some slack-jawed idiot, getting strange looks from people who just want to get to the sesame-seed buns but can’t as long as she’s in the way.

She feels like a fucking idiot for wanting to cry. It takes every ounce of her being not to grab things by the armload and run, run, run with them. Jesus christ, she can still taste bread from the Quarantine Zone in her mouth if she thinks about it, with that awful heaviness and coarse texture, and that sour aftertaste. Good bread was expensive for the military to produce, and not hearty or filling enough to bother with in any significant quantity at that. Even with her relatively "comfortable" lifestyle in the Quarantine Zone, Tess hadn’t tasted good, fresh bread in decades.

Tess allows herself to reach, to touch –– she puts her hands against the waxed paper bag to feel that the bread inside is still warm, as it’d only come out of the oven hours ago. That does get her eyes a little misty, and her heartbeat picks up.

Jesus christ, it’s stupid to be so sentimental about bread, but these people don’t know what they’re missing.

Have at, fine people of Heropa –– there’s a woman getting emotional in the bakery section.

Comments

[dog_eat_dog]

Tess listens as she pokes through different fruits and vegetables, and she adds bananas to her armload.

"I haven't given the hero thing any consideration. I've spent the last three days trying to come to terms with twenty years of living in Hell while some people were here," she says. There's no shortage of bitterness in her voice, either. "I doubt I'll be squeezing into spandex after three months, or three years, or even three decades."

[112ounces]

Twenty years?

Carl feels like he just stumble on to something, but he's not sure what. Maybe she's just talking about her life in general, even after the virus hit. Carl had always suspected that people like Daryl and Merle lived a rough life the moment they were born, and it showed in how much they adapted after mankind fell to the dead.

"Yeah, I know. It felt like yesterday when I was in school before it all fell apart. I remember some of my teachers' names, and some of my friends, but I think several years from now I might not remember their faces."

It makes him a little sad to think that out of everyone in his grade, he's most likely to be the only one still alive. He picks out one apple. He can make an apple last for two days if he's careful.

"Which is why I'm not sure if I can even go to school, let alone be a superhero. It feels too much."

[dog_eat_dog]

School. Teachers. Friends. That's so distant that Tess doesn't have anything to relate to there. That's the thing about talking to children: they have such little experience that even if you speak to them like an adult, you don't know what you'll get in return.

"So don't," she says. "Take advantage of everything you can, ignore what you don't like."

[112ounces]

Carl smiles at that. It is something Daryl would say, so he just nods in acknowledgement, unable to say anything else.

He wanders over to the vegetable isle. He remembers he hated eating those things. They always tasted so bland to him. But now? He can't wait to eat a carrot, or spinach for that matter.

"Too bad I don't have any time-stopping powers. I could pig out on a basket of carrots."

[dog_eat_dog]

Why he would need time-stopping powers to eat carrots, Tess has no idea. Kids are strange. She isn't even tempted to ask.

"Pick what you want, all of this is dirt cheap."

She's going to find a pineapple, too. First, however, she gestures at the holster on his leg.

"Do you know how to use that?"

[112ounces]

He looks down at the holster. He touches the cold metal briefly, a habit he had to ensure he had it on him. "Yeah. But I've just emptied it out on some walkers before I got here."

Which . . . he ought to find more ammo. Which he's pretty sure he's not old enough to buy here.

Talk about a downside in living in civilization.

[dog_eat_dog]

"Waste of bullets, little man," she chides. Then again, she supposes he's got considerably less body weight to rely on for grappling with infected. Almost against her will, Joel comes to mind, and she wonders how he's faring with a fourteen year old in tow.

[112ounces]

Carl is about to open his mouth, saying, no it wasn't until he rethink that position. Yeah, it was pretty stupid when he got the jump like that, and get piled on by walkers
as though it was a football game.

"Yeah, I did get the jump on me," he admitted with an embarrassed grin. "But I did find a big can of pudding, so it was worth it."

[dog_eat_dog]

She shoves the thought of Joel down. Somewhere here or there or anywhere, Joel is doing what she asked of him. She's here and needs to get on her feet, so that's what has to matter more.

"Well, if you got pudding... that's a little more worth it, then."

[112ounces]

"All hundred and twelve ounces of it were totally worth it."

Even if there were times he felt like he was going to throw up after he was scrapping through the bucket.

"What was the greatest thing you ever found before coming here?"

[dog_eat_dog]

Eighty-seven unopened 2mL bottles of morphine is an answer, or maybe it's that cache of guns that David backstabbed her on before she had him tortured for information and then promptly executed afterwards, but that's hardly an appropriate answer for anyone.

"An iPhone with an uncracked screen and a working battery," she says, amused. "I wasted a couple hours of electricity to charge the thing, and then just used it to take stupid pictures. I can get most other things I want."

[112ounces]

"Man, to even have electricity is pretty cool. My dad and others would scout in other towns and they come back with little kick-knacks along with supplies. Usually it's books or toys for the kids." Not that he would play with him. They sort of lost their appeal to Carl, even though both the older and the younger kids enjoy them. Stil, Carl still enjoyed the comics Michonne would find while looking for the Governor.

[dog_eat_dog]

"It is," she agrees. "But it comes at a cost. You live in a QZ, you're dealing with the military all the time. You step out of line, you get executed. You stand a better chance of surviving in the QZ than out of it, but it also means you're at their beck and call."

Tess isn't –– not really, anyway. She lives in the system because she knows how to abuse it, not because she wants an easier life.

"Be a kid where you can, I guess."

[112ounces]

"I knew a settlement that was kinda like that," He remarks. "The guy in charge was a lot worse though." In so many ways. "At least the walkers are dumb and easy to deal if they aren't in a herd."

He looks at his little meager collection of bread and fruit. Normally this amount Carl would have been perfectly happy with, but now with an endless supply of food . . . "Is there anything else you want?"

[dog_eat_dog]

"Well, the government has to pretend it still cares about us a little, doesn't it? Can't say the same about private citizens."

Private citizens like her especially.

Tess glances down at her armload.

"For now. You know you're just going to puke most of this back up, right?"

[112ounces]

"Doubt it. If I ate expired candy and a hundred ounces of pudding without spewing, I think I can handle fresh fruit."

He'll even eat dog food. That's how tough his stomach is.

"I'm good for now, I think." Maybe he'll find a way for the government to give him some cash so he don't have to beg off of other people like him.

[dog_eat_dog]

Tess shakes her head. Kids. As far as she's concerned, he'll learn she's right one way or another.

"Suit yourself," she says, and heads towards the cash wrap.

[112ounces]

And in the near future, in his distress, he's going to find out just how wrong he will be.

"It's going to be weird, isn't it? To find your own place and not have to fight or kill people over things like food or medicine?"

[dog_eat_dog]

Tess doesn't look back at him, if only just to hide the expression of anxiety she feels wash over her face. She's barely keeping it together half the time as it is, trying to explain weirdness to a child who has [as far as she knows] never known normal society is definitely not something she can even start on.

"Yeah, it'll be weird," she says. "But you'll adjust. I adjusted to living in this crap, you can adjust to living out of it. There is literally no way it could be worse. You'll have the time of your life."

As for living with the trauma, well, she's not touching that one with a ten foot pole.

[112ounces]

The moment he said those words he immediately regretted them. There's a time and place for that, and he realizes he doesn't know this woman. He's been so relieved to have someone, even a stranger, who knows at least a little what it's like to live his life that he makes casual assumptions about death like it is nothing. He can feel his face go red as he feels the mortification rising up.

Trying to shove those feelings down, he looks at the checkout line.

"That's true. I think I would probably spend the next few days watching the television."

He picks up a packet of gum, with the label cheerfully describing CHILLINGLY FRESH! in white letters in a blue background.

Gum, fruit, and fresh bread. It's a good meal, that's for sure.

[dog_eat_dog]

Tess finally looks at the kid once she sets her items down on the conveyor belt. Conveyor belt? Is that right? Her brain feels sluggish.

"You still have television down in Georgia?" Tess says, in an almost exhausted tone. God, if they have television in Georgia, no wonder Florida isn't a shithole. She doesn't even know how that works, but apparently it does. "I haven't seen television since before you were born."

And then she looks back at the cash wrap every time the cashier scans something through and the machine beeps. Christ.

[112ounces]

Carl placed his fruit and bread and gum on the belt, watching it move in fascination. Customers who are checking out their groceries are staring at Carl again, a few even whispering, obviously looking at his gun and holster. Even the cashier is looking at him from the side of her eyes.

The stares is starting to make him a little nervous.

"I wish. Any electricity we had we kept for lights and radios."

But wait, something she said made him pause. It doesn't quite add up.

"What do you mean? As in, you hadn't seen television when walkers showed up?"

But that makes no sense. It's been over two years since that happen.

[dog_eat_dog]

Tess sighs, and she feels a headache coming on –– something about handling food, a kid and all the survivor's trauma at once, and the fact that she's still not used to the bright electric lighting in every goddamn building. The constant beeping of the cash machine doesn't help, either. The eyes on Carl don't bother her so much, but the eyes on her feel exposing. Does she look like a shitty adult for having a kid with a gun with her? Who knows.

She leans against the cash counter and fixes him a look.

"Where do you think I grew up, with in the fucking Amish? Of course I had," she replies. "Have you ever seen television?"

[112ounces]

Carl just stares at her blankly.

"Of course I had. I was twelve when it all fell apart . . . " He trailed off, a thought lacing through his brain like a bullet. He looks vaguely horrified, looking out over the distance. "It was two years ago."

The cashier was done with checking out the food and obviously listening to the conversation while waiting on Tess.

"Oh my god, you are from the future."

It is so crazy but the woman said it happened twenty years ago. What else could it be?

The cashier obviously think so, with the sidelong glances to the floor in concern to nobody in particular.

[dog_eat_dog]

Oh.

Oh.

It's not that Tess hasn't put together that she's either from some future time or else stuck in limbo or something –– that's her current theory, even if a week ago she wouldn't have believed in either of those things. Now, though, she'll take any answer she can get.

It's that the notion of being alone in this is terrifying, the kind of terrifying that makes her want to vomit. Her whole existence is like some kind of cautionary tale.

"Yeah," she says, somewhat distantly. She ignores Carl for a moment to pay, and she's surprised to find her fingers trembling somewhat at she fishes through the Hello Kitty wallet she has in her purse. She pays, but it's without looking the cashier in the eye.

She starts bagging their things, far too rushed than she needs to be.

"So what?" Tess says, hard. "Just be glad you got out of there now."