Us vs. the Apocalypse
Title: Haven Day
Word Count: 446
Author's Note: Takes place the morning after Time Crunch.
Avery woke to the smell of cinnamon and apples, and for a moment she was lost in a swell of memory, thoughts of her parents and the occasional special dinners they would cook, the apple pies her mother would bake with the fruit from the orchard. Growing up under lock and key, immersed in the ever-present threat of the dead charging through the security gates and fences, Avery had learned to find so much joy in those holidays. They were the only times that she every truly had her family to herself, and in the few hours where they sat around the long table, talking and laughing, she could convince herself that things were okay, that they could all live together forever, that nothing would ever change.
Groaning at her stiff muscles, she shoved her way out of bed and tugged on her boots, heading down the narrow staircase as she stretched and yawned her restless sleep away. As she stumbled into the small kitchen, she was surprised to find Dixon standing at the propane cooktop, humming quietly as he flipped pancakes. She watched him for a moment, confused, until he turned and glanced at her over his shoulder.
"Grab a seat," he said, gesturing to the breakfast bar with his spatula. "Food's ready." She slid onto the stool, swinging her feet beneath her, and accepted the plate of pancakes and apple cinnamon topping he slid in front of her.
"Am I still dreaming?" she asked sleepily, taking a fork from him. He chuckled at the question.
"Nah," he said. "Not dreaming."
"Where did you get this?"
"Canned apples in the cellar. Pancake mix in the pantry." He shrugged, pouring more batter onto the griddle. "Not exactly five star," he confessed, "but I figured we could use a nice meal before we..." He paused, staring down at his spatula, and after a few seconds shook himself free of his thoughts. "It's a holiday today," he said. "Felt like celebrating."
Her eyes flicked to the calendar pinned to the wall by the cordless phone, just over Dixon's right shoulder, but of course the pages hadn't been flipped since a year prior. She thought the dates through as she chewed.
"It's Haven Day?" she finally asked. Dixon nodded, flipping the pancake. "Why would we want to celebrate that?"
"It's not about the city," he said. "It's about surviving."
"We're not doing a terribly good job of that, either," she blurted, and flinched back when Dixon glared at her, his eyes brittle. "I didn't mean... I just... " She stammered over her words, then finally sighed in frustration and looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
Word Count: 446
Author's Note: Takes place the morning after Time Crunch.
Avery woke to the smell of cinnamon and apples, and for a moment she was lost in a swell of memory, thoughts of her parents and the occasional special dinners they would cook, the apple pies her mother would bake with the fruit from the orchard. Growing up under lock and key, immersed in the ever-present threat of the dead charging through the security gates and fences, Avery had learned to find so much joy in those holidays. They were the only times that she every truly had her family to herself, and in the few hours where they sat around the long table, talking and laughing, she could convince herself that things were okay, that they could all live together forever, that nothing would ever change.
Groaning at her stiff muscles, she shoved her way out of bed and tugged on her boots, heading down the narrow staircase as she stretched and yawned her restless sleep away. As she stumbled into the small kitchen, she was surprised to find Dixon standing at the propane cooktop, humming quietly as he flipped pancakes. She watched him for a moment, confused, until he turned and glanced at her over his shoulder.
"Grab a seat," he said, gesturing to the breakfast bar with his spatula. "Food's ready." She slid onto the stool, swinging her feet beneath her, and accepted the plate of pancakes and apple cinnamon topping he slid in front of her.
"Am I still dreaming?" she asked sleepily, taking a fork from him. He chuckled at the question.
"Nah," he said. "Not dreaming."
"Where did you get this?"
"Canned apples in the cellar. Pancake mix in the pantry." He shrugged, pouring more batter onto the griddle. "Not exactly five star," he confessed, "but I figured we could use a nice meal before we..." He paused, staring down at his spatula, and after a few seconds shook himself free of his thoughts. "It's a holiday today," he said. "Felt like celebrating."
Her eyes flicked to the calendar pinned to the wall by the cordless phone, just over Dixon's right shoulder, but of course the pages hadn't been flipped since a year prior. She thought the dates through as she chewed.
"It's Haven Day?" she finally asked. Dixon nodded, flipping the pancake. "Why would we want to celebrate that?"
"It's not about the city," he said. "It's about surviving."
"We're not doing a terribly good job of that, either," she blurted, and flinched back when Dixon glared at her, his eyes brittle. "I didn't mean... I just... " She stammered over her words, then finally sighed in frustration and looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry," she murmured.