Cultivator in a Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter Forty - Baking away Unhappy Thoughts

Autumn quietly rose from her bed and tip toed out of the room that she was sharing with the older woman. She hadn't slept well, her mind replaying the scenes of the day before over and over, causing her to be unable to settle. A thought of irony caused her plump lips to curve slightly; finding this place, being welcomed here and having the ability to sleep in a bed rather than on a narrow sofa in the R.V... and yet still suffering from insomnia.

She and the rest of Jonah's people had settled in the west side of the property; partially as most of the bedrooms in the east side had been claimed.  The other reason, she felt, was likely a question of trust.  Those men had been here a while and had developed a good relationship amongst themselves; they'd worked together to make this place safe and more secure. It seemed a wonderful place to live. But as welcoming as they had been to Jonah, herself, her cousin and the others, there was bound to be friction in the beginning. No one could guarantee that everybody was on the same page.

The stairs squeaked beneath her weight as she slowly stepped downstairs and she flinched and bit her lower lip, but no one came to question her, so she continued to make her way downstairs. She had always been of heavier build, curvy and plush, her daddy used to say when mummy compared her once more to her willowy cousin. And even though she had lost weight due to the lack of substantial food after the end, she was still not a slim girl. Her inability to reproduce the waif-like figure that Brooke had weighed upon her mind as heavily as her body did upon scales.

Her old habit probably did not help.

The kitchen had always been her haven and whenever she was upset or feeling low, she would almost automatically wander into it, open the cupboards and take out a few things. It had been a while though. When she had attended university, before the apocalypse, she had lived in a shared house and the tiny kitchen always seemed to have someone occupying it; boiling the kettle for a cuppa or for pot noodles, making a sandwich or heating up a microwaveable meal.

And then her mother had called and told her that Brooke was very ill and could she look after her cousin. "I know I can rely on you, Autumn," her mother had told her. "I would take care of her myself, but your grandmother is also very sick and we need to drive up to Manchester to take care of her. You understand, right?"

You understand, right... she had heard those words many, many times in the last decade or so Brooke's parents have died in an accident, so she'll be coming to stay with us. She had a much bigger room at her old home, so we think it's best if you give up your room and move into the smaller room this time, you understand, right? I know you love that doll, but think about Brooke, what she has had to give up, you understand, right? The last cookie? There will be more in the future, let Brooke have it this time, you understand right?

Even her mother's last words... Please, take care of Brooke, she's your cousin, you understand, right?

Throwing the dough upon the lightly floured side, Autumn kneaded all of her frustrations, her sadness and melancholy into it. She didn't blame her mother, though, not really. They had all become used to revolving around Brooke; poor orphaned Brooke, who had to move in with her Aunt, Uncle and Cousin at the tender age of seven. She was pitiful, right? Didn't have parents, didn't have friends as she was too pretty, didn't have the head for academics nor the talents in practical things like cooking... but she could sing and had her looks... Autumn's mother said that Brooke was born to be a star.

Cooking, cooking was Autumn's thing, but that still did not her mother happy. With her size, being surrounded by the temptation of food was surely not a good thing, right? Her fingers slid against the smooth dough with satisfaction, before she placed it into the bowl to rise, a clean tea towel covering it. Ah, how long had it been since she had made bread? The squad were not chefs, did not cook at all. When they gathered food, it was mostly bulk rice, pasta and tinned food. Things that could be heated up and eaten. No real skills involved. She had once tried to volunteer to cook, at the beginning, but Brooke had wanted them both to be cautious, integrate well with the others, so that they were not abandoned and Brooke had completed her own wish by climbing into bed with Jonah.