WHO: Ellen (open to Spencer and Jayden) WHEN: May 07 WHERE: En route to the hot house SUMMARY: Returning from their scavenging rotation to deal with fires and feisty animals STATUS: In-progress WARNINGS: The usual violence and language
Following a particularly hard day, Ellen used to treat herself by ordering a tall mocha frappe and a slice of iced lemon cake. They were indulgences unknown to her during all her years spent in front of a camera. She tried to be more lenient after her early retirement. Kinder to herself. Life was short, after all. Have a goddamn cookie.
Her stomach clenched at the mere thought of baked goods. These days, it didn't bother growling anymore. Knew better. Like a dog trained not to beg under the table for scraps; why bother if nothing was going to come of it?
For their efforts, her scavenging team had a mostly fishy yield to show for themselves. A few knick-knacks pulled from abandoned campsites found along the way. The smell of smoke upon their return didn't immediately cause alarm bells to go off in Ellen's head. Yes, there had been a deliberate case of arson some days before. It had come under control quickly enough. Foolishly, she attributed the current smell a certain older gentleman. Wouldn't put it past him to have come up with some new way of smoking squirrel to make it taste like beef. Ellen thought of him as the culinary equivalent of a mad scientist. Not all experiments were a guaranteed success. Among them, some Frankenfoods were bound to emerge.
Oh, if only that were true.
"Is that ..." Ellen's voice trailed, eyes narrowing. "The storehouse!" She finished with a gasp. Dropping everything she'd been carrying, she took off toward the scene of the crime. Without the food stashed inside, their group might have to call in reservations made earlier by the Donner Party. It never occurred to her to check for other signs of distress that were obvious throughout the camp. During her sprint, she was guilty of adopting tunnel vision.