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“Oh. My god.”
Alyx is standing in the doorway, frozen in shock.
The storage closet is practically filled to the brim with cans. Canned foods of every size, shape, and colour line the walls.
“Woah,” comes Russell’s voice from over the radio. “Alyx, you’ve hit the jackpot!”
“Yeah,” she responds, before reality starts to set in. “...I can’t carry all this back to the city.”
“Well, no. But maybe just a can or two? For a rather hungry friend of yours, who’s a bit sick of ration packs?”
“You know what, Russ, sure. My treat.”
“Wonderful! Take a look around?”
Alyx steps into the closet. The sheer amount of cans is overwhelming, the faded, dusty labels calling out to her. She picks up one that promises peas, examining the packaging.
BEST BY 11/1/2004, she reads. Something sinks a little in her chest. “Is…is this stuff still good?”
“Hm. It should be! Technically, canned food can last indefinitely. As long as it’s properly sealed, of course.”
“Of course. You sure?”
“Alyx, I’ve got the whole Internet here, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well, it’s telling me that it should be perfectly fine. Just check none of them are damaged, first.”
“Got it.” The cans look pretty untouched, all things considered. It’s kind of a miracle that no one’s gotten in here before her. Of course, the copious amounts of boards she had to remove before opening the door probably discouraged most. “Hey, Russ,” she starts, “it’s getting kind of dark. You don’t mind if I take a break and…”
“Not at all. If you can’t bring the whole lot back, you might as well take the opportunity to enjoy yourself, Alyx.”
“Thanks.”
“As long as you’re opening some, mind if I provide some recommendations?”
“What have you got in mind?”
“Well, we don’t have anything even close to bread, but do you remember that sandwich I was talking about?”
She finds canned tomatoes and pre-cooked bacon, but that’s about it.
“Huh, alright. Maybe the tomatoes can be your bread? Stack the bacon between them?”
She does so, after pulling the food from the cans. It’s a bit strange to all her senses, so far, but still. She sits down on a crate, examining the makeshift mini-sandwich.
“Oh. I might want to tell you that the Internet also says that after being stored for so long, the taste might be…”
“Yeah?”
“…a little wonky. But go ahead! Try it!”
Alyx sighs, shaking her head, but bites down anyway.
It’s unlike anything she’s ever tasted before. Salty and meaty, with leftover juiciness from the liquid in the can. More flavour in a bite than she thought was possible. No ration bar could even come close.
“I’m imagining it’s a bit soggy, sorry.”
“This is amazing.”
“You think so? Oh, brilliant!”
Alyx puts the rest of the thing into her mouth, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. “Damn,” she says. “Gonna be hard going back after this.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Well, no use crying over spilled milk and all, but I do wish you could miraculously find some real food.”
“This isn’t real food?”
“Technically, maybe. But I mean fresh, not-sitting-in-a-can for fifteen years, food.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Yeah. Maybe someday.”
It’s pretty much an impossibility, but Alyx thinks that little bit of shared hope between them is probably the same type that’s kept the Resistance going all these years. Still, she’s not looking to sit here feeling sorry about the state of things now. She stands, skimming around the shelves. “Anything else you recommend?”
“Oh! Okay, so, an all-time classic is chicken noodle soup. If you find a way to heat it, even better.”
She ends up lighting a small fire in a basket, holding an old, slightly-dusty bowl she finds, over it for the rest of the night, trying various— well, mostly soups, which do really taste better warm. Her favourite is probably the fruit, and she finds herself throwing a can of pineapple slices into her bag, of all the things.
“Worth it,” she says.
“Now we just have to get it home in one piece. And you, of course.”
“Yeah. That would be nice.” She stretches. There’s a warm weight in her stomach for the first time in…well, as long as she can remember. She can’t help but yawn. “Mind if I catch a few hours of sleep?”
“Oh, go right ahead. I’ll keep an eye on things.”
“You’re doing alright?”
“One hundred percent. Well, ninety, more like. In any case, you ought to rest your legs before trekking off tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Russ,” Alyx mumbles, her eyes feeling heavy. She places her head on her bag, feeling her eyes grow heavy already.
“No problem, Alyx.”