Chapter Text
“Wait!” I yelled, cutting through the two boys’ screaming match. I pointed at Ed’s pants leggings, his left exactly as I noticed a bit of red on his rolled-up pants. It was blood. I know it.
“Hey. Yeah,” Mark says, jabbing his finger at Ed’s chest. “Why are you so desperate to see us pantsless?” Ed nervously laughs, shaking his head. “What do you mean?” he asks, trying to play dumb. “Oh, you know what I mean. So you were the only survivor of that incident, huh?” Mark pressed on.
“Yeah, so?” Ed says, his voice cracking.
“So, I’m thinking you’re desperate to hide something from us.”
“I haven’t—I haven’t been bit,” Ed says, laughing more nervously now. “I think—I—Don’t turn this back on me! I-I—...”
“You’ve been bit, haven’t you?” Mark asked, narrowing his eyes at Ed.
“Yeah,” Ed finally admitted, sounding disappointed in himself. “Yeah.”
“God, I bet there’s no prime rib left either,” Mark says.
“I-I got hungry.”
I stared Mark down. I don’t know if I should be shocked that his main displeasure was the whole “no prime rib” than the “infected Ed.” But, whatever. This is Mark we’re talking about. He’s an odd guy.
“And I’m lonely,” Ed added.
“Goddamn it, Ed! No prime rib?”
“Hold this,” Ed says, handing him the gun. “Okay.” Mark took the gun. “I figured I was dead anyway, so I just—I just ate all of it.” Ed rolled up his pants leg, showing off the nasty looking bite that was already turning a bit yellow, which doesn’t seem good. I unconsciously put my hand to my bite wound.
“This is yours,” Mark says, handing Ed the gun back. “Oh, it is.” Ed accepted it.
Goddamn it, Mark! We could have used that to kill him!
“I just—I—I ate all of it,” Ed says, shrugging a bit. “I even—I’ve rigged the whole place to blow ‘cause I don’t wanna, you know—I don’t turn and hurt anyone else.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mark says. “You rigged the whole place to blow?”
“Yeah, yeah, real—uh, real sophisticated like, too, with a timer and everything.” Ed pointed to the field. On red barrels, there were bombs.
Real.
Bombs.
Now that I realized it, I can hear it: ticking.
“Honestly, we got only about—I think we got about thirty seconds till the whole place is…blown to hell.” Mark looked at me, then Ed, then back at me. And took off running.
I didn’t waste a split second on running, either.
“I’m not very good with numbers,” Ed called out to us as we ran. “For all I know there could be about maybe—”
An explosion wave knocked us down to the ground.
I groaned as I sat up.
“Wow.” Mark popped his back as he stood up. “Wow.” He laughed before realization seemed to kick in. “Wow.” Mark’s knees buckled, knocking him to the ground. Both our knees gave out as we realized it.
This is it.
We’re done for.
“This is it,” Mark whispers. “The world’s coming to an end.” I let out a shaky breath. “Everyone’s gone crazy and we’re the only sane ones left.” With how Mark said that, no, we are not.
I looked at my arm. It had gotten worse. A bit…yellow.
“Oh.” I flinched. Mark had seen it. “Oh.” I put it down, heaviness pressed against my shoulders, like a heavy boulder was placed on them. “Oh, that sucks,” Mark whispers. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, though.” There was a pause, but it didn’t last long until Mark asked, “Oh, do you still have the Box?”
“Yeah…?” I got the Box out and handed it to him. Will this save me? Save us?
“I was gonna wait till we got back to base, but no time like the present, huh?” Mark shifted a bit, placing the Box in between us. “As you know,” I do not but go on , “this is the world’s oldest picnic basket,” he says, pulling out a large picnic basket from the tiny Box. Mark pulled out a dust covered blanket, whipping it a little to kick up the dust. He coughed a little when he got some in his mouth. I did too. “It’s perfect,” he says, sitting down on the blanket. I followed, tugging my knees under me.
I didn’t expect a last dinner , I thought. I was hoping for a cure, or something .
“Yeah. It’s crazy,” Mark says. “This thing was gonna fetch a fortune on the black market. But—” A skeleton came flying down beside us.
Mark picked it up.
It wore a burnt T-shirt with the word “ED” on it.
Mark threw it to the side. “Anyway.”
“But the most amazing thing about it is that the sandwiches inside are probably perfectly preserved over the past two thousands years,” Mark says, opening up the picnic basket. “And look—” He pulled out two rotten looking sandwiches wrapped in plastic. “And look at that. Perfectly preserved.”
“There’s flies…,” I pointed out, swiping one away. Mark looked uncomfortable but still kept his optimistic act up. “Looks like we’re working with, um…” He sniffed the one in his right hand, pulling away with a sour face. “...PB&J and, uh…” He sniffed the other one, immediately throwing up in his mouth. “...tuna.”
I already feel like I’m gonna throw up, even just by looking at it. “Oh, boy. I don’t know which one I want first,” Mark says. “They’re both so appetizing.” He paused. “Uh…since you’re gonna go all zombie on me, maybe—maybe you should be the one to pick. It’s only fair. Which one do you want?” He made “nom nom nom” sounds, acting like he wanted to eat them both, which I knew was a blunt lie. “Just leave enough for me and I’ll be happy. It’s the only little bit of happiness I got left here.”