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Act I Chapter VII ━ For Whom the Bell Tolls
IT WAS OFFICIAL. Jules and Eddie were terminally bored.
After their sixth round of Twenty Questions, they'd exhausted every interesting question they could think of.
Eddie's favorite dog breed? Wiener dog.
She could picture him carrying such a small animal under his arm, akin to how one would carry a football.
Jules' most embarrassing vomit story?
Freshman year. Puking up eight hotdogs worth of bile all over Tommy Hagan after riding the Tilt-A-Whirl six times. She claimed he had deserved it after hurling some colorful words at Quinn that night.
Their new game was less thought provoking, more skill based. See who could get the most nuts into an empty tin can from five feet away. Winner would get to eat all the nuts that made it into the can.
Jules gently shook her handful of nuts, other hand setting up the loop once again. The song had been on repeat for eight hours, every chord and lyric burned into her synapses. This would forever be her karaoke song.
As Eddie was about to take his go, hand bouncing beneath his widened knees to make the distance, the two suddenly froze at the sound of screeching tyres. Nuts clattering to the concrete, they both ducked down so they couldn't be seen, Eddie being the one to sneakily glance out of the window.
Barely making out figures in the darkness, his head turns to the blonde, who looks worried.
❝It's Jason. And he brought friends.❞ He whispers, any louder and they'd be bringing attention to themselves.
Jules balks, anxiety clawing its way up her throat. ❝Oh shit.❞
❝Oh shit is right.❞ He remarks, hand reaching out to grab onto the walkie by his side. ❝Hey, Dustin. You there? It's Eddie.❞ His voice grows more frantic, a hint of annoyance seeping through. ❝You remember us, right? If anyone's there, I really think we might be in a bit of trouble here, okay?❞
She wraps her hand around his on the walkie, moving into his space. ❝A lot of trouble, guys. Like broken bones and brain hemorrhage kind of trouble.❞
❝Wheeler?❞ Eddie continues desperately, hoping for just one of them to answer their prayers. ❝Anybody?❞
His slap against the walkie causes it to screech, pulling a wince from Jules. Their five comrades were clearly nowhere near enough to actually answer them, probably having abandoned the communication device to partake in whatever hare-brained scheme they've gotten themselves into.
