Numbered

Chapter 6 - Discharged

"What's the matter with you?" a voice asked. Zeke lifted his head and looked in the direction of the voice. Jake was awake, staring at him with quizzical eyes. He was awake...and alive. Zeke jumped to his feet, wiping away his tears with his hands. Anger coursed through his veins. How could he believe his friend to be dead? How dare he sleep through his shakings and beating and then wake up to see him crying? Zeke clenched his right hand and swung it into Jake's face. His hands flew to his nose, pinching it to avoid any bleeding.

"Ow. God frickin' damn. What the hell was that for?"

"For scaring the hell out of me. I thought you were dead."

"Well, I'm not. I'm a heavy sleeper. I wake up on my own time and nobody else's." Jake started to rub his nose, trying to relieve the soreness inflicted upon it. "My nose hurts now, no thanks to you." He fell silent again only for him to speak again, only very excited this time. "Wait you're back. Where is the ice cream?"

"Good lord. You go from one extreme to another." Zeke walked over to the bag and picked it up, a frown taking hold of his face. "Aw, man. The caramel jar broke."

"Don't worry about it. We can still use it."

"How? It is all over the bottom of the bag."

"Give it here."

Shrugging his shoulders, Zeke handed the bag off to Jake. He pulled the fudge and ice cream out and placed them on the bedside table. Slowly putting his hand in, he pulled the glass pieces out of the caramel and threw them into the garbage. Finally nodding his head in satisfaction at his handiwork, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid off. Seemingly unabashed at only being in his boxers, he walked over to a cupboard and proceeded to withdraw paper bowls and plastic spoons from it. Tossing those onto his bed, he knelt down and started sifting through the cabinet. He pulled out a metal scoop of some sort and a pair of scissors. He returned to his bed, sliding back under the covers and making himself comfortable. He tossed Zeke the metal scoop and picked up the plastic bag.

"Start scooping ice cream, while I take care of the caramel," Jake ordered.

Since Jake appeared to know what he was doing, Zeke listened, ripping open the vanilla ice cream. He shoved the scoop into it, surprised at how soft it had become since he bought it only an hour or two ago. He yanked up on the scoop a little harder than he should have and the ice cream flew across the room and into the sink. Suppressing a chuckle, he dug the scoop back into the ice cream for a second round. Glancing over at Jake, he saw him stroking the bag with his thumb and index finger pinched together, collecting the caramel toward the bottom of the bag. Grabbing the scissors, he clipped off a small portion of the bottom of the bag, creating a tube to squeeze out the savory topping. Zeke rolled his eyes at the simplicity of the salvaging process, wondering why he had not thought of it in the first place. He held forth the bowls, so Jake could top the ice cream. He squeezed out all of the caramel, covering the ice cream to the point of invisibility. Before Zeke could react, Jake snatched the fudge and did the same exact thing, the caramel disappearing beneath the waves of fudge.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Zeke joked.

"Yep. And don't harp on me 'cause you would have done the same thing."

"I would not have."

"The hell you wouldn't. If we had whipped cream right now, you would have covered the fudge."

"Prove it."

"Knowing you is all the proof I need."

Not wishing to continue the argument, Zeke shoved a spoonful of ice cream, mostly toppings, into his mouth. The chocolate overpowered the caramel, only a small amount of its flavor able to seep through its predecessor. Nonetheless, it tasted so good in his mouth. He let the flavor sit there for a little before he swallowed it. Who knew how long it would be before he would be able to taste ice cream again. With stores rapidly running out as fast as they were, he doubted ice cream would be found in any freezer section anymore. Looking to Jake, he could tell that he was roughly along the same thought process. They should have cut back some and saved half of it for a later point in time. They did not really think about it though. Then again, who would have thought about it, life being cut so short and all? A knock at the door distracted both boys from their depressing thoughts.