“I want you to eat me,” Joel said.

“Fuck you, man,” Luke said, pushing Joel off his lap where Joel lay bleeding frozen blood like red orange juice into the white slush for the last few hours.

Joel didn’t even try to get himself back up, or even roll over into a more comfortable position.

“No way,” Luke said.

Joel stared at a scarecrow near the gaping crack in the ice where all the teenagers fell into the Earth.

The scarecrow smiled at Joel, and he shivered for the first time being on the continent, his head mushed into the white slush.

“We’ll never reach that apple tree,” Joel said. “If there even is one.”

“Of course there is. Even if there wasn’t, I’m not eating you.”

“We’ve come this far, and I’ve had enough already.”

“Enough of what?”

“It’s somebody else’s turn now.”

Luke looked around awkwardly, kind of uncomfortable with Joel’s request and unaware of what it stemmed from.

He tried changing the subject.

“We could grow antlers,” he said.

“What?” Joel said.

“Antlers. Let’s grow antlers.”

“Antlers.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I hope not.”