“Does this smell OK to you?” It was instinct that made me bat the plastic bag away from my face, sending it and its contents flying onto the picnic table, where they flipped over and fell to the ground.

“Shit man, get that out of my face, what the hell?” I yelled, shuddering a little involuntarily. “Ugh, that one’s wrecked, we’re in deep shit.”

“It might be okay, can’t they just rinse ‘em or something? My nose is stuffed up, I need you to see if they’re spoiling.” Rufus picked up the bag. When he shook it to get off the dirt and dried pine needles, semi-opaque pink liquid dripped out onto his shoe. I wretched quietly. I never should have taken this job.

“Rufe, it’s scientific tissue samples. The cells have to be, a certain freshness or something. They’re wrecked and we’re screwed. Give it up.” I put my head down on my palm and exhaled.

“Dude,” Rufus replied, “It’s meat, man. It’s just test meat. I know they call it ‘cadaver’ and stuff to make it official, but it’s meat for them to cut up.”