"People wanted jobs, so I got the ball rolling on Lake Kenneth. We'd been trying to get this reservoir built for decades. Brought a lot of money into the town, put a lot of people to work, too. Of course, people who lived out by the bottoms kept holding it up. Especially Mr. Casey and his family. I don't see what the big deal is, they can buy another house. Homes a home, right? Plus, with the suburbs you don't have animals or bugs, just sidewalks, trimmed lawns, and pretty houses. Plus, God knows we have plenty of empty homes out there. Cheap, too. Plus! all those run-down trailers and nasty houses will be replaced by valuable lake front property. Right nice, if you ask me."–Janice Thompson, Nobility Mayor

"Cheap houses, huh? That's what she said? Ha. Maybe for some, but not for me. Not for the people who lived in the bottoms. The woods and the creeks were generous. They gave us what we needed. Not anymore."–Matt C, Nobility resident

"We ready?" Maverick asked, puffing his chest out and sucking in his stomach. Brian chose the outfit, a complete camouflage ensemble.

"As ever," Cushing said. "Whenever you're ready."

Maverick cleared his throat. "Here we go, fingers crossed, gentlemen. This is it. This is the real thing. See how long I can make it out there. I think maybe...I think this time. I set some food by some camera traps. Pancakes. I hear they like pancakes, with lots of syrup. Hopefully, we got something. I'm out here for as long as it takes. Okay, this is as far as you guys go. Don't want you spooking the beast any more than those damn bulldozers have."

"Okay," Brian said. "Put on your hat, tip it to the camera. Good, good. Grab your bag."

Maverick leaned down and picked up his pack, struggling to pull the traps over his shoulders.

"Cut!" Brian yelled.

"For fuck's sake, Brian," Cushing said.

"Hey," Brian said. "This may be his last time on camera, no offense Maverick."

Maverick sighed and dropped the bag.

"We can't blow it," Brian said.

Maverick nodded in agreement.

"Fine," Cushing said. "Let's do it again."

* * *

Jonesy was his mother's second husband. Cushing hated him on principle. His mother begged him to give Jonesy, an affable man who owned a dry cleaning business, a chance.

Cushing would not. Jonesy lasted two years before he left. Closed up shop, literally, and left town. His mother mourned their marriage.

"It's just us again, sweetie."

As a teenager, with his mother still pining for her ex and with a slightly more mature perspective, Cushing looked for him. He could fix things. He wanted to fix things. Two cities over, he found a single and much less affable dry cleaner owner.

Cushing approached Jonesy as he drove out a customer for asking for discount since her husband was overseas. He asked Jonesy if he remembered his mother.

"Yeah, I do. I loved that woman."

Would he talk to her again?

"Fuck that. I remember you, you little shit. Why don't you go back to your momma, boy?"

Despite what his therapist said, James Cushing knew the truth. He broke people. Jonesy, his mother, Brian. Now, he was sending a broken man into the woods.

James Cushing was tired of breaking people.

* * *

Roman: Three days. He falls, breaks his ankle and is out there for three fucking days, I don't know how he did it. Doctors say he's fine now, some kids found him. Shit. All he says when I get there is, "Have you checked my camera traps?" I told him not to go out there, I told him I don't think he's a failure and I don't. No, he believed in something and never backed down. He never gave up. Can you guys say that? Can you say you believed in something so much you were willing to risk everything? But I told him...I know I'm a shitty friend, but I'm his friend, I am. Me and Jet love him. We do.

* * *

"Hey, at least it didn't carry me away. There was a guy in the twenties, named Ostman, whole family of them held him captive," Maverick said.

"What the fuck is this movie we're watching?" Cushing asked.

Cushing brought his laptop and a few DVDs from Maverick's monstomobile. Currently, they were watching one of Maverick's favorites, The Legend of Bigfoot, from Maverick's hospital room.

"The whole thing is fake, of course, but I still love it," Maverick said.

"Why does he pronounce Bigfoot like that? It's like he has a mini stroke each time."

Brian took footage of a dehydrated and unconscious Maverick, having little need of an alert and recovering Maverick. Cushing spent most of the week with Maverick, his cash dwindling fast, taken piecemeal by the strange man at the hotel front desk.

"Pneumonia, exposure, dehydration, you're lucky, Maverick," Cushing said.

"I'll be better prepared for round two."

"The fuck? Round two? Come on, man, let's call it. Brian will do a follow up and we'll have a great film just shy of my eviction from your town's lovely hotel."

"Hey, too close to stop now," Maverick said.

The second night in the hospital, he woke, or thought he did. From the antiseptic halls he heard the scraping and knew what was coming. He waited for the heavy door to swing openly silently as the rotting man carried himself along the floor to Maverick's bed.

But it never happened.

It didn't take long for the hospital to find what Dr. Hakimzadeh had known for months. At least, Maverick thought, the hospital won't tell Jet or Roman.

Cushing was talking now, trying to dissuade Maverick, making the same points as Jet and Roman. Maverick watched his movie and nodded when appropriate while Cushing talked.

Let him talk, Maverick thought. I have work to do.