Mortimer drops his cooler on the table, next to where Jayson is sitting. The fox flips open the lid with a triumphant smile and pulls out hotdog buns and a variety of condiments.

“Behold! Weiner sauces!” says Mortimer.

“Never say that again,” says Derrick.

Jayson grabs a jar of relish and turns the container around, just to see it says Mark’s Mayo.

Jayson gags and throws it perfectly in the trash and while Mortimer continues arranging the condiments, Jayson checks the expiration dates. Claribel also arrives, carrying the umbrella and towels, and she drops them on the ground next to Lexia, who is laying on her stomach, legs gently kicking the air as she stares at the boats moving around the reservoir.

“You do realize all these condiments have about two days left on them,” says Jayson, turning a mustard bottle in his hand.

“Oh yeah. I knew that,” says Mortimer.

Jayson stares at Mortimer for a few seconds before his lips pucker with a shrug and sets the mustard down. As this happens, Derrick sets the hotdogs in the buns, giving everyone four hotdogs. However, due to his overzealous love of burning hotdogs, the stack of burnt food is still on the large side.

Meanwhile, Claribel lays on the towel next to Lexia and also stares at the water.

“So…” starts Lexia.

“Yes?” says Claribel.

“How are you going to try to kill us today? Shoot? Stab? Poison?”

“Today is my off day.”

“Fixers don't get off days.”

“Yes they do. I am contractually obligated to work on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. But I have guaranteed off days on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Lexia props herself on her elbow so she can look at Claribel with a raised brow. “Hold on, are you saying you're a part time Fixer?”

“I am,” says Claribel proudly.

“Hotdogs are done!” says Derrick.

Claribel snaps to her feet and bolts to the picnic table, leaving Lexia blinking in confusion.

At the table, Jayson rubs his hands together, licking his lips while his nose tingles with the delicious scent of ketchup, mustard and burnt hotdogs.

Mortimer sits down across from him after passing out water bottles and is joined by Claribel soon after.

Lexia takes a seat next to Jayson, using her towel to shield her exposed thighs from potential splinters. Derrick next to Lexia soon after, and both sides stay quiet with their hands twitching in anticipation and their eyes drifting for signs of hostility.

Seconds ticks by, and Jayson holds up his hotdog.

“Well, I'm tired of waiting,” says Jayson. He takes a massive bite out of his food, chews, and nods. “Not bad.”

That is when the others begin eating.

“This is nice. I would say we should do this more often, but I'm going to kill you tomorrow,” says Mortimer.

“Sure you will,” says Jayson with a smile.

“You seem to be skilled with that rifle. Were you a marksman by any chance?” asks Claribel to Derrick.

“I enlisted to be a dishwasher,” says Derrick.

“This mustard tastes funny,” says Lexia.

And so, the conversations went on while they ate, with the sounds of the waves brushing against the sand giving a calming background noise for them.

In due time, the hotdog piles shrunk, and the two groups found themselves getting full. While the sun dips below the reservoir’s horizon. After that, they work together to clean up, placing their trash in the proper receptacle, and Lexia puts on some casual clothes to cover her swimwear.

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“Those were the best burnt hotdogs I ever had,” says Mortimer.

“Yeah, they were good, but I need to go now,” says Jayson. He picks up his sack of scrap metal and slings it over his shoulder. “I should be able to make it to the scrap metal place before they close.”

“I need to go, too. My mom is probably wondering where I am,” says Lexia as she folds up her towel.

Derrick nods. “Drive safe. Walk safe.” He looks at Mortimer and Claribel. “You two stay here until we’re long gone.”

Mortimer stretches his arms and legs. “Fine by me. I still want to swim.”

Derrick grunts, and Jayson and Lexia walk away from the reservoir. They are silent, and briefly see Derrick fly over their heads, and when they reach Lexia’s car, they stop and look at the reservoir again. From their spot, they can see Mortimer picking up Claribel, and despite her protests, Mortimer still dives in the water, cackling and holding her tight. The Fixers' voices are drowned by the splashing, and they pop up a moment later with Claribel shouting and Mortimer laughing again.

“Well, that was something else,” says Jayson, turning his attention to Lexia.

“Yep,” says Lexia.

“So, can I get a ride to the scrap metal place?”

Lexia looks at Jayson, and he smiles and bats his lashes.

“Please?” says Jayson.

Lexia huffs and opens the passenger door for him. “Fine.”

“Thanks!”

Jayson tosses the scrap bag in the backseat and buckles up in the front passenger seat. Lexia gets in the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and heavy metal starts playing through the speakers as she reverses out of her spot. Then they leave the reservoir in silence.

***

The sun slants low, casting long shadows across Bliss Town, painting everything in hues of orange and red while the cracks in the sky warp everything near it.

Lexia’s car pulls up to a large building with four large chimneys, thick walls, and razor wire fencing. A camera watches them, and when the vehicle stops in front of the entrance, Jayson unbuckles himself, grabs his bag and goes the driver’s side door. Lexia rolls down her window and Jayson smiles at her.

“Thanks again for the ride. I can take it from here,” says Jayson.

“Good. I’m going home now,” says Lexia.

Then she quickly reverses out of her spot and speeds away. Jayson shakes his head with a small smile, shoulders his bag, and enters the building, passing a pair of vending machines along the way.

A bell dings, and bright light and a creaky fan assaults Jayson’s senses. His footsteps echo in the bare room as he goes to the counter. Electric currents hum loudly, and Jayson leans over to see the receptionist laying curled up in the corner, eyes wide and grinning broadly as she giggles to herself. Her eyes snap to him, and she contorts her body as she rolls on her feet, giggling.

“Demon-angel, angel-demon, I see you. Do you see me?” says the receptionist.

“I’m just here to drop off some metal,” says Jayson.

“You’re made of butterflies! Come see with me, butterflies!”

Jayson frowns, and the side door opens, and Mariana walks out with a clipboard, wearing a thick, gray jumpsuit. She grabs the receptionist by the arm and tugs her away, completely silent. The door she and the receptionist pass through slam shut, and Jayson blinks, his brain’s gears grinding to process what he just witnessed.

Mariana returns a few seconds later, props a chair underneath the doorknob of the door keeping the receptionist locked in the room, and goes to the counter. Jayson stares at her dumbly, and she stares back.

“What do you want?” says Mariana.

“I’m sorry, I thought you worked at Taco King,” says Jayson.

“I do,” says Mariana.

“Oh… Um, I got metal I want to sell.”

Jayson puts the bag on the counter, and Mariana stiffly grabs it and carries it to the backroom.

Jayson drums his fingers on the counter and looks around, hearing the faint giggles and mutters of the trapped receptionist.

A few seconds later, Mariana returns with a small stack of bills and the bag, and she gives them to Jayson.

“Five bucks,” says Mariana.

Jayson snatches the money and rolls up his back. “Thanks! I can get a value taco.”

“You’re banned from Taco King.”

“Oh… Well, there’s always the vending machines!”

Mariana hums, and Jayson exits the building and goes to the vending machine. There, he inserts all five bills into the machine and selects a bottle of Grapetastic Soda. The machine hums and shakes, and whines with bright flashing lights and sparks. Jayson’s eyes widen and he steps back. Then there is a pleasant ding and a ruckus as the bottle tumbles down.

When the bottle lands in the reach-in area, Jayson hesitates, slowly reaches in while smoke rolls around him, and he pulls out the bottle, which feels like a rock. Jayson sneers and looks at the bottle.

“Man, it’s all shaken up,” he says, adding with a heavy sigh, “Whatever. I’ll just wait for it to settle down.”

Jayson walks away after that, with the sun almost gone and the sky becoming darker with a chill in the air. And off in the distance, watching Jayson from the safety of a roof with binoculars and a stash of protein bars is Trafford Augustine.

As Trafford watches Jayson, his cellphone rings, and he swiftly answers it without taking his eyes off the hobo.

“Trafford Augustine speaking,” he says.

“Status,” says Mr. Exe.

“We’ve got a goldmine of data over the past few days. Surprisingly nobody tried killing each other today, so that was odd, but overall, net positive with data.”

“Can we use the subjects?”

“Definitely. And there’s something odd about the eagle, Derrick. I’m going to need to see if we have any data on him.”

“Done. Check your email when you get back in your office.”

Trafford smiles. “Thanks, boss.”

“Keep me updated.”

Mr. Exe hangs up, and Trafford returns his phone to his pocket, still keeping his eyes on Jayson. His smile grows as he grabs a protein bar with his free hand and tears off the wrapper with his teeth. Then he chomps down half off it and giggles and shudders.

“Keep walking, Hobo. Enjoy the days while you can, because I promise you and your friends, the worst is yet to come.”