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-No one's perfect. No one's clean. Deep down we're all disgusting. It's just that no one wants to admit it.
+Landslides are common here in the early spring, and that means extra policing of the trails and backwoods areas where we know people go. Most of the time we'll send out a few helicopters, but about three years ago we went massively over budget after a fire in the main lodge and we couldn't afford to bring them out. This meant we had to go in by foot. K.D and I teamed up and headed out to the southwest, which is mostly mountainous terrain and a couple of small rivers. Essentially, we get paid to go out and camp for a week. If we find a landslide, excellent. If not, excellent. Either way, we come out on top.
 
-I used to know a guy who specialized in a really specific kind of... sexual favor. He got one of those split tongue deals, where they slice down the middle of it and make you look like a snake or whatever. Well he had one of those, and he could control each side independently. It was wild, he could tie a cherry stem in about two seconds.
+K.D and I are both fast in the woods and we made great time. Our designated quadrant was about fifteen miles from the trail head, relatively close, but not frequently used due to the steep incline. Both of us are familiar with the area, and we were in good spirits. We camped out about a mile from our target to eat dinner and turn in early. This was back when I still slept relatively well, so I fell asleep with no real issue.
 
-So this friend with the split tongue, he reads in a book about how these guys in the Middle East stick things down their urethras and jack off. And ignoring what the idiot kid in the story did with that information, my buddy wonders if maybe he can put his tongue to good use.
+K.D said it took her about five minutes to wake me up. She was crouched over my bag with her hair in all directions and her eyes slightly unfocused.
 
-Now, my buddy, he's making about a grand a day from these guys that nobody else is going to touch. So I figured I'd find my own specialty.
+"Stop." I said, pushing her hands away. She blinked and frowned.
 
-You have to be an absolute idiot to not find porn on the Internet. I don't even think it's possible. You can find the wildest shit out there, and that's what I was looking for. One guy, he pays my buddy about two grand a month because he cant get over how my buddy can lick the insides of this guy's dick.
+"Something's yelling." She mumbled. "You got the blinker?"
 
-So I start looking around for fetishes that I think I can force myself to do. At this point there's not much I won't but I draw the line at kiddie shit. One of the things I seen was the piss fetish stuff. All these guys wanting to piss in some little fag boy's asshole. I did that for a while but then I ended up getting an infection and I had to stop. As it turns out piss is acidic and it can really fuck up your guts if it stays in there or gets pushed up by a 'foreign object'. After shitting blood for a few weeks I had to find something else.
+I didn't understand what she wanted so I tried to tell her she was sleepwalking but she kept insisting on the 'blinker.'
 She made a sweeping motion with her hand.
-I'm too fried to really feel pain much so for a while I was going after the guys who are into needles and hammers and pliers. The kind of guys who stick a screwdriver up under that lowest rib while they're fucking you because they can't get off without hurting something. I did that for a while and I actually kind of liked it, but I got into the more hardcore stuff and you've only got so many teeth and toenails before there's not much left of you that anyone wants.
+
 "Flashlight?" I asked. I pointed at the bag by the fire pit and she dug through it. "What is it?"
-I tried all of it. I tried inflation but it takes a long time for intestinal tears to heal, and the ulcer in my stomach flares up. I tried hardcore BDSM but my rupture spleen ended that. I did castration and got paid a fortune but we all know a fortune is relative and when the Gatsby dream ended I had to think of something else.
+
 "I dunno." She said. She pushed her bag to the side and turned the light on the ground.
-A regular of mine, who was really only into vanilla sex, turned me on to an ad he'd seen on some secret board online. The guy was looking to pay someone a damn good amount of money for what he called a 'one-time deal.' I took the deal and the guy sent a driver to my apartment and brought me back. Big house in the country, big garden, big car, big windows. Big man, big dick.
+
 "Something get in there?"
-At first all he wanted was sex. Just sex. Not even interesting sex. I got bored. I ran out of heroin and started getting the shakes but the guy was prepared and he shot me up. High quality. I don't remember much, or agreeing to it, but I'm sure I did. I have low standards.
+
 She shook her head. "I dunno. It was weird."
-I made him promise that it wouldn't hurt, and he said he couldn't do that but he'd do his best to get me so high it wouldn't matter either way, which was fine. He must have been a nurse. He was very good with his hands. The IV didn't hurt much and I didn't really care at that point. He promised me he'd only take things I wouldn't miss. Just the spare parts.
+
 "Well what do you want to do?"
-You don't need an appendix to live. It's a rudimentary organ that serves no purpose. You only need a single kidney to function, as long as you stay healthy. A healthy liver can be divided in two. The third and fourth toes don't contribute to balance, and the third and fourth fingers provide only marginal stability and grip.
+
 She kept the flashlight trained on the ground. "I dunno."
-You always hear about how loud it is when anything happens to your skull and that's very true. It's kind of like the end of the world but it's inside you, so it's kind of an internal apocalypse. And the brain really doesn't feel pain. All of it's important, sure, but I wasn't really ever good at math to begin with, and deaf people lead normal lives.
+
 "Go to sleep." I said. She blinked a few times and dragged her bag back. She kept the flashlight on but I was tired and I shut my eyes.
-I stayed with him for as long as it took me to get healthy. He was right, actually, the brain really does taste a lot like pate, and it's great with sauteed mushrooms. Brings out that iron taste. I've never been a fan of kidney or liver, but it's very good for you. He was generous with his time and money.
+
 I'm not sure if I fell asleep or not but K.D was shaking me again and this time she was awake.
-Hopefully this time the Gatsby times don't end. There's not a whole lot of me left to go around.
+
 "What?"
 
 "Listen," She said.
 
 From somewhere close by, we could hear a strange sound. I heard it in the very back of my ear, and if I even breathed too loudly I drowned it out. I cocked my head to try and figure out where it was coming from but it was coming from all directions. A kind of distant, intermittent tone that I wasn't able to identify.
 
 "What is that?" I asked.
 
 "No idea." She whispered, looking over her shoulder. "But I've been hearing it for an hour and it's not going away or coming closer."
 
 "What do you think?" I asked.
 
 "I have no idea."
 
 We sat on my bag and listened to the sound.
 
 I got up and walked in a wide circle around the camp. It was almost impossible to tell, but I began to suspect that the sound was getting louder when I passed by the north end of camp. K.D got up and grabbed the light and I took my rifle off my pack. The sky was clear so there was a good amount of light and from all around us we could hear deer. Nine times out of ten, the mysterious rustling visitors here at night is the deer. Every so often, the beam of the flashlight passed over a set of eyes low to the ground, and I cut them a wide berth. The females won't generally become aggressive but the males are assholes, especially in the early spring.
 
 We'd gone maybe a quarter of a mile and the sound was definitely getting louder. We started to call out, and the sound seemed to respond. We started to jog and the beam of her flashlight bounced off the trunks of the trees.
 
 We jogged faster and the sound got louder. It was a man's voice, and it was coming from somewhere above us. We called out, identified ourselves as Rangers, but the voice stayed constant, a wordless muffled wailing. The sound got a little louder and K.D made a hard right, slowing down fast enough that I almost ran into her. The sound was right there, right in front of us, but I couldn't see anything. I dropped down and felt along the ground, put my ear to it, but it wasn't there. I spun in a circle, calling out, and K.D grabbed my arm.
 
 "Russ." She said. "What is that?"
 
 She was pointing at something on a large boulder about ten feet from us. The flashlight bled whitewashed the surface and I adjusted the beam. Something on the boulder was moving slightly. Something small and pale. It wiggled as I walked forward, and the sound continued to get louder.
 
 Whatever the thing was, it was firmly embedded in the rock. Nothing about it was familiar, and I was curious. I picked up a stick and poked it very gently. It responded but didn't move away. I leaned forward slowly and carefully, my hands near my face in case the thing had some kind of spray defense.
 
 Something on the back of the pale thing caught the light for a brief moment. Something came together and I moved away very slowly. K.D watched me with wide eyes and I stood in front of her, squinting into the light.
 
 "What is it?" She asked.
 
 I turned and looked at it.
 
 "Russ?"
 
 I led her over and helped her get a closer look. She reacted to the sound, flinched away when she saw the back of the thing, and she fell on her butt and scooted away, her eyes wide.
 
 "That's-"
 
 "We have to get it open." I said.
 
 "He's-" She pointed.
 
 "We need to."
 
 We looked at the boulder, where the sound was still coming from, and where the tip of the man's finger wiggled.
 
 We searched the surface of the boulder, took rocks and rang them against the sides, and the screaming got louder. We yelled at each other and pounded on the boulder and neither of us would leave to get help and the man screamed and screamed from inside the boulder. I kept turning to the rifle even though I knew it wouldn't help and I pounded the surface with my fists.
 
 I thought about cubic inches and how much the man was screaming and I told him to conserve his air but all he would do was scream and when we realized there was nothing we could do we sat with him until the next afternoon, when the screaming finally stopped, and the finger was still.
 
 We packed up camp and kept going to the target area and spent days searching the land. On our way out, we passed by the boulder, and the finger was gone, the rock around it clawed and chipped.
 
 I haven't really thought about it much ever since.