“Killfish parasite. Their life expectancy isn’t that long but they lay eggs like a muthfucka! The eggs are what gets you sick. They’re so tiny that the average eye will just think it’s cloudy water and drink it anyway.”  Jamil shifted nervously on his feet. “How sick we talking?”  “Not too bad, just something like food poisoning. Diarrhea, nausea, vomiting. Enough to get some attention but nothing fatal,” Bear said casually, as if reciting from a script prepared weeks in advance. His voice was soft, almost gentle, like he was soothing a child. He noticed the worry on Jamil’s face and grinned.  “Trust me, the size of the checks these people will get, that will erase any memory of their little upset stomachs. They don’t have much, that’s why they’re in that zone to begin with.” Bear leaned back and crossed his arms with confidence.