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"Not an actual enemy's head, then."
"No, no. They don't do anything like..." He trails off and his gaze returns to those amputated legs. "Fuck."
I take a closer look with my lantern. "They don't appear fresh enough to be Hastings. Powys, I'm guessing."
"Yeah. I recognize the boots."
"So we keep looking for Hastings?"
He shakes his head. "Trail's lost. We'll do a wider search in the morning. ATVs. Horses. Full militia." He turns and calls. "Will? I need you over here."
And thus ends our hunt. With the three of us staring at a pair of amputated human legs, staged in jeans and boots, before Anders marks the tree with bright yellow tape and we return to town.
We're back in Rockton. I'm shivering. I don't think the guys notice--everyone's lost in their thoughts--but before we separate for the night, Dalton says, "You know how to build a fire?"
"I'll be fine."
"Fuck," he mutters. Wrong answer, apparently.
Anders cuts in before Dalton can continue. "I know you don't want to impose, Casey. Especially at four in the morning. Up here, though, no one's going to give you brownie points for toughing it out, and some of us"--a pointed look at Dalton--"will get pissy if you try."
"It's a waste of time," Dalton says.
"Right. Inefficient, to put it a nicer way. If you don't know how to build a fire, admit it. If we're both too tired to come and get one going tonight, we won't offer. I'd tell you where to find extra blankets. Eric would say, 'Then you'd better learn.' Either way, no one's going to--"
"Speaking of wasting time..." Dalton says.
"Go home, Eric. I'll get Casey's fireplace going."
"No."
"It'll take me five minutes--"
Dalton cuts him off with a snort.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Anders's words turn brittle.
"Five minutes? You go over there, you won't leave again before dawn."
Anders's eyes narrow. He murmurs for me to "Hold on a sec" and then leads Dalton aside. They walk about ten paces, not far enough for me to avoid overhearing in the stillness of the night.
"You want to yank my chain?" Anders says. "Go ahead, but there's a fine line between needling me and insulting me, and that crossed it."
"How?"
"She just arrived today. Travelled all yesterday. Was trapped in a car then a bush plane with you for hours. Lands to find we have a body she can't investigate. Then discovers we have cannibals in our woods and spends her night tramping around those woods, only to find a skull and severed legs. Do you really think I'd invite myself back to her place in hopes of getting laid? Seriously?"
"No, I think you'll go back to her place and keep talking until the sun comes up. And then neither of you will be in any shape to search tomorrow."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh." Dalton shakes his head and walks back to me. "I'll get that fireplace going. Come on."
Dalton gives no outward sign he's unsettled by what we found in the forest, but I can tell he's off his game by the simple fact that he forgets he's supposed to be an asshole. He gets my fire going and shows me how to do it. He explains where to buy wood but advises that I learn to chop instead to save credits--downed trees are hauled into the woodlot, where they're free to anyone who'll chop them. Anders might be more comfortable explaining things, but Dalton is a damned fine teacher when he's in the mood.
Once the fire's going, I discover he's somehow transported that bottle of tequila to my house. We go into the kitchen, and it's there, and he's pouring me a shot without asking if I want it.
He pours one for himself, too. Then he sniffs it with some suspicion, and I try not to laugh.
