Page 34 of Unnatural Death

“Entrance and exit.” I point them out. “The wound through and through.”

“Maybe from being stabbed with a hiking pole?” he suggests.

“It wouldn’t look like this,” I reply. “The structures of the neck have been destroyed, similar to what I see in wounds from assault rifles.”

“Maybe explaining the copper slug I cut out of the tree,” Tron says.

“Could be,” I reply. “And a bullet might have caused the damage to his head, part of his occipital skull missing in back.”

“Or maybe in their panic Huck and Brittany shot each other accidentally,” Marino says as we zip up the pouches.

“Their clothing should have something to say,” I reply. “Where is it?”

“Bagged already,” he says as we place the pouched body into a rescue basket. “Both victims appear to have been fully dressed in sweatsuits, boots, socks, coats, all of it bloody.”

“It appears to have been cut off them after the fact and flung all over the place,” Tron says. “Which is weird like everything else. Why cut off the clothing to begin with?”

“We need to make sure it goes back on the helicopter with us,” I tell Marino.

“I think the killer fucking hated these people.” He helps me pick up the rescue basket.

“That and maybe he was looking for something,” Lucy says.

“Did you notice bullet holes in the clothing?” I ask. “Anything else that might give us important information about how their injuries were inflicted?”

“As slashed up and bloody as everything is, it’s hard to tell much,” Marino replies.

* * *

We leave the rescue basket outside the pup tent in the shade for now. I decontaminate myself with distilled water and disinfectant while Marino sprays down his yellow Tyvek PPE. He takes it off, his field clothes underneath similar to mine. Next, he finds an immersion suit, spreading it open on the ground and sitting down the same way I did.

“You going to take your gun?” Lucy watches him clip his pistol to his belt.

“Yep. I’ll wear it inside my Mustang suit. That way if there’s a problem? At least I’ve got a chance.”

“A good idea. Because where there’s a Bigfoot? There may also be a Nessie,” she answers.

“We don’t know a damn thing about what lives in the lake. At least it’s stream fed.” He pulls trash bags over his boots.

“Fresh water in other words. So we don’t have to worry about sharks. But there’s bound to be other nasty stuff swimming around in there that we don’t want to encounter. Which is why I told you to bring the snakebite kit.” He says this to me.

“A waste of time.”

“Moccasins are the biggest threat, and you don’t necessarily see them until they’re way too close for comfort.” He feels the need to add, “You get bit by one of those and it’s curtains. One gets anywhere near and I’m blowing it the hell out of the water.”

“Just don’t hit me by mistake,” I reply.

Pulling on the legs of his Mustang suit, he fusses and fumes as he struggles with the neoprene. He works his hands into the gloves attached to the sleeves, his mood worsening by the moment. We gather more body pouches, a rescue basket and a bright orange lifeguard float attached to a tether.

“… Muskies can get to be six feet long.” Marino continues ruining my mood as I clip a flotation bag to a ring on the side of my suit.

We trudge across the narrow rocky shore. Awkward and Gumby-like in bright orange, we pull on our hoods, zipping up all the way. We don’t have snorkels or scuba gear. The goal is to float on our backs, keeping our faces out of the water.

“… Catfish can get huge too,” Marino persists as we wade in. “And they’ll eat pretty much anything, including dead bodies. Nobody’s been fishing here or hunting either one, I’m assuming. So you can imagine how big things have gotten.”

“I prefer not to imagine anything you’re talking about,” I reply, the water now up to our waists.

Blowing into tubes attached to our suits, we inflate the neck pillows attached to the collars. The neoprene is buoyant as we float on our backs, paddling with our hands and feet, the lake smelling musty and pungent.

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