They finished descending to the terminus floor and wended their way through the mist.
Molly kept looking for the names carved into the trees. “There they are.” She tugged Duncan after her, but then she got a closer look.
The letters were bleeding.
“It’s tree sap,” Duncan said.
“But they weren’t like this before.”
“The forest is having a growth spurt. The bark pulled apart. It’s only sap.”
Thick and crimson, it seeped down from the beloved names. She regretted waiting to take the picture. Yesterday morning, they had been radiant on the gleaming bark. Now they wept, though maybe that was the more appropriate mood for the photo.
Farther on, they heard a low roar building.
“Is that the truck running?” she asked.
They hurried, thinking the brothers were leaving.
But the roar was the sound of the fire. Kleat was there, piling logs onto a small inferno. The flames leaped taller than the hut, eating a jagged hole in the fog, throwing sparks with pistol shots of sap.
The furnace heat had him pouring sweat. He’d shed his shirt, but was wearing the flak jacket. His face and scalp were as bright as mercury. He looked insane.
“What are you doing?” asked Duncan.
Kleat loaded on another fat log and straightened on the far side of the flames. His glasses reflected the light. He had showers of red and orange sparks for eyes. Inside his fury, he looked afraid. “Up late?” he yelled at them.
Molly had been almost ready to pity him. “We heard the shooting last night,” she said.
His chest hair was singed to black steel wool. She smelled the burned hair and Caucasian sweat, but also caught other smells in the smoke, potent smells, the scent of different kinds of wood, of ferns, flowers, nuts, coconut, even cinnamon. Once part of a royal garden, spices grew wild here. The fire was opening up the forest’s abundance.
“You missed the hunt,” Kleat said.
“Is that what they were doing, hunting?”
Kleat looked at them. “He should have known better.”
The fire forced her back with its hot breath. Her chills were gone. She felt fine this morning. Molly glanced around. At the edges of dissolved mist, half-formed shapes moved between the vaporous white Land Cruiser and the larger bulk of the truck. She counted three shapes with rifles. There was only one man unaccounted for.
“Where’s Samnang?” Duncan asked.
“He brought it on himself.”
“Be clear,” said Molly.
“He fucked up.”
“What happened, Kleat?”
“He waited until they were drunk, then he got his revenge. But there was no way he was going to get away with it. Of course they found out.” He toppled a decaying stump into the flames. White termites came flooding from its cavities.
“What revenge, what are you talking about?”
“He destroyed their artifacts, smashed them to pieces, the pots. Hid the rest. All the heads, they’re missing. That’s what they were trying to beat out of him. Don’t ask me. I don’t speak the language. One thing led to another.”
“You saw it? They beat him?” While she slept soundly.
“I only came for the bones.” Kleat glared at her. “You know that.”
“But you were down here.”
“I heard them arguing. I came down and they had him. They were pushing him around, hitting him with their rifles. He’s KR, I keep telling you. They hated him enough as it was. Then he pulls a stunt like this.”
They’d gone hunting.
“What did they do to him, Kleat?”
“I didn’t see anything.” He bent for more wood.
It was obvious. “They killed him.”
She cast around for bloodstains, but the rain must have flushed them into the earth. It occurred to her that they were scorching the evidence out of existence. That would explain this manic bonfire at the crack of dawn.
“They were working themselves up to it,” Kleat said. “But then I came down. They weren’t going to do it in front of me. So they gave him a head start. That’s the last I saw of him.”
“Where is he?”
“He went off into the night. He’s a slippery old bastard, and they were drunk. They chased him and came back and went out again. They were afraid to leave the fire for very long. It went on for hours. You heard the gunfire, they were all over the place.”
“And you just sat here?”
“I kept the fire going. That was my job. They made it clear. A big fire. That’s the important thing. I kept them on our side. Someone had to make sure they wouldn’t leave us. They could have driven off. They still could.” He threw on more wood. “But not for a while.”
“This is murder,” she said. “And you did nothing.”
Kleat’s glasses flashed. “I stopped an execution. I came down and they set him loose. I saved his life.” He had it all worked out in his head.
Samnang was dead somewhere, she could picture it, floating in the
“Three street kids against an old killer. Some hunt. They lost him.” Kleat stood on the far side of the flames. “Or he left, like Luke, out the front gate. Or he’s dead, okay? He’s gone.”
He shoved in another log. It struck her suddenly. “What’s in the fire?” She dragged the log out. She reached for another.
Duncan took her arm. “That won’t help, Molly.”
“He’s under there,” she said. “They’re burning his body. They’re burning the evidence.”
“Molly…” Duncan murmured.
“Get a grip, woman,” Kleat said. “First cannibals, what next?”
“He was an old man.” She turned away, tears blurring her vision.
“He was KR. They think he killed their mother and father, I got that much. You must have heard them,” he said to Duncan.
“How would they know?” said Molly. “Vin would have been an infant. Doc would have been four.”
“They’ve got it in their minds,” Duncan said. “They say it’s the reason they agreed to come along, to confront him and get the truth. I’m kind of surprised Samnang invited them. It’s almost like he wanted to get it over with.”
“They’re thieves. They were beating him to find their plunder, not to ask about their parents,” Molly said.
“Why can’t it be both?” said Kleat. “They’re thieves. And the old man was a butcher.”
They were quiet for a minute. Finally Molly said, “He watched over me.”
“So he went down in glory,” Kleat said, “doing his holy deeds.”
Duncan peered through the mist. “What are they up to over there?”
“Working up their nerve,” Kleat said. “Go see for yourself.”
28.
They left Kleat building his fire higher.
“Stay with me,” Duncan said to her. “Keep your temper, do you hear me? Don’t make it worse.” He squeezed
