Jack immediately began looking around, like a shovel would appear out of nowhere, his mind focusing on how people buried other people without shovels. It occurred to him that back then maybe they just didn't bury their people at all.
Felix had gone very still, his chest heaving as if he was recovering from a long run. No bugs, he thought. The body had been out there for at least a full day, hadn't it? And not a single fly. His eyes moved, following the bloody path of footprints, and instantly he could feel his heart start drumming up again. He didn't really know anything about tracking, or recognize if the feet could be Vanessa's, but living all of his life in areas with snow, he did know what strides looked like when someone was running. Whatever had made the prints hadn't been.
As he instinctively moved closer, he saw that there was actually more than the one movement of fresh footprints heading west, but he could vaguely make out a trail of blood that might have been footprints heading...
"AAH FUCK," Felix yelped loudly as pain surged through his neck and down his spine. He hadn't even realized he'd been moving, let alone towards where the barrier had been indicated earlier on the GPS. He staggered back a few steps, landing on his side, right into the pool of blood. As soon as Felix felt wet soaking into his clothes, an immediately bout of frantic flailing ensued as he rolled away from the hunk of meat that had once been human an into the cleaner grass, panting wildly. "Shit shit shit!"