White Sands

I'm Harold Kleinman.
What were you doing
way out here, Harold?

We're amateur archaeologists.
We left the wives in Santa Fe hoping
to find this ancient "Anastazi"--

Guess you don't find
many bodies out here, huh?

No, we sure don't.
-What do you think, Bert?
-He's dead.

Why would anyone come way out here
to kill himself?

Maybe his wife bought him a new hat.
I won't be positive
without an autopsy.

Hi. How you doing?
You bring
these tourists out here?

Just trying to keep them
from finding any arrowheads.

-Ray Dolezal.
-Delmar Blackwater.

-Don't touch the car.
-Okay. Sorry.

-Mescalero Apache.

Bloodthirstiest red bastards
this side of the Rio Brazos.

I was kind of hoping
for that scalp.

Let's get this bad boy out of here.
He's starting to smell ripe.

If you need any more pens, just tell
me. I sell novelty pens. . .

. . .imprinted with the message
of your choice.

Holy shit!
Ray, you're not actually
going to tag that. . .

. . .and report it as evidence,
are you? Ray?

-What stopped that bike, Ben?
-I don't know.