“Sure as hell have! I like to froze in those damned mountains, talking you into coming south.”
“Pretty good place to hide out.”
Gary loaded his pockets with ammunition and packed food in a shoulder bag, choosing a revolver and a heavy rifle for protection. At the final parting, he shook hands with a grinning Oliver and blew an empty kiss to the girl standing in the cabin door. She half lifted her hand to return it, and then stopped herself.
“Where do you think you'll go?” Oliver asked.
“Dunno. Work my way over to the river,” Gary guessed with an indifferent shrug. “Upstream, maybe.”
“No cable-crawling!”
“No cable-crawling,” Gary returned. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Will do.” He nodded somberly. “You do the same.”
Turning his back on them, Gary left the island and made his way by hand across the partially dismantled causeway. Once past the opening where the timbers had been torn up, he shifted the bag of food to a more comfortable position and strode off toward the distant, empty highway. There entered his mind a brief memory of the girl — a pleasant memory. He didn't look back to fit the memory to the person.
The partnership was dissolved.