For the first time, she opened her sleepy eyes, sat up and said, “You want to swim? Hell, I’ll go with you. We’ve been eating like horses all week. I could use the exercise.”
To my right calf, I was strapping a stainless-steel Randall Attack/Survival knife in its leather scabbard. I strapped it tight, and tied the safety lanyard around my ankle.
I leaned, kissed Dewey Nye once more. Then I looked into her good eyes, bright and true, and said, “No, my dear. This swim, I should probably go alone.”
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Document creation date: 19.10.2011
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Everglades df-10 Page 33
