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Everglades df-10

Page 33

by Randy Wayne White


  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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