You might say we made a strange couple, Eska and I. It’s certainly possible, considering the odd looks we garnered on our return to Netherville.
Whatever the case, I saw no reason to part now that we’d established a means of communication (Carter had begun to teach her American Sign Language, which I was familiar with from my days as an interpreter). More to the point, I could never have simply abandoned her; not to the snowy wastes, and not to Carter’s empty mausoleum (whose fuel stores for the generators were nearly depleted anyway).
And so we just went, stopping in Netherville only long enough to refuel the Jeep and to stock up on supplies, before beginning the long drive to Paradise, Montana, and also, more specifically, a place called Barley’s Hot Springs.
For we had caught the bro
