Harry and CJ ran back down the path to where they had parked the car. Harry's legs were shaky from the fight. Why didn't Conner answer? Something must have happened to him.

The Bug was there, but no other car. How did they get here? He figured there must have been someone else with him. There were many footprints shuffled about in the snow. By the looks of things, Conner had his own trouble, but no prints led away from the immediate area.

The snow had not really settled much on the gravel, the wind had blown it into patchy spots, but he could see tire tracks coming into the cul-de-sac and leaving.

Who drove the other car and why did he leave the bodyguard alone? It could have been Skinny. Maybe he took Conner as hostage. Maybe he went to bury him. He worried.

"They could be waiting up the road. Oh hell," Harry said, "this is too fantastic."

He yelled again and listened for a reply.

"He's probably gone by now, the fuckin' coward," she said. "Let's go."

In the distance, he heard an engine of some sort. It distracted him. His mind raced with dizziness. He looked toward the sky and saw a tiny plane passing overhead. He imagined two or three people inside the plane. Touring the mountains, he thought. His lips were moving as if he had been speaking that thought aloud, and he looked around to see if CJ heard him.

His head cleared. The clouds began to break and patches of blue sky were scattered here and there. Large dark vultures circled overhead on the warm updrafts slowly scanning the ground for food, gliding in a ceaseless vigil.

He put his hands to his mouth, and yelled, "Conner!"

CJ joined in the yelling, but Harry shushed her. "Listen," he said. "See if you can hear anything."

No answer.

He listened carefully, turning his head from one ear to the other. He heard something down the way. People talking, but it sounded like they were yelling. Up about fifty yards or so the road bent in a rapidly curving series of S-curves. The sounds were coming from that direction. The hills and snow dampened the noises.

"Stay here by the car and don't move," he told her. He looked her in the eyes sizing her resolve in what must surely lay ahead for the both of them. Then he trotted toward the commotion and saw no one when he turned the corner.

Further on.

A car had stopped in the road. Someone had urinated in the snow. Steam still rose, just barely. He heard the babbling sounds of running water. Mirroring the road past some huckleberry hedges was a stream. He walked onto the pebbled flats and listened. One more time he called for Conner.

Still no answer.

He ran further on down the road, hoping to find them.

Gone.

Harry stood in the middle of the empty road feeling hopelessly lost.

The rifle.

He darted back to the car. He should have brought the rifle along with him. Stupid fool. He barely survived the first guy. Surely, Skinny would have some sort of weapon. Then he thought about CJ, hoping she was still safe. What happened to Conner? He felt the urge to vent, to yell out, but he did not.

When Harry returned, he saw CJ rummaging through the Bug.

The car appeared to be in good shape, until he noticed that the front two tires were flat, and the driver's window was broken. He opened the door, pulled the latch to the trunk, and lifted the lid. He leaned inside and searched around until he found what he was looking for. He closed the lid, looked back the way he came. He saw nothing, just leaves and snow blowing in the wind along the gravel road.

"We have to get the hell outta here," he said. Start getting things we need to go on from here."

"You mean we are gonna to hike it outta here?"

"That's what I'm saying, this car is useless, come on. We have to get back to the Arapaho and find what Skinny did with Conner." He reopened the trunk and dug through it. Somewhere in the trunk, they had a Mosin-Nagant M91/30 rifle Harry's uncle snatched from a dead German in Poland during the Second World War. It had an old shoulder strap that smelled of musty canvas. He clipped it to the stock and barrel and then looked for shells with the rifle slung over his shoulder. They had ten boxes of 7.62X54R shells, just in case, in a leather hip bag along with some oil and cleaning rags. That was hard to find underneath all the shit they had brought with them, but he managed without wasting too much time.

CJ was moving things around looking for her own possessions.

"Come here," said Harry. "There are some things you can wear. Take off your clothes and put these on." He handed her a new shirt. "It's Conner's. He's closer to your size than I am." He found a sweater and an overcoat for her.

She held them up, and looked at him, "Are you kidding?" she said.

"Well, you didn't bring anything warmer, did you?"

Harry thought it wise to pack light, so he left the whiskey and only took any dried food, clothing, and water containers he could find. A few blankets would come in handy. CJ found another box of cartridges for the rifle and stuffed them in her pack.

"We can repack these back at camp. You ready?" Harry scanned the area one more time, hoping to find something, but what? Conner? The keys?

CJ was close to Harry, and she took his hand. Their foggy breaths mixed slowly between them.

"Do you think we should put on our long johns?"

"No. We had better pack them away for when we really need it. We'll be working up a good sweat soon." He pointed up the hills toward the mountains. Harry felt that her psycho boyfriend might come back that way and finish the job the fat man was supposed to do.

"Mouse," she said reading his thoughts.

"Mouse? Is that his name? Mouse?" He paused a moment thinking of his options. "Still," he said, "we do have this rifle. Maybe we could pick him off when he comes back."

"No way, Harry," CJ said rather forcefully. "He's comin' back with resources. Skinny don't like to lose, and he isn't used to losing. He's gonna bring others. We gotta get the hell outta here.

Harry had already resolved to that situation and agreed without too much discussion. "Well, we'll have a better chance getting help skirting around the hill and finding the road. It shouldn't be too bad."

They had not passed any town and Harry really had no idea where they were. He was hoping CJ did. He asked her where they should go. "Well, this  kinda looks familiar to me."

"You brought us here."

"Yeah, but I made a wrong turn back at the old sign." He let it drop. There was no use arguing. He suggested they go back to camp and rearrange their bags so they could carry them. It took a short while, but when they had gathered everything—the clothing, food, and two backpacks, they headed up the trail.

The snow had started to refreeze and became crunchy. The wind picked up and blew around any loose snow. It felt cold against the face, and Harry was glad he had some extra clothing.

CJ clung to him looking around as if she expected Skinny to jump out at any moment. Harry half expected it himself.

"He's gone," he said, reassuring them both. She said nothing until they got back to camp. At first, she just stood by the end of the path. She looked lost and pathetic in her torn clothes. She looked like some fire victim at the end of her wits looking at what used to be her home.

"That bastard," she finally said, and plopped herself down.