He still watches the girl from the island, now that the harbor has fallen into chaos; there is no other beauty left in his life, so what else can he do, what else does he have to keep himself going? She stands, smoking a cigarette, staring back at her now-empty bed where the defiler had fallen over her, and he can sense she is waiting... biding her time.

The last time he goes to look at her, the day before she vanishes, he lifts the scope to his good eye, hoping for a single glance at her lovely blonde hair, her red lips... but instead he sees her staring back at him, her eyes narrowed and angry and fierce, and he almost drops the damned rifle in his irrational haste to get away.