6
“Goddamn, I’m hungry. What do you have to eat in there?” Emmett asked, reaching for the bag behind him.
“Not much that you can eat in a moving canoe, or without utensils,” Mike said. His voice had an edge, but the rhythmic sound of his strokes didn’t change.
“Well, we’re not stopping,” Emmett said. “And obviously I need something I can eat one-handed.”
“You’ll find some granola bars in the smaller bag.”
Soon I heard a wrapper crinkling. I quickly shifted my hands and gripped midway down the shaft of my paddle to jab Emmett with the solid, knobby end. Glancing over my shoulder—
“Safety’s off, finger’s on the trigger,” Emmett said, staring at me with the gun steady and an open granola bar on his lap. “You want to try it, you go right ahead.”
Instead I adjusted my hands and continued
