“Wanna go fishing?” the big man asked, grinning in the firelight. “Sure. I guess so.” Stone did not know what he was saying. “Let’s get started, then. The early bird gets the worm.” Stone stumbled through his bathroom duties and somehow made it out to the lake, where Dawson was loading rods and other equipment, including a rifle, into one of the aluminum rowboats next to the dock. The black man then settled onto the rower’s seat as Stone undid the plastic tether and pushed them off. The oars dipped into the water and the skiff surged ahead, out into the lake. “Hey, this is the life, huh?” Dawson said. “Makes you almost feel like the good old days.” Stone smiled, suddenly feeling not so bad himself about being up and around instead of sleeping. Though the sun had not risen yet, the sky was slowly brightening, turning opalescent as a few cirrus clouds caught sunlight high above them.
