Jake and Novy fought over the last jerky stick until it fell overboard, and now we’re rationing the last water bottle between six grown men. Our cooler is still half-full of beer, the bottles clinking as they float in the melted ice. If anything, we can use that as drinking water too. I don’t care that our grubby, fishy hands have been digging around in it all day. I am not dying out here.
