His paddle pierced the water for what seemed like the thousandth time. With each stroke, he could feel the sweat begin to build under his jacket. As he looked over his shoulder, he could see that the distances between he and his pursuers was not enough.

“Faster…(stroke)…faster…(stroke)…,” he mumbled allowed as he fought to pick up the pace.

As he came around a bend in the lake, headwind he had been paddling into turned into a tailwind. He knew this was his chance to build some much needed separation.

As he furiously paddled, he eyed the shoreline looking for areas of cover, or areas to beach the canoe and run for it. Finally, he saw the perfect spot about 200 yards ahead. Peaking over his should once more, he could see them coming around the bend, and starting to take advantage of the wind shift he had benefited from just a few moments ago.

As the nose of the canoe skidded along the shore, he grabbed his pack and hopped out into the knee deep water, stopping for a brief moment to grab a the heavy wooden paddle to take with him. Perhaps it would come in handy.