“C'mere.”
The other came down to him.
“Take the gun" — Harry handed it over—”and keep it on that smart-aleck kid. If he makes one move, plug him.”
The partner nervously pointed the barrel at Gary.
Both hands free, Harry quickly pulled the mask over his face and wriggled into the short and tightened shoulder straps. He buckled the belt about his waist and held himself still a moment to check his breathing and make certain the thing was working. Then, regaining his earlier air of bravado, he stoutly clapped the shoulder of the man holding the shotgun and turned to plunge into the water.
Sully took a few steps after him. “Harry…”
Harry met his second problem squarely and lost.
He swam for a few yards beneath the water and paused for breath, unused to the exertion. Harry promptly bobbed to the surface and discovered himself slowly floating downstream. He faced himself upstream, unconsciously took a deep breath and went down again. This time he gained a few more yards before coming up, but this time he came up voluntarily because he couldn't see where he was going while underwater. As his head broke the surface he found himself staring at the three waiting on the bank. Burning with an impotent rage, he ceased swimming and promptly sank.
Gary laughed aloud. “Hell of a poor swimmer, that Harry!”
Sully glanced at him in nervous fear while the other toyed uncertainly with the gun.