The surface was right there, pale and rippling.
Twelve feet.
Ten.
Five.
Fin broke the surface first, hauling Dex up with him, and the sound Fin made pulling air was raw enough to carry across the lake. Dex didn't show signs of breathing.
Gav came up half a second later, gasping so hard his throat cracked.
Fin's dislocated arm hung at an angle that made Gav's stomach turn, and blood was sheeting down the side of his face from a wound hidden somewhere in his hairline. He didn't acknowledge any of it. He shifted Dex's weight, treading water with his legs alone, and jerked his chin toward shore.
They swam. Fin on one side, Gav on the other, Dex held between them by two men who had no business still being conscious and had apparently decided that was a problem for later.
