(You can read Part I here, and Part II here.)

“Fuck you.”

Fuck me?? Yeah, that was the last straw for that asshole.

That was it. I pulled my knife and flashed it by his face before plunging it underwater. I unclipped, rather than cut, his buddy line then shoved him back and away from the formation.

We swam on as he drifted farther behind. I watched him, waiting for him to thrash his way back to the formation.

Jesus Paste… his black head was just getting smaller. Now it was too small; my plan backfired. I was livid — now I had to unhook, swim hard after him, then drag him back to catch up again with the formation. Right about that time I was going to have to rotate to the point. There is no way I was going to be able to accomplish all that extra kicking.

I did the strangest thing at that point, likely out of fatigue and raw frustration, I began to weep as I swam away from the formation. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of seawater to the extent that I vomited it back up. Orion stood looming and pointing vividly with his sword back in the opposite direction, trying to urge my return… a thing that made me sob even harder.

“Sobbing?” thought I. “At what point along this swim was it beneficial to turn into a homo?”