Finally, he could see the scuba tank above him.  Letting go of the rope, he took two powerful kicks to the equipment. His hands snatched the regulator and forced it into his mouth. He had no air to expel into the mouthpiece to clear the water from it. He inhaled.

Nothing. The tank was empty, completely void of precious air. He spit the regulator out and kicked madly toward the surface.

Now, all the rules he knew about deep-water diving vanished. Survival, the need for air by the body to live, took control. There was only 20 feet of liquid between himself and the surface. A distance he could run in fractions of a second. Twenty feet of oxygen rich water he could not use, oxygen his body could not absorb. With no breath, the distance became twenty miles.

Feeling his hands cramp, he released his weight belt with clawed fingers. His sense of speed increased as he kicked. His wrists twisted as the muscles throughout his body knotted.

Pain blurred his vision as the gases behind his eyes pushed outward. The cold boil of his soft organs distorted his body as he shot upward. His chest swelled to twice its size, tearing the nerves along his backbone. His rib cage shattered.

Just seven feet below the surface of the lagoon, his legs stopped. Only his left foot twitched, sending him into a death spiral as the buoyancy of his dive suit carried him upward.  With a last effort, he screamed.  No sound, only blood came from his mouth as his right lung exploded.