Elias unhooked his own and pressed the mouthpiece toward him. “We’ll share,” he said firmly. “You take the first pull.” The man shook his head weakly. “No—” “Don’t argue,” Elias cut him off. He tightened the straps around the old man’s shoulders, ensuring the mask was secure. “Stay between us. Breathe when I tap your arm.”
Edwin hovered beside them, his eyes darting from his father to the narrow tunnel of water ahead. “We don’t have long,” he said, his voice trembling through the mask. “Our tanks are almost dry.” “Then we move now,” Elias replied.