“Then let’s see what you got.”
The man standing off to the side went from zero to a hundred miles per hour. Two other men flanked them from the back, yelling and clapping and getting them moving. High knees. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Burpees. Basic stuff over and over that should have been easy. And it was for Bennett. He’d learned at ten years old to tune out screaming men and this was no different.
After two hours and in the middle of another set of push-ups, a glance to his right showed other men struggling, their arms trembling like taffy. Noah was hanging in there, his mouth pulled into a grimace but his push-ups still crisp.
A whistle sounded. “On your feet.” The monster was back at the front. “I’m Instructor Lennox. Your mama and daddy and Heavenly Father for the next five weeks. You got that?”
Everyone replied in the affirmative.
“See that bell?”
He pointed and Bennett turned to look like everyone else but promptly returned his attention to Instructor Lennox. Smarter if he ignored the damn thing.
“Some of you will quit me. Maybe even today. Three-quarters of you assholes won’t make it out of Phase One. You scared yet?”
No one answered and then Instructor Lennox took two ground-swallowing steps. The unfortunate man who’d gained his attention was still staring at the bell, but with the dragon’s breath of Lennox on his face, he snapped to attention.
“You scared yet, Matthews?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” At a spate of laughter from the men, Matthews amended his answer, but his voice wavered. “I mean, sir, no, sir.”
Instructor Lennox didn’t move and Matthews visibly wilted as if Lennox could melt spines with his eyes. “You assholes just earned an extra mile, thanks to this maggot.” Finally, he swept his gaze over the group. “What the fuck are you waiting for? An embossed invitation? Go!”
Bennett was the first one to move, leading the pack of men out onto the beach. He settled into a pace that would meet requirements but wouldn’t burn him out. Hopped up on adrenaline and fear, men streaked past and set an impossible pace, hoping to impress. Bennet’s job wasn’t to impress but to survive.
Noah stayed at his side. It was half-annoying and half-endearing, like a stray puppy. Soon, though, their feet beat the same rhythm in the sand and became a comfort.
He lost track of time, but their boots ate up the miles. Finally, they met runners on the return loop. Most of them were red faced and gulping air through their mouths. He and Noah had fallen to the back third of the men, and a moment of doubt streaked through him. Had his already-tired muscles fooled him into a too-slow pace?
He kicked it up a gear. Noah grunted next to him. “We’re good, man.”
Bennett slowed to match Noah. “You sure?”
“Made it to the state championship in track.” He puffed the words out.
Bennett settled in and kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the six feet of sand in front of him. Soon enough they blew past men who’d burned out too early, and when they crossed the line in the sand and got their times they had moved into the top third.
Bennett slowed to a walk, his legs quivering. He’d done his best to maintain fitness on the Vinson, but endurance might prove an issue. Treadmills weren’t anywhere near as grueling as sand.
The rest of the day was an endless round of PT. Five weeks of the same shit filled the foreseeable future. As the edge of the sun touched the water, they regathered on the grinder. Somehow he and Noah had ended up on the second row. Too close to the Monster, as Bennett had already dubbed Instructor Lennox.
Bennett’s body was numb. All he wanted was to shovel as much food as possible into his mouth and collapse in bed to regroup, but Instructor Lennox had more yelling to do. How the man hadn’t busted a vocal cord by now was a medical miracle. Bennett tuned him out.
“—quit? You gonna quit, you fucking pussy? Go on, then. Do it.”
The q word yanked Bennett back into the moment. Instructor Lennox was back in Matthews’s face. The instructor was an expert at identifying the weakest men and his job was to cull them out before they could become a danger to them all. Bennett could respect the mission if not the method. He’d tasted the bite of humiliation, and unwanted empathy for Matthews surfaced from his exhaustion.
Matthews stood directly in front of Noah and diagonal to Bennett. Wet sand coated his left side and clumped in the back of his hair. He shifted, favoring his left foot. He couldn’t have been much over eighteen and was not ready for the mental mind games of BUD/S, that much was obvious. His foot moved, enough to signal what was coming. Bennett barely stopped himself from grabbing the boy’s shoulder and forcing him to stay.
When Matthews turned, the anguish on his face made Bennett close his eyes. Tears had tracked through the sand and grime on his cheeks. The bell rang. The noise reverberated through Bennett’s head long after his ears stopped processing the noise.
“And what about you?” The instructor’s voice was so loud, Bennett’s eyes popped open, expecting to find the man in his face.
But he’d only taken a step forward in Noah’s grill. Noah had proved himself physically on the run. It was his mental strength that was in question.
“I’m not quittin’, sir,” Noah barked out.
“Where’re you from, sailor?”
“Georgia, sir.” The unmistakable pride in Noah’s voice made Bennett wince. He was well acquainted with men like Instructor Lennox. They didn’t appreciate pride. They made it their mission to stamp it out.
“You look about sixteen, son. Who let you off the peach farm? Is that what you’ve got on your balls? Peach fuzz?”
“No, sir.”
Bennett cursed internally.
“Drop and give me twenty.”
Noah dropped and gave him twenty. Which under normal circumstances would have been a cakewalk, but after the men had spent an entire day spent flogging their bodies Bennett could see the strain across Noah’s back and the tremble in his arms. He got up like an old man but threw his shoulders back once he was upright.
“You ready to quit yet, Peaches?”
“Sir, no, sir!” His voice was strong. The instructor stared Noah down, but he didn’t give an inch, and Bennett had the urge to give him a high five.
“Break!” The instructor backed away from Noah, pivoted, and stalked past the forlorn helmet of Matthews.
Bennett kept his head down and shuffled along with the other men toward the chow hall. The smell of spaghetti made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. Noah was sitting by himself at a table in the front. Bennett carried his tray past him and took a seat in the far corner of the room as far away from everyone as possible.
The buzz of conversation filled the room, but every once in a while a man’s voice would rise above the fray, “Hey, Peaches,” or, “What’s up, Peaches,” followed by laughter and accompanied by shit-eating grins. Bennett was too far away to hear Noah’s response, if he even had one.
The poor bastard.
Bennett only slowed down when he was halfway through the enormous mound of spaghetti on the tray. He was still alone at the table. Which was fine. Friends weren’t on the menu.
Noah twisted in his seat and said something to the man next to him that caused raucous laughter to erupt. Noah stood and stalked away. Apparently, he was the joke and not the comedian.
As Noah approached, Bennett shifted his attention back to getting food into his belly, hoping his Fuck Off vibes were strong enough to repel Noah. They weren’t.
Noah slammed his tray down and took the seat across from Bennett.
“Assholes.” Noah shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, his color high and his eyes bright with anger.
Bennett ignored him.
A laugh huffed out of Noah. “I’m not even from a fucking peach orchard.”
“Oh really?” Bennett had pegged Noah as a country boy.
“No. My family owns a soybean farm.”
A laugh snuck past Bennett’s determination to stay distant. “Same thing to a lunkhead like Lennox.”