“Sir, yes, sir!” This time they managed to answer in unison.
“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 fami
ly owns a soybean farm.”
A laugh snuck past Bennett’s determination to stay distant. “Same thing to a lunkhead like Lennox.”
Noah glanced to either side and leaned over his tray. “Careful.”
“I plan to be. You, on the other hand, are screwed.”
“How so?”
“You’ve earned a big target on your back.”
Noah muttered a curse.
“Do the work and don’t let that lump of humanity intimidate you. His job is to try to make us quit. Prove him wrong; don’t.” A slow grin came to Bennett’s face. “Anyway, it could be worse.”
“How so?”
“He could have called you peach balls. Or douche canoe. Or panty waister. How would you like to be out at a bar and get introduced to a hot chick as Panty Waister? Be thankful.”
Noah snorted and returned a grin. They finished eating and headed back to their room, not talking much, but the camaraderie that had been planted on their run broke ground and resulted in a comfortable silence.
The next weeks passed much like the first day until it was hard to keep track. It felt like they’d been in the middle of indoctrination forever. Bennett could feel his body changing, growing harder and leaner, but it was easier to see the changes in others. Noah grew skinnier, his cheekbones like blades in his tanned face and his muscles more pronounced.
A couple of guys quit from injuries before indoc was complete. Turned out indoc was a cakewalk compared to First Phase of BUD/S. Intensity jacked up to insanity levels. Heatstroke claimed a few men, still others went out with broken ribs, and one left with a broken arm.
Twenty quit before Hell Week, which marked the halfway point of First Phase. The night before Hell Week, a palpable anxiety rose to frenetic levels.
Bennett tried to sleep, knowing it was the last rest he would get for days, yet he couldn’t shut his brain off. It pinged through his memories. Age nine at a scarred kitchen table being told he’d end up in jail or dead. Age eleven, his first experience at being pulled from a foster home after getting beat up by the man of the house. Age sixteen, the caseworker with the kind eyes who’d placed with him with her uncle, an old Vietnam veteran.
Life pivoted on single moments.
Rustling came from the Noah’s bed. “You got anyone back home, Caldwell?”
Talking about the old man would lead to questions he didn’t want to answer. “A girl, you mean? Nope. You?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you not know?”
“I met someone right before we shipped out here. She’s leaving for college in a few weeks. Timing’s a bitch.”
The silence deepened.
“Damn, I can’t stop thinking about her, though.” Noah continued softly. “She’s real pretty. Innocent, though, you know? Not like the women hanging out at the bars around the bases.”
The women around the base were perfect in Bennett’s eyes. Sex and no questions. No ties. The heartfelt shit Noah was spouting would only make him weak.
“Put her out of your head and concentrate on getting through tomorrow.”
“Right. I will.” Noah didn’t sound at all convincing. “But this girl, man. Listen to this email she sent me.”
A mini-light clicked on from Noah’s side, and Bennett pulled a pillow over his head.
Noah,
I’m really happy (and a little surprised) to hear from you. I figured you’d ridden (flown) off into the Great Beyond. I have four more weeks in Nags Head before I leave for UNC. My mom says my head and heart have already moved on, and I suppose she’s right. Hope the training isn’t as rough as you’re expecting, but you’ll rock it no matter what. Every time I scoop the mint chocolate chip ice cream, I think of you. Wish Wilbur was still around to fly you a gallon. An older gentleman came in the shop last week. He reminded me of you except forty years from now. He ordered mint chocolate chip and had blue eyes, too. Just as I was getting all teary and nostalgic, the creep hit on me! (Just like you, too. Ha!) Don’t worry, I didn’t let him walk me home. Instead, I gave him directions to the retirement home. Write when you can.…
Harper
Bennett grunted out a laugh. He’d been expecting some sappy love note full of expectations. The girl—Harper—sounded down-to-earth, with more than her share of humor. He hoped Noah made her proud.
Bennett needed to focus. While he liked the kid, it would be hard enough getting himself through Hell Week intact. And to do it, he needed sleep. At some point, he must have drifted off, because an alarm and screaming instructors woke him.
Every warning and story he’d heard about Hell Week couldn’t compare to reality. Until they’d lived through it, no one could understand the strain it put on body and mind. The constant physical stress shredded bodies and the sleep deprivation messed with heads. The mournful clang of the bell rang out time and again at all hours of the day and night and soon the line of abandoned helmets on the grinder outnumbered the men still fighting to survive.
Nights were spent in tents being woken every few minutes. Days were spent running holding heavy inflatable rafts overhead, his shoulders and arms screaming for relief. Hours were spent lying in the surf, locked arm in arm with Noah battling the unrelenting ocean.
Bennett lost track of time, but the sun was beating down on them when they were lined up in front of a bog strung with ropes. The kind of muddy mess he’d lived next to in Mississippi. The problem was he could barely hold himself upright, much less harness the agility needed to cross on ropes.
The first two guys to take it on splatted into the mud. One crawled toward the end; the other turned over and lay like a mudbug in the sun. Bennett and Noah exchanged a glance and slid onto the ropes. Raw blisters along Bennett’s palms sent sharp pains up his arms. It was a mental struggle not to let go.
Noah lost his balance. One foot slipped off and his weight tipped him to the side. He lost his grip and momentum took him to the ground. He fell on his side with a loud grunt.
Bennett continued his shuffle forward. One foot and then the other. “Get the fuck up.”
“My shoulder is toast.” Noah turned to his back, his arm cradled on his chest, his face scrunched. Mud painted every wrinkle of agony.
Bennett couldn’t stop. If he did, he might not make it. He slid a few more feet and glanced back. Noah hadn’t moved.
He couldn’t just leave him, could he? A sense of duty trumped his self-preservation. Cursing himself, he dropped into the mud, landing in a graceless roll that twisted his ankle. Mud and sand and sweat caked every part of him. He crawled to Noah, grabbed his collar, and hauled him to sitting.
“I can’t,” Noah said between clenched teeth.
“You can and will.” Bennett ignored the pain in Noah’s eyes, a piercing blue against the almost black, stinking mud. Any sympathy on Bennett’s part would made things worse. “Did you come this far to give up? You want to disappoint your family and your girl?”
“Fuck no.”
Using each other as support, they stumbled through the mud and out of the pit, Noah holding his left arm tucked up on his chest and Bennett limping. The pressure in his boot where his ankle was swelling was already uncomfortable.
But they’d made it to the other side and out of the pit. Like salmon fighting a current, they fought their way across the sand to the training center. Less than a third of the class that had entered indoc gathered on the grinder, exhausted and trailing watery grime.
Instructor Lennox paced at the front and Bennett had a feeling the man was waiting for someone else to bail and ring the bell before announcing their next impossible task.
“Cl-l-lass Three Thirty-Seven secured from Hell-l-l Week.” The instructor’s cadence was a combination of drawn out and punctuated. “Dismissed.”
It was like hearing “And they lived happily ever after” or “the wicked witch is dead.” Unimaginable. Unreal. Unbelievable.
He wasn’t the only one in shock. The instructor might as well have hollered, “Freeze
.” Then, everyone reacted at once, whoops and high fives and hugs. Brown T-shirts that signified graduation of a sort were passed out. Bennett and Noah stared at each other. A grin spread over Noah’s face, cracking the already-drying mud. Another man slapped Noah on the back, and he doubled over with a groan.
“Come on, let’s get you to Medical,” Bennett said.
They limped along and Bennett left Noah with the medic after assurances his shoulder wouldn’t get him kicked out of BUD/S. Bennett’s ankle was throbbing, but the swelling went down after icing.
Bennett collapsed in his bed, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of being sand-free with endless peaceful hours ahead of him. Except for Hollis’s snoring. Both Hollis and Carter had made it through Hell Week, too. Bennett’s body was exhausted, but his mind whirred.
How close had he come to sacrificing his dream of becoming a SEAL to help Noah? Scenarios scrolled rapid fire through his head, each one involving Bennett quitting or getting cut.
“Hey, Bennett, you still awake?” Noah’s voice was soft.
“Yeah, man.”
“Thanks for today. Not sure if I would have made it without you. Glad I’m not headed home right now.”
Bennett’s thoughts calmed. He hadn’t quit. And neither had Noah. Bennett was glad he hadn’t lost his friend. “I’m glad, too,” he whispered before turning over and falling into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 5
Present Day
Harper sat behind the wheel of her car in the parking lot of Caldwell Survival School. It was Tuesday and not even lunchtime. Two other vehicles were there. A black truck with mud tires and a Jeep. The building was a rustic log cabin with a wraparound porch. Good branding for his line of business. As was the location, outside of Virginia Beach proper with expansive views into the distance.
She’d found the certificate Bennett Caldwell had given her with the money and had been surprised not to find something misspelled. It wasn’t even a good fake. How had she just accepted him at his word? Her thoughts churned in circles, gnawing at the possible reasons this man, with the same name as her son, for God’s sake, had shown up on her doorstep with a huge check.
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