The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(14)
Bennett grunted, his respect for the kid taking a dive. If Noah was already thinking in terms of contingencies then he might as well quit right now and give his spot up to someone who wanted it more.
After he got his things neatly stored, Bennett lay down on top of the blankets and closed his eyes. Sleep would be a thing of the past soon enough, and he wasn’t going to spend energy on a kid who was already a ghost.
* * *
Wake-up the next morning came before dawn. The alarm dragged Bennett out of a deep sleep where old dreams didn’t trouble him. It was dark in the room, but Noah was up and rustling through his locker for clothes.
Within ten minutes, the BUD/S class gathered on the black-painted concrete and asphalt yard outside the quarterdeck doors, affectionately referred to as the grinder. Bennett quick-stepped to the far side where there were fewer men. He didn’t realize Noah was on his heels until he stopped and the kid bumped into him, mumbling an apology. Besides high color on his cheekbones, he was pale and looked ready to shit his pants.
Bennett wasn’t that far gone, but his heart galloped along, nerves fraying his usual calm. This was the start and, for many, it would soon be the finish.
He’d done his best to ignore the bell hanging from the rafter next to the open space of their soon-to-be torture area. But the bell drew his gaze as if magnetized. It was smaller than he’d anticipated, innocuous looking even, but ringing it would signal the death knell of his dreams.
He snapped his attention forward and his body straight when a monster of man in BDUs stalked to the front of the class. Another man, shorter, slighter, but no less cut, stood to the side in parade rest.
“You maggots want to be SEALs?” the monster in the front yelled with a Southern twang. Just Bennett’s luck to be tortured by a man from the South.
The group hesitated and when they answered it was at different times and on top of one another.
“I said, do you little fuckers want to be SEALs?” His voice increased in volume and intensity if that was possible.
“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.