Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
What the survival 101 training hadn’t done was provide Beckett with a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours of shuteye all night long. There had been a low-level buzz from the trainees. Excitement, fear, and nervousness fueled many students who stayed awake until the wee hours.
Beckett walked the trail back toward his home, lifting his face to the early morning sun, letting its soothing warmth coat his skin. He left his dad and their lawn crew behind to wrap up training, secure that the newbies were in good hands. His sure-footed steps guided him over the rugged terrain, a path he knew by heart with as many times as he’d hiked the trail over his lifetime. Nothing filled his soul with peace more than the majestic, almost untouched energy radiating from the mountains.
The crisp breeze slid over his skin heated by the excursion of climbing down the rocky slope. The cleanest air anyone could ever breathe added to the allure of the moment. Whenever possible, Beckett started his day outside, taking a hike, clearing both his head and his heart. He loved the dawning of a new day filled with hope and possibility.
Mother Nature didn’t seem to care about the struggles of the world. She started fresh every day, so he aimed to do the same.
“You’re being quieter than normal,” Randy said. The crunch of dry leaves under their feet and the chill of the mountain air added to the soul-inspiring tranquility of the morning hike. Randy was Beckett’s lifelong best friend. They’d joined the military together. Then later, Beckett had recruited Randy to work on their survivalist instructor team. It had been the best hire of his life. Randy had a way of getting results out of even the most difficult trainee.
Off-duty, though, Randy was a talker.
Beckett, not so much.
Their downtime had become a balancing of their strengths. Randy handled the heavy lifting of incessant chatter while Beckett gave a few grunts and groans here and there, not ever really paying much attention to what Randy said. It worked well for their friendship.
“Are you listening at all?”
Beckett tuned back in. He guessed he wasn’t grunting enough to keep Randy talking. “Yeah.”
“Your old man did a good job. You know he arranged all this by himself in less than a week. The tents were a good idea. I was shocked that most of the class didn’t know the proper way to erect one.”
Beckett didn’t respond. He focused on keeping their steady pace, navigating the rocky terrain down to the base of the mountain.
“I liked that he wants to add a new intermediate class for those who graduate from this one. I was skeptical when I first heard his idea.”
Beckett had to agree.
Years before Beckett was born, his father had made a career out of the military. He’d served in the United States Navy as part of the first SDV teams under Naval Special Warfare Command. He led reconnaissance missions, was beloved by many. Still, there wasn’t anyone on the planet who idolized his father more than Beckett. Watching his father getting older, having serious health issues, and being restricted from what he loved to do came with its own set of fears.
“Your old man told me you’ve been distracted lately. He thinks it has something to do with all those fancy clothes you keep buying. I said you’ve finally decided to spend some of that money you’ve been sitting on, so you’ll look good at his funeral.”
Beckett stopped in his tracks, tilting his chin over his shoulder, and gave Randy a menacing glare. The thing about talking too much was that a person eventually said stupid shit. Randy did it all the time. Take this moment as a prime example.
“Sorry,” Randy said, lifting his hands in surrender. “It was funnier when I said it to your dad. He got a real kick out of it.”
Beckett pointed a finger in Randy’s face, daring him to say another word. “Don’t fucking talk about him dying. That shit’s not funny.”
Randy lifted both hands higher in the air. When Beckett didn’t give in right away, Randy rolled his eyes then reached out to shove Beckett to get him moving. “So why have you been so distracted lately?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Beckett grumbled, bounding down the last few rocky steps. He only had about a quarter-mile walk to his cabin. Randy could hike the rest of the way to the main lodge by himself. Beckett needed time to recoup before heading out again this afternoon.
“You not wanting to talk about something? What a shocker. Did your old man tell you the pot farm paid in full?”
That had Beckett slowing his steps to let Randy catch up. “No, I don’t think so. When did they do that?”
“I guess it was unexpected. Those two guys that bought y’alls land drove out yesterday afternoon.”