Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
__________
I hopped in my car, a black Nissan Pathfinder that I had bought six months before, after signing with Courtney, and sat there for a couple minutes, staring unseeing out my window. I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel as I cleared my head. When I finally sat up and started my car, I drove like a homing pigeon to the entrance of the freeway. I had no real destination in mind. Maybe I’d just drive for a while and attempt to gather some more clarity about where to go from here, literally and figuratively.
Traffic slowed, coming to virtual halt. Fucking LA traffic. Truthfully, I didn’t really care. It wasn’t like I had to be anywhere. I let out a small laugh, attempting to run a hand through my hairsprayed hair. Oh Christ. I was still wearing fucking makeup. I let out a sigh, sitting back, my gaze holding on a billboard I’d seen a thousand times before driving through this part of the city. Huh. I tilted my head, my eyes moving over the photograph of men in uniform, guns drawn, running through mud.
Did anyone ever tell you you should go into the military where enjoying getting up at the crack of dawn is an asset?
Grace’s words wound through my head, bringing with them a strange energy that suddenly pulsed through my veins. She’d been joking. But…an asset? Maybe I did have a few of those. I was adventurous. I was strong. I enjoyed getting up at the crack of dawn.
She’d told me I was brave.
The traffic started moving and I pulled past the billboard, still traveling slowly enough to grab my phone and look up an address on the internet. Then I turned on my GPS and exited at the next off ramp, following the prompts until I arrived at my destination thirty minutes later. The sign on the building in front of me read: Navy Recruiting. I took a quick moment to thoroughly wipe the makeup off under my eyes, and then got out of my car.
My heart was beating swiftly, but I was also filled with this sense of surety, of purpose, when I had just been feeling lost and without direction. I pulled the door open. One chance to change your mind, Carson. I paused for a second but then stepped inside.
“Can I help you?” a man wearing a khaki uniform, with a name tag and a few ribbons on his shirt asked as he stepped forward.
Was I really going to do this? Grace’s face swam in my mind, the way she’d smiled at me, the way she’d looked proud when I told her why I loved challenging myself with physical sports. “I’m here to enlist,” I said.
The man smiled. “Well, okay then, I’m your guy. Come on over with me. I’m Petty Officer First Class Duane Mitchell,” he said, shaking my hand quickly and then gesturing for me to follow him to his desk. He sat behind it and indicated a chair on the other side.
“What’s your name?” he asked as I took a seat.
“Carson Stinger.”
“Okay, Carson, well, before we get started with anything, let’s chat for a minute. What’s brought you to this decision?” He leaned back in his chair, studying me.
I cleared my throat. “Well, to be honest, I don’t really have any options that look a whole lot better. I’m not the college type. I already know that. I want to do something worthwhile with my life.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any. Now let me ask you this: Have you thought about what job you’d like to do?”
“Uh, not really. I kind of just decided I was gonna do this about half an hour ago.”
He laughed. “Right. Well, what are you good at?”
“I’m a great swimmer and I’m good at extreme sports.”
Petty Officer Mitchell studied me again for a couple seconds. He tilted his head toward a poster of a group of men in dive gear, machine guns in hand emerging from the water. “Ever heard of a Navy SEAL?”
“A SEAL? Yeah, of course. I’d be suited to be a SEAL?” Those were…well, those were badasses.
“Well, I don’t know. You’d need to score really high on a test called the ASVAB and then pass a physical test during basic training that will ensure you a spot in BUD/S, which stands for Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL Training.” He paused, eyeing me, but I remained silent. He went on. “Then you have to make it through basic training and A school. Even if you make it through all those steps and end up in BUD/S, only about twenty percent of men actually make it through, which means eighty percent fail. So, are you suited to be a SEAL? Not many men are. But if you’re a good swimmer and you like sports that are dangerous and take a high level of skill, it’s a decent start. I’ll be honest with you, though, BUD/S is the most rigorous military training on the face of the planet earth. Think on it carefully.”