Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Aside from the mountains as a backdrop, you wouldn’t be able to guess you were just north of Ecuador’s capital. If anything, it looked like a training center from wartime England.
Except for the air. The air was thinner up here, and it became pretty cold at night.
For almost twenty-five years, Hillcroft had sent recruits here for bush training on the other side of the border. This was the big finale. Some theoretical testing, a couple language exams, and then bam, they dropped you in the jungle in Colombia, where you had to survive for two weeks with minimal supplies. We’d been given a daypack, a map, and two orders. Get to the location marked on your map—and don’t die.
James and Griffin took off right away, presumably to pick up the others first thing in the morning. They’d probably refuel on the way too.
The courtyard was suddenly blanketed in silence, and Coach strode toward the doors with a set of keys.
“Fond memories comin’ back, buddy?” He smirked tiredly.
I huffed a chuckle and shook my head.
He grinned a little and jogged up the steps before he turned around and faced our group. “All right, welcome to Ecuador—welcome back to some of you. When all this is over, I’ll tell you about the time Reese mistook a factory fire for a volcanic eruption—”
“The smoke was black and rose high enough to finger-fuck a deity!” Reese widened his arms.
Danny and I cracked up.
Coach chuckled and unlocked the doors. “Or I’ll tell you about the time he got lost fifty yards from the facility.”
“That was altitude sickness,” Reese argued abruptly.
“On that note,” Coach said, “drink plenty of water.” He jerked his chin at the inside. “Let’s go. There’s food, room for everyone, and hot water in the showers…after a minute or so.”
“I have stories about Coach too,” Reese stated. “Y’all wanna hear how he broke his ankle? Or the time he almost shot Emerson?”
“Oh fuck, I remember that,” Danny laughed.
I shook my head in amusement and flicked a glance at Joel. Before we’d landed, he’d exchanged words with the pilots, so his hearing must’ve improved. In other words, I wasn’t gonna be stupid and say anything to him that made me too vulnerable. But man, his words continued to cut through me. How many days had passed since he’d told me he never wanted to see me again when this was over?
We’d turned a port into a crime scene in Europe, we’d shared a hotel room every night, we’d had each other’s backs whenever we took heat, we’d patched each other up in tense silence, and we’d bitched and fought… I was keeping track of every bruise on his body. I couldn’t stand the sight of him, and I couldn’t look away.
“Old-timers, show the newcomers where everything is!” Coach hollered from somewhere in the building.
I cleared my throat, and when Joel glanced my way, I nodded for him to follow me.
I had no real reason to. He could easily go with Danny or Coach or…
I suppressed a sigh and trailed into the building, where the familiar smell of soil, spices, coffee, and strong detergent never really left the walls. I dumped my heavier gear in the big entryway—helmet, vest, boots, weapons.
We’d gotten drunk in the common room—usually only took a couple drinks at this altitude—we’d eaten in the mess hall across the courtyard, often exhausted and banged up from brutal exercises. We’d listened to music, and we’d skidded across the linoleum floors in the hallways to get to our sleeping quarters before Emerson’s booming voice went Lights out!
Even at…twenty-three, twenty-four…we’d been kids. Hungry for a higher purpose while the world burned. I’d been here with seven guys and two women. Each one with a story similar to my own. Quite a few hadn’t felt safe in the military because of their sexual orientation, the women had faced sexism and harassment, and everyone wanted to contribute. The US Armed Forces were the best in many ways—but had a lot to work on in other areas. Sometimes, it was the perfect place. Sometimes, the worst.
I’d loved the Navy—and I knew Danny had thrived in the Army for years too, not to mention all the Finlays in the Marines—but Hillcroft had given me the piece I’d felt was missing.
Coach was already in the supply closet I’d been aiming for, and he was ready to sling clothes to us.
“XL for Jones these days…?” He handed over a stack of sweats, skivvies, tees, socks, and hoodies, and I snatched up two toiletry kits from the wall, plus two towels.
“I don’t like the way you said that,” I muttered.
He grinned. “Large for Hayward. Tenleys…?”
Reese cleared his throat. “XL. Medium for Shay. XS for Danny.”
“Fuck off. I’m a large,” Danny scoffed.
Joel and I made room for the others, and I continued down the hallway, rounded the corner, and reached the big shower room.