"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alan?" A voice yelled from behind me, not far from the doorframe. I recognized her voice, and mostly the smell, and turned around to face my mom.
Her mouth hung open, makeup smeared down the side of her face, clutching her purse so hard her whole hand was covered in a blanket of white. She marched forward, grabbing my arm and yanking me away from the rifle that stayed untouched on the floor, and slammed the door behind us.
"Do you have any idea what you've done!?" She screamed, her saliva dripping into my chin and slipping down. Obviously, I did; the room hadn't been touched in fifteen years, what else was I going to do?
"I just wanted to-" I started before her purse slapped me across the face, sending a new level of pain through my thin tissue. First, I had been thrown into the chair by the recruiter, then slapped by her, and now hit with a purse. What a great few hours.
I didn't get to explain any further as she threw me out the front door, sending me crashing against the neighbors' boxes, perfectly stacked just right to inflict maximum hurt against someone's ribs.
Waves of heat flooded through my cheeks, rising from my chest and halting at my neck before going back down and collecting around my already bruised ribs. Fuck, I should have just left.
I stumbled away, clutching my ribs with my right hand as I could feel parts of my lips going up in a snarl and mimicking the pain going through my chest. Luckily, I'd only have to sleep outside for one day since the people were supposed to pick me up in the morning, and it wasn't too long until then, only around seven hours.
It wasn't the first time I had slept outside, and certainly wouldn't be the last, that much I could tell. Just a few weeks earlier, she had thrown me out for buying air fresheners, and before that, for sneezing too loudly, and on several occasions for being sick.
Damnit, this world sucks. I stared up at the dark sky while drops of rain drizzled down onto my hair. So much for taking a shower.
I rolled onto my side, closing my eyes as I took up my usual spot on the first floor, just behind some of the air conditioning units. Nobody checked them often, and they were decently covered, enough at least to keep my lower body dry.
The night ticked by as I stared into the forest behind the apartments, crunching the pamphlet for the SEALS the recruiter had handed me before leaving.
I could vaguely make out the men on the cover holding their weapons, a few wearing goggles that seemed to reflect light when there was none, night vision, to my best guess. Some of the words popped out brighter than others, none exactly comforting.
Forged By The Sea. Warriors of warriors. The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday! Each phrase popped out, and a sliver of something began to form near my heart, accompanying the tendrils. A thin, almost spike-like object jabbed into my chest. Anxiety, maybe, fear, possibly both.
My eyes drifted shut as I curled up, clutching my legs and attempting to cover my body from the rain, which showed no signs of slowing down.
A loud honk sounded out from in front of me, causing my eyes to snap open as I looked forward. A man dressed rather formally was looking at me, half-puzzled, half-dumbfounded. I guess it wasn't every day they were sent to pick up someone who looked homeless.
I stood up, cracking my neck against my shoulders, and hopped into the black SUV. He nodded slowly, closed the door, and got in the car with me. "It's going to be a few hours, sir."
I looked at him as the words left his mouth and only shrugged. If anyone deserved to be called sir, it sure as hell wasn't the person he was looking at. "Thanks."
The drive was shorter than it seemed; buildings, children, and sometimes brown patches of dirt all breezed by us. Now and again, he'd steal a glance at me, look slightly uncomfortable as I caught his gaze and turned back to the road.
I finally got out of the car as it rolled past a blue checkpoint, the massive sign above stating, You are now entering a restricted area.
"I'll lead you over to the barracks first, then you'll be joining a group of trainees. PT starts at 0500 tomorrow," He explained, opening the door and pointing to possibly the biggest yet smallest building I had ever seen in my life.
Four corners popped out, each ending in a sharp turn to the left and forming an L shape. As I walked around it, guided by the man who had driven me here, I got the vague sense I had seen a shape similar in a few of my history books.
The barracks were shaped like a giant swastika. I paused at the realization, double-checking the corners and adding them together in my head as the driver stared at me and nodded as if he understood my confusion.
"I don't know what you're thinking, sir, but the answer is yes. The barracks are shaped like a swastika."
I quietly followed him after he verified what I had been thinking. What the fuck? A simple enough question, but I didn't utter it as he led me in to see a fair number of men, most a whole head taller than me. All were standing at attention, giving a heartfelt salute.
It would have been cool, except they were all shaking slightly, scared of whoever was either with me or had just come through.
Slowly, as we passed, one of them leaned forward, as if sensing my confusion. "Listen, man, this is my third time here. I can tell you're new, don't sweat it, but if you see Rear Admiral Seller, stay away. She's in one of her famously bad moods today."
A few recruits nodded in an almost uniform, funeral-type goodbye as we continued forward.
Okay, what the fuck is going on?
"This here is your bunk. Some of your mates are most likely preparing for tomorrow," He said, starting to walk back out before pausing briefly. "Oh, I'm not supposed to tell recruits, but good luck for PT tomorrow; you'll need it."
As soon as he said it, he sped-walked away, leaving me alone in the room. With nothing better to do, I walked outside through the hallway closest and could vaguely make out men running together through a dirt track, all hauling a log the length of three of the bunks put together.
Some I could make out to be shouting something, but they were too far for me to hear, and then one of the men tripped, sending the other men over him. Even though I couldn't hear them, regardless, I could sense the silence as men hopped out of carts with red faces and pointed accusatory fingers at them, shouting something from the way their mouths hung open and dripped spit and saliva everywhere.
Remind me not to trip, I internalized, continuing to walk to where I had seen the men earlier. None of them paid much attention this time around; some were joking, others were doing handstands, and a few were arm-wrestling. Nothing like what the pamphlet had described.
I walked past them, spotting a large track that went in a circle bigger than the barracks I had just been led around. Without waiting for much, probably because everyone else seemed slightly less confident than I had imagined earlier, I hurried forward and began to jog the circumference.
After around twelve laps, my calves sent fire through my hips and waist, stabbing against my ribs. The first day had gone by fast without much happening, nobody spoke to me as I ran, and the quietest I got was the few pauses before instructors screamed at the men in white shirts to either hurry up or quit. Real colorful.
As I made my way back to my bunk, I passed surprisingly green bushes for how depressing everything else looked. I paused briefly, staring at the shape, which looked oddly similar to the bushes and vines outside my window in the apartment complex.
Ignoring the similarities, I finished my walk back and lay in my bunk as the thin clock on the wall hit ten o'clock.
I felt the hard rock of my buck digging into my spine, although it wasn't much different than my frequent outdoor sleeping, and fell asleep while staring at the bunk above me.
Alarms blared, causing me to shoot upright and slam my nose directly into the bunk above me. The other men were already lining up, some jumping off their bunks as a rather angry-looking man strolled through, glancing between the people lined up and stopping on me as I finally took my place in the line.
"What took you so long, boy?" He asked, staring into my eyes as his nostrils flared. Another one of those moments where I could tell I was fucked before saying anything incriminating.
"I hit my nose on the bedframe," I answered, pausing as his eyes went wide and he strolled closer, his finger stabbing into my chest just to the left of my heart.
"It's sir, that is how you will reply to what I ask you. Do you understand me, boy!?" He shouted, sending saliva spiraling into my face.
I was starting to think the people here all had a thing for spitting on people's faces when he got closer, waiting for a reply.
"Yes, sir," I replied, but regardless, he shot his finger harder into my chest.
"Drop down and give me sixty. Now, boy," His voice had such an eerie calm compared to what he was doing, a shiver shot down my spine, and I followed his order.
"You will all learn from this tadpole here, understood? You will give me a proper response and you will treat me with respect, understood?"
Everyone else nodded as I completed my twenty-third pushup, sweat already forming on my face and splashing against the cold, damp ground. Damn this fucking asshole! It's not like anyone warned me how to respond!
My arms trembled, almost causing me to fall as I completed the last pushup, forcing myself off the ground to meet his eye level. "All done, sir."
"Everyone follow me to the beach, it's time we get rid of that pussy attitude!" He ordered, and everyone lined up to follow him out, including me this time. I already did sixty pushups, I didn't need to do more.
We walked past a few different facilities, one housed a pool with an odd metal shape inside, another was a complete gym, and a few I couldn't get a good look at, but the final one had a giant, Olympic-sized pool. Fuck.
It wasn't the thought of swimming that made me a bit concerned; no, swimming was fine. It was the fact that I didn't recognize or know what most of the rooms were meant to be; I was going in completely blind while everyone else seemed to have a decent grasp of what was going on.
We lined up in groups of six, with 4 different rows behind us. A few other sergeants met with the one who had led us out, and then the main guy who had made me do sixty push-ups muttered something that made my skin crawl.
"Drop down and give us fifty, all of you! Get started you fucking Tadpoles!"
Everyone immediately hit the concrete pad, sending loud thuds echoing through the open air. You've got to be fucking kidding me!
Without waiting, I followed alongside them, watching as the other instructors walked past us, some whispering in cadets' ears. Whether they were telling them to fail already or giving hints was anyone's guess, but judging from the look on his face, it was most likely the former.
"Fifty situps, now! Get to it, maggots!"
Everyone shot up faster than I had ever seen someone move and began sit-ups, crossing their arms over their chest as I followed as quickly as possible, sweat pouring down my face as the sun formed over the horizon and hit me in the eyes.
"I see that hesitation in your eyes, Tadpole. You better keep going, look at everyone else, leaps and bounds ahead of you," An instructor whispered in my ear. I couldn't tell who; I was still being blinded by the sun.
Fuck! I went faster, clutching my arms tightly in a cross to my chest as my momentum carried me forward, and I barely avoided slamming my head into the concrete. Hurry the fuck up! My thoughts echoed in my head, making me go faster as someone blew a whistle.
"GO JUMPING JACKS, GET ON IT TADPOLES!"
My body shot up faster than I had ever moved in my life, and I followed the rest as they outstretched their arms and tucked them to their body with every jump, over and over. I could feel someone looking at me, but my eyes were squinted almost completely shut.
Sweat was pouring down my face, my throat went dry, and worst of all, I could feel sweat filling the inside of my shirt. Making me both incredibly hot and cold at the same time.
"If you think this is hard, wait until Hell Week! We'll have your asses sweaty and bruised! Faster maggots! If even one of you slows down we'll throw your ass out!"
Everyone else sped up, including me. I could almost feel my muscles ripping themselves apart, either that or it was my shirt, but for some reason, my muscles tearing made more sense.
"You fuckers wanna go for a swim? Let's go for a fucking swim! Run your asses to San Diego Bay!"
I paused, looking around to try and gauge where exactly I was supposed to go, but a few others were just as confused. Until the guy who had spoken to me earlier about the Rear Something lady took the lead with the instructors and began to jog.
Finally, something I can do! At least that was what I thought; what I had neglected to think about was that my muscles were crying, including my calves and just about every bone in my legs.
I ended up behind pace with most of the cadets, except for a skinny guy behind me who was sweating harder than anyone else. He looked like he was fifteen, but I figured he was older, probably early twenties, from the way he had spoken earlier with the group who was joking around.
Come on! Stop slowing down, Dammit!
I sprinted ahead, my ribs screaming with a newfound pain I wasn't even aware existed. My lips curled back into a new sort of half-snarl, half-scream, although no words came out.
An instructor looked at me quizzically as I managed to get into third place, darting straight past most of the other cadets who were slowing down as we neared the mile mark. Just because some had done it before didn't mean they were prepared, although to be fair, I wasn't either, and it was my first time.
"Better hurry the fuck up tadpoles! The newbie just went past most of you!" An instructor yelled, his voice filled with either delight or filtered hatred for me, although I wasn't sure if it was either.
The guy who had told me it was his third time slowed down to match my pace, taking a long look at me.
Maybe I looked a bit crazy, I could feel sweat pouring off of me more than rain would during a thunderstorm, either that or it was the look I was giving off.
"Shit man, you are one stupid fuck. You're wasting all your energy before the swim," He commented, nodding down toward my legs. "Try to pace yourself, keep your feet off the ground more, you'll be faster and it'll waste less energy."
With that final comment, he strode forward, half-leaping and half-running, as if trying to show me how to do what he described. As if I could replicate that to replace what I had done my entire life.
I tried to copy him for a moment, and to his credit, it did work, but muscle memory kicked in soon after, and I went back to the way I had run before.
Everyone came to a quick halt as we stopped just before the bay, finally ending the two-mile run. Some fell to their knees, another few were barely standing, and the skinny guy from before was gasping for air on his hands and knees, his body shaking and rattling as saliva dripped out of his mouth.
"Everyone still here? Well, ain't that a damn surprise. Hell Week'll be far worse than this, I'll tell you nubs," An instructor half-shouted from the beach, with a strong midwestern accent, probably from Illinois or Minnesota, judging from the almost fade-like haircut, most likely Illinois.
Oh my God, I'm going to fucking vomit. That thought stayed for a few seconds as my vision blurred and the man who helped me earlier gave a slight thumbs-up. At least one of the cadets was on my side; that was nice. Would he still be if he knew how I ended up here?
"Break time's over, get yer asses on over to the water!"
This is worth it, Andrews. This is worth it. Your sister and mother won't have to worry about housing. With my reminder fresh in mind, I stumbled over to the water and stepped in, lining up with the other recruits.
"Now that you're all here, swim to the orange cone and back. I'm sure a mile won't be too bad!" He ordered with a cheer, holding a bottle of water as he covered the rest of his face with a hat.
Everyone turned to see the orange cone, bubbling above the water, half a mile out.
"I said, go! The first one back can have the rest of my water, it's ice cold!" He yelled, waving the bottle in the most taunting manner I had ever seen in my life. I hadn't known him for all of five minutes, and he was already one of my least favorite people.
I dived into the water, feeling the salt water fill my pants and shirt, and stinging against my bruises, which unfortunately remained fresh. Trying to get a breath, I reached my head up to breathe and took a swift chug of salt water instead as a wave crashed over me.
The taste of salty piss coated my tongue and throat, stinging every inch of my body as I held back on vomiting in the water already. A harsh burning stung me, causing me to gag as my arms continued in swift movements ahead of me.
I could hear splashing behind me as I continued forward; some were panicked splashes, others were swift and controlled, similar to mine. However, there were a few differences from others; some were controlled, but there wasn't swiftness, and there was a slower, more powerful splashing.
Interesting. I tried to turn my swift and weak strokes into something else, keeping them as swift as possible, but slamming into the water and throwing my body forward instead. My muscles felt weaker, but I could also tell I was swimming faster than before, faster than anyone else.
A megaphone screech shot through the air and waves, silencing the splashing as I hit the cone and turned back around. "SHARK! THERE'S A SHARK!" It was the instructor who had waved the bottle in front of us before, his voice sounded panicked.
I couldn't hear anything behind me, and I was the furthest, but I didn't need him to yell again. My breathing became more ragged as I shot forward, trying to keep using the method I had just learned, which became oddly hard as I was actively expecting to get a bite taken out of me.
I felt adrenaline shoot through my body, accompanied by my heartbeat going at a hundred miles per hour. A new feeling crept into me, squeezing my chest. What if the shark was right behind me?
I swam even faster, barely keeping my posture correct as I threw myself onto the beach and wiped my eyes with my saltwater-covered hands. Everything stung, including my feet, as I used them to propel myself onto the beach faster.
Chuckling came from behind me as an instructor bent over and cackled. I almost checked, but instead opened my eyes and looked out toward the water. Everyone else was coming to shore as quickly as possible, but there was no fin, there was no thrashing, no blood, there was no damn shark. We had been fooled.
"That was priceless! He went so damn fast to get back!" The instructor I was now beginning to dislike even more, chuckled, laughing so hard that tears were escaping his eyes.
"Hey, greenhorn, want that water?" He called out, almost making me doublethink how much I started to dislike him. Keyword, almost.
He tossed an empty bottle into my arms and walked off, cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West the entire time. Yeah, I hated him for sure now.
I looked back out toward the water, watching the rest of the cadets get to the shore. Although I was surprised to see the second guy who finished was the skinny guy who looked like he was about to die during the run, he was also, surprisingly, the one I had taken the swim method from mid-swim.
I'll thank him later.
The rest of the day went by with workouts and getting screamed at by people who I was actively starting to think lacked the genitals to be a kinder person. But the dawn of the next day was worse, in fact, it was fucking awful.
Similar alarms blared as I got up and lined up, waiting for the instructor to enter the barracks. Everyone else looked at me oddly, but I couldn't tell if it was a surprise or not; some of them had gotten a good look at the bruises coating my chest toward the end of the previous day. It was probably that.
The instructor entered after a few seconds, carefully checking our bunks, then stopping in front of the skinny guy, whose name I had yet to learn, and also whom I had yet to thank.
"Can you tell me what the fucks wrong with your bunk tadpole?" He questioned, stepping in front of him and pushing his chest into his face.
"I-It's dirty, sir," He answered, stumbling over the first word. Like a wild hyena, the instructor got closer until he was about to fall over and spoke loud enough for the rest of us to hear.
"Give me fifty and clean up your damn bunk in five minutes, or I'll throw you out my damn self."
As if a mental timer started, the instructor took a step back and watched as he struggled to do even twenty pushups, then thirty, before he fell and collapsed at exactly fifty. After a minute had passed, he picked himself up and tidied his bunk, tucking in his sheets.
"Everyone, get to the beach! The last one gives me one hundred!"
Fortunately, the last one wasn't the skinny guy, but instead one of the other cadets who scratched his ankle against a rock on his way back from the 'shark attack'.
"Start running! I want six laps around this damn beach! If any of you fail, I'll send your asses right back where you came from. Maybe you'll get a nice desk job!"
Immediately, I broke into a jog, trying to get the method the older cadet told me drilled into my head, which luckily, worked after a few tries.
As I passed the first mile, I could feel myself getting better, adding some improvements to it as well. Instead of a half-leap, half-run, I turned it into a slam-down type of method. I would throw my body forward and slam my boots into the ground to run, before repeating. Which somehow sent me further ahead than anyone else.
Fuck, I'm tired. Unfortunately, getting better at the methods didn't stop thoughts from piling up. What if I don't make it? What if my family won't have anywhere else to go? What happens if I fail? This is already hard. What if I can't make it through the rest?
As if sensing my mind was faltering, one of the instructors caught up and started to yell at me. "Look at you! You pathetic fucking tadpole! You wanna quit? Do you? Go back to the base, go on, tell them you want out! Tell them you can't take it anymore!"
I tried to pull ahead, to shut him up, but the sand was dragging my boots down, making it harder to gain any distance in front of him.
"I SAID QUIT! GET YOUR ASS TO BASE AND QUIT!" He shouted louder, sending shivers down my spine as heat flashed across my face.
Was I seriously embarrassed that this prick was yelling at me? Was I mad he was right? Should I have just given up?
He could tell I was within his sights, just like a damn vulture as he got closer. "GO ON! QUIT!"
"Could you shut the fuck up?!" I accidentally yelled it out loud, not like I wanted to think it, regardless. Sweat was pouring down my body, my clothes felt like they weighed hundreds of pounds, and the sun beating down on me with no cover wasn't helping either.
"What the fuck did you just say tadpole? Say that shit again, go ahead!"
"I said, could you shut up!?" I repeated, trying to stop myself, to no real avail.
"Drop down and give me one hundred pushups, right fucking now, or I will kick your ass out right here and now!"
I didn't honestly need any encouragement, but I dropped onto the sand and started immediately. Why the hell was I being punished for speaking to him the way he was speaking to me? Hell, why was he allowed to beat us down physically, but we couldn't even say anything back?
"What are you going to say when we tell you to quit?" He asked, bending down to stare at my eyes as I went up and down, my hands being covered by the burning sand and sinking further in. "Answer the question!"
"Nothing!" I replied, my face burning with both anger and embarrassment as I finished the sixty-second pushup.
"Reply to me properly, you worthless maggot!"
"Nothing, sir!"
He didn't drill into me much more, he just waited for me to finish and let me run ahead. Maybe part of him felt a bit bad, or he decided I had learned my lesson in humility. I couldn't tell.
The day finished not extremely long after, out of the twenty-four students we started with, two had already dropped out, and I finished my laps sixth. Not bad for a first-timer, hopefully. After the run, they had us 'cool off' by swimming in the freezing water over and over. Luckily, that was where the day ended.
Fortunately, that was the most we did for days two and three. Although I did get punished again, that time for having an attitude with my bunkmate. Kicking metal frames hurts, who could have guessed?
Alarms blared at the start of day four, waking all of us up just three hours after we had gotten back. From twelve o'clock to three am, what a start. Oh, come the fuck on!
A new instructor marched into our barracks, looking around at the bunks, deciding they were fine enough, and led us outside. He didn't look very enthusiastic, instead, he looked bored out of his mind, which I came to find out was a facade.
"Alright! Today, you'll be carrying a teammate from here to San Diego Bay, then you'll do a few laps around while taking turns carrying the other! Get started, now damnit!" He yelled, taking around four men and throwing them into each other.
As I looked at the group, slightly confused, I heard his voice above the others. "You think you can have that dirty ass bunk still? Get your pussy asses into groups, you'll be going around until the sun sets, am I understood you fucking nubs?!"
I quickly hurried away and found the skinny guy from whom I had copied the swimming method earlier. Everyone else had left him alone, probably because he looked weak as shit, but that's where I had an advantage.
I had never weighed more than one hundred and twenty pounds in my entire life, meaning if I paired with him, I could carry him easily, and he should be able to carry me without an issue. He quickly accepted, and I started carrying him, which went great, until halfway around the beach, where the instructor I had cursed out before stopped us.
"Well, well, well! You just strolled into an enemy base, do you use him as a shield and escape, or try to protect both of you?"
Well, that sure as hell wasn't a question I was expecting.
"I would-" I didn't get to finish as he immediately screamed the question back at me, kicking me in the shin until I dropped to the sand.
"Answer tadpole!" He kicked me in the shin again.
I gritted my teeth, opening my lip in a snarl as I looked up at him. "I would protect us both," I answered, taking the pain of being kicked over and over, which is harder than it seems with steel-toed boots slamming into the same bone on repeat.
"Wrong!" He kicked me harder than before, this time in my calf. "You're both dead, good job!" He kicked my shin one final time before strolling off, clearly enjoying himself.
I could already feel the bruise forming as the guy got off my back to take a look at the wound, which I was pretty sure had torn a few muscles and possibly broken my shin.
"What's your name?" He asked, lifting the pant leg as I groaned, biting my hand to keep from yelling.
"Alan Andrews," I managed, biting myself hard enough for blood to come out of my hand.
"I'm Matthew. They aren't allowed to hit recruits like that, what the hell did you say to piss him off?"
"I'm pretty sure it's because I told him to shut the fuck up the other day."
"The others are right, you're one unhinged guy."
"Yeah, well, wouldn't be the first time I've been told that."
We managed to barely finish after tha. Matthew had found a stick and some seaweed to act as a splint. The rest of the day went by fine enough, and funnily enough, the instructor never showed back up after that. Whether he was punished or not was anyone's guess, but Matthew had mentioned the Rear Admiral, whatever her name was, had taken care of him.
Luckily, that was the most that happened the first week, other than some good old tying cadets up and throwing them in the water to untie the knots. That part wasn't as difficult as everything else, I had a good sense of direction, and feeling around to find the slits to open the knots was simple to grasp. Especially when your lungs feel like they're being punched every second you're underwater.
Now that the first week was over, when the second started, that's when it started to hurt like a bitch. Constant running through the nights, almost drowning a few times, and going through dense jungle with a hundred-pound bag on you, just like school, except more running.
The first few days, eight through ten, those sucked. I managed to pick myself up by the bootstraps and complete the obstacle course, and not much to my surprise, my shin was fractured. If I could do it, anyone else could, except two more people who dropped out because they couldn't climb a rope wall that was covered in mud while it was raining.
Eleven and twelve weren't bad, again, like school. Just dark, gloomy, and hard to put up with, bags and all. The forest gave a few people a run for their money, but everyone got through it. Much to a few instructors' annoyance.
The last few days were difficult. We had to act like a team, assigning each other tasks and completing them. Shockingly, Dan, the guy who had helped me with the running thing, ended up being a great leader, while I ended up being close, but fell short because I assigned the wrong person to use a compass, shit happens.
I awoke instantly, just before the alarm on the dawn of week three. I was beyond tired, my werewwere droopingand I could barely see a few feet in front of me. But, unfortunately, it was also the week before Hell Week, and they let me know fast.
"Wake up! Today, we'll be completing the Blue Cord run!" Instructor Willie shouted with a smile. He got his name from sticking his private part into a cactus on his first deployment, and someone was happy enough to tell us the story while running us like wild dogs in the forest.
Everyone, including me and Matthew, lined up outside. Instructor Willie handed us bags, each filled with rocks, and led us to the base of a mountain.
Come the fuck on! I shouted internally as he read instructions to us.
"You will scale the mountain, run down, go through the river, and meet back here! This run is fifteen miles, best of luck, greenhorns." He grinned like a madman when he finished, blowing an air horn as we all immediately began to scale the path.
I fell behind almost immediately; others were more used to the mountain, and those others didn't include me. Matthew gained on me as we ran up the worn-out, rocky, brown path. The instructors rode alongside us in a golf cart and ATV mix with big windows that blocked rocks flying up into their faces, but not ours.
My hands grasped the rock, pulling myself further up the steep path as others ahead of me did the same. That's fucking it. If these people want us to quit so damn bad, I'll show them just who they want to fail.
With that thought, I launched myself up, dragging myself up and trying to ignore the heavy weight on my back as rain whipped against my face, sending the debris from my cheeks below me.
I said, I won't fail here, dammit! I screamed internally, rushing ahead of the others while my now-thin black hair slid water down my face. On the first day, they ended up shaving my previously long hair, but now that wasn't important; if anything, it helped me.
"What the fuck?" An instructor muttered, I barely heard him over the pouring rain as I climbed ahead further, vaulting over a large rock in the center of the path. "Does anyone else see his eyes?"
I ignored the question and went up further. over the past week, plenty of comments had already been made about my eye color, yet oddly, I felt like he wasn't talking about the color this time.
Quickly, I shot past another tree with a marker, 'Checkpoint 1/3'. I was finally a third of the way through the mountain, there were only a few people still ahead of me.
The rain finally gathered enough on my clothes to drag me down further, but I managed to push ahead and gain more ground.
"DAMNIT!" Someone ahead of me yelled, pulling thick, soaked pillows from his bag and trying to wring them out in the rain.
I could have just done that. The fuck!? Although I didn't need to think about it longer, the instructors rolled by and kicked him out immediately.
I pulled ahead further, the rain turning a different color as it got closer to my eyes, it looked like fragments of orange were blowing past me. I won't fucking quit now! I'm going to pass this and finally feel like I can do this shit!
Matthew, surprisingly, caught up next to me, still trembling from the rain as he ran by my side. He had gained some weight and muscle mass over the past two weeks, now less skinny with a solid stomach starting to form; if anyone had improved, it was him. He started to look his age.
"Keep going, we're almost two-thirds done!" I screamed over the rain, pointing to a thin sign around two hundred feet in front of us. He nodded and started gaining more ground with me, before falling behind as his body got weaker from the cold.
"GO!" He shouted, pointing forward for me to ignore him and finish the damn course.
Come on! Just this and the river left! I shouted inside as I passed the sign, the instructors looking at me the entire time. It wasn't long before I passed the next guy, Dan, and was in the lead. Not that it was a race, but it was nice to be above someone for a change.
The instructors took out what looked like a radio and paused, circling with an almost worried look on their faces as I continued forward, dragging my burning, yet also freezing, muscles with me.
My shin was screaming in agony, I didn't even know existed, one beyond what my ribs had felt before. The calluses on my hands were torn open and bleeding, sending ropes of warm pink down the length of my fingers and flinging into my arms as the rain got worse.
Keep pushing! I saw the last sign at the bottom, next to a dense marsh, not much of a river, and hurried forward. But my shin, through the black sock and duct tape, had finally given up, throwing me forward down the mud and rocks, and sending me spiraling into a tree.
A loud crack that was neither a tree falling nor thunder split through the sky, silencing the rain as I glanced around with blurred vision. I tried to look at my hands to see the blood, but it was too dark for me to take in much, just that everything hurt more than it ever had.
I tried to pick myself up, but slipped in the mud and bashed my nose against the ground, sending blood all over my soaked shirt. Luckily, the dizziness disappeared as I managed to stand the second time, blood mixing with the rain.
It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad. Thoughts plagued my mind as I stumbled forward, the bag of rocks weighing what now felt like a thousand pounds. My knee gave out, sending me crashing into the mud as Dan and Matthew both came over the hill and spotted me, the lower half of my face covered in blood, while my right leg was bent in ways it probably shouldn't have been able to.
Fuck, get up. Come on, get up. GET UP! GET THE FUCK UP!
No matter how many times I yelled at myself, I could barely find a way to balance. Between the rain and the shivering cold, the heat on my face, there was too much for me to focus on.
I was about to completely collapse when I felt an arm wrap aroundmem.. Dan was standing above me, blood dripping from his forehead, with more tears in his shirt than there should have been, and Matthew joined him in lifting me.
"COME ON ANDREWS!" Dan yelled, dragging me forward with the pair of them.
"LET'S FINISH THIS DAMN COURSE, COME ON!" He repeated, carrying me forward as I finally regained enough balance to see straight.
I stood still, wiping the blood from my face as I took a step forward on my own. The rain got heavier, sending cracks of thunder through the sky and lightning around us.
"There you go, let's go!" He shouted as I fully got up and started to jog.
"LET'S FINISH THIS, COME ON!" I shouted, pumping my fist into the air as they both followed by my side.
We made it to the bottom, helping each other through the marsh as the instructors gained on the horizon, and we started to go as individuals, carefully helping each other by moving rocks and dirt enough for the other to get a better hold.
Finally, we all finished together, collapsing to the ground as the rain finally lessened. The instructors stared at us, maybe confused, maybe surprised, I was more shocked they didn't cancel the damn course on account of the rain.
The Blue Cord course marked the end of the start of week three. A cadet had ended up fainting because of the heavy rain, and the instructors went to get him to a medic, but the rest of us had managed to get through and make it to the seventeenth day.
***
Jesus fuck, everything hurts. I grumbled to myself, sitting up in my bunk and staring out the window at the passing rainstorm. Not too long after I finally managed to sleep, we had to go back out for some more late-night runs, although everything was covered in mud and soaked, including the beach, which some instructors complained about.
Finally, on the twentieth night, we had our final main event before the start of Hell Week, a log run. The very thing I had seen the group of white-shirted cadets do the day I arrived.