Rain soaked my shirt, dripping and splashing against the ground as I stood in the second line. One line was behind me, another in front. Out of the twenty-four cadets we had started with, six had already been washed out before Hell Week had even begun.
"SO! Since so many of you are determined, you'll run until midnight, am I understood?" The instructor shouted over the noise of the rain.
"Hooyah!" We all replied in unison, our arms crossed behind our backs and standing as straight as possible. It was harder than I would have thought; my body kept shivering and pulsing, begging me to get warmer.
We lined up in teams of three, three people to lift hundreds of pounds above their heads and run until they couldn't, then run some more. Simple enough, no way that could go wrong.
"Start running, Nubs!"
At that order, Dan, Matthew, and another few people I had yet to learn the name of took off with their teams. Meanwhile, I was in front of my log with two people who seemed to have no idea what was going on, and the entire world was spinning around me.
I went forward as the instructor screamed again, my boots pushing me forward through the dense mud. The others followed quickly enough, which was more of a surprise than one of them starting to groan.
Shortly after the Blue Cord run, a few people got pneumonia, which, unbelievably, included me. However, others decided this was too hard already and wanted to fake it. Which one was he? Anyone could guess.
"Drop that damn log pussies, come on! Drop it!"
I picked up the pace, lagging just enough for the other two to keep up, yet the guy in the front kept groaning and ducking, leaving me and the one in the back to carry the three-hundred-pound log ourselves.
Fuck! I feel like I'm being crushed. My mind yelled in tune with the burning in my muscles as we sank deeper into the mud. Another step sent mud flying in directions mud had probably never gone before, including up my pant legs.
I could see past the thin treeline that Matthew's group was slowing down, the guy in the front was trying to push everyone forward, oblivious to the fact that the other two were sinking in the mud.
"Look at you. Are you sick? Drop the fucking log!"
Another groan sounded out from in front of us, and the guy was slowly trying to sink into the mud.
"Listen here you fuck, if you don't pick up this damn log I'll let it fall on you," I threatened, pushing the log forward a bit faster to prove my point.
"I can't, I'm sick," He groaned out.
I was too, but was I complaining about it or sucking it up? We continued onward, losing pace with the other groups as the guy behind me started to gasp and breathe in rapidly.
"DROP IT NUB!"
It wasn't even Hell Week yet, so why were they pushing us so hard? Why were they treating us like shit before we got to the toughest part?
"Fuck it, hey guy in the back! I'll take the brunt of the weight, but this guy needs to go. We can't adapt to the weight if he's pushing up and down over and over."
"Alright, man."
His reply was swift, luckily enough, my style. I rushed forward, taking the log with me and the brunt of most of the weight, just as I had expected. It wasn't long before he was slipping on the mud, before finally falling over.
As he fell, I vomited over his shirt, but continued running, realigning myself to the front and carrying the weight. Ugh, fuck, I don't think those liquids are supposed to come out of me.
Much to my surprise, the man who had fallen not long ago and forced us to carry the weight had started to run on pace as us, taking my previous place in the middle. Instructors came from behind him shortly, continuing forward and scanning ahead to the other groups.
"Sorry," His small voice, barely a whisper, muttered from behind me. It didn't take a genius to figure out he had been yelled at and decided to get his shit together, maybe my vomit had a place in it too.
"Just keep pace, assbag, I'm not stopping even if we break some bones," I said back, shifting the weight slightly from my back to lessen my load and ensure he was carrying his own.
I have to do this. I don't have a choice. If I fail, my sister will have nowhere to go.
My thoughts kept me going as sharp pains shot up from my shin, the duct tape and black socks I had put on failed to contain everything, including the burning from my fracture. Just keep pushing, six hours to sunset.
My group kept going, the guy in the middle pulling his weight more than before as the one in the back slipped in the dense mud and almost dropped the log.
"Go on, Tadpoles! Quit, I bet it hurts, don't it? Just quit right now!"
"No can do, Drill Sergeant!" We all replied, pushing forward as the rain lightened up.
Luckily for us, or I guess the week ahead, the rain finished within the next few minutes. The rest of the day was easier; the heat kept drying the mud and baked us pretty well, so the cold water felt like a blessing when we had to run through it briefly.
Soon enough, it had turned nightfall, more specifically, midnight, and we were ordered to stop and line up, still carrying the log. Dan and Matthew were still in, Dan's group carrying the log like a doll as all three of them looked like complete powerhouses, complete with muscles thick enough to give the world heavyweight champion a run for his money, or I guess muscles.
Matthew's team was barely holding on, considering one of them looked like they were green and about to vomit. I wasn't able to look long as we were sent out to tents not far up the beach.
Fuck, my muscles feel like they're dying! I turned over in my cot, attempting to rest my eyes, when the most terrifying sounds I had ever heard rang out.
Loud, blaring alarms went off, sending a shiver down my spine as I shot out of the cot, looking around for whatever was causing the noise. Unfortunately, I found out much too soon.
Smoke filled the tent, stinging my eyes and making them water as I tried to find the exit, stumbling around and stepping on fellow cadets as they finally rolled out as well. I collapsed outside the tent, my eyes heavy and practically leaking tears as I looked around.
Mini explosions shot out everywhere, the sound of fireworks, more accurately gunfire, shot from overhead as what looked like bullets hit the sand. I crawled forward, dragging myself through my already bleeding elbows as I hit rocks and shells, each digging into my skin.
Barbed wire stung at me, poking and stabbing as I crawled around in the smoke, trying to make heads-or-tails of my direction.
I spotted movement ahead of me, Dan clutching his mouth with a soaked shirt, while he crawled forward, using small mounds of sand to propel himself, finally, he stood up and ran like he was being chased by a drug addict with a knife.
That was when I realized this was Hell Week, the very start. Five and a half days of pure hell for anyone, soldier and experienced fighter alike, an event so difficult some of the strongest men in the world couldn't handle it, and I had to make it through, for my sister and mom.
"Go! Go! Go!" An instructor yelled above everything else, blanks being fired in all directions as I made it through the sand and began to run, hoping to catch up to Dan.
"GET THE FUCK UP PUSSY! RUN FASTER OR YOU'LL BE SHOT DEAD!"
An instructor shouted next to me, kicking sand against my boots as I struggled forward, my knees barely bending. My body was still sore, almost completely broken down from the day, and not even five minutes of rest later, I was thrown into the most difficult section of all the training.
I fell to the ground again, crawling through the sand to reach the beach and avoid the blanks being fired above my head as the instructor kicked sand in my face over and over, screaming words I could barely understand through the ringing in my ears.
"IF YOU'RE THAT SLOW IN WAR WE MIGHT AS WELL JUST LEAVE YOU DEAD!" More sand was kicked in my face, going below my white shirt, which was already drenched in water and sweat from before.
I managed to stand, my eyes dizzy as I vomited to the side, a flurry of white and yellow liquid blowing across the sand as, for a moment, the instructor looked genuinely confused, before immediately switching back.
"YOU WON'T LAST FIVE DAMN MINUTES, ALAN! QUIT, EVERYONE KNOWS YOU WANT TO!"
Ignoring his taunts, I ran faster, getting to the beach and immediately following what others were doing as bells rang in the distance.
My body immediately froze up, becoming stiff as stabbing pains entered through every wound, every scratch, every bruise, and the salt water found its way in all.
I let out a small scream underwater, bubbles floating up as I gritted my teeth, attempting not to throw up as I began to do situps with the other cadets, letting the water splash over my face and scrunch up parts of my body I wasn't even aware could scrunch.
"YOU'RE WEAK, NUB! ALREADY BEEN HERE THREE TIMES AND COULD BARELY MAKE IT THE FIRST TWO! GIVE UP NOW! QUIT YOU PUSSY!"
I didn't need to look to know who he was shouting at; my mind told me it was Dan, and he was getting it the worst as I attempted to drown out the instructor yelling at me.
Come on, Alan! COME THE FUCK ON! My mind screamed out above the crashing waves as I started to lose my footing in the sand, before my shoes dug in and held me in place. I wasn't going to quit, not this fast. I was never going to quit.
Bells went off in the distance, followed by cackling instructors and a few boos. I clenched my eyes and went back, before an instructor yelled at us all the next set of instructions.
"LAY THE FUCK DOWN, SIDE BY SIDE, ONE FUCK UP AND YOU'RE ALL GOING HOME!"
I dove next to the others, slamming my back into the cold water, although I barely felt it through my chattering teeth. The water was so cold I could feel it stabbing through my skin, as if it was attacking my organs and flesh with thousands of tiny knives.
A wave crashed out above me, slamming me deeper into the sand as I tried to pull my body back up enough to take a breath.
Another wave came, crushing me below as bubbles escaped from my mouth. I vomited again, sending yellow puddles above me. The waves kept coming, locking me below the waves as my lungs stung with an unfathomable cold pain.
Please! I'm not quitting, damnit! I TOLD YOU I REFUSE!
My head rose above the waves, allowing me to take deep breaths before I was shoved down, left to battle the sea for the right to breathe and move, which was becoming harder as the cold locked my muscles and joints around me.
"QUIT NOW, ALAN, GO ON! YOU CAN HAVE A NICE, WARM MEAL!"
FUCK OFF! The words echoed in my head as I was slammed back down, knocking the wind from my lungs and almost knocking me unconscious.
My head spun as I sat back up, taking a deep breath and hacking up so much water I was sure I was about to drown.
"GET UP! ALL OF YOU, GET UP, NOW! GRAB THOSE BOATS AND RUN FOR YOUR DAMN LIVES!"
I followed orders, gasping for air as I collapsed onto the beach and crawled toward the boats. A hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up and throwing me toward the boats. I didn't have time to see who had done it as I grabbed onto the boat with a few others and ran like my life depended on it. Technically, it did.
Faster! Move your ass! I shouted at myself internally over the instructor and bolted forward with another person.
A stabbing pain ripped a hole in my chest, but there was nothing there, just another spike amongst the tendrils wrapped around my heart.
I could feel myself slowing down already as the sun started to set. I had lost track of time hours ago, around the time I made it to the sea. Most of the day had already vanished, and I doubted they would let me sleep.
We carried the boat for hours, my shin cracking and creaking in ways bones shouldn't have been able to. But despite that, I didn't slow down. The bell was ringing around, and instructors were shouting at everyone as pain shot through my body, dragging me into the sand.
"YOU WANNA BE A SEAL, DON'T YOU?! FUCKING PROVE IT!"
Tears threatened my eyes, but I pulled forward, carrying the boat as the instructors signaled to set them down and get back into the water.
The sun shined directly into my eyes, but it was devoid of any warmth; it felt like nothing more than a light source. My body was already feeling like it would shut down. My breathing was more ragged, my chest hurt, and every moment felt like a dry heave as I carried forward.
Come on...You can do this, that was day one. I tried to help myself, but I was still slowing down as we were forced to do jumping jacks, all the while being hosed down by water almost as cold as the Pacific Ocean.
The world faded slowly, turning an odd shade of black, as if my eyes were closed, yet I could still feel my body moving. What the fuck?
"You killed us, Alan... All over a joke?"
A boy dressed in red appeared, wearing a fast-food worker uniform, the same boy who had bullied me and my sister until I caved his head in with a brick.
"Fuck, shut up." I kept going, switching to pushups by some sort of external command, one I couldn't see.
"You killed us all! Does that make you feel better?" His image changed, replaced by the trio as blood dripped from their eyes, staring into mine. Brains fell slowly, pink mush slapping against the concrete pad I was on.
"You'll pay for this, you know? Your sister will get what's coming to her, and so will you," They all said in unison, coming closer to me and reaching out hands covered in cobwebs and bone. "Alan Andrews."
I shot my eyes open wider and looked around, mid pushup, everyone else was struggling, water being poured on them as I looked up, attempting to shake my head and refocus.
"I said, DROP THE FUCK OUT IF YOU CAN'T FOCUS, ALAN!" The instructor who played the shark attack prank on us before shouted, glaring down at me as sweat poured off me.
"I can't, sir!" I replied, continuing as the bell rang in the background.
"You can get some hot chocolate and donuts if you leave now, nobody will blame you, hell, I'll even apologize for the water bottle thing."
I didn't have to look up to know he was lying; something in his tone told me he was smiling. All he wanted was for me to waver and agree, which I had no plans to do.
"I'm fine, sir," I mumbled out, gritting my teeth as my body shook, still holding my plank while he splashed freezing water over my body.
"GO! TO THE BEACH PUSSIES!"
We ran in unison, marching as chafing scratched at me in places it should never have been able to reach. Although it felt like seconds, minutes had passed until we got back near the water, and immediately they shouted to carry the boats above our heads and hold them.
I'm tired. Words etched themselves into my mind, begging me to give up already. I didn't have to be a SEAL, shit, I was only eighteen! But still, I held my position as my muscles shook, sending pain flowing through my spine and legs.
This is for my sister. I had to remind myself as I tried to drown out the shouting, staring ahead as trails of blood manifested and dragged closer to me. Another hallucination, it had to be.
"YOU KILLED US!"
Dark, demonic-like screeching yelled out from the layers of fog surrounding the water as the blood trail got closer. It was hard enough to sleep before, but now? Now I couldn't sleep, the hallucinations would continue until I could get enough rest to breathe properly. How long would that be was the second question on my mind.
"ARE YOU FALTERING, BOY?! LOOK AT WHAT A LIABILITY YOU ARE TO YOUR TEAM!"
SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! Words echoed in my head as my shoulders shook, sending searing pain through my shoulders and biceps, shocking my body as I unwillingly stiffened up.
The instructors kept hounding me, barking orders like wild dogs, making us run across the beach, sending us onto the pier, and holding our boats above our heads for hours. By the time my muscles finally adjusted somewhat, we were running up and down the pier, still holding the stupid boat.
"COME ON PUSSIES!"
An instructor yelled another order, forcing us to follow him with our boats far above our heads, running for miles through sand and rock.
This isn't worth- Fuck, what am I saying? Of course it's worth it! Keep pushing, damnit, keep pushing!
By the time the sun arose on the horizon, my eyelids were drooping, struggling to keep me going as time ran continued. My feet were bleeding, stabbed over and over again by shells, and I couldn't even look around to see who was still standing.
The instructors ordered us to drop the boats and follow as an all-too-familiar course was coming into view in the distance. The obstacle course I had seen from inside one of the buildings on my first day.
I understood what we were doing without any words, running up the rope slant the best I could, even though it felt like the mountain all over again, but I was heavier and on the verge of passing out.
I almost fell over, but managed to barely stand and walk over the tightrope to the other end, my eyesight going between completely black and some blue faster than I could process.
I hopped off, my eyes shut as I hopped over the logs, continuing over the ladder and making my way down. My body was running on autopilot, barely keeping me upright; the only reason I was able to do it at all was because I had the image fresh in mind, and my dream was doing the course for the first time, so that helped.
Most of the course flew by me, my mind was moving too fast to even think, except for the brief lapses where I fully regained consciousness and almost fell from a ledge.
Once I regained enough consciousness to see clearly, I noticed Dan was about eight feet from me on another ledge over a body of water, and he was holding out a plank with his foot. I had to jump to it and land, without us going into the water.
I didn't bother with a running start; that would put more pressure and weight on the board when I landed. Instead, I swung my body behind me, then used the momentum to throw my body forward.
One leg landed on the board while my other faltered briefly, almost hitting the water, but luckily enough, we both managed not to fall. I had to do the same with the next cadet, and he fell immediately. He hadn't managed to get any momentum and jumped too short.
The rest of the day and night after the course went fast enough, we had to do a sugar cookie, where we're soaked and are forced to dive and roll around on the sand for a while, then boat races, and then we're forced to work out in the freezing water. But the instructors had a thing for the sugar cookie, they made sure we damn near stayed sandy and chafed.
The only times I was okay with were the meals, but those were prepackaged MRE's and they sure as shit weren't normally something to look forward to. I got beans and rice, the perfect thing to pair with pneumonia, and so most of my time was vomiting and coughing so loudly that instructors glared daggers at me. We ate every six hours, so I ended up being more reliant on the feeding time than the sun itself.
By day four, my body was already almost down for the count. Blisters covered my feet, one of my toes got infected, and to make matters worse, they had doctors give us a brief checkup. They noticed instantly that I was about done, but I managed to convince them to let me finish by the grace of whatever God watches over Earth.
We had to carry logs until sunset straight after, then race again, where Dan kicked my ass so hard I almost didn't speak to him. He had energy left, I didn't, that was where I fucked up. After that, we spent time in the mud working out and doing 'Yoga' as one of the instructors called it. But, we were being almost suffocated and bending our bodies in ways they shouldn't bend. Sounds like yoga.
On day five, I could barely see again. Black spots covered my vision, attacking every cell in my body with tiredness; the blisters on my body felt worse than ever, and most of the recruits had already quit. But I did manage to overhear one of the instructors talking about how small the batch of recruits was this year, before he forced me to run around the entire beach thirty times; it might not seem like a lot, but it was almost sixty miles.
Finally, to end the day, they had us do an around-the-world paddle, which is a fancy phrase for 'Paddle until you can't, then paddle back.'
I got in my boat with one of the only four remaining. Dan had Matthew in his boat, too, but it was us versus him, and he wasn't winning against me again.
"Paddle as fast as you can!" I shouted over the roar of the waves, and he got the gist of it fast, luckily for me. We both wanted to win, not for bragging rights, but because if we didn't, we'd have worse hell to pay when we got back.
We managed to get about halfway pretty damn fast, at least until I vomited into the boat all over him and I. As I was cleaning myself a bit, fog overtook the ocean, and I saw bodies hanging above the water.
No, come the fuck on, I thought this was over!
It was the bodies of the boys I had killed, one with his brains smashed out, another with his jaw completely gone, his eyes red and lifeless, and the third had a distorted arm, his stomach and face torn open.
I could see the damage I did with the brick and my fists, blood pooled into the water, spelling out a sentence for me alone to read.
'You know what you did. Monster.'
I paddled faster, eventually making it and turning for the shore. I tried my best to ignore what was in the ocean, but it never disappeared; the bodies were there to stay.
Dan and Matthew overtook us a few seconds after, causing me to paddle faster than ever while the guy behind me struggled to keep up. My muscles felt like they were ripping, burning, and almost fire-like pain shot through every corner of my body as I went faster. The signs of daybreak showed in the distance, reflecting off the water and making my eyes reflect the glow of orange.
Finally, we overtook them, and we made it to the beach.
A woman was standing off in the distance as we immediately dropped and had to do more pushups, when the worst possible sound echoed through the air.
"I SAID PUSH UPS, THAT MEANS GO UP CADET!" An instructor was shouting his head off at Matthew when a snap cracked through the atmosphere, even making the instructor stop yelling for a second in shock.
Matthew dropped to the ground, his wrist bent completely out of shape, snapped in half as blood and bone came through the skin. He yelled, louder than I'd ever heard someone yell. As fast as it happened, an instructor hauled ass to get him to the doctor, and we were left to finish with just the three of us.
Shortly after, I was able to throw off my white shirt and finally replace it with a brown one. To others, it looked like a simple change, but I cheered louder than I did when I saw hot chocolate, pizza, donuts, and all sorts of things for those who pass Hell Week. The final sign I was finished with BUD/S.
***
I got up, stretching after a few days to recoup, none of the exercises were as brutal as Hell Week luckily, so my body healed worth a shit, including my shin, which was as good as new. The doctor checked Dan, the other man, whose name was Henry, and me. Luckily, finding nothing else wrong, I managed to pull through the pneumonia.
The last of the training went by fast enough, as far as constant stress and borderline torture go. I found out I was pretty damn good with a Glock 19, which was standard, so a huge plus. I struggled with most other types of weaponry except for the M4A1 Carbine, a KRISS Vector that used .45 ACP SMG, which had reduced recoil, so that's why it ended up being easier than most others, an M110 Semi-Automatic Sniper System (SASS) with 7.62mm caliber bullets, harder than it seemed to get the basics of. The recoil sent me in too many directions before I was taught to control it.
The shotguns and full-on snipers I was never much good at, but the rifle closest to what my dad had kept in his closet, the MK13 Mod 7, which was a bolt action with a .300 Win mag, I got pretty damn decent with. I certainly wasn't the best which pissed of Instructor Willie, but he stuck his dick in a cactus, so his opinion didn't matter.
Now, the harder parts of ballistics training, which came so much later I almost forgot we had to do it, were the stealth operation weapons. I almost mastered the Knights Armament MK13, a suppressed sniper rifle, but I never completely got it.
I also managed to make myself a pocket medkit, something Dan insisted on teaching me. Mostly just stitches, some gauze, and a lot of hyper-absorbent cloth. He told me it'd save my life one day, and I trusted him to guide me enough. There isn't an I in SEAL, I wasn't going to ignore life-saving advice for something as basic as my ego.
Finally, the day of our graduation from SQT (SEAL Qualification Training) had arrived. There weren't a lot of people since Matthew was rolled back to day one, week one, but I smiled a bit as he pinned the trident to my uniform.
Dan found me shortly after the ceremony, his family in tow, and we ended up talking for a while.
"Hey Alan! Dude, first try, holy shit, way to go!"
"Yeah, thanks. You did great, too."
I rubbed my shoulder as we spoke; it was kind of awkward. He had his family around, but I was alone; nobody bothered to show up to see me. Not my sister nor my mother.
"Hey, where's your family? They should have shown up by now, there aren't many people here." Dan pointed it out first, and I froze as his family stared at me, confused.
His baby sister, who couldn't have been much older than five, stared up at me, his mother did the same, along with his dad. Nobody wanted to say why, but I think they knew without me saying anything.
Why didn't they show up? My mom has my car, but it shouldn't have broken down; I fixed it myself. If not her, why didn't Liz at least show up?
I said goodbye at the end, and we went our separate ways. It would still be a bit before anyone showed up, but I had applied for SEAL Team Three, since they operated in Coronado anyway. Even if they didn't show up, they were still my family, and I wanted to see them one way or another.
Before I could get lost in my thoughts again, a hand gripped my shoulder, and I spun around to face the woman who had been staring at my group while we finished Hell Week, Lucy Holt.
Dan stopped in his tracks up ahead, looking back at me briefly, before his eyes went wide and he mouthed words that made me freeze. 'Rear Admiral Seller.' The same woman he warned me about on my first day was the same woman who recruited me in the first place, Captain- Or now, Rear Admiral Lucy Holt. But why did he call her Seller?
"Alan, follow me, now," She barked out an order immediately, and I followed in her trail, much to the shock of Dan as he stared at me with his mouth wide open. I think he whispered a prayer, too, but I couldn't see much.
Ditching the white decorations and winding up inside a small office on the far side of the base, Seller finally spoke to me since demanding that I follow her.
"So, you made it after all. I guess your arrogance did have some facts backing it up."
I stared at her, glancing between her new nametag and her face. I couldn't speak without tripping over my words, so I chose to stay silent.
"Jesus, kid, you can speak. I noticed you applied for SEAL Team Three, it just so happens I'm being forced to be acting Captain for them for a bit, maybe a few months or more."
"Alright, yeah, and why are you getting me for this? I mean, I appreciate it...Captain, but why am I here?" I still tripped over my words, but I stopped slouching and stood at full attention, the shock finally wearing off.
"Well, to be honest, I don't think I made the right choice recruiting you. But it's not the time for that, you're a soldier now. I noticed your family...Er, didn't show up, so if you want, I can give you a few days away from base to reach out to them." She wasn't being as rude as I thought she was; it was completely different from how she tossed me around in the interrogation room.
"I'm alright, thank you, though. Captain," I said, quickly correcting my mistake as she waved me away.
With a small goodbye, she shut the door in my face and turned around. But that wasn't the part of the day I hated, other than it was my birthday too, it was what came over the news.
***
I went to the store with Dan to get some things for where we'd be going. Where that was, I had no idea. But he managed to get into SEAL Team Seven, so we'd rarely see each other again, and he figured it was time for drinks.
"So what are you thinking? Jack Daniels or Jim Beam?" He asked, reaching both bottles to my face.
I stood still for a few moments before replying, completely astonished that I had either never told him my age or he had forgotten. Knowing him, it was the latter.
"Dude, I'm nineteen," I replied, pushing the bottles down as I could see the memory resurfacing in his brain.
"Well...Uh, both? Call it a celebration," He fixed, walking toward the register, and soon enough, we were walking out. A minor and a SEAL with a lapse in judgment when it came to beverages and ages.
Soon enough, we sat down in the canteen and took shots. The TV was playing in the corner, not very loud, luckily enough for us. It was around midnight when we finally settled down and started to get more comfortable.
"So, what did the Seller ask you about?"
His question threw me off guard for a moment, I'd have thought it'd be on my parents, maybe any family I had, but he went straight for the big bucks.
"She was just admitting me into the Team," I replied sheepishly, smirking a bit as he poured and downed another shot in record time.
"I wish Seller would admit me, man, have you seen how she is? She has more muscles than a goddamn Spartan man, a Spartan!" He downed another shot with that comment, his words starting to slur a bit.
"So, why do you call her Seller instead of Lucy?" I figured I'd shoot the question, I had nothing else to lose after all.
"Dude, it is," He cut himself off as he burped loud enough to shake the table, before quickly continuing after excusing himself. "The damndest story. Her first week being a SEAL? She traded her combat boots for sixty dollars, bought a new pair for twenty, and bought another SEAL's boots for ten, then sold that one for sixty and bought him a new pair of boots for around fifteen dollars. She kept doing that until she had around three thousand dollars, and then got caught by the General."
He let out another gut-wrenching burp before continuing, downing a glass of Jim Deam like it was water. A true alcoholic.
"Anyway, she started being called Seller by the other captains, and it was too late for her to fix anything, so she just took it. I thought it was a joke when I first heard the story, but it's true."
I waited for him to say anything else, but he slouched over and started snoring, completely asleep. I had only taken a shot of the Jack Daniel's and quickly decided I didn't like alcohol at all. It burnt my tongue, tasted like fresh piss, and made me feel weird. I wasn't for it.
Suddenly, the TV was turned up in volume, and I turned to face what was essentially something I never thought I'd see in my life.
"This just in! We have breaking news: Maine has been firebombed just twenty minutes ago, and Russia has officially declared war on the United States! I repeat, Russia has declared war on the United States! NATO has already released a statement that it wouldn't be joining this war, leaving it to the American front. This is not a drill or some sort of prank, America has been bombed!"
My eyes went wide as my heart froze, staring at the screen in front of me and hearing the words echo. Almost instantly, Dan's phone went off, a text message. We were being summoned by our Teams right that instant. We just got out of training, and we were going straight to war.
I shook Dan, eventually deciding to yell the only thing that came to mind.
"DAN! WE'RE GOING TO WAR! RUSSIA DECLARED WAR ON THE UNITED STATES, MAINE HAS ALREADY FALLEN!"