Ready to Roll

by Suzanne Brockmann

  It’s not always obvious what that means—the best. It’s often intangible. But that day, this boat squad of misfits delivered some serious tange.

  * * *

  LT Peter “Grunge” Greene:

  When did it happen? It was oh-dark-thirty on Friday—about an hour before dawn.

  I was chatting with Zanella when Seagull marched up to me with his entire squad, duck up over their heads.

  Because, you know, the squad has to stay together, and they need to carry their duck wherever they go. So they’re all there.

  Seagull says in his very best talking-to-an-officer-and-an-idiot voice, “Lieutenant Greene, sir! Request medical attention, sir!”

  I ask, “Who’s hurt?” I’m looking at Schlossman and the other two Johns—Pilkington and Capano—and I’m wondering why the Gull is bringing this to my attention when they’re so close to the finish line.

  “I am, sir.” Seagull’s still talking to me in that high energy voice. “Request permission to seek medical attention immediately. I believe I have a stress fracture in my foot, and/or hypothermia.”

  I remember, I looked over at Zanella who was mirroring my what-the-fuck face.

  Z repeats what the Gull just told us, because he can’t believe what he heard, either. “And/or hypothermia?”

  “Yes, sir,” Seagull says, and then drops his bomb. “Request permission to be medically rolled.”

  (Laughs as he shakes his head) Of course, I realized immediately… Now that Seagull’s seen his squad safely through the perils of rock portage, he’s trying to get rolled so he can be with his swim buddy.

  Zanella lays out a reality check. “You’re fully aware that if you’re rolled,” he tells Livingston, “you’ll have to do Hell Week all over again. All of it. Not just the last few hours.”

  Seagull lets loose an “I am fully aware, sir!”

  Z and I look at each other again, and we’re both speechless and thinking, Well, fuck.

  And that’s when my mind gets blown.

  Because now Schloss does the shouting-at-an-officer voice. “Sir! I, too, request permission to seek medical attention. I, too, am experiencing symptoms of hypothermia, and request to be medically rolled.”

  Seagull’s as surprised as I am, and he turns to look at Schloss, who says, “What? If you’re doing it, Gull, then, fuck it, I’m doing it, too. You and DB are my swim buddies.”

  And from behind them, Johnny Pilkington speaks up—his nickname is “Q.” So Q says, “Sir, I must echo their request to be medically rolled for, um, excessive chafing…?”

  And then it’s John Capano’s—Doe’s—turn. He’s a man of few words, but he’s got this real resonant basso profundo and he just intones: “Ditto.”

  Zanella somehow gets his voice to work. “You’re all requesting to be medically rolled,” he says, “hours before the end of Hell Week.” And then he kind of laughs.

  I get up into Schloss’s face. “Don’t fool yourself, Schlossman. Hell Week a second time around isn’t going to be any easier. In fact, it’ll be my mission to make you beg for the bell.”

  Schloss, however, is standing tall, his gaze focused just to the left of my head. “Thank you, sir!” he shouts. “I welcome you to try, sir!”

  * * *

  SEAL Candidate Petty Officer Third Class

  John “Hans” Schlossman:

  And that was it.

  We put down our duck and we were sent to medical.

  They did a kind of a triage thing, and it was pretty clear that none of us was dying, so we were told to wait. We did get blankets because apparently Seagull wasn’t kidding about the hypothermia. Or the stress fracture. Once he copped to that, he let himself limp.

  I was like, “How long have you…?”

  And he’s like, “It happened right after Timebomb got rolled.”

  So essentially, the Gull spent hours hiding a stress fracture solely so he could get me and the two other Johns through Hell Week. Only to have us roll with him in solidarity. (shakes his head, smiling)

  But there we were, all of us, in medical, so we sat down.

  About an hour in, Seagull was on his feet again, looking for whoever was in command. He found a doctor—a Captain named Regan Zick—and he went up to her and he requested showers and dry unis, and she’s all, “Only if you ring out.”

  And he’s all, “We’re not ringing out, ma’am. We’ve been medically rolled.”

  And Captain Zick, she’s annoyed, like, “Please just have a seat. Honestly, you SEALs.”

  That felt pretty good. I mean, we weren’t SEALs. Not yet. Not even close. But she thought we were. (smiles)

  * * *

  SEAL Candidate Petty Officer Third Class

  John “Seagull” Livingston:

  We sat there—well, really we lay on the floor and slept—for about four hours.

  Finally, I was nudged awake, and I looked up to see Lieutenant Greene poking me with his boot.

  He’s pretty scary, and he’s even scarier from that angle.

  Of course, I wake up the entire team, and we scramble to our feet, and snap to attention.

  The lieutenant’s got some of the instructors with him. Zanella, and Vlachic, and the SEAL about my height named Jenkins. And holy crap, even Big Mac’s there.

  I’m thinking, Wow, I had no idea it required this much brass to get medically rolled.

  Lieutenant Greene says, “This way, gentlemen,” so we follow him down the corridor, and through a set of double doors.

  We’re heading deeper into the medical facility, but I’m already going through a to-do list in my head. I’m not sure yet that the problem with my foot really is a stress fracture, but whatever it is, it’s gonna need time to heal. But I’ve got to stay in this same shape—I’ve never been in such good condition, and I’m damned if I’m going to lose that before I have to do Hell Week again. So I’ve got to figure out a way to rest my foot while I maintain this level of fitness.

  I’m thinking about Timebomb, too. He’s got a collarbone and those broken ribs to heal.

  The lieutenant gestures to an open door, so I go in, and hey! There he is. Timebomb. He’s in a hospital bed, and he’s got one of those holsters to hold his shoulder and arm in place, because you can’t put a cast on a collarbone.

  “I was just thinking about you,” I tell him as I shake his good hand. “About ways to heal and rehab, get you ready for Hell Week, Take Two. They start you on extra calcium yet? Plus D. The body needs vitamin D to make the calcium do its thing.”

  And he says, “What are you doing here?”

  I tell him, “We got rolled, too.”

  And he goes, “All of you?”

  I’m just about to say Yeah, crazy, huh? when Timebomb sees the officers. And he goes, “Lieutenants Greene and MacInnough, sirs!”

  So I snap to attention again, along with Schloss, Doe, and Q.

  Lieutenant Greene is smiling, which strikes me as odd. And he says…

  (Stops, clearly can’t speak) Man, I still can’t even think about it without getting all emotional.

  * * *

  LT Peter “Grunge” Greene:

  I said, Boat Squad John, you are secure.

  And the instructors all started to applaud. (smiles)

  I could see the complete confusion on Seagull’s face—on all of their faces.

  Out of all of them, Timebomb’s had a longer chance to rest and recover, so he knew what my words meant—that the squad had made it successfully through Hell Week. They weren’t being medically rolled, so they didn’t have to do Hell Week again. Their willingness to do it was enough. For all of them.

  I could tell Timebomb was really happy for his squad-mates, but he didn’t realize that I was talking to him, too. So I made it clear. “You, too, Jackson. You are secure.”

  He was stunned. He started to laugh and cry at the same time.

  Meanwhile, Seagull had finally done the math, and he said, “Sir, that’s not why we…” He could barely talk. “Si
r. We didn’t expect you to…”

  I reassured him. “I know.” If we’d thought this was a ploy, we would’ve rolled them all.

  And that’s when I turned to Schlossman. “You’re gonna make a great SEAL,” I told him.

  His eyes were filled with tears—everyone in the room was a little watery. But he just looked at me—dead in the eye—and he said, “Thank you, sir. But I don’t need you to tell me that.”

  “You definitely don’t,” I agreed. “But I thought it would be nice to hear.”

  I don’t know if he couldn’t speak or if he just wouldn’t—because he’s biting his tongue to keep from saying something that would get him into trouble. That’s a good skill for an enlisted man to have when dealing with officers, so kudos to him for that, too.

  I ended the conversation. “You’re welcome,” I said as I left the room, because yeah. That was my cue to go. Hell Week was over.

  Welcome to BUD/S Phase Two.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Aftermath: Saturday Evening

  Eden let Ben drive.

  Everyone was heading to the LadyBug Lounge—a major SEAL hangout—where the candidates who survived Hell Week were allowed to go and buy their instructors a burger and a beer.

  Ben knew that Izzy liked to pack the place with friends and family who would provide the proper standing ovation when the candidates walked in.

  “Have you heard from Ryan?” Eden asked as he pulled up to a red light. She didn’t like to talk to him while he was actually driving.

  “Just a couple of texts,” Ben said. “He and Wade are taking advantage of both Wade’s dad and brother being out of town.”

  “They’re being careful, right?” she asked.

  The light was still red, so he gave her a look. “I assume you’re talking about keeping tabs on both elder O’Keefes, in terms of not becoming victims of a hate crime.”

  “And safe sex,” she said. “That, too. It’s important. Always.”

  “I’m dating no one,” Ben reminded her as he pressed the gas pedal and they started rolling again. “Euphemistically or otherwise.” And he was unlikely to start, since when his suspension ended and he went back to school, he was going to continue to pretend-date Ryan to help protect Wade.

  Eden knew what he was thinking and her need to speak overrode her need to let him drive without distraction. “This whole thing—with Ryan and Wade—must’ve been… really hard for you.”

  Ben shook his head. “I’m okay,” he told his sister. “Really. My crush on Ryan kind of… dissolved. Seeing him with Wade… I mean, they really love each other.”

  Eden had one eyebrow up, so he kept going. “I’m still fond of him, sure, he’s adorable, but now it’s kind of, like… He’s my puppy.”

  “A puppy you hold hands with,” she said tartly. “And hug, and kiss…?”

  “Not so much with the kissing,” Ben said. “Wade gets jealous.”

  Eden sighed heavily as he pulled into the Bug’s parking lot, and he realized that it was because she saw Adam getting out of his car, and Tony getting out of his own, on opposite sides of the lot. They’d driven over separately, and would be careful not to touch each other while in the bar, thanks to the lingering effects of DADT.

  “This stupid world is wearing me out,” Eden said.

  “Love wins,” Ben reminded her as Izzy came bounding out of the building to meet their car.

  Izzy opened Eden’s door and pulled her into an enormous hug that got her immediately laughing. Their embrace somehow evolved into his carrying her, fireman-style over his shoulder, as he bounded back into the Bug.

  “What’s that you said?”

  “I was just telling Eden that love always wins.” Ben turned to see Danny, in full refugee mode, hat covering his unwashed hair. His brother was alone. “No Jenn?”

  Dan ruefully shook his head. “Too soon after the hospital scare,” he said. “I’m not going to stay long. But she really wanted me to come, so…” He looped his arm around Ben’s shoulders as they headed toward the party. “How’s the hand?”

  “Healing.”

  “And the heart?” Dan asked.

  Ben laughed as he shook his head. “You and Eden.”

  “We love you.”

  “I know. I’m fine.”

  “You should’ve called me,” Dan said, not for the first time since the drama.

  “Nope,” Ben said, also again. “We did the right thing. Jenn and Colin needed you. And we handled it.”

  “You did,” Dan agreed. “But while love might always win, it sometimes could use a serious assist.”

  “Well, then,” Ben said, “Can you kind of casually ask and see if Lieutenant Greene has a much younger, much gayer brother and if so, introduce him to me?”

  Dan made a choking sound. “No!”

  “So much for Sometimes love could use a serious assist,” Ben badly imitated Dan’s voice.

  “Let me make that a Hell, no!” Dan said.

  “So much for my happy ending,” Ben said.

  “Yeah,” Dan said, laughing, “and I’m not getting anywhere near that euphemism. You’re sixteen, child.”

  As they went into the Bug, Ben asked, “Remind me again. What were you like when you were sixteen?”

  “That’s not important,” Danny said, but then winced. “Shitty answer. God, I better buy you a box of condoms.”

  “Thanks but no thanks,” Ben said.

  “Too late. Excuse me.” Dan let go of him and headed for the bar. “I hear a beer frantically screaming my name.”

  As Ben laughed, he looked around the crowded room and saw that Adam and Tony had made it inside before them. They waved to Ben from a table in the corner where they were sitting with Mark and Lindsey Jenkins.

  Ben went to join them.

  “I heard about the drama,” Tony said. “You okay?”

  “I’m good,” Ben told his friends. “Considering my ‘boyfriend’ is completely in love with someone else.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Adam said. “But trust me, with your good karma? Something great is coming.” He looked at Tony and smiled before telling Ben, “I promise you that.”

  * * *

  SEAL Candidate Petty Officer Third Class

  John “Seagull” Livingston:

  We walked into the LadyBug Lounge, and the place went crazy.

  Izzy Zanella jumped up onto a table, and he started pointing at us and shouting, “Boat Squad John, ladies and gentlemen! The one, the only, the legendary Boat! Squad! John!”

  The crowd clapped and whistled and screamed. (smiles)

  That was the first time… (laughs) I honestly didn’t realize before that, that anyone knew anything about… Well, when I thought about it, I realized that our Hell Week was a tad unique. But legendary? I mean, here’s this legend saying we’re legendary.

  But really, we were just loyal. We were just doing what a team’s supposed to do, right?

  But now we’re the legendary Boat Squad John.

  Mind. Blown.

  * * *

  Jennilyn Gillman:

  No, I didn’t go to the party. I bailed, last minute. But I knew Danny wanted to be there. Even just for one beer.

  It was good. It gave me some alone-time with Colin. And while I appreciate Danny wanting to be there to help, to be part of this phase of Colin’s life, it’s definitely made both of us less certain. I mean, if there’s someone else there, you tend to go Uh-oh! What should we do? But when it’s you alone with an infant, you just do it.

  And maybe it’s my imagination, but Colin seemed, well, less loud.

  He and I walked in circles around the house, and I told him about Ben, and how brave he was to help Wade and Angel, and then I told him about Angel, about how brave she was to finally leave.

  I’ve thought a lot about that—about how her decision came right on the heels of Ryan and Wade’s reconciliation. From what Ben told me about her reaction to Wade’s telling her that he’s gay… Well, Angel d
idn’t sound very equality-minded to start with.

  But I’ve been thinking about what it must’ve been like to be Angel, and to live for so many years with this enormous mockery of love.

  But suddenly here was Wade, whose entire focus was on protecting Ryan from Cody, and even from himself. His love for Ryan is, well, Ben said it best.

  It’s epic.

  But how strange that must’ve been, to see that from Angel’s narrow point of view. I wonder if she realized, “Oh, that’s what love looks like.” Or maybe “That’s the kind of love that I deserve.”

  I hope she finds it. I hope she takes some time to heal and grow strong, and then I hope she finds a man who’ll love and respect her the way Wade loves and respects Ryan.

  As for Cody…?

  Ben tells me that he’s still in Las Vegas. And while I’m glad he’s not here, making life harder for Wade, well… Men like that should come with a clearly marked warning label. So if you live in Vegas… Although, really, it doesn’t matter where you live. Learn the signs of domestic violence. Because it starts small and creeps up on you. One minute, he’s texting every hour, just to make sure you’re okay, which can make you feel special or even cherished, except you blink and before you know it, he’s locking you in the bathroom. Again. After making you bleed. (leans forward)

  And I’m not a bad person, so I know I should probably be hoping that Cody finds whatever it is that he needs to change and grow into someone who respects women, but… (shakes her head) What are the odds of that happening, really? So instead, I find myself hoping that (whispers) he gets hit by a bus.

  * * *

  Eden Zanella:

  (flatly) What Jenn said, times a million. And I don’t have to lower my voice to say it. Bus. Cody. Boom. (jazz hands) Yay.

  (Izzy comes up behind her, hugs her and she smiles up at him in genuine delight.)

  Izzy:

  Come on, sweetheart, let’s blow this joint.

  (Together, they walk away)

  * * *

  Julie Busch:

  A few weeks later, I got this really weird email, from some total stranger, except, she seemed to know me.

  Dearest Julie. Dearest. Weird, right?

  It said, Thank you so much. You’ve helped me enormously and you probably don’t even know it.