by Jake Bible
“It wasn’t intended to be derogatory,” Max said. “I would have said the same thing if two guys were up there, except I’d have substituted testosterone for estrogen.” Max smiled at her. “What’s its name?”
“Excuse me?” Lucy asked.
“The chip on your shoulder,” Max answered, “have you named it?”
“Asshole,” Lucy said and moved to the other side of the helipad as Kinsey and Bobby squared off.
“Making friends?” Shane asked.
“You know I am,” Max said. “I just have a way- OH, DAMN!”
Everyone gasped as Kinsey came in fast and low and punched Bobby right in the gut, doubling the woman over so Kinsey could then land a hard uppercut to the jaw. Bobby’s entire body rocked back and she fell on her ass hard.
“There,” Kinsey said, “satisfied?”
She didn’t get another word out as Bobby swept her legs from under her. Kinsey tumbled to the helipad, but was back up on her feet before Bobby could get up and close the distance. The women squared off again.
“She’s sweating hard,” Darby said.
“Which one?” Shane asked.
But they all knew which one. Kinsey was already looking tired even though the fight had barely begun. On the other hand, Bobby was not even winded and had recovered from the gut shot quickly. They began to circle each other and Darby sighed.
“This is boring,” she said, “I’ll be in the armory.”
“I’ll escort you, my lady,” Max said.
“No, you won’t,” Darby said.
“The armory is off limits until after the mission,” Mr. Ballantine said. “Once you prove yourself, then the rest of the Beowulf II will be opened to you.”
“That sucks,” Max said.
They all groaned as Bobby jabbed with her right, feinted with her left, then came in with two body blows that sent Kinsey reeling. She tried to recover, but Bobby didn’t waste her momentum and pushed forward, landing blow after blow until Kinsey was down on her knees.
“Done?” Bobby asked.
Kinsey tried her own leg sweep, but Bobby jumped over it and then came down with a punch to Kinsey’s face. The combination of strength and gravity sent Kinsey to the deck, laying her out flat on the helipad.
“And that’s that,” Shane said. “Help me carry her to the infirmary.”
“I think we need to add this job to our resume,” Max said, “wounded cousin carriers.”
“Fuck you all,” Kinsey mumbled.
***
“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?” Gunnar asked as he swabbed the deep gash that split Kinsey’s left eyebrow. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always in more fights than any of us growing up.”
“Because I was always rescuing your asses,” Kinsey said, “especially yours.”
“You, your brother, Darren, even the Reynolds,” Gunnar said. “I never was too much of a brawler.”
“Still have mad knife skills?” Kinsey asked. “Or did you give up on those when you joined Darren’s snipe hunt?”
“I’m even better with a blade now than I was then,” Gunnar said. “Not much else to do on a ship. Actually saved our butt in Manila one time. I’d cut three guys before they got the picture that Darren and I were leaving that bar unharmed. Well, almost unharmed. Darren had already had a tooth knocked out. Luckily, I found it under a table and he was able to get it put back in.”
“Ow! Watch it!” Kinsey snapped as Gunnar started to suture the gash.
“Oh, sorry,” Gunnar said. “Did you want a shot of anesthetic? I know you don’t like needles, so I figured you’d just take the pain.” Kinsey gave him an exasperated look. “What? You always hated needles when we were younger. I know I gave you a shot earlier, but you were pretty desperate for that.”
“Yeah, I’ve since gotten over that fear,” Kinsey said.
“Oh, right,” Gunnar smirked, “my bad.”
They sat there in silence until Gunnar was finished stitching her up.
“You still in love with him?” Kinsey asked.
“Don’t, Kins,” Gunnar said, “I don’t need to be teased.”
“I’m not teasing,” she replied. “I’m asking. Are you still in love with him?”
“I’ll always love him,” Gunnar said.
“Not what I’m asking.”
“I don’t know,” Gunnar answered. “I gave up on that a long time ago. I had to push it down and bury it. So I don’t really know how I feel.”
Kinsey slid off the exam table and smiled weakly. “I know exactly how you feel.”
“Yeah, I guess you do,” Gunnar said. “How about you?”
Kinsey shrugged. “When I’m not busy hating him, I guess I do still love him.”
“Between Darren and getting kicked out of SQT, no wonder you started using,” Gunnar said.
“I started using because I was a weak pussy and didn’t want to face that,” Kinsey said. “Now I guess I have to.”
“Speaking of,” Gunnar said, “I’ll give you another shot. We’ll do two more tomorrow then wean down to one a day. It’ll keep you steady. We’ll work on a full detox after the mission.”
“Thanks, Gun,” Kinsey said and hugged him, wincing at the pain in her body. “I know I love you.”
“You too, Kins,” Gunnar said. “Now, try not to get your ass kicked tomorrow, okay? Doctor’s orders.”
“I’ll try, but no promises,” Kinsey said.
She left the infirmary and wound her way to her quarters, grateful she only ran into some of the crew and not anyone from the Team. She locked her door, stripped down, and crawled into her bunk. Despite the fifty billion thoughts rushing through her head, she drifted off to sleep in just a few minutes.
It could hardly be called a restful sleep, as her mind continued to race, just on a subconscious level. She found herself back at SQT and being called into the command office. Her dream self didn’t know what was about to happen, but the real Kinsey did and she tried to fight it. She didn’t want to step through those doors again and see the stern disappointed faces staring at her from across the table.
Her subconscious must have heard her plea, because instead of the SQT command seated across the table, ready to hand out its disciplinary action and expel her from the training, she found herself face to face with several versions of her old dealer. “Old” dealer, because he had died a horrible death by castration months earlier.
“You need a fix, sunshine?” the men said in unison. “We got what you need.”
They were in Navy dress, but when they stood up, Kinsey could see they didn’t have pants on. They were all naked from the waist down and bleeding from ragged holes in their crotches.
“Come on, sunshine,” the men droned, “just give it a kiss. Ain’t nothin’ you haven’t done before. Just open wide and blow!”
Dream Kinsey ran from the room, shoving past people that she thought were fellow trainees, but as she looked closer, she could see that all of them had faces of her dealers. Dealers that were dead; all having been found mutilated in alleys, in their apartments, their cars, on the sidewalk. Dream Kinsey, as well as Dreaming Kinsey, realized that her dealers didn’t live long.
She ran and ran, shoving the dead dealers out of the way, in a mad dash for the door to the outside. Just as she reached for the handle, something clicked in her brain; a realization that---
“WAKEY WAKEY, NEWBIE!”
“GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED AND ON DECK NOW!”
Kinsey bolted upright, her head screaming as all the blood rushed there, compounding the hangover feeling she had from withdrawal.
“What the fuck?” she shouted as she saw two figures silhouetted against her hatchway. “Fuck off!”
“NO FUCKING OFF TODAY, NEWBIE!”
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!”
It was her cousins, both armed with bullhorns that were rousing her. She flipped them off then turned over and yanked her blanket up over head. Hands grabbed her, wrapped her tight in the blank
et, and yanked her from her bunk.
“Fuckers!” Kinsey yelled as she tried to kick free, but the blanket was too secure.
“Don’t even try, newbie,” Max said. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”
“Feel lucky we woke you and are only using your blanket,” Shane added as they dragged her from her quarters and into the hallway. “We could have duct taped you in your sleep.”
“Then shaved your head,” Max said.
“Which we may still do,” Shane continued. “That multi-colored rainbow spiky haired thing gives me a headache.”
“I am so going to kick your fucking asses when I get out of here!” Kinsey shouted as the brothers hauled her up the stairs and out onto the upper deck. “Do you hear me? Do you?”
“We all hear you,” Thorne said, when the Reynolds dropped her on the deck. “We also all know you aren’t even close to ready for the mission. So we’re going to get you ready. Together as a Team.”
“This is bullshit,” Bobby said, “why are we punished because she’s out of shape?”
Thorne and the Reynolds turned to Bobby and smiled.
“You think you’re in shape?” Thorne asked.
“I’m in way better shape than she is,” Bobby said, pointing to Kinsey as the woman struggled to get free of her blanket.
“Not going to argue that,” Thorne said, “but just because your shit doesn’t stink, doesn’t mean it ain’t still shit.”
“Still using that line?” Darren laughed as he walked up to the group with a mug of coffee. The sun had just started to crest over the horizon and the world was illuminated in pink and blue. “I thought you’d have changed it by now.”
“No need to retire a good thing,” Thorne said.
“So why’d they retire you, Uncle Vinny?” Max asked.
“Nice one,” Shane said.
“Ha fucking ha,” Thorne said. “Push-ups. One hundred. Now.”
“Shit,” Max said, but complied, as did his brother.
“I’ll be on the bridge if you need me,” Darren said.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Thorne said as he pushed up his sleeves and dropped to his hands. “We’re all doing push-ups. Then sit ups. Then pull ups. Then push-ups. Then laps. And we’ll start it all over again until lunch.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the captain and I’m needed on the bridge,” Darren said.
“I got it covered, Captain,” Lake said, as he leaned against the bridge hatch and looked down at them all. “You keep playing with your friends. Don’t worry about us.”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Darby said as she sprinted up to them and began doing push-ups. “Won’t happen again.”
“I appreciate that, Darby,” Thorne huffed between pushes. “Captain Chambers?”
Darren looked at Bobby and Lucy and shrugged, then dropped. The two women joined, which left only Kinsey, still struggling with her blanket.
When she was free, she started to get up and walk away, but the image of her old dealer’s face on the SQT brass’s heads made her stop. The thought of going back to her life of blowing losers for junk didn’t sit well. The revelation surprised her. Not that she loved being a junkie, just that the need to get high wasn’t what was at the forefront of her mind. As she watched everyone start to struggle and grunt, that old feeling she had when she first started BUD/S came to her.
She had something to prove.
“Fuck this shit,” she said and got down on the deck, “fuck all if I’m going to let you fucking losers beat me.”
She didn’t know if it was because she weighed so little, or because she began to think of each push-up as a hit of smack or shot of booze, but soon she was pacing everyone else. When her arms began to scream, and the track marks started to itch and burn, she used that to keep her going. Every ounce of discomfort became fuel for her need to prove that she was more than what they all thought she was.
Before she knew it, she was on her back doing sit ups. Then up and grabbing one of the many bars that spanned parts of the ship. Pull ups almost defeated her as she barely eked out ten. But she regained her confidence on the run, easily lapping her father before they were all back down on the deck and pushing up and down.
When the mess bell rang for lunch, Team Grendel nearly had to crawl below deck to the mess. Drenched in sweat, their chests heaving, desperate for oxygen, the Team basically fell into the room.
“Chow’s there,” Popeye grinned as he sat at one of the tables munching on a granola bar. “Get in line. Ain’t no table service here.”
“We know the drill,” Max gasped, barely able to hold the lunch tray as one of the cooks slapped various foods upon it. The smell made his mouth water, but the thought of running on a full stomach after lunch nearly made him gag.
Which is what they all did as soon as their trays were tossed in the wash tubs and they were back above deck. There was plenty of gagging and puking to go around. Even Thorne did his fair share, while also barking at them all to push, push, push to the limit.
And that is what they did for the next seven days.
They did physical training, ran mock assaults using the various decks of the Beowulf II, fine tuned techniques, and competed against each other at everything, trying to push someone over the edge. But none broke, not even Kinsey. She just grew gradually stronger and stronger, which built some confidence in the rest of the Team.
But just some. They all knew she was the weak link.
On the eighth day, they did not rest. Instead, they sat in the conference room on the upper deck and went over the plan again and again.
“Jennings brings us in here,” Thorne said, pointing to the intended destination on the beach nearest their target. “We come in wet and hump it to the compound. This is residential area, so we’ll have to be quiet as shit, but I don’t expect much resistance.”
“The area has been terrorized by Daacad’s men for years,” Mr. Ballantine said. “They see your guns and they’ll duck and cover. No one wants trouble. This isn’t Afghanistan. There aren’t Taliban sympathizers everywhere to mess with the mission.”
“But we can’t take that for granted, right?” Max asked.
“Exactly,” Thorne said. “With these guys, we can’t take anything for granted. We go in quietly and hit hard. We keep to the schedule and we’ll be on the Wyrm in under sixty minutes. Then we pick up Darren and Darby at the rendezvous point.”
“Still not sure why they’re hitting a different target,” Shane said. “Why wouldn’t they be with us? What’s at the other target?”
“It’s something that will be shared after the op is complete,” Darren said, “but not before then.”
“Whale,” Max whispered to his brother.
“More like whale shit,” Shane whispered back.
“Gentlemen? Care to share?” Thorne asked.
“Nope,” Max replied.
“I’m good,” Shane said.
“Then let’s go over it again,” Thorne said. “After that, I want everyone to hit their bunks and get some sleep. We’ll need all of our energy for this op. With our small numbers, there is no room for error.”
Chapter Five: The Op
As the sun set over the Indian Ocean, the peaceful quiet and calm of the sea was broken by the sound of helicopter rotors. Just having awoken from a day’s sleep, Kinsey stretched on the upper deck, working out the kinks in her muscles, as she searched the sky for the source of the noise.
“Good,” Mr. Ballantine said, coming up behind her, “they’re here.”
Kinsey smiled at the tone of his voice which belied the fact he didn’t think it was good at all.
“Company?” Kinsey asked.
“You have no idea how right you are,” Mr. Ballantine said, giving her a tired smile, “we all have our hoops to jump through.”
The chopper –a MH-6 Little Bird- began to circle the ship and drew the attention of the others. Mr. Ballantine gave a short wave as the helo put down on the second
helipad and three figures hurried away from the rotor wash and down the steps to him.
“What’s with the suits?” Max asked, a mug of coffee in his hand as he stepped up next to Kinsey.
“Don’t know,” she replied, “but boss man isn’t happy.”
“Watchers,” Darby said, her own coffee to her lips.
Kinsey looked over her shoulder and could see quite a few members of the crew either on the upper deck or peering out of windows from the bridge. Everyone looked surprised by the arrival of the helo.
“What do you mean?” Kinsey asked. “Watchers for what?”
“For us,” Darby said, “for the op.”
“What does that mean?” Shane asked, joining the rest.
“It means that everyone answers to someone else,” Darby said.
“Yeah, that’s about what Ballantine said,” Kinsey added.
As soon as the visitors were clear, the helo lifted into the air and took off. Everyone noticed it was headed further out to sea and not towards land.
“We have a sister ship out there?” Shane asked.
“Company ship, probably,” Darby said. “Hard to say. Nothing is ever consistent or repeated. Keeps things under wraps that way.”
“Huh,” Shane replied. It was a sentiment they all shared.
“Fuck,” Darren said as he walked past everyone. “Not looking forward to this.” He reached Mr. Ballantine and the visitors and extended his hand. “Captain Chambers, welcome aboard the Beowulf II.”
“Interim captain,” a woman, dressed in an expensive silk shirt, black slacks, and shoes not even close to appropriate for ocean work, said. “How your op goes tonight will dictate if you are to remain the captain of this ship.”
“Uh, what?” Darren asked, looking at Mr. Ballantine.
“Not here, Darren,” Mr. Ballantine responded.
“Where shall we set up?” a diminutive man asked. He clutched a leather briefcase to his chest, rumpling his suit considerably. By the pallor of his skin, it was easy to see he didn’t enjoy the helo ride. “We have work to do before the demonstration.”
“I’ll show you the way to the command center,” Mr. Ballantine said.
