I glanced at him. He looked at me with his mouth open, like he was preparing to say something.
I sighed, “I didn’t.”
I watched as his eyes lit up. His mouth closed, but after a moment, it popped back open. I groaned under my breath.
“I’m from Memphis,” I sighed.
“Another Southern boy,” he said as he nodded as if it made us kindred spirits or some shit. “I’m from Virginia. A no-name town near Blacksburg. I’m Brock, by the way.”
“Adam.”
Finally.
That one word was the only thought in my head as the bus rolled to a stop and the doors slid open.
“RUN! HURRY UP! LET’S GO! LET’S GO! LET’S GO!”
The first commands from the RDCs scared the shit out of me. Probably because Brock hadn’t fucking shut up and had distracted me. Those commands also excited me. I’d been waiting for this day for so damn long, and it was finally here.
As I looked to my right, Brock stood beside me, and you could see the energy vibrating inside him. He was like that old TV Gramps had, whose picture would sometimes go wonky, bouncing, with the colors dancing weirdly across the screen.
Glancing toward the instructor on the opposite end of the line from us screaming in the face of another recruit, I whispered, “Breathe, dude.”
A deep inhale and exhale rushed out of him with a nearly silent “Thank you.”
The waves of energy that had been crashing into me calmed. They didn’t disappear, but settled down to a gentle ebb and flow.
Seeing the RDC coming down the line toward us, screaming his head off, I made sure I faced completely fucking forward, wiped my face of any emotion and affect, and straightened my body into the stiffest posture I could muster.
The RDC coming toward us stopped at every recruit in line, screaming at them to correct this or that. Then he got to Brock.
“You’ve gotta be the worst of the bunch. Stand up straight. Look forward. Straight forward!” the RDC yelled at Brock. We were shoulder-to-shoulder. It sounded like the guy was screaming in my ear.
“Fix yourself!”
If I were stuck with this guy for the next ten weeks, he would have to get his shit together. I’d practiced all this crap for a reason. I planned to keep my head down and do what I was told, when I was told, and how I was taught.
The RDC stopped in front of me. He looked me up and down.
He yelled, “Chin up,” then walked on.
I kept my face blank, but inside, I was crowing in victory. I was going to rock the shit out of this. I had a plan, and this was just the first fucking step.
CHAPTER 2
BROCK
SUMMER 2009
“Alpha One,this is Alpha Two. I have northern overwatch. How copy?” Adam relayed to Foster Holt, our new team leader.
This was his first walk outside the wire with us, and we were all a little on edge.
“Strong copy, Alpha Two. Alpha team in position to breach,” Foster relayed back.
I liked Foster. I did. I always had. He was a damn good guy, but was still new to the team. He was still feeling his way around our group, still finding his footing as 1IC.
I’d been pissed when Adam hadn’t gotten the nod as Alpha team leader. Adam had done his voodoo magic and cooled my jets when he’d been passed over for the position Foster now held. Our team leader, Moses, had been medically discharged with more injuries than he could overcome and continue operating.
