CHAPTER ELEVEN - Ben
Myths and Gods
Reeves hoisted himself from the pool and sat on the edge, catching his breath. He lifted his goggles to his forehead and wiped an arm across his eyes. He checked the clock before he could stop himself. Forty minutes.
He reminded himself his time didn’t matter today. This was about getting back in the water. He refused to let it become a PTSD trigger.
Personal victories,he told himself.
Still, he should have been faster.
In the lane next to him, Bagh splashed to a stop and pulled off his goggles, panting.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” said Reeves. “Thanks.”
Their voices echoed in the empty building.
“Beer pong tonight. You in?”
Reeves could hardly imagine playing drinking games at the moment, but he said, “Maybe.”
“It’s okay, I get it. You’re afraid I’ll kick your ass again.”
He laughed. “I’m positive you’ll kick my ass, Bagh.”
“We could play something you’re good at. I don’t know, a game where you have to do math to make the other person take a shot?”
Reeves shook his head, grateful for the cause to smile.
Across the pool, the hum of the hot tub beckoned him. “I’m gonna hit the jets.”
He left Bagh to continue his laps—where he would most certainly do better than forty minutes.
Reeves peeled off his swim cap and was about to sink into the hundred-and-four-degree tub when he heard a distant ringing. He jogged carefully across the tiles to grab his phone.
“Hi, sir.”
“There you are,” said Officer Miller.
“Sorry. I was doing laps.”
“Running?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Swimming?” said Miller. When Reeves didn’t reply he said, “Jesus. Take a rest.”
“Yes, sir.”
Perhaps the officer had a point, given that Reeves had had to spend four terrifying hours treading among Perseus’ wreckage before anyone found him. But to Reeves, ten days was enough recovery time.
He sank into the hot tub with the phone pressed to his ear.
“Listen, you don’t have to do this anymore,” said Miller. “You can retire with a generous reward for your service.”
