Chapter 3
By noon, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a thick, suffocating humidity that turned the training grounds into a steaming greenhouse. The obstacle course loomed ahead like a skeletal monster of rusted steel, rotting wood, and deep mud pits. The squad stood at attention at the starting line, their uniforms already stained with gray mud and dried sweat. Miller wiped a stray drop of moisture from his eyebrow, his muscles still aching from the morning’s impromptu physical correction, but his posture was noticeably straighter.
Sergeant Vance stood on an elevated wooden platform overlooking the course, a clipboard clutched in his thick hand. "You think you’re soldiers because you can do push-ups on a wet road?" Vance barked, his voice carrying effortlessly across the clearing. "A real enemy doesn't wait for a paved surface. They meet you in the mud, in the dark, and where no one can hear you scream. Move out!"
The whistle shrilled, piercing the humid air. The recruits surged forward as a chaotic pack, scrambling toward the first challenge—a towering wall of slick pine logs. Miller led the charge, leaping upward and catching the top edge with his fingertips. He hauled himself over with a sharp gasp, dropping onto the foam mat on the other side.
As he turned to help the next person, Elena materialized beside him without a sound. She was already damp again, her hair plastered to the back of her neck, but she moved with an economy of motion that made every obstacle look like a minor inconvenience. She grabbed Davies by the collar just as the lanky recruit’s footing slipped on the cargo net, hauling him up with a powerful jerk of her shoulders before he could plunge into the thorn bushes below.
"Watch your hand placement, Davies," Elena said evenly, not even breaking her stride as she sprinted toward the low-crawl trenches.
Miller fell in step beside her, navigating the tangled concertina wire stretched mere inches above the churned-up mud. The smell of wet earth and copper filled his nose. "How long have you been doing this?" he muttered, keeping his head low as a stray strand of wire grazed his helmet.
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"Long enough to know you talk too much when you're tired, Miller," she replied, her eyes fixed straight ahead on the exit trench.
They cleared the mud pit together, emerging into the sunlight looking like bronze statues dipped in river silt. Vance was waiting for them at the finish line, his eyes sweeping over their exhausted faces. He noted the way Miller had stayed close to Elena, and the way Elena hadn't tried to pull ahead alone. Teamwork wasn't taught with lectures; it was forged in the dirt, one bruised knee at a time.
