Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Maddox nodded, humming under his breath out of habit born out of years of missions like this. He was the team’s best sniper, something that he could say without ego. It was a fact, just as it was a fact that he wasn’t the fastest runner of the group.
“Tovey, you ready?” The LT snapped his fingers in front of Ben’s face.
“Yes, sir.” Ben had been distracted the whole flight, something even—or maybe especially—Maddox could tell from how he’d blandly agreed with Rogers and drummed his fingers against his leg. And Maddox knew it was partly his fault, the stupid stuff about his reenlistment coming up right when he least wanted to talk about it. But, if he were being honest, things had been weird since the night before they deployed.
Wrong. That’s not when things had become weird.
Maddox told that thought to take a hike. And speaking of hike, he had to focus on the rainforest terrain he’d soon be navigating. He triple-checked his equipment—night vision goggles for the pre-dawn trek, communications headset, weapons and ammo. He’d be expected to take out any guards at the terrorists’ jungle encampment, and the last thing he needed was any kind of malfunction.
This was a tricky-as-hell mission to begin with—complicated politics, bad weather, and a ticking time clock. The senator’s son—who was a travel blogger and a minor celebrity in his own right—and news organizations back in the States were sure to report on his disappearance. But, with any luck, the story would be the hostages’ safe return, not the SNAFU this kept threatening to turn into. As always they’d run through the rescue scenario in advance, but the LT and XO hadn’t been happy with the run-through, leaving Maddox with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake.
You’re getting old, that’s all. Just another sign that you’re doing the right thing, thinking of getting out of the teams. Can’t go losing your nerve.
They arrived in Kalimantan to a steady rain, but it was the wind that was more troubling, as the chopper scheduled to extract them was going to have to battle the elements. They trained in jungle-like conditions all the time, so the rain dripping from the thick canopy of trees barely fazed Maddox. The boggy soil made for slower going, however, and they had to skirt several sheer drops—the obvious result of recent mudslides. Overhead, birds swooped, and vegetation rustled from wildlife moving about. It was a long, dark trek, no one talking as they moved closer to the encampment over the next few hours of marching.
At the predesignated point, Maddox split from the team. The plan was for him to take the higher ground, getting a clear view of the terrain, and hopefully take out any guards. Mindful of tree roots and other hazards, he went as fast as he dared, knowing the team couldn’t move forward safely until he was in position. His pulse sped up, as it did every time he was out on a mission.
Please give me clean shots. He knew Ben thought it was strange that he prayed before every operation, same as he and the rest of the team thought it was silly how humming his favorite songs calmed him down, gave him the focus he needed to make his shots. What the rest of the team didn’t know about, though, was that it was knowing Ben was on the mission—and thinking about Ben’s confidence in him—that was probably the most important bolster for his confidence.
In fact, Ben had been a big reason—right from the beginning—for the confidence that backed up Maddox on every mission. He could still remember the first time Ben had had his back.
“Horvat. What the hell are you mumbling?” The instructor had gotten right up in Maddox’s face. It was the first day of weapons practice in phase three of BUD/S, and he’d been riding Maddox hard all day, making no secret of the fact that he thought Maddox shouldn’t have been passed on from Dive Training. And true, he’d barely squeaked by, but here he was.
“Nothing, sir.” He readied his weapon, telling himself to stay silent. The instructor didn’t give a crap about how Maddox coped with long wait times and jumpy nerves while hunting with his father and cousins. All he cared about was whether Maddox could aim. “Ready, sir.”
“Well, go on then. Don’t keep us waiting.”
“Just try your best,” Ben muttered next to him, clearly expecting Maddox to bungle this same as he had his first combat dive.
Maddox took a deep breath, getting the targets in his sights, visualizing the shots connecting, then took aim and fired at each target in rapid succession, following the exercise’s instructions. They’d all get a baseline score at the conclusion of the exercise.
“Holy shit.” Ben whistled as Maddox finished, and Maddox knew without glancing over at the instructor that he’d done well. And heck, Ben’s praise felt even better than seeing his final score. Felt like warm butter melting on some of his mom’s sweet corn, warmth sneaking into all the places that still felt chilled after sixteen weeks of relentless training. Finally, he’d made someone proud, and that that someone was Ben...well that was even better.