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“I did. So did he. It makes us who we are, Ash. We’re tougher, more resilient, more capable because of the training they put us through. Hours in freezing cold water, shaking, shivering, until you can’t think of anything else any longer. Your limbs are numb, your lips trembling so much you can’t speak.
“You start to lose all sense of where you are and who’s near you. Just when you get dried off and warm, you’re kept awake for days on end.”
“But why? I mean, that can’t possibly make you a better SEAL,” she asked with compassion. He smiled at her.
“It actually does. I’ve been on several missions where I was awake for days on end, sleeping on my feet. You might get a thirty-minute power nap here and there, but all in all, you’re awake, and you have to perform at peak levels, completing the mission at all costs.”
“It just doesn’t seem fair to all of you,” she said, shaking her head.
“Is it fairer if we’re not trained well, and we die because we can’t withstand the cold, rain, or no sleep? Listen, Ash. We had a group of enemy rebels chasing us down once. Normally, we would have stopped and taken them on, but we had two hostages with us that we needed to get back to base. So, we kept going, and they kept following.
“They had more men than we did, so they were able to stop and sleep while another group would continue forward. We didn’t have that luxury. We moved forward, just our team, for five days with no sleep. We got those two people to base, we showered, we slept for seven hours and twelve minutes. Then, someone woke us up. It was time to go again.”
Ashley was quiet, staring out at the rain that didn’t seem to want to let up at all. Up ahead, they saw flashers from a group of first responders, realizing they were going to be delayed again.
“What now?” frowned Doc. Traffic moved slowly, moving around the two vehicles that had seemed to hit head-on. As they got closer, Doc squirmed in his seat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think that may be the same blue van that dumped Gracie. It’s exactly the description that the boys gave,” he said, frowning. The officer stopped their car allowing cars to pass from the opposite direction. Doc rolled down the window, waving him over.
“You need something?” he asked.
“Anyone in the van survive?” he asked. “I think we might know them.”
“No one. There was only the driver, and he was dead on impact. I’d like to have asked some questions, though. Dark hoods, sacks, even duct tape in the back.”
“Shit,” muttered Doc. “Where were they coming from? Which direction?”
“Up ahead on River Road and Pelican Way.”
“That’s before the tattoo shop,” said Ashley.
Doc maneuvered around the officer as he yelled at him for splashing through a puddle, soaking the officer to the skin.
“Comms? Did you hear that? Get someone out on the road. We’re on our way.”
“Roger that, Doc,” said Hiro.
As they approached the tattoo and motorcycle shops, Doc slowed, looking on both sides of the road. Just as he was about to turn into the café, Ashley yelled.
“Stop! There! It’s a burlap sack like the other one.” He jumped from the SUV, and Ashley followed.
“Get back in the truck!”
“No!” she yelled, running toward the sack. She kneeled beside it, feeling the form of a body. But it was the feet and legs she was feeling. The head was face down in the flooded ditch.
“Shit!”
“Doc, what do you need?” yelled Whiskey.
“Help me get this person out,” he yelled back. Whiskey kneeled beside him, Skull, Razor, and Callan all coming as well. Pulling the soaked burlap sack from the ditch, they cut away the material, seeing the face of a young man. They knew exactly what this was.
Doc began CPR, but he knew it was too late. He’d been face down in the water for too long, his hands taped together. Gabi came running across the street, kneeling beside him in the mud and wet gravel, while Trevor grabbed his wife, holding her beneath an umbrella. It was silly. She was already soaked to the bone.
“Doc, it’s too late,” said Gabi, gripping his arm.
“No. He’s just a kid! No!”
