Hudson woketo gray light filtering through the shelter and Shaw awake beside him.
“Morning,” Shaw said.
“Morning.” Hudson’s entire body protested as he moved. “Fuck, I hate the cold.”
They broke camp quickly, both of them stiff and miserable. The second day was harder than the first—longer distances, more difficult terrain, objectives that required actual problem-solving instead of only navigation.
But they moved together smoothly. Hudson realized at some point that they’d stopped trying to one-up each other. They just… worked. Anticipating each other’s movements, covering each other’s weaknesses, communicating with looks more than words.
By late afternoon they’d hit all three checkpoints and headed toward the final objective. The temperature dropped again, faster this time.
“We’re making good time,” Hudson said.
Shaw checked the map. "We'll hit the last checkpoint before dark. Then camp."
Hudson nodded. He knew extraction wasn't until 0800 tomorrow, but somehow facing another night out here felt worse now that they were so close to being done.
"One more night." Hudson exhaled.
"Could be worse."
"Yeah? How’s that?"
"Could be three."
Hudson snorted as Shaw passed him. His first joke. About fucking time.
They reached the final checkpoint as the sun set, completed the objective, and found another sheltered spot to make camp.
After having built the fire and divided the rations, they did an extremely cold wash up and brushed their teeth, settling in for a long, cold, miserable night.
The tension between them had shifted. Hudson knew Shaw's first name. Some of his family history. The weight of being General Shaw's son. Whatever had been building for weeks had nowhere left to go.
They sat shoulder to shoulder in the shelter, angled toward the fire, letting it do what it could against the low temperatures. The wind had picked up, rattling the fabric around them.
"Fuck, marry, kill," Hudson said suddenly.
Shaw turned to look at him. "What?"
"Fuck, marry, kill. You know the game."
"I know the game. Why are we playing it?"
"Because I'm bored and cold and this is what people do when they're stuck in tents together." Hudson grinned. “Come on. Briggs, Reed, and Novak.”
Shaw shot him a look. "Seriously?"
"Okay, I'll go first." Hudson thought for a second. "Kill Briggs, obviously. Guy's an asshole. Marry Reed—he's solid, good guy. And fuck..." He trailed off, suddenly aware of Shaw watching him. "Novak, I guess."
"You guess?"
"Well, I don't actuallywantto fuck Novak. It's hypothetical."
"That's the whole point of the game, Hale."
Hudson laughed. "Fine. Then I’ll fuck Novak. Your turn."
"Pass."
