Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,72

“The next evolution is…nah, just kidding. There are no more evolutions. Hell Week is over. You’re all secured.”

Hemingway waited to make sure they weren’t joshing them, but when he saw Cheezer and the other First Phase instructors coming onto the beach, elation washed over him.

“We made it,” Brown said.

“It’s over. Hoo-yah!” Easy shouted.

“We’re secure? We’re secure!”

Hemingway turned to Professor, and they hugged hard, holding onto each other in a shared victory.

There was a hoarse cheer, goofy grins, some even cried a bit.

Nathan Walker said, “You need to remember this moment, because there will never be anything like it in your life again. You finished Hell Week. Not many men can do what you have done. Cherish this moment and your achievement. You earned it.”

There was a resounding “Hoo-yah!”

He gestured for quiet. “You still have the rest of First Phase ahead of you. Then, pool comps in Second Phase and weapons practicals in Third Phase. Stay focused on your training and keep it all in perspective. We’re going to give you a few days to rest and heal up, but you have to be ready to start back on Monday. But today, be proud.”

Hemingway was sorry that neither Shea, nor Mad Max were here, but they must be doing something important. Supporting the guys who were having a hard time moving, they made their way over the berm and past the demo pits.

A lot of them stopped moving when they saw who was waiting for them. Along with the Captain of Special Warfare Training, the commanding officers and command master chiefs of the West Coast SEAL team were lined up, waiting to shake their hands. Ruckus, Fast Lane, Cowboy and Pitbull were all there. As Hemingway walked up to them, they reached out and shook his hand.

“Way to go,” Ruckus said.

“We knew you could do it,” Fast Lane said.

“When you finish, think about our team. We have an opening,” Pitbull said with a grin.

“You’re a tough kid,” Cowboy said.

It wasn’t long before they were all back in the First Phase classroom in warm, dry clothes. Hemingway was proudly wearing his brown T-shirt with his name on it. It was only an inexpensive, military issue brown T-shirt, but it was everything. At least the temperature in the room was more than warm enough. Hemingway was sad to see that Mad Max still wasn’t back. Instead, Cheezer was up front looking more approachable than he had all through Hell Week. “Okay, tough guys, enjoy the pizza and as soon as Doc Lattimore gets here and gives you your medical briefing, you can tuck into your rack and get some much-needed rest.”

Hemingway grabbed a couple slices of pizza and some water, settling into a chair, but as soon as he leaned back, the sound of metal chains rattling against the door handles brought him upright. Then the room was on fire, smoke making it hard to breathe and to see.

He got up and called for Professor, making his way to the door. Pushing hard, he tried to get out, but someone pushed him down.

The doors were locked, and they were trapped.

13

As Shea had watched the weary, battered men move through the last evolutions of Hell Week, she began to get a bad, bad feeling. She hadn’t been able to get it out of her head how many of the men who were on her NWO list had DOR’d. In fact, those men would all be at the Special Activities Training unit. Their barracks were across from the chow hall.

BUD/S trainees were physically at their absolute low, and there were fewer of them to handle. It would be the optimum time to attack them as a whole.

She’d alerted Max, and they had driven over to the barracks. Her hunch was correct. None of the DOR’d trainees were where they were supposed to be.

That feeling got worse. “Max, where are the Hell Week candidates now?”

He looked at his watch. “Being bussed over to the First Phase classroom. We have a skeleton crew over there now. Most of the instructors would have left except Hal Cheezer who’s giving them all an atta boy.”

Shea pulled her weapon out from her waistband and checked the clip, then slamming it home with purpose.

“Damn, you think—”

“Yes. I think they’re going to attack now when the instructors are sparse, and the trainees are sleep-deprived and physically exhausted.” She pulled out her cell phone and contacted Mak. As soon as she answered, Shea explained her theory.

“You think this is happening now?”

“Yes, you, Griff,