for a few moments there was nothing but the sound of two boys gasping in the dark.
‘Shall we carry on now, sir?’ Marc asked breathlessly.
‘Sam and Luc started ten minutes after you so that they didn’t reach the aiming zones at the same time. They overtook you before the fourth aiming point. They’re already heading back to campus for a shower and bed.’
Paul and Marc exchanged solemn looks. Goldberg wasn’t bad and the tough guy act was what they expected from a training instructor. But learning they’d finished behind their rivals after working so hard was a kick in the gut.
‘Captain Henderson is giving the four of you an 8 a.m. briefing,’ Goldberg said. ‘I was in these woods preparing well before you two got up, and now I need my bed. So you two can forget aiming point eight. The exercise ends here and now.’
As they’d already lost, Paul and Marc were happy not to have to carry on.
‘You’ve got nothing to smile about, soldiers,’ Goldberg said. ‘There’s no bed on campus for you two tonight. You can sleep out here, then make your own way back in time for the captain’s briefing. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ both lads replied.
‘Bloody, shitting shit!’ Paul cursed, once he was certain Goldberg was well clear. ‘It’s gone two now and it’s over an hour’s walk back to campus from here.’
Marc knew he’d have been faster with anyone but Paul as a partner, but he said nothing because they were good friends and it wasn’t Paul’s fault that he’d been born weedy.
‘It’s warm and dry, so I’m not buggering about making a shelter,’ Marc said. ‘And it may not be comfortable, but I’m knackered so a few bugs and a bit of damp won’t stop me sleeping.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Luc was usually a scruff, but he’d polished his boots and put on a clean white shirt, knowing it would make Marc and Paul feel even worse.
‘You’ve got twigs in your hair,’ Luc taunted, as his rivals came into the classroom used for mission briefings. ‘Man, I slept so well last night. Did you sleep well, Sam?’
Sam liked Marc and Paul. He’d have happily stayed out of the teasing, but Luc was a bully and he couldn’t risk upsetting his powerfully built training partner.
‘Yeah, I slept well,’ Sam said, half-heartedly.
‘I was so muddy when I got in last night,’ Luc continued. ‘I didn’t want all that dirt clogging the shower, so I wiped the worst of it off on stick-boy’s bed sheet.’
Marc ignored the pain in his blistered feet as he booted a chair out of the way and lunged towards the desk Luc sat on.
‘If you’ve touched either of our beds, I’ll kick the crap out of you,’ Marc shouted.
Paul put a hand on Marc’s shoulder and pulled him back. ‘Don’t rear up. That’s what he’s after.’
‘Pippa cooked a good breakfast this morning too,’ Luc said. ‘Scrambled egg, black pudding, three slices of bread. Ain’t that right, Sam?’
Sam looked down at his muddy boots. ‘They might have saved you some.’
‘I’m not even hungry,’ Marc said. ‘We found plenty of fruit and berries on our way here this morning.’
This was a total lie.
‘How many points out of thirty-two did you two get?’ Paul asked.
‘None of your business,’ Luc said.
Marc sensed a chink in Luc’s armour: if they’d shot well he’d have been shouting from the rooftops.
‘What did you get?’ Marc asked Sam.
Sam shrugged. ‘There’s a couple where we didn’t see our exact score. But I reckon it’s somewhere between sixteen and eighteen points.’
‘It was easily more than that,’ Luc said. ‘I shot at least ten. I bet when Kindhe collects our targets it’ll be more like twenty.’
Sam looked doubtful, but didn’t contradict his partner. ‘How many did you guys get?’
‘About twenty,’ Paul said. ‘It would have been more, because it was Marc’s turn on the last target. He only missed two shots all night.’
Luc wasn’t keen to dwell on scores, because Marc was easily the best shot of the four. ‘I wish you’d sit over the other side,’ he told Marc. ‘You smell like you slept in something that came out the back of a cow.’
‘Well at least I’ve never wet my bed,’ Marc shouted.
‘I didn’t wet my bed,’ Luc said furiously. ‘I had really bad flu. I passed out.’
Marc smiled. ‘Bed pisser!’
Luc jumped off the desk and grabbed the lapels of Marc’s combat jacket. Marc went for a kick in the balls, but only banged his shin on a desk because Luc had spun him