Chapter 4 - The Second Touch
After the fall, Mercer ordered me back to the start line. Not to redo the obstacle safely. Not to inspect the rope. To stand in front of the formation while he talked about standards.
“Everyone look at Cross,” he said. “This is what happens when confidence runs ahead of capability.”
A few soldiers smirked. A few looked uncomfortable. One woman in the second row, Private Hanley, stared at the ground with her jaw clenched. She had slipped on the same rope during warmups that morning. Nobody had cared because she had not fallen badly enough to make a show of it.
Mercer moved closer to me. “You want to blame equipment?”
“I want the rope inspected.”
He laughed. “You want special treatment.”
“No,” I said. “I want the course not rigged.”
The word hit the formation like a thrown rock.
Mercer’s smile vanished.
He stepped into my space and shoved me.
That was what he needed. Public dominance. Physical correction. A reminder that the training ground had one center of gravity, and he believed it was him.
My boots slid through the dirt.
Then stopped.
He saw something in my face change, and for the first time that afternoon, he seemed uncertain.
“Course too hard for you, Cross?” he said, trying to recover the old rhythm.
I looked at the rope again. Then back at him.
“You sabotaged it.”
His voice lowered. “No. I exposed you.”
Then he reached for me a second time.
May you like
There are moments when the body answers before the past does.
Mine answered cleanly.
