Chapter 5 - The Last Yard
The final yard of the trench felt longer than the first hundred. Ethan’s arms shook so badly he could barely feel his hands. Mud covered the rifle, his sleeves, his chin, his ears. Water ran down the inside of his collar. His knees burned from dragging across stone hidden beneath the muck.
He could see the end now.
Wet gravel.
Open air.
A strip of gray sky beyond the wire.
That almost made it worse. Hope has weight when you are exhausted. The finish line can mock you if you stare at it too long.
“Don’t look at the end,” Maddox barked from above, as if reading his mind. “Win the inch in front of you.”
Ethan lowered his eyes.
The inch in front of him was ugly.
So he won it.
He planted his left elbow, pulled. Planted his right, pulled. Kept the rifle out of the deepest water. Kept his hips low. Kept his breath under control. The wire scraped once more across his pack and then slid free.
Suddenly his hand struck gravel.
His fingers closed around it.
He pulled.
Mud released him with a wet, stubborn sound.
Ethan rolled out of the trench onto his side, coughing and breathing hard, rifle still secured against him.
No one cheered.
Not yet.
The obstacle course did not ask for applause.
It asked what came next.
Maddox stepped closer.
“On your feet, Marine.”
May you like
Ethan’s arms trembled.
But he got up.
