Sheets of cold rain poured down on the parking lot of Brooklands School, drenching the boys who were standing outside the gates. Each of them clutched a military issue canvas bag, most of which were bulging with the technology that they could not bear to part with for the next 2 weeks. Tom had been smarter, he knew that they would not be given the electricity or the time to use the devices and so his bag contained the bare minimum of what they had been asked to bring: a notebook, pencils, some unmentionables, and a compass. That was it. His Uncle, a drill Sergeant in the military had assured him that he would need nothing more than that and Tom had took him at his word, the man had probably destroyed more technology than Tom had ever seen during his instruction time at basic.
Once again he cast his eyes around the group of boys, there were several from Brooklands, none of which he had cared to impart his knowledge to. The rest were from other prep schools around the city, all of whom wanted to take the opportunity to see if the military lifestyle was for them or rather, as his eyes locked on a few particularly downcast boys, their parents wanted them to.
Tom couldn't help but think that this was something that Alex would have loved to do. His good mood faltered at the thought of his one time friend. Alex had left 3 years ago when his uncle had died. It was sudden, he had not even had a chance to say goodbye before Alex was gone, for a few weeks rumors flew around the school linking the teen's disappearance to anything from a hushed up suicide to a stint in the psych ward and even to jail time. Tom and a few of Alex's more loyal friends tried to stand up for him but what more could they do when they were just as clueless as the rest of their peers. Then one day everything fell silent and his name was never mentioned again. It was admittedly odd but Tom could not find the heart to question it, he was just glad to have gotten out of the spotlight and find an end to the detentions he had earned through numerous fights in his friend's honor.
A caravan of army cars drove into the parking lot, interrupting his train of thought, and parked along the curb. Soldiers immediately jumped out and began barking orders at the assembled teens, directing them into an orderly line. Tom sprung into action and made his way into the middle of the line. His Uncle had advised him that the key to success was to never be the first or last in line, safety lay in the middle where you went unnoticed.
One of the soldiers carrying a clipboard moved to stand in front of the teens. "Listen up, maggots! This is an SAS camp not Camp Cupcake! You will follow orders. You will not speak. You will do what we tell you and you will not whine, bitch, or moan like little girls! If you want to make it through this you will not piss me, or any of the other soldiers off. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" Tom barked out a few of the other boys, the rest merely nodded in halfhearted agreement.
Ice flashed through the soldier's eyes as he moved to boy standing at the end of the line. The man grabbed the front of the boy's soaked shirt and pulled him closer "I said is that clear!" he screamed into the thin boy's face. Tom winced, suddenly appreciating his uncle's advice.
"Yes,sir!" they chorused in unison.
The man merely stared at them for a few seconds before replying "Listen up, ladies!"
he yelled over the pounding rain "When I call your name you are to respond 'here, sir' and file into the appropriate vehicle."
Tom had no clue what the 'appropriate vehicle' was and not for the first time did he thank God that his last name fell towards the middle of the list.
"Adams!"
"Here, sir!" it was the timid boy towards the end of the line and he tentatively moved towards the jeep at the front.
When Tom's name was called, he shouldered his bag and got in the last jeep, cramming in with the six other boys. After a few more minutes the transport rumbled to life and pulled out of the rain soaked parking lot.
They drove for hours through the countryside, the cool English rain soaking everything within reach. It was hours before the caravan finally stopped at the gates of Brecon Beacons. While two guards made their way down the caravan Tom was left to observe what little part of the camp he could. A muddy road wound through the brush, well worn with the thick tire tracks of military vehicles. He could see the distant shapes of buildings peeking through the tree tops; all else was excluded by the misty rain.
The caravan shuddered to a start again and moved past the gates and into the heart of the camp, they passed row after row of cement barracks and buildings, lines of camouflaged men weaved through the path, ignoring the thick mud and cold rain. It was hard to believe that this would be the place they would be spending the next month.
He suddenly felt as though he did not belong here at all. A thrill of fear pierced his heart as the realization of what he had signed up for came crashing down on him. He would be training with SAS men, soldiers who had already passed through basic training and had been good enough to get offered a chance to compete for a spot in the SAS. He was just a kid sure he was good at football but that was nothing compared to this.
The driver ordered them out of the car and Tom sprung into action, throwing the door open and hurrying to the middle of the already forming line. It seemed that the other boys had caught onto his logic because he had to practically shoulder his way into his spot. A Sergeant stood in front of them his cold brown eyes surveying the chaos with disdain.
"Attention!" he bellowed and the boys instinctually reacted. "Listen up, maggots! You signed up to participate in this program to experience what life in the good Queen's army could be like. You will be pushed to your fullest. No one gives a shit what you think so don't whine to anyone else. Got that?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good." The man's gaze swept across the line. A man stepped up next to the Sergeant, his blonde hair hung shaggy in his face, making him stand out against the cleanly shaven soldiers. His brown eyes were dulled, as though he had seen too many things and by the look of the nasty scar that stretched across his cheekbone he had. "This is Agent Rider he will be your instructor while you are here. You will address him as 'Sir' do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
" They're all yours, Rider." The Sergeant said as he turned his back on the line of teens.
Tom froze at the name. Rider. Alex? What could he possibly be doing here? He narrowed his eyes as he attempted to make the image of his childhood friend fit into this….man. At that moment those jaded brown eyes locked with his gaze and he took in a sharp breath it was Alex but why did he look so……broken?