Chapter 30 #3
Surf came up, his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes hard, but not cold. “Locklear.”
“Yes, Instructor Brah?”
“You made a call,” Surf said. It wasn’t a question. “You put the boat before the man.”
“He was a liability.”
“Maybe,” Surf allowed. “Or maybe he just needed more time. We don’t give time here. You know that.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Don’t get cocky. You made one right call. You got a hundred more evolutions to go. Get one wrong, and you’ll be the one standing at that bell.”
He walked away. Easy took his place, his expression unreadable. “You looked him in the eye when you said it.”
“Yes, Instructor Easy.”
“Good,” Easy said. “Don’t ever look away. Own it. Every time.” He clapped Than on the shoulder, a hard, brief impact. “Keep your head straight. This place will try to turn you into something you’re not. Don’t let it.”
Than watched him go. The praise was a razor. It affirmed his action and reminded him of the cost. The approval felt colder than the Pacific.
After lights out, the dark felt heavier than usual. Than stared at the ceiling, Murphy’s face flashing behind his eyes. The panic. The surrender.
“He was going to hurt someone,” Than said into the darkness. It wasn’t a defense. It was a confession.
Fly’s breathing was steady beside him. “He was already hurting the crew.”
“I know,” Than said. “That’s why I did it.”
“You did the job, Than. The one we’re all here to do.”
The words replayed anyway. Drop the boat. The way Murphy’s shoulders had sagged before he even looked up. The second of eye contact, long enough to know there was no way around it.
Than didn’t regret the call. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he would remember it.
He slept the sleep of a man who understood the price of the uniform and was just beginning to learn how to pay it.
Tomorrow would take more.
The bell didn’t just echo down the beach. It hung there, hollow, settling into the silence between the racks. Fly watched Than after Murphy was gone. The weight of it was in his eyes. He’d made the call. Cut the weak link to save the boat and Fly could see he hated it.
This place demanded something most people never understood. Be ruthless. Be loyal. See a man as a liability and still be willing to die for him. It broke you down and demanded brotherhood in the same breath.
Most men couldn’t hold both truths at once. Than had. That was the problem.
He wasn’t built to discard people. He was built to elevate them. On a wrestling mat, in a boat crew, at the Academy, he’d always been the amplifier. See the flaw. Correct it. Push harder. Stay with it until it held.
Here, there was no time. The ocean didn’t care about potential. It cared about pace.
Fly felt the divide clearly now. He was the builder. The one who patched cracks before they widened. He could endure. Adapt. Absorb pressure without turning it outward.
Than saw the structural failure and tore it out before the roof collapsed.
Both styles worked.
But BUD/S demanded the cut first.
Later, in the dark, the sand still grinding into skin that would never fully heal, Fly listened to Than breathe. Too even. Too controlled.
“He was hurting the team,” Than said quietly.
“I know,” Fly answered. “That’s why you made the call.”
Silence pressed in.
This was the paradox again. You cut the weak link to protect the team. Then you were expected to become the team. To trust the same men you’d just punished. To survive together.
“Doesn’t always have to be the bell,” Fly said after a moment. “You see people, Than. That’s your edge. Don’t lose that.”
Than laughed wearily, leaning back in his bunk like he wanted to be absorbed by the mattress.
"You and your Gallagher logic. You can't see it at first, but then after time, it all makes sense.
" He sighed, and Fly heard the rustle of him reaching for the Vaseline to apply to the chafing on his body.
"I was fucking landlocked in South Dakota.
I never want to see another grain of sand in my life. "
Fly barked out a laugh. "Then, mate, you're in the wrong bloody profession."
“Yeah, rub it in, no pun intended.” Than was quiet for a moment, then said.
“So my teenaged brain, you know, Fly. The one that’s not fully developed, went, Why don't I go down to San Diego and join the Navy?
It's not a job. It's an adventure. Forged by the fucking sea.
No. Forged by tiny bits of glass digging into the softest, most vulnerable parts of your body.
But Hoo-fucking-yah! I'm going back for more tomorrow,” Than groused.
Fly let out a low chuckle that was more of a rumble in his chest, the sound barely disturbing the heavy quiet of the barracks. He shifted on his bunk, the blanket scraping against his own collection of aches and abrasions.
"Are you finished?" he asked, voice was a low growl from the other bunk. "I'd laugh, but I hurt too fucking bad."
“Yeah, an adventure in feeling every muscle in your body and how much it could possibly hurt.”
Fly laughed again. "Sorry, mate," Fly whispered, the grin still audible in his voice.
"Couldn't help myself. You paint such a pretty picture.
" He went quiet for a moment, listening to the rhythmic crash of waves on the beach, a sound that was both a promise and a threat.
"Still," he added after a moment, "You're not wrong.
I don't think any of us pictured this part in the recruitment brochure.
The 'Forged by Tiny Bits of Glass' tagline probably wouldn't recruit as many unwitting candidates. "
Fly’s chuckle subsided, leaving only the sound of the surf and the dual, ragged breathing of men pushed far beyond their limits.
He lay on his back in the cramped bunk, staring up at the ceiling.
Every muscle in his body screamed, a deep, pervasive ache that had become his new normal.
As Than said, the sand was the worst. It was a personal, insidious enemy, finding its way into places he didn't know he had, grinding with every movement, a constant, abrasive reminder of the day's toll.
He could hear Than shift again, a restless sound of a man who couldn't find comfort.
Fly knew the feeling. He knew the weight on Than's shoulders was heavier than the physical exhaustion.
It was the burden of command, even in this small, temporary crew.
Leadership here was paid for daily. Than was already paying, and was being shaped by something harsher than waves.
Fly just hoped the man he knew, the amplifier, the one who made others stronger, would still be there when this place was done trying to turn him into a wolf.