Goddess Rising (38 page)

“Your final time through the course will determine your total points in the Challenge prep. The top-scoring nine cadets to date will automatically make the team. There will be three alternates selected. Anything else just makes you a loser.” He held a hand to his ear. “Why?”

“Because close is not good enough, sir!”
the cadets answered back in tandem.

They were broken up into teams, and Sam breathed a silent sigh of relief when Alejandro was appointed to the opposite team. Rita was thankfully put into her group, and they both high-fived as she stepped beside her.

“Fifty bucks,
jaina
. You owe me fifty bucks when we win this,” Rita told her with a wicked grin. “I’ve already got a new pair of shoes picked out.”

“I hope they’re pretty,” Sam answered, confident.

“You know it.”

The team battened down to begin planning their way through the course with the map they were given. Unlike the military, the cadets were not issued night vision goggles, and they were not allowed to use flashlights without risking point deduction for cheating. They were allocated a few compasses between the group with glowing dials.

“Shit, I hate this,” Vin Stephens muttered, reviewing the map. “If I wanted to wander around in the dark, I’d have become an astronaut.”

“This isn’t hard,” Sam replied calmly. “Once you get over the initial night blindness, it’s actually pretty straightforward.” She glanced down at the map. “My guess is the other group will be using dead reckoning to get from point A to point B,” she said, examining the target they were all trying to reach. “The problem with that is it doesn’t account for the obstacles, and you’re so focused on the azimuth that it’s hard to pay attention to anything else—like the booby traps Sasser’s no doubt set.”

“Well, what are you recommending then?” Stephens asked, exasperated. “If we don’t use our compasses, we’ll get lost for sure.”

The rest of the cadets murmured their agreement.

Sam looked up at the night sky again. “Tonight’s clear. Not a single cloud. We can use the constellations and the shadow placement from the moon to figure out the four cardinal directions. That way, we have can have three leads up front, one navigator in the middle, two people running flank, and three people pulling up the back. We all take small steps in tight formation.” She stood up. “Guarantee you that’s faster, and since we’ll have more eyes on the lookout, we’re less likely to get waylaid by any obstacles or attacks.”

Rita raised her hand. “I vote Sam as the navigator.”

Sam shot her a look of surprise.

“I second,” another cadet added readily. “She clearly knows what she’s talking about.”

“I third.”

Sam bit back the pleased smile from the votes of confidence.

“All right, all right,” Stephens muttered, handing her the map. “We’ve got to get three kilometers from point A to point B.”

Sam picked up the map and a compass. Once she’d figured out the degrees and pointed herself in the right direction from where they were starting on the obstacle course, she looked up at the stars and the moon to find her bearings. They were headed east of the constellation Orion, the ancient hunter in Greek mythology, just past the tip of his arrow. Sam glanced at the map again, shifted slightly, then looked up one more time, her eyes focused on the North Star, recalling for just a moment all the times her granddaddy taught her how to use the sky to find her place in the world, like sailors used to do when they were lost at sea.

When she was certain, she took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” she told the group. Sam and Stephens organized the team into their respective positions, with Vin in the front and Rita pulling up the back.

The obstacle course was a chaotic mess. Sasser hadn’t been kidding about making it interesting. The team met with tangles of briars, overturned trees, holes big enough to fit three people, and high concrete walls that made the path forward feel like a maze. It took about five minutes for everyone’s night vision to really kick in, and it took another five for them to start moving confidently, though they stumbled a few times over the smaller obstacles and potholes that they couldn’t see until they were right up on them.

But the team stayed sharp, keeping their pace tight and short so they traveled as a unit, letting their eyes adjust to the silvery moonlight illuminating their surroundings. Sam navigated from the middle, eyes focused on the sky while the front and the flank remained hyper vigilant, watching for obstacles and possible traps.

Fifteen minutes in, the team got into sync, moving fluidly as they trusted each other to play their individual roles, softly calling out what they felt or saw. Sam didn’t bother to look at her watch or the compass or stress about being timed for the exercise. She just let everything go as she followed her instincts, allowing the skills she’d been taught since she was little to take over.

They crossed the end of the course without realizing it, Sasser and his lieutenants snapping on flashlights to illuminate the team as he held up a stopwatch.

“Twenty-five minutes and thirteen seconds,” he told them, his tone approving. “You just broke a five-year record.”

Sam’s eyes widened. The team blinked at each other, eyes still adjusting in the sudden light before the hooting and hollering began. Stephens picked Sam up and twirled her around, and she sent up a little prayer of thanks to her granddaddy, gratitude, pride and relief making her giddy.

“Shit, girl, I don’t know what kind of voodoo you practice, but I’m sure as hell thankful for it,” Stephens laughed, dropping her lightly to the ground before high-fiving another cadet.

“Fifty bucks, Sammy!” Rita laughed, hugging her hard around the neck. “You might as well just pay up now!”

They continued to celebrate until the second team came in seven minutes later with a mightily pissed-off Alejandro leading the charge. Then the catcalling and jokes began.

Alejandro’s team looked like they’d gotten trapped in some of the briars; leaves and wet dirt stuck to their fatigues and hands like filthy paste. A few of his team members looked pretty scrapped up.

“What the hell were you guys doing out there, De Soto?” Stephens teased. “Rolling around in the dirt? My grandmother could’ve made it through that course faster than you, and she’s got a walker, for chrissakes!”

“How did y’all make it through the course so fast?” Alejandro responded, incredulous when Sasser told him they’d been beaten by seven minutes.

“It was all Wyatt, man,” Stephens grinned, pointing at her. “She navigated. We followed. Simple as that.”

Sam felt the weight of a couple dozen sets of eyes on her, including Sasser. She hid her diffidence behind a casual shrug. “Team effort. We set the plan, trusted each other to execute, and made it happen is all.” She caught Alejandro’s glare, and felt herself straighten.
Yeah, Alejo. I beat your ass. Deal with it. Or better yet, get used to it.

One of Sasser’s lieutenants called them into formation. Silence immediately descended over the group as they snapped to attention.

Sasser stepped forward. “We’ll tally up the points tonight and announce the Challenge winners at breakfast tomorrow morning. You are excused for the night, cadets. At ease.”

Rita snagged Sam’s arm as they headed toward the dorms to rack up.

“You were fucking brilliant back there,” Rita told her, her teeth flashing in the darkness. “You’re definitely going to the Challenge.”

“Don’t hallelujah the county just yet, Rita,” Sam drawled as she tossed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “But I sure as hell hope we both are.”

*

September—Late Saturday Night

Wes and Chris’s Apartment, Texas A&M

W E S L E Y

“Holy shit, man,
you should have seen it!” Vin Stephens crowed over the phone.

Wes cradled the cordless to his ear as he opened his fridge for a beer. “Tell me.”

“Sam pulled some straight-up Pocahontas shit tonight! Navigated using the freaking stars! We didn’t even have to use our compasses, man!”

Wes grinned.
That’s my girl.

“Our team broke the damn record!” Vin continued. “I’m definitely in the Challenge. Hell, I bet our whole team is.”

“How’d De Soto take it?” Wes asked.

“Oh, man, that guy’s so pissed, everyone’s just leaving him the hell alone. He got his team in seven minutes after us. That’s a major points deduction.” Vin paused. “But he’s been in the top ranks for nearly every other FTX, so he’s probably fine. Hell, this will be his
second
Challenge if he makes the cut.”

“When you guys rolling back in?”

“Should be tomorrow evening.”

“Swing by the bar Monday night,” Wes suggested. “I’m buying, and you’ll get your second goody bag. I’ll get the full story from you then.”

“Will do,” Vin agreed.

Wes hung up, took a sip of beer, then pumped his fist. “Hot damn, Sammy—
way to go, girl!”
he whooped aloud in the quiet apartment before sitting down at his laptop, eager to get everything down while it was fresh. He’d already finished and polished up the first couple articles he’d planned for the series. They’d be ready for Purcell first thing on Monday. God willing and Vin coming through, Wes would have the third article done just in time for
The Statesman
submission deadline.

He was concentrating so hard he almost missed the knock at his door. Wes looked up, wondering who’d be at his door so late as he shoved back from the kitchen table. Chris was at an away game, and Wes had gotten one of the other bartenders to take his shift at Dixie’s so he could work on writing.

He swung open the door without looking through the peephole. Robert Wyatt stood in front of him with his hands in his trouser pockets and a manila envelope stuck under his arm.

Wes’s brow knit in confusion. “Mr. Wyatt? What brings you to my door?”

“Hey there, Wes.” Samantha’s father’s smile was grim as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Turns out you’ve been busier than a cat covering shit on a marble floor, and it’s just about time I called you out on it.”

*

September—Couple Hours Past Midnight

Camp Swift, Bastrop County, Texas

S A M A N T H A

Sam couldn’t sleep
.

She lay in her bed in the quiet barracks next to Rita and couldn’t keep her mind from racing as she made plans. She was buzzing, lit up from within with excitement—seeing the path right in front of her—all the things she wanted to do, all the ideas she had about what making it into the Challenge could mean for her future. She might actually have a chance of getting into the special forces somewhere—maybe military intelligence or recon. Sam thought again about Professor Hammond’s recommendation that she consider becoming an interrogator. She felt a surge of adrenaline at the thrill of the possibilities, weightless with intoxication from the win, and she wanted to share it with somebody. Hell, she
wanted
to share the news with Wes.

Sam had seriously considered calling and telling him about her performance tonight. She’d surprised herself by wishing he was with her at Camp Swift after all, his ever-present camera around his neck, smiling at her from behind the lens as he watched her take the win. Sam missed him already, but she hadn’t given herself the luxury of calling, telling herself it was too late anyway. Wes was probably busy or working. Sam told herself all the usual lies girls tell themselves when they’re too embarrassed to call.

So now she lay in the lumpy single bed in the barracks, too amped up and bursting with excitement to even
think
about sleeping. She slipped out of the old bunk, careful to stay quiet as she picked up her boots and tiptoed to the door, not wanting to wake her friend. She and Rita were the only girls on the floor they were staying in, the only two who’d made it into the final rounds of elimination. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for a scant second before pulling the barrack’s door open and slipping out.

It had gotten chilly in the couple hours since they’d turned in. Sam slipped on her boots quickly, rubbing her arms as the goose bumps rose. She trotted down the concrete stairs, walking out into the darkness surrounding the buildings they were rucking up in. She took in a deep breath of cool night air, striding out into the tree line surrounding the silent buildings, staying close enough to the lit areas to see where she was going, but deep enough in the shadows that no one would see her unless they were really looking.