Beyond the Cerulean Waves

1. The Rescue



My heavy boots are coated in wet sand and splash against the ocean's salty waves. The sun is out, blazing against my bare back as my legs are drenched in sweat from my thick uniform pants. The calming tides keep pressing me forward on my 10-mile run as San Diego's city glistens in front of me.

This section of the beach is reserved only for us and we have a guard posted to keep tourists and excited women away from our naval station, for distraction reasons. Although women don't distract me, nothing does anymore.

I've been a Navy SEAL for ten years. I'm a Lieutenant, and there is no other team I'd rather command than my guys. Shimmy, my Platoon Chief, war buddy, and life-long friend runs along my left as Kid, my partner and one of the greatest canines in the whole Navy SEALS, flanks my right. Kid is among the top of my greatest achievements and closest companion. 

Where I go, he goes.

We never part.

Kid picks up a little speed, making mine beat along with his rhythm. We are in sync.

Shimmy however...

His black skin is seeping with sweat more than usual and his breathing is labored. "What in the hell are you and kid? Machines? Not only do you two follow every order to the T, but you're both also physically capable of more than any human or dog I know... I swear you were given the same serum as Captain America... Kid too."

Shimmy is a little winded, but I also know that he is only like that because he was out late last night at some club.

I chuckle. "Do you need to hop on my back?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, you just have no life outside this station. It's about time you get a girl... or at least bed one."

"Yeah, I'm not taking any advice from you."

Shimmy gives a low grunt.

The men like to hound on me for being thirty-five and single. Women and I have a rough past, so I've stayed away...

For ten years.

There's more ways to relieve tension than the main way these men do. I can't blame them though. Our jobs are tough and highly stressful, having a nice woman is a blessing.

Just not mine.

My life these past ten years has solely been focused on my team, my brothers, and allowing myself to be broken apart and put back together. I'm a weapon and a very useful one at that. I want to fight for my country and protect it.

The BUD/S training was intense and when I went through it, about 80 percent of our class dropped out. We train in all areas; sea, air and land. When you first sign up and begin training, they do everything in their power to break you, so that they can reform you, recreate you into a true man.

Hell Week, which is the fourth week of training, is where a man is pushed physically and physiologically to his breaking point. That week was what I signed up for. I needed to find my footing and rise above the torture. But, it was the pain that brought me solace.

I got here and became a SEAL at twenty-five. I was a broken man, a selfish child, but I took every shattered piece of myself and recreated not just a new image, but a new man.

A once young stupid adult with such a naïve aspect of the world came here and someone new came out. I went from hating to see myself in the mirror, to having pride at the bearded face that looks back at me.

Kid begins going faster, knowing I need to keep running. We are getting closer to the tourists and locals. Shimmy whines like a little girl but pushes through.