The Medic - Book One

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday unfolded in a blur of intensive training sessions, each day packed with rigorous drills and exercises that pushed the team to their limits. Percy, in his role as instructor, was a force of nature, his deep knowledge and experience in waterborne operations shaping each lesson and challenge he set before them.

One memorable moment was when Percy woke them up in the middle of the first night there and made them jump in the freezing ocean in their pyjamas, then stand shivering on the beach, randomly making them do pushups or pullups. He claimed they needed to understand how to still function even when they were in extreme temperatures. Street grumbled to him on the way back to the cottage that he just wanted to see them suffer. Percy just laughed at him.

After that the team quickly learned that Percy's approach to training was both methodical and relentless. He had a keen eye for detail and a no-nonsense attitude when it came to correcting techniques and reinforcing the importance of each skill they practiced. Whether it was navigating underwater with limited visibility, handling weapons in wet conditions, or executing complex tactical maneuvers in the water, Percy demanded precision and excellence.

Despite the grueling pace, the team also recognized Percy's innate ability as a teacher. He had a way of explaining complex concepts with clarity, making even the most daunting tasks seem achievable. His encouragement and constructive feedback kept them motivated, even when exhaustion set in.

By the end of each day, the team was spent, their bodies aching from the physical demands of the training. Yet, there was a sense of accomplishment that permeated the air, a shared feeling of growth and improvement that made every drop of sweat worth it.

Percy and Street, despite sharing the master bedroom, found that their interactions had dwindled to the bare minimum. Each night, by the time they collapsed into bed, they were too exhausted for conversation, sleep claiming them almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows. The intensity of the training left little room for anything else, their usual banter and closeness set aside for the duration of the rigorous schedule.

When Sunday morning arrived, bringing with it the promise of rest and relaxation, the team breathed a collective sigh of relief. The previous days' efforts had taken their toll, and the prospect of unwinding and recharging was more than welcome.

Percy woke up with the familiar feeling of a tug in his gut – a pull to the water. He slipped out of bed, doing his best not to disturb Street, and grabbed his swimsuit, heading to the bathroom to freshen up and change.

Slipping quietly into his swimsuit, Percy felt the day's first rays of sunshine promising the warmth and clarity only a morning by the sea could offer. He grabbed his board, a silent companion in his pursuit of the waves, and made his way to the beach, his steps quick with anticipation.

The ocean greeted him like an old friend, its vast expanse a canvas for his thoughts and a playground for his skills. Percy lost himself in the rhythm of the surf, each wave a challenge, each ride a victory, however small. Time became irrelevant as he danced with the sea, the physical exertion a welcome release from the demands of the past few days.

An hour later, as Percy lay on the sand, his board beside him, the tranquility of the beach was a balm to his soul. The early morning solitude was precious, a rare moment of peace in the midst of chaos.

Street, having woken to find Percy gone, followed the pull of the ocean, intuitively knowing where he'd find him. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks—a shirtless Percy, relaxed and content, the very picture of serenity. The urge to join him, to share in this moment of quiet contentment, was irresistible.