Welcome to the Marines (Corporate Marines Book 2) (11 page)

When I finally come to, the room is full of people and kit hanging everywhere drying out. The room may feel like a sauna, but I keep my cold-weather gear close to me.

Half an hour after I wake up, a bell goes off and we all stagger to our feet.

There is hot food laid out, and it’s all great.

Our female armour instructor walks in as we are wrapping up.

She starts right in on us with no warning. “The plane leaves in four hours. You will be ready to load on the plane in three hours.” She turns and leaves.

Every one of us goes back to the cots and collapses.

I think we’ve lost close to half of the candidates that had started.

I’m starting to realize that every time I see our armour instructor, the news is bad.

I pass out, hoping someone has set an alarm or stays awake.

It feels like seconds later I’m being shaken awake. I stumble to my feet and see all the outerwear is gone and I only have left what I’d been wearing when I fell asleep. There is also a bag that holds the clothes that I’d worn on the flight in. I quickly put them on.

I’m better prepared to face the weather than I was when we arrived, but not by much.

The staff laugh as they point us toward the door to the plane, and we take off at a run through the cold.

The storm has broken; it is still dark out, but oh so clear.

We load onto the plane as fast as possible and the air crew closes the hatch and the heat comes on. In minutes we are taxiing down the runway and taking off.

The video screen comes on, and there is my favourite body-sculpted corporate spokeswoman, smiling and looking so clean.

I stink, and I hate her.

“Congratulations, candidates! You have passed the cold weather training. The next stage of this training is going to involve a much hotter climate and living in the jungle. Just to let you know, the Corporation cares for you and would not endanger your lives in any way. As long as you follow the directions you receive, you will be fine. There will be a short flight, and then you will be much warmer. Good luck, and remember, the Corporation needs people that can push through!”

I pass out again.

I wake as we are coming in for a landing. I can’t see out of the windows, but I quickly strip down as I don’t want to sweat to death when we exit. Most of the rest have the same idea.

We land and taxi somewhere. Then, the door opens and a wave of heat hits us like a sauna. We move outside and across the landing field toward a series of large metal Quonset huts. The entire area is surrounded by a large chain fence and there are people working on it in the distance, using what looks like a flamethrower to burn back the vegetation.

We are led toward a larger steel building. Inside there are several large fans spinning that do nothing to cool or circulate the air. We only go maybe two hundred meters from the plane to the inside of the building, but my head is spinning and I am soaked with sweat. There are tables with bottles of water on them. No one is saying not to, so we each grab whatever we can carry and start drinking. We walk deeper into the building and there we find the lead armour instructor. I have no clue what she’s called.

I decide from now on that she will be known to me as Armour.

Again, she is standing on a small stand behind a podium.

She smiles, but it isn’t warm at all. In fact, it fills me with dread. “Greetings, candidates. You made it through the hard part. Cold stops people from thinking. Now it is time for hot. So hot that you won’t bother thinking and instead will just act. You have gone through a large climate change in a few hours. You will depart tomorrow and carry out a series of navigation exercises. You will be briefed on different equipment tomorrow for three hours before you depart.”

While she talks, two candidates collapse. I see that one of them is Mouth. I grimace. Nothing would stop her.

Armour continues. “Go to the cots and realize that bug netting is your friend. We will destroy your first-world delicate senses and then, after a very short stay here, head back to the base for you to carry on eating cake and generally being weak-willed. Drink as much as you can and then rack out.”

She turns and walks out of the building. I don’t think she’s even sweating.

I have three full bottles of water and head toward the side of the building where cots and bug nets are spread out. I drain all three bottles and then grab two more and go to lie down.

I end up lying there sweating, wearing nothing but my underwear. I had thrown a blanket down to soak up my sweat so I don’t have to lie in a pool of it.

I swear I won’t be able to sleep. Then, there is blackness.

The next thing I know, voices are yelling, “Get up! Get up!”

I try to sit up but can’t, so I reach down and grab my water and drink both remaining bottles.

After all that water, I should have to relieve myself but I don’t really feel any need to. I’m in real trouble, I know that much.

I’m able to roll off my cot and stand. The blanket is a sopping mess.

I stagger over to the table and start drinking more water, and when I’m finally feeling bloated, start wiping at the crud that feels like it’s coating my eyes.

In the centre of the large room are two small brown-skinned men. They sort of look like they would live in this hot country, so I guess that they are locals working for the Corporation.

It’s the same as in the Arctic. We are briefed on equipment and then the area. We need less equipment here because the weather won’t kill you unless the heat gets you. Here in whatever jungle hellhole we are in, it’s the creatures that are the problem: every animal wants a piece of us, as do most of the insects and fish.

There are multiple sets of gear out, so I ask the instructors which is the best for the area. They laugh and said it won’t matter. Any of this high-end clothing will be mostly rotted away in a few days.

They are wearing rough clothing, probably made locally, and sandals that look like they were made from old rubber tires. They are both wearing really long knives on their belts and have belts crossing their chests with bullets mounted in them.

Then it hits me: there is all sorts of gear, but no weapons.

I ask them about that next. They both just laugh at me again and say we won’t need them; after all, the animals in the jungle are usually smart enough to stay away from a high-fat diet.

I figure that I am going to die soon.

Everyone else is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. We never ask questions unless asked for input.

It doesn’t matter at this point. There are so many dangerous animals that do want a high-fat diet of North American that I figure I will last five minutes.

I listen to everything that the instructors say. The one tidbit that we are given comes at the end. They both are laughing at us and then say that they are local guides. A good point for all the hunting animals in the jungle is that they like a path. Most are smart enough to recognize an armed person or party and will stay away. But if they see small groups of unarmed people that are acting afraid? They’ll be in and out faster than we would believe.

The older of the two claps me on the shoulder as he walks by, stops and then says, “Don’t be a snack. Do
not
take the paths or any obviously easy routes, as those are always the ones that are watched. Good luck, young one.”

He starts walking again and follows his younger friend out, and they disappear into the complex.

I grab all my gear and then look around for the odds and ends. I have fishing line and a knife to cut up the fish that I’m supposed to catch. I go through the rest of the gear and find an extra knife and more fish line. I just need a nice long stick, and if I can tie it off properly, then I’ll have a spear to take care of some of the nasty animals.

Everyone else has been watching me and then they start copying me. There is not enough extra gear to make up more than a handful of weapons. No one wants to use their personal gear yet, as we are not sure of the size of the groups that will be going out.

Armour comes in and looks us over. She steps up to the podium again and then announces, “You will be deploying out in groups of two. You will each be on a different route and have a navigation tracker, just like in the Arctic. You may decide what, if any, gear you want to leave behind. The first group will depart in ten minutes.”

I look at my partner. I’ve never talked to him before. He looks nervous. He is still plump, even after all the physical training, and that probably helped him in the Arctic but might not be an advantage here in the jungle. Plus, I don’t know what he is like or how he will react.

He already has his small backpack open and is taking things out. I do the same.

Everything that we have duplicates of, he pulls out and puts to the side, except for the water bottles and large cup that works as a plate. I stare at what he wants to leave behind.

He looks at me. “If we cut down on extra weight, we can move faster, and we have a lot of stuff we don’t need. One is enough.”

He is an idiot. He’s going to leave the water filtration system behind, most of his food, his mini first-aid kit, his fishing gear and his personal bug net. He thinks for a second and then puts the bug net back.

I just look at him and speak slowly. “You need to take everything there. If any of our other stuff breaks, then we have no backups. Puritabs are great at making sure the water does not kill us, but that doesn’t mean it removes all the sludge that is in there. If you want to leave some stuff behind, leave the socks and extra junk clothing like that.”

He glares at me. “I like dry and clean feet.” He sounds defensive.

I shake my head. “We are in whatever jungle hellhole in the world they could find for us. I think our socks will last a few hours and then rot away in this heat and humidity. And towels? They ain’t going to do anything when we have leeches on us or you’re trying to mop the sweat away. It’ll be back in second anyway. Take the equipment we need.”

He shakes his head no. “I’m good, and we’re going to be fine.” He’s closing his bag up now. He doesn’t even ask me if he can take any of the gear I have. His backpack looks really empty.

I shrug and open my backpack up. I take out all but one smaller towel and leave myself one pair of socks as backup. I notice that one of the pairs of new socks already has some mould. I don’t know how long it had been sitting out here waiting for us to arrive, but I’m not willing to chance it so I leave those and only take what looked good of mine. Then I take his water purifier, tuck the first-aid kit in a side pouch and grab some of the trail mix he left behind.

When I close the bag again and put it on, it’s a bit heavier than before, but I’ll be okay. He hasn’t even noticed; he’s off to the side staring at the jungle.

How the hell did he make it this far?

I walk over and join him and nod at Armour. She stares at us both, seeing what is very obvious but says nothing. She asks, “Are you both sure that you are ready to head out?”

No one else has been asked this question or even been talked to as far as I am aware. I sigh; we are so screwed.

Then I plaster a smile on my face and give her a thumbs up.

She snorts. “Go.”

We’re off. I bet she was snorting because she knows there will be two less candidates coming back from this group.

We take off into the jungle. Plump guy is holding on to the navigation device like it’s a lifeline.

I actually feel a lot better having had a day to acclimatize and something like eight litres of water to drink.

We walk for half an hour and then rest for fifteen minutes.

It feels good to be out and not be freezing to death, but all the plump guy can do is talk. “It’s too hot. It would be nice if there was a breeze or something to help us cool down. The humidity here has to be 120 in the shade.”

He keeps it up constantly.

I think about knifing him or tripping him and then pushing his recall button so that he would be out. But I can’t do it. We are all supposed to be focused on passing and teamwork.

I snap when we come to a game trail that goes in the same rough direction and he immediately starts on it.

“What are you doing, you idiot?”

He stops and glares at me while chugging his water back. “What do you mean? We can save a lot of time if we take the path. When we get closer, we just swing off the trail and find the sensor.”

I shake my head. “Didn’t you hear what the instructors said? Paths and trails are usually watched by hunting animals. We have no weapons and they aren’t dumb. We are going to end up on some animal’s dinner plate.”

He snaps back at me, “Well, we would be armed if you would make two spears!”

I shrug. I had found two decent-size sticks and started tying my spear together. All the wood was rotten. I need a good hardwood or more skills on how to make prehistoric weapons. I had seen some scrap metal lying around the complex that would have worked, but I hadn’t grabbed it. So for now I’m carrying the knife in my hand and hoping that I look violent and not tasty.

He grumbles some more and then moves off into the brush again. I offer to take point but he won’t give up the navigation tool.

We find the first spot a little over a kilometre from the complex. After we take the reading for the next, we take off. We are almost there and there is still lots of daylight when he stops, again. He is looking around and then finds a tree. He starts climbing it.

I’m giving up on this guy. “What are you doing?”

He stops on a branch about six feet up and looks at me. “Finding a place to sleep.”

I just stare at him. We have been trekking through nasty jungle with too much overhang, lots of underbrush, and rot and humidity as constant companions. Now he’s stopping with two hours of light left and thinks this is acceptable?

I shrug to myself and carry on. I know the direction that the sensor is in and they are never hard to find because they are the only man-made item around. I had seen the nav screen. We’re only about 150 meters short of it.

There’s a rustling up high and then he calls out. “Hey! Where are you going!?”