Free Anaz-Voohri by Vijaya Schartz Page B

speak, move, or take a leak without my permission. And whatever I say, you salute and answer, 'Yes, Ma’am'. Understood?”
    The recruits stared in dumbfounded silence.
    “Understood?” she shouted then cupped her hand to her ear.
    Finally getting the message, Zack saluted. “Yes, Ma’am.”
    “Louder!”
    “Yes, Ma’am,” Zack yelled, joined by the other recruits.
    “Get in uniform and be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Fill your water canteens. Make sure your boots are the right size. It’s going to be a long march." She smiled, as if enjoying the effect of her words on the recruits. “Your tent is number six. Now scram!”
    Although offended by this rude treatment, Zack had no other choice. As he feared, the tent wasn’t air-conditioned. He’d really have to adapt to pass this rigorous training. He was in good physical shape, though, and could endure as much as any athlete.
    Still, Zack hadn’t given up his personal freedom to fall under the yoke of a total nut. What was he thinking when he’d enrolled? Didn’t he know the military was run by a bunch of power hungry freaks? Lobo’s comments came back to mind, and Zack realized he may not be cut out for military life after all.
    Although he knew there was more to this operation than this humiliating training camp, Zack resented being here. But most of all, he resented Lieutenant Tia Vargas, whose only purpose in life seemed to be making his sojourn at Camp Hell utterly miserable.
     
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Drenched in sweat, Zack could barely lift his swollen feet as he staggered uphill upon the uneven gravel of the rocky desert. The shoulder straps bruised his muscles to pulp, and the pack seemed heavier than its sixty pounds. He tasted salt and dust on his parched lips but had only one full canteen left, so he’d wait a little longer to hydrate. Next time he’d bring more water, no matter the weight.
    The number of recruits in his platoon had dwindled since he’d started training at Camp Hell four weeks ago. One defected, another suffered from exhaustion and one even mutilated his right hand for the sole purpose to be hospitalized. Zack couldn’t believe what some people did to themselves to escape conditions they couldn’t handle. Human nature at its sorriest. Why did they sign up if they didn’t have the resolve?
    Lieutenant Vargas led the march as usual, and Zack followed close behind her. Not bad scenery. Almost as tall as his six foot two, she was tanned and her thigh muscles bulged through the khakis as she climbed, stirring up dust in her wake. She’d tucked her long black hair into the beret, leaving her exquisite neck exposed. Although she kept a fast pace, Zack never saw her tired or sweaty. He wondered whether her pack weighed as much as his, but would never dare ask.
    She slowed down and came up beside him, smelling like a freshly plucked gardenia, perfect skin, her face devoid of any makeup. “What do you think this is, soldier? The Air Force?" A spark lit her deep brown eyes as they met his. She shoved his shoulder. “Put some conviction in your steps!"
    Zack stumbled under the shove. “Bite me,” he cursed softly under his breath as she quickly moved ahead. What was the bitch’s problem? She’d picked on him since the first day, no matter how well he performed. Zack hated abusers. His father had done enough of that. But if that was the price he had to pay to reach his goal and find Ashley, he’d gladly take her taunts.
    The sun had long passed its zenith and now pitched to the West, but its rays remained hot and blinding despite the sunglasses. Heat rose from the baked ground. Still they marched on among the dust devils that filled Zack’s collar with grit and hurtled tumbleweed in their path. After a forty mile march, they couldn’t be more than three miles away from camp. According to Zack’s estimation, they’d soon see it from the top of the hill.
    Heavy clouds to the southeast announced an approaching