Lindsay McKenna - Breaking Point

Bay felt her skin prickle as the lone SEAL’s green eyes narrowed speculatively, assessing her. He had a square face, strong chin, wide-set eyes and was deeply tanned from being out in the elements. His black hair was dusty, longish and reminded Bay of a raven’s wing. He was tall and she felt coiled energy around him. His right hand rested relaxed across the rail system on top of his M-4 rifle. Even though he appeared to be at rest, Bay noted the tension in his broad shoulders. There was nothing casual about this shooter.

Bay was used to relying on her intuition, which was finely honed by her years of living in the Allegheny Mountains with her hill family. This man was lethal in ways she couldn’t imagine. Yes, SEALs, as she understood them, were at the tip of the black ops spear. They went out on patrol or a direct action mission and moved into harm’s way. SEALs were intent on taking out HVTs, high-value targets. Bullets were going to fly when they entered the picture. Still, there was something about the lone SEAL that touched Bay’s fast-beating heart. If she hadn’t been so tired and stressed at being thrown into this awkward and unexpected situation, she might have picked up more about him.

“Okay, gentlemen,” Brafford said, “you’ve read it. Now sign your life away so we can move on.”

Bay stood next to the AOIC, a tall, lean second lieutenant, Reed Latham. The AAOIC, an ensign, Pete Scardillo, watched and listened. The chief had told her the SEALs were instituting a new officer training template. The AAOIC was a recent graduate and officer, but he’d be going out on every mission with the SEAL shooters, learning the trade. Latham critically watched his SEAL shooters. They were all enlisted men, Bay knew. Like her. Would they accept her or not? She’d worked with Marines and Army Special Forces in Iraq over the past three years. She’d heard about the clandestine SEALs, who had an awesome reputation of being a deadly force behind the scenes. Now, for the first time, she was getting a personal and up-front look at them. There was a lot of muttering and grumbling among them.

Hampton moved through the group, took the signed papers and walked over to the AAOIC and handed the sheaf to him. The chief then came and stood at Bay’s side.

The tension in the room amped up. Bay felt every pair of SEAL eyes on her. She wanted to cringe inside her cammies and hide. This wasn’t going to go down well. She could feel it.

“Chief,” Brafford said mildly, “would you like to finish up introducing our new doc and getting her assigned a mentor?” He eased off the stool.

“Yes, sir,” Hampton said.

All three officers left through another door. Bay tried to appear relaxed, but her heart was pounding now, with adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. She watched Hampton take the stool with accustomed ease, his hands resting relaxed on his thighs as he regarded his men.

“I want to introduce you to your newest team member, Petty Officer First-Class Hospital Corpsman Baylee-Ann Thorn. She’s a combat corpsman. She’s been trained for a year by the Marines at Camp Pendleton and knows the drill on being a shooter. Plus—” he looked over at her “—she’s going to be one of our medics in our platoon. You’ll find her competent. And I know that all of you are going to have to be flexible about having a female in our midst. I feel sure you guys can handle it. Be gentlemen and understand that because she’s a medic, your life is in her hands. Got it?”

Bay saw a lot of unhappy faces in front of her. They didn’t want a woman around. She could feel their anger, surprise and distrust of her being an outsider to the tight SEAL team. Swallowing hard, Bay kept her face carefully arranged. Somehow, with the chief’s help, she was going to have to make this work. The SEALs were a badass group. None of them was smiling. All but one, frowning.

“Doc, why don’t you come up here and introduce yourself? Tell the guys a little bit about yourself,” Hampton invited, gesturing for her to step forward.

Oh, Lord, give me strength. Doc was the nickname every combat corpsman was called in the military. Bay stepped next to the chief. “Good morning,” she said, “I’m Corpsman Thorn. I know my first name is a mouthful, so most folks call me Doc or Bay.” She fearlessly met their black, flat stares. “I know this is an odd situation, but I promise you, I won’t become a liability. I’ve been working for years over in Iraq with Marines and U.S. Army Special Forces. I know the drill.”

Hampton intervened. “Well, I can tell you that Doc is a very humble person. She isn’t going to brag on herself.” He smiled a little over at Bay and then shifted his attention to the team. “Doc Thorn is the first woman to ever be allowed to go through and graduate from Army 18 Delta combat medic training. Almost two-thirds of the Army Special Forces guys who go through this eighteen-month course fail. But she didn’t. She’s used her skills for the last two years in Iraq combat situations and hasn’t lost a man yet.”

All the SEALs looked at one another, doubly shocked. The 18 Delta combat medics were the golden hour in a field of combat. They saved lives that regular combat medics were not trained to do. Nearly all SEALs who were medics were graduates of 18 Delta. The looks on their faces turned to grudging respect.

* * *

GABE GRIFFIN SMILED a little to himself. Chief Hampton was smart. Bay showed her humbleness and yet nailed the disbelievers in the team with the one thing that counted: a damn good medic who could save their sorry ass if they got shot out on a patrol or mission. About half the SEALs sat back, seriously digesting the info. Baylee-Ann Thorn’s soft drawl wasn’t quite Southern, so he wondered where she was from. He liked her husky voice, her confidence as she stood relaxed in front of the group. For a medic, she was a good height and weight. Bay, as he decided to call her, was probably around five feet ten inches tall. In a firefight, this woman could haul a SEAL to safety if she had to. Adrenaline would make up the difference.

Still, as Gabe listened to her background, he was struck by how innocent Bay looked. She had light brown, slightly curly hair, pulled back into a riotous ponytail. With intelligent blue eyes, a nice mouth and kind-looking face, she wasn’t typical of a combat SEAL. She wasn’t beautiful. Rather, natural and at ease with herself and who she was. Gabe liked her easygoing nature, and as he studied his team, he saw a couple of the guys losing their bristling demeanor.

Yes, Bay certainly had a nice voice. The kind of voice you’d want around if you were bleeding out and going to die in two and a half minutes. You’d believe anything Bay told you because you trusted her and trusted her incredible training. Gabe wondered if her personality would be able to tame the animals in this squad of eight shooters. They all sat alert on their benches, listening closely to what she had to say.

Chief Hampton looked at the team. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. “I want to welcome you to Alpha Platoon. Do you animals have any questions for her?”

“Yeah, I sure as hell do,” Hammer, who sat on the first bench nearest them, snarled. “Just what the hell was the Navy thinking? Putting a woman in our platoon? I don’t care if this is some top-secret op or not. It’s insane.”

Bay winced inwardly at the tall SEAL’s angry comment. He had disgust in his eyes. She felt his emotions strike her.

Hampton sighed. “Hammer, stand down. This is not her fault. Doc did volunteer for this experiment. Keep in mind this op has been ongoing for three years and it has been very successful.”

Hammer glared at the chief, challenging him. “Have there been any other bitches assigned to a SEAL squad?”