Over dinner, Faith and Shannon discussed strategies for the upcoming land navigation event. Shannon mentioned that her map had been confiscated during the initial “shakedown,” much the same way Faith had lost his compass. She, too, had reported to the location specified in her instructions, only to be told that she was in the wrong spot, and to ultimately end up in a blacked-out van on the way to an undisclosed location. The two of them made a deal that, if the instructions they were given allowed, they would partner up on the land nav event. If they pooled resources, they might get through the event together.
After they were done eating and planning, Faith stopped by to thank the cooks as he threw away his now-empty plate and utensils.
“Seconds?” the head cook, a young-looking staff sergeant, offered.
“No thanks,” Faith said, smiling. “That was the best chow I had in a while, though, for sure.”
“Want anything for the road?” the cook pressed.
“Do you have anything that’s not going to spoil in the back of a rucksack?” Faith asked. The cook glanced over at a small pile of non-descript rectangular cardboard boxes.
“MREs?” Faith inquired. The cook nodded. “Thanks, brother.”
“Don’t thank me until you make it through,” the other man said. “Good luck!” he added before issuing instructions to the other cooks to start breaking down the chow line.
“Leaving so soon?” Faith teased.
“We’re supposed to be out of here before the cadre members come back,” the cook replied. “Which will be in…” he consulted his watch “Seven minutes. Plus or minus 30 seconds.”
Faith looked at the pile of MREs and did the mental math. If all the boxes were full, he knew that there were 12 meals in each box, and there were 14 or so candidates. So there were enough MREs for everyone to get two meals each. Almost. Faith noticed that at least one of the boxes had been opened and was about half full. At least one person would have to be short a meal.
“MREs!” Faith announced to his favorite candidates. “Come get them and put them in your rucks before the assessment cadre members show up. Two each!” Individuals straggled up to the boxes and took two MREs. Faith noticed one fellow candidate, a tall man Faith figured for a pilot, began rifling through the MREs, looking for the ones he liked.
“Hey bro, don’t rat fuck the MREs,” Faith admonished gently. “Just grab two.” The other man bristled.
“Who the fuck put you in charge?” he challenged, standing face to face with Faith.
“No one,” Faith admitted. The other man, who Faith decided to nickname “Ken” because of his doll-like good looks, made a “that’s what I thought” face and bent back down to the box. When he was satisfied with the two meals he had, he gave a withering glance at Faith and then stalked back to his rucksack to store his MREs. The man in line behind Ken looked at Faith and stuck his hands in the box of MREs, coming up with the first two meals he randomly grabbed. “Thanks, bro,” he said before heading back to his own ruck.
Faith was pleased to see that although she was seated relatively close to the MRE line, that Shannon waited until everyone else had received their meals before getting up to get one of her own.
“Anything left?” she asked cheerfully.
“Well, there are two of us and only two MREs left,” Faith informed her. “Why don’t you pick out the one you want, and I’ll take the last one?” he suggested.
Shannon fished both of the remaining MREs out of the box and held one in each hand. Without looking at what the meals were, she said, “I’ll take this one,” waving the MRE in her left hand and handing the one in her right over to Faith. When he received it, Faith looked at the wrapper. “Tuna with noodles,” he announced. Not his favorite meal, by a long shot. Shannon looked at hers. “Want to trade?” she asked. Whatever else it was, it would bound to be better than what he currently had. He nodded and they exchanged MREs. Faith looked down at the meal he had just received. Tuna with noodles. Shannon smiled mischieviously and turned to go back to her rucksack as Faith laughed out loud. Faith tidied up the empty boxes and re-arranged them the way they had been set up by the cooks. He had just finished putting all of his gear back on when two black vans pulled up, and screaming cadre members poured out of them.
“Plus or minus 30 seconds,” Faith muttered to himself.
“Never Say Quit,” he heard another candidate answer.