Quicker (an Ell Donsaii story) (6 page)

“You!” Zymonds was bellowing in his ear. She looked up at his name on Phil’s t-shirt, “Zabrisk! Help your classmate!” She waved a hand at the Doolie in front of Phil who was falling back. “Like this!” She grabbed the cadet’s hand and pulled it up onto her shoulder, running a few steps in tandem with her, towing her along. “Now you, Zabrisk!”

Furious, Phil pulled up beside the Cadet and dragged her limp hand up onto his shoulder.
Why did he have to pick up this bitch’s slack?
He saw up ahead that Donsaii was being pulled along by another of the stronger Doolies. It surprised him because she
looked
more physically fit than a lot of the other Doolies, but apparently she was weaker than she looked. The squad leaders kept them going ‘til they all felt like they were dying. Then they kept them going ‘til they all wished they’d already died. The strong ones were dying just as much as the weak ‘cause the strong ones were hauling the weaker Dools along ‘til they were on their last legs too. Ell and one of the guys finished the run practically being carried by Doolies on either side of them. When the Cadet Sergeants finally called a halt, a couple of the Doolies fell to their knees but Johnson, Smith and Zymonds were right in their faces yelling at them to, “get up and walk it out.”

Phil saw Donsaii bend over, grab her knees and puke. That brought a weak grin to his face. Unfortunately, Cadet Captain Andrews chose that moment to hove into view. “What are
you
grinnin’ about” she looked down at his nametag, “Zabrisk? Maybe you’re hopin’ to run a little farther? I
know
you’re not laughin’ at one of your classmates!”

“No Ma’am.”

“Stand at attention when you speak to me!”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Now, don’t smirk, help your classmates who’re in trouble walk around. You don’t want them to cramp up do you?”

“No Ma’am.”

“You smacks! Lissen up! This chain is only as strong as its weakest squat! Got that?”

A weak chorus, “Yes Ma’am.”

“What?!”

Stronger, “Yes Ma’am.”

“That means, if you’re a weak link, you better try harder. If you’re a strong link, you better help those weak links hold it together! Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“You weak links, better get in shape! If you can’t run a six minute mile by the end of the summer you’re outta here. Got that too?”

“Yes Ma’am.” They chorused again. Ell, dispiritedly, worrying because her terrible endurance made just the thought of running a mile painful. The possibility that she might get drummed out of the Academy if she couldn’t run a mile under six minutes after enduring this kind of torture all summer horrified her.

They started marching back toward the parade ground. The Doolie in front of Phil started staggering, so he grabbed her and threw her arm over his shoulder. They were doing OK but then Ell just fell over, right in their path. Phil stepped over her.

“Column… Halt. What the HELL ‘re you doin’ squat?” it was Zymonds, in Phil’s face again.

“Ma’am, I’m helping this cadet, Ma’am.”

“What about the one you just stepped over, smack?”

“Ma’am, I… I thought someone else would help her, Ma’am.” He couldn’t tell Zymonds that Hell would freeze over before he helped that particular classmate. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that someone had bent over and was trying to bring her around. She seemed to be out cold though. Eventually they marched back up to the parade ground and into the cafeteria, leaving her out there with Cadet Sergeant Smith. Smith dragged Ell in a few minutes into breakfast and sat her in the empty chair across from Phil. 

Ell didn’t seem too much the worse for the wear and as soon as she sat down her eyes widened as she saw Phil sitting there. Astonishment coursed over him as she gave him a crooked smile and a one finger wave—as if he were some kind of long lost friend! Breakfast was eaten at attention and so no words passed between them. In fact, the whole morning passed with no words spoken among the Doolies. They marched, they ran, they attended a class on military ethics, they marched and then they got a little break out under the trees before they marched back in to lunch.

“Hey, Phil, how’re you doin’?” Ell just flopped down and started talking to him like they were old buddies!  He guessed they probably did know each other better than any other two members of their squad, maybe the entire squadron. It just didn’t seem to him like they knew each other in a way that would be conducive to a pleasant greeting. When he didn’t answer, just sat there with his back to a little pine tree staring at her, she said, “Hey, you still pissed? I’m really, really sorry about what happened back there in Chapel Hill.  You just scared me, and when my adrenalin gets pumpin’ funny things happen.”

At the time he had
some
idea just what kind of things could happen when “her adrenalin got pumping” but he didn’t understand what he knew. However, Ell was finding to her relief that, with the intense work she’d been doing on it, she was developing better and better control of when and how far she went into the zone. 

In any case, it became evident that she held no grudge over his familiarities on that day last fall. Phil kinda wished the same were true for him.

As their basic training progressed, Phil’s excellent physical conditioning stood him in good stead.  Even though being in shape for wrestling wasn’t perfect conditioning for the kind of high altitude endurance running and calisthenics they were going through, his condition so far outstripped most of the other doolies that he wasn’t under a great deal of strain. Of course, there were some cross country runners and other endurance athletes who felt it even less than he did, but the biggest pain for him was having to help drag along the doolies who were out of shape.  Some of them quit the Academy rather than endure the daily agony. With the biggest anchors gone, their squad’s speed picked up, but never to a level that really stressed Phil’s system. 

On the other hand, Ell’s struggles with the endurance parts of their conditioning were legendary. Passing out on that first run indicated the problem. Though she never went out cold again, she did throw up nearly every run. Annoyingly, though she herself struggled, she kept trying to help those around her; always a “buck up, there” comment for those who were dying around her. Hell, she would be looking like death’s own sister and she’d still stagger over to try to help another doolie! Phil found it frustrating because it used up her reserves faster and then
she
needed help sooner. Every run of a mile or more she had to be helped by her classmates. The sergeant would yell at her for being so weak and Phil would smirk inside. But then the upperclassmen would rain shit on Phil because he wasn’t trying to help; obviously, he had more reserves than she did. So, she made him look bad,
and
she got him more work,
and
he had hated her before this started, so their relationship sat in the toilet and stank. Ell couldn’t seem to understand that he hated her guts. She frequently complimented him for helping out the weak dipwads in their squad—which did make him feel good. But the warm feeling from the compliment washed over him without reflecting back on her.

No one else seemed to hate her though. It was easy to see why—amazingly good looking young woman, trying unselfishly to help out others, even when she was in worse shape than they were. Hard to hate. Yes, her poor scores on endurance tests dragged the squad down. But, though Phil’s blind spot meant that he hardly noticed, her high scores on tests requiring speed or coordination brought the squad up. Rather than simply riding her, the upperclassmen actually seemed to be trying to help her!

For her part Ell worried a lot. Despite all the exercise, her endurance didn’t seem to be improving. Throwing up every day seemed to be sucking the life from her, to say nothing of the physical exhaustion that had made her puke in the first place. Other Doolies were dropping out of the Academy, and every day during runs their example led her to think of dropping out herself. But she couldn’t return home with her tail between her legs. She couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that knowing smirk on Jake’s face. So, day after day, she suffered the agony of the training. She suffered the embarrassment of being dragged the last part of any endurance endeavor by her classmates. When her classmates spoke quietly outside her hearing she worried that they spoke of her and her inadequacy. Her greatest fear was that there were some other ‘minimum’ physical standards in addition to the six minute mile that she would have to measure up to by the end of the summer and that they would “wash her out” despite all her agonizing efforts.

Phil couldn’t reconcile this “wimp” chick with no staying power with the woman who’d beat the crap out of him one night back home. The second thing that Basic eventually began to reveal about her, even to Phil, was her surprising speed. Her performance on the beginning of the obstacle course seemed freakish.  She would start way faster than anyone else could. Climbing, jumping, swinging, leaping over stuff—Ell was the best in the squad, significantly quicker than any of the guys even. She performed some amazing feats at the start of the course. No one, not even any of the guys could stay close behind her in the first half of the route. But the obstacle course was pretty long and by the end, she’d be dragging horribly. A run that started out like it would break records would finish with her staggering across the finish line with a time that actually dragged the squadron’s average score down. When Zymonds told her to start slower, it just made things worse! She still dragged badly by the end and, without the lead provided by her jackrabbit start, her time on the course was even worse.

A few weeks into Basic, a long run took them out into the woods where they took a break in the shade for lunch. After lunch they had a short break while waiting for an instructor to arrive to give them a survival lecture. It was hot and a lot of the guys took off their shirts, Phil among them. Ell’s eyebrows ascended,
the guy was built like a Greek God!
Wide shoulders, narrow waist, ripped abs, huge arms, his physique was amazing. She found it hard to take her eyes off him. Then Phil got into a hand-slapping contest with Jason, another doolie who’d also been recruited for the wrestling team. It was that quickness competition where you put your hands out face up, and your opponent puts his hands over yours face down.  Then you try to flip your hands out, over and down to slap your opponent on the backs of the hands.  Phil’d always been very quick at it but, to his surprise, Jason almost held his own with him. Ell’d been covertly studying Phil’s amazing musculature, so was watching them at this game. She wondered if she could break through the distance Phil always kept between the two of them by joining into something he enjoyed. She walked over to them and said, “Can I try?”

Phil just ignored her but Jason said, “Sure cuteness.” Ell stepped forward with her trademark crooked smile and then noticed that everyone’s attention had suddenly focused on her. The girls rarely ever challenged the guys on physical contests and Jason was a real stud, so her act had grabbed the squad’s attention. But, she was kinda pissed about being called “cuteness” and in addition the spotlight gave her a little stage fright. She felt heart beat start to throb. She felt herself slipping into the zone and took a couple deep breaths to damp it down, reminding herself not to go too fast. However, she did kinda want to put Jason in his place so she didn’t force herself all the way out of the zone.

“I’m usually pretty good at reaction time stuff,” she said nervously, putting her hands over Jason’s. Inwardly Phil sneered because Jason was very good and he was sure Jason was gonna put some hurt on her. Then Jason flipped to strike but her hands were gone! The first time he flipped and no contact! Phil blinked.

Jason said, “Oooohh, got lucky.”

Well
, Phil thought,
after all, usually there’s a little luck involved in not getting smacked, especially the first time you play. Part of winning is guessing when your opponent is going to flip and actually starting your withdrawal before he moves. Lotta luck against someone as good as Jason but it can happen.

Real lucky,
Phil thought to himself.
But it won’t last.

Ell put her hands back out, palms up and Jason put his on top. Her pulse sounded as a slow throb in her ears and she realized that she had slid deeper into her “zone” than she wanted. She knew she’d jerked her hands away too fast when they were on top but thought no one had noticed.
Slow down!
She reminded herself. So, at a pace that felt slow, she pulled her hands out from under his and slid them smoothly out and around to come down on the backs of his hands. She realized from the fact that his hands hadn’t even started moving when hers were coming down that she was still moving way too fast! No! She tried to slow more in the last milliseconds but it was too late. Her hands smacked his. It sounded like a gunshot! The palms of her hands stung badly and she wondered what it was going to feel like on the more sensitive backs of Jason’s hands. Ell danced around with her fingers in her mouth, mumbling, “Sorry, sorry, too hard, too hard.” Jason’s hands flew downward with the force of the blow and his eyes widened as he realized just how badly he’d been beaten.

When Jason put his trembling hands back out there, the backs of his hands were scarlet! Phil saw with amazement that Jason’s eyes were watering! Ell asked, “You OK to go again? I really am sorry.” Jason just nodded, an astonished/apprehensive look on his face.

Phil watched with wide eyes. She didn’t hit him hard again but she whacked him over and over with ease, maybe twenty—thirty times. Then she seemed to realize how people were gawking and suddenly slowed down. Way down from the blurs her hands had been before and Jason finally managed a pull away. But before he got to try slapping her again, the squad was called to “form up” for the lecture.

Over the next few weeks, other people would occasionally try to get her to hand-slap but she always had an excuse and, if it happened, Phil never saw it. He thought of challenging her himself, but didn’t. He told himself that it was because he couldn’t stand her, but really, deep inside… he knew that he didn’t stand a chance against her.