House of Horror

The Hike

Graham swore under his breath and wiped the stinging sweat that had dripped into his eyes. He stared dead ahead at the uneven path in front of him, willing on his already aching legs and stretched out arms. He was as usual, at the tail end of the company, flagging behind woefully, whilst the other more hardy soldiers pushed on determinedly. He hoisted the heavy backpack further up his shoulders, in an effort to relieve the sharp edged straps that were digging painfully into his armpits. This was the final training session of the most grueling week Graham had ever experienced and to keep himself going, he kept an image of a steaming bath in his mind. He was starting to forget what it was like to rest.

In the last seven days he had been subjected to crack of dawn awakenings and ice cold showers with the other cadets. Most people have a fairly significant reason they join the army. Either they truly believe in the idea that serving one country is both their duty and an honour or alternatively and most often the case, they come from a bad family situation and see it as a way out. Graham didn't join for either of these. In fact the only reason Graham was doing this was to lose some weight and prove to his friends and enemies he was not a useless fat lump. And this is why Graham was struggling to keep up, a combined lack of psychological and physical strength. The other cadets were not only in better shape then him but they also knew why they were they, giving them a much more focused and stable state of mind.

Graham was just wondering how much further he could run, when his jelly like legs buckled slightly as the ground suddenly sloped upwards. He kept his gaze lowered to the dusty ground, refusing to look up, knowing that one of the many insurmountable hills of the Brecon Beacons rose above him. Graham could go on, would go on. It wasn't so much that he was fearful that he was suddenly going to collapse. In fact he was more scared about the fact that he didn't need to stop. The first few days had been the hardest but at the mid week point he had been beaten, bullied and forced so much against his will that he had been broken like a dominated horse. Yes he had lost some weight and proven to himself more then anyone that he was strong enough to do it but at what cost. He had been humiliated, tortured and laughed at by the other cadets as well as his Sergeant. All that Graham had achieved was to put himself in another situation where he was picked out as the weakest. Was this what his life had become? Prey to other more clever and stronger predators. Graham was brought back to a reality with a mouthful of dirt. He was lying face down on the ground, his arms crushed beneath him. He had tripped on a concealed root, a lapse in concentration.

'Private, on your feet now.'

Graham lifted his face from the ground and groaned, his lip red from a fresh cut. The company Sergeant was storming towards him, a look of fierce fury burning in his eyes. The other cadets had halted progress and were exchanging smirks and making snide remarks.

'Shut it!' The Sergeant roared and the company fell silent.

Graham tried to lift himself up but the heavy backpack pinned him to the floor, preventing any escape. The Sergeant kicked Graham hard in the shin.

'Get up, you shit.'

Graham clenched his teeth, forcing back a yell and tried again desperately to get to his feet. He got halfway and gave up, flopping back onto the floor like a marooned fish.

'We will not wait for you Private.'