BlindFire Read Free Page A

wind turned umbrellas inside out .  He  smiled  at  them  as  he passed  by,  they  reminded  him  of  the  water  rats  he  used  to  shoot wit h  his  brother  as  a  kid  on the banks of   local  canals  around  Sheffield.
      "What the hell am I doing?"   The  Soldier  muttered  to  himself,  as he  wiped  the  sweat  and  rain  from  his  eyes.. He had to train like hell just to keep up with the younger guys these days.
      Staff Sergeant Danny Stone was feeling his age. He was getting older with every passing year and the young paratroopers ; well they just seemed to be getting younger and fitter.
      It  was  this   thought  which  prevented him   from  heading  for  home. Besides he was already as wet as he ever could be. The voice of  the weatherman  echoed  in  his  head  like  some  sarcastic  comedian; 'Light  rain  in  the  North', he  almost  smiled.
       It was only five days until the cross-country championships which the Commanding Officer had graciously entered him into. He hadn’t won it in ten years but it was always a good laugh with the rest of the cross country team. It would be good to get back to England for a couple of days and visit some of his old mates in Colchester . This secondment to the Royal Engineers was beginning to wear thin. The guys were OK but they weren’t paratroopers.
      He  knew  he  could  run  endlessly  keeping  to  this  pace,  but to  make  it worth  while  he  had  to  constantly  push  himself.  Gradually  gaining speed  with  every  step  he  could  feel  his  lungs  begin  to  tighten.  His black  combat  high  boots  pounded  the  ground  harder  and  harder,   he began  to  feel  himself  loosing  control  of  his  breathing,  so  he  slowed down  filling  his  lungs  with  much  needed  oxygen.  Treating  his  body like  a  finely  tuned  instrument  he  placed  his  feet  on  the  ground, aiming  for  a  crack  or  a  puddle  for  no  other  reason  than  to  take  his mind  off  the  ever  increasing  pain caused by the build up of lactic acid .
      A  trickle  of  water  flowed  down  his  back,  was  it  rain  or  sweat ?  He  really  didn't  care ,   for  what  he  sought  now  rose  up  above him  like  a  giant  grey snake,  winding  and  twisting  until  it reached  the  top  of  the  ridge. This place was known as the ‘three sisters’ because the road rose three times before the summit.
       He  arrived  at  the bottom  of  the  slope,  leaning  forward  and  taking shorter   steps   he   accelerated   up   the   incline.  After   the   first   three  hundred  meters  he  began  feeling  the  incessant  tugging  of  his  calf’s, the  strain  in  his  thighs  and   the  wet  material  of  his  lightweights digging  in  to  his  crotch.  Breathing  was  almost  impossible  as  he forced  the  oxygen  in  to  his  lungs.  Looking  up  he  realised   there  was only  one  hundred  meters  to  go, gritted  teeth  and  determination forced   him  up  the  last  twenty  meters. Staggering  to  a  fallen tree  he  sat down  and  drank  in  huge  mouthfuls  of  air and swigged greedily from his water bottle.
      After a two minute rest and some stretching exercises, he was off again. The  driving  r ain  had  all  but stopped ,  but  his  sodden lightweights  and  sweatshirt  clung  to  his  aching  limbs  making  running extremely  uncomfortable.
     
     
       Wet  clothes were strewn all over the damp floor, muddy prints that led  to a pair of black combat high boots were barely visible through  the steam  from a roasting shower. A terrible voice mimicking some long since dead singer echoed around the tiny bathroom as if trying to escape the