‘Morning,’ Ben says, standing in the middle room with one foot on a chair as he bends over tying his laces. He looks half-asleep with his voice still deep from slumber.
‘Morning,’ Harry says, walking from his room and glancing at her wet jogging bottoms and chest bulging through the vest top in a polite avert-the-eyes-quickly way that makes Tango Two actually blush and want the ground to open up.
‘I am so sorry, but I don’t have any . . .’ Tango Two says as Safa strides out from her room holding a pair of trainers.
‘Will they fit? Miri’s going for supplies today, so we’ll get you some gear.’
‘Ben,’ Safa snaps.
‘What?’ Ben asks, looking up at her.
‘Stretch properly, you’ll pull a muscle.’
‘I am.’
‘You’re not.’
Ben stretches properly, grimacing at the pain in his hamstrings.
‘Better,’ Safa says, almost bent double as she forces her chest into her knees.
Tango Two stretches. Bent over the same as the others to ease the muscles in the backs of their legs. It’s so beautiful out here. The sun just rising to bathe the world in glorious orange hues. Noises screech from somewhere above the hillside. A thunderous racket of wood snapping, then it goes silent.
‘That happens,’ Safa says, seeing her looking round while bent double.
The gun containers are gone. They must have been locked away somewhere.
‘Shoes fit okay?’ Ben grunts the question out, red-faced from bending over.
‘Bit tight, but fine, thank you,’ Tango Two says. The tips of her toes are pushing against the end of the shoes, and if she runs any distance she’ll create blisters on her heels from not wearing socks. A wet arse. Squashed boobs and feet, and she’s looking across at Ben Ryder and Harry Madden while Safa Patel is telling them to stand up slowly.
They stretch each muscle group. Going slowly and carefully, easing into each stretch. Tango Two knows she isn’t the only one still a bit sore from the fight they had. The big fight. The one where she was fighting against these three. That one.
‘. . . off if you want,’ Safa says.
‘Pardon?’ Tango Two asks, realising Safa was talking to her, and instantly chastising herself for the lack of focus.
‘Shoes, take them off if they’re too tight. You’ll get blisters and fuck your toes up.’
‘Er . . .’
‘We’re only staying out here,’ Safa says, nodding at the side of the bunker.
‘I, er . . . I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.’
‘You are very polite,’ Harry says to her, pulling his right arm across his body with his left hand digging into the back of his right elbow.
‘I, er . . . Thank you.’
‘She is polite,’ Ben says by way of conversation. ‘Safa’s not polite,’ he adds by way of observation.
‘No,’ Harry says.
‘Fuck you,’ Safa says mildly.
Tango Two grins. She didn’t want to grin, but she does. She coughs to hide the giggle that suddenly threatened to come out.
‘You okay?’ Ben asks at the strange sound she just made.
‘Fine,’ she smiles at Ben, then remembers Harry is the one she should be flirting with and switches to smile at him instead.
‘You okay, miss?’ he asks at seeing the strange smile.
‘Fine.’ She stops smiling.
‘We’ll run for a bit, then stretch again,’ Safa says.
Tango Two follows the others to the imaginary start line, which is marked by the corner of the bunker.
‘Just gently,’ Safa says, jogging on at a very gentle pace.
She stays with them. Jogging lightly up and down. Her toes hurt. She wants to take the shoes off. She views the ground for debris that could harm her feet, but sees nothing. What about insects? Does the Cretaceous period have insects? What about poisonous plants? She reaches the start line, about-turns with the others and runs back up. Nope. The shoes really have to come off.
‘Limping,’ Safa says, jogging next to her. ‘Take ’em off.’
They all stop as she bends, pulls out the laces and places the trainers neatly to the side.
‘Ready?’ Safa asks.
‘Yes, thank you.’
She stays with them. Jogging lightly up and down and feeling the spongy foliage under her bare feet with the instant relief from not having her toes cramped.
The pace builds up steadily. Nothing frantic. Nothing too fast. Just easy. Safa dictates the pace, and from that, Tango Two begins to understand Safa is actually very good at this. She knows they all got hurt, so adapts to allow for it.
It feels nice to be moving, and that air is so pure. She glances down the valley side then at the sky and runs up and down. She starts breathing more heavily, and hears Ben and Harry do the same. As the pace increases, so Tango Two starts to sweat lightly, and again notices the same with the two men. Safa isn’t even breathing hard, she looks as fresh as when they walked out. Tango Two has a high level of fitness, but Safa must be in another league.
‘I’m going to push a bit more, but stop if you want,’ Safa calls across. She reaches the start line, about-turns and applies some power to her legs. The others follow suit. Keeping pace. At the next turn, she goes a bit faster. Not sprinting, but fast enough to get their arms pumping. To the last, they each feel the pleasure of the motion. Lungs expanding. Legs thrumming. Heads clearing.
‘I’m done,’ Harry says as he slows at the start line. His head still tender from the battering Alpha gave him.
‘Yep,’ Ben says at the next turn, easing to jog past the imaginary line.
‘Stop if you want. Not competing,’ Safa says.
‘Thanks,’ Tango Two says. She feels like she should stop so it doesn’t appear she is trying to compete, but it’s nice to be running.
Safa applies more speed to the end of the bunker and belts it back down. Tango Two stays at her side. Arms pumping. Legs buzzing. Lungs opening.
‘Out,’ Tango Two gasps, running past the start line.
Now Safa goes for it. There is no risk to anyone now. She sprints hard up and down. Turning fast with a fluidity that is a joy to watch.
‘Water,’ Ben says, nodding at the cups next to the flask on the table. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks.’ Tango Two pours a cup while watching Safa. The woman is incredible. Her level of fitness is far greater than she initially thought.
Ben sips his water and muses over the thoughts he had of Safa this morning when she came into his room.