The Last Blue Mile
Chapter One
The cold crept through her soles and the sand spattered the sides of her shoes. Brook Searcy leaned forward, suspended on the balls of her feet, and facing the shorn scalp of the cadet standing thirty inches in front of her, waited for the command. Thumbs pressed downward, pinching the seams of her trousers, she sensed the training officer strolling among them with his head cocked, eyeing their shoes, their chins tucked like goose bills into the folds of their scarves, their zippers buried in the lips of their coats. The wind whipped a moistness into her eyes. She stood poised, listening for his words, ready to spring.
Horaard, harch!
At once, the flight moved forward in a single, fluid procession. Their pale, clenched knuckles swung in unison. Brook, fourth down in the right-hand column, looked over the shoulders of the cadets preceding her. It was late morning. The training officer, Bregs, was somewhere off to the side, no doubt watching them with his ritual surliness. She closed her fingers together and affected a natural swing to the arms. Despite the wind, it felt better to be m ... read full excerpt from: The Last Blue Mile ebook
