Sharkbait
Training

“Curb stepping up to grass in five, four, three, two, one, now,” I sent to Amy as we ran off the paved bike trail and into the park. The cool of the morning felt great, and the mile we’d jogged was a good warmup for our beach run. “Slow to a walk now,” I said. “Let’s get the shoes off,” I told the other three. We removed our jogging shoes and socks, stowing them in the backpack I had with the water. We walked out onto the loose sand of Silver Strand. We left towels and bag on an open section of sand, then moved down to the surf line. “Four miles each way, ladies,” I said with a grin. Amy was out of shape from her time in the hospital, while Makani and Noelani didn’t have that excuse. They were Beta daughters who hadn’t been training as hard as they should.

That ended as soon as Kai’s parents left, and Kai left for BUD/S training five weeks ago. “We’re all each other has here, and we WILL be training hard,” I told the three. “If you think you’re going to lie around on the beach all day, sip fruity beverages, and flirt with humans, you may as well go home now. We are going to run or swim EVERY MORNING. We are going to lift weights three times a week. We are going to practice fighting in human form. We will drill protection scenarios, we will keep our eyes open, and we will stick together. Got me?”

Amy nodded; she was used to working out with me, and I think she missed it. “I’ll need help,” she said.

“We’ll be right by your side,” I said.

Makani said, “I’m in.”

Noelani wasn’t as sure. “So we’re NOT going to lay around on the beach sipping fruity drinks and flirting,” she asked quietly.

I lost it, and my laugh was contagious. “Amy and I are swimsuit models, we have to keep our tans and show off our Bodyglove swimsuits,” I said. “There will be time.”

Since then, we had gotten in a good routine. We started running the beach every morning at six, taking advantage of the mostly-empty park and the cool sand. After the run, we’d do yoga and calisthenics on the beach. The area near the beach entrance had exercise stations with things like step platforms, pull-up bars, monkey bars, and other equipment.

We had to run on the bike path for a mile to get to the beach, and I was slowly pushing them for longer and longer runs. Occasionally I’d move us away from the packed, wet sands to the loose stuff that made your legs burn. The twins hated the wakeup, but their bodies were getting stronger by the week.

Now, they didn’t complain as we fell into our routine. I was running in front with Amy two paces behind me, and the twins in a tail position. We headed north towards the amphibious base where Kai was going through Hell Week. His BUD/S Class 255 had started with a hundred and forty men, and thirty quit already. The instructors expected to lose half his class by the weekend. “He’s out there,” Amy suddenly said. We lived too far away for her to stay in mind link range, but if we got close enough on the beach, or if they were training in the ocean to the south, he could link up. “I told him to stay strong for us, and that I love him,” she said.

I sent him a quick encouragement, and I think his sisters did as well before he shut it down to concentrate on his paddling. Ten minutes later, we made the turn and headed back down the beach. After a water break, we did yoga on the grass to stretch out, then went through calisthenics. Situps, pushups, lunges, burpees; if it was good enough for Kai, it was good enough for us.

We were doing pull-ups when I saw the males starting to gather around. Human, but there were six of them. “Get ready to leave,” I told the others. “Noelani, you get Amy clear of here. Makani, keep control, you can’t show your wolf,” I said as the men moved closer. They started to say vile things to us as they tried herding us towards the parking lot. We didn’t have a car there, and that wasn’t our safety. I’d run to the ocean and drown the fuckers before I’d let anyone get shoved in a car.

“BACK. OFF.” Makani moved to my right as we casually got into ready positions. Amy was being led away from us.

“Aw, sugar, we just want to party a little,” the punk in front said. “You are some FINE looking bitches.”

I just snickered, the human had no idea. “We’re not interested. Move along before you get hurt.”

“I bet she’d feel SO good,” his buddy said.

“You take the two on the right,” I sent to Makani.

“I believe the young ladies asked you boys to leave them alone,” a deep voice said. The leader of the punks turned towards the new person. It was a man about fifty years old, wearing swim trunks and a Trident T-shirt with INSTRUCTOR on it. The way he looked at them was priceless; it was the look of a predator, who had ZERO doubt in his mind that he could fuck them all up if he wanted to. “Now, run along while you can.”

“Stay out of this, old man,” one of the boys said as he tried to get in his face.

The man let out a sigh, looking like he couldn’t believe they were making him do this. As quick as a mongoose, his hand shot out, his knuckles hitting him in the throat just below the chin. He went to his knees with his sole focus now on trying to breathe. “Now!”

The other five boys didn’t think we were a threat, so they all turned to help their friend. Before he could take a step, my spinning heel-kick knocked the leader the fuck out. Makani kicked the closest male in the balls, then drove her knee up into his face as her interlocked hands pulled his head down into it. With three of the six laid out, and the fourth begging for mercy as his elbow bent to an unnatural angle, the other two backed off with their hands up. The man let the guy's arm go. “Get these guys out of here and never come back,” he warned them.

They grabbed the two guys off the ground, leaving the teeth behind, and hauled them towards the parking lot before the old guy changed his mind. “Sorry about that,” he told us. “The riff-raff isn’t usually up this early in the morning. I’m Ted Northridge, but please call me Hammer.”

“Vicki Lawrence,” I said as I shook his hand. He had a firm grip, but I was a dominant predator as well, and I gave just as good. “Thanks for the assist.”

“It was nothing. I haven’t had that much fun in weeks, even if you did take two of them out yourselves. Nice form, by the way. You’ve had training?”

“Judo, karate and Krav Maga since I was six,” I said. “These are my friends, Makani, Noelani, and Amy.” The twins shook his hand, and he noticed Amy’s face as she tried to replace his hand to shake. “Amy was attacked in February and suffered a traumatic brain injury. She is legally blind,” I said as I moved her hand to his.

“But I’m getting better,” Amy said with a smile. "The blobs are getting smaller."

“I think we can take a break from our workout for a few minutes,” I said as I watched the SUV drive out of the lot.

“You’re a SEAL instructor?” Makani asked him.

“Retired as a Master Chief Special Operator,” he replied proudly.

“My husband, and the twins’ older brother, is in the class,” Amy said.

“Oh shit, Hell Week. Good for him. I’m sure you’ve heard it all, but your support is important for him to make it through.”

“Kai will make it, he’s too stubborn not to,” Amy laughed.

“We should get our stuff,” I said. “If someone called the cops, we may have to explain ourselves.”

“I’ll stay with you until you are safely in your car, that is, if you don’t mind,” Hammer said.

“We’d appreciate that,” I said. Noelani grabbed our stuff and brought it to the picnic table, where we sat and drank water while we got to know each other. Hammer was a great guy, with a lot of stories to tell from his career. His wife had been an executive at a San Diego company, who died of cancer three years ago. With his love gone, Hammer hung around the bars with his SEAL buddies and taught combat skills at a local dojo. “I have a question for you,” I said. “This isn’t the first time Amy and I have faced threats, but since her injury, it’s different.”

“I’m a burden on them now. Half our group was out of action because I can’t fight, and Noelani had to protect me,” Amy said dejectedly. “I can’t see a target clear enough to hit anything, so my training does me no good.”

“Do you all have the same training?”

“We’ve only had Krav Maga,” Makani said as she indicated Noelani.

“One thing I know from being a SEAL combat instructor is that no one discipline works for everything. Karate has become too focused on form and tournaments; it’s no longer concerned with doing damage. Krav Maga is better, but it is about hitting hard then getting away. I teach how to go through. What I need to know is what you girls are looking for when you have to fight. Is it to get away, to win, or to destroy?”

“Maybe some history would help,” I said. I started with the kidnapping when I was five, and told a sanitized version of my story up to now. Hammer only stopped me when I talked about my Bodyglove modeling. “That’s where I’ve seen you,” he said. “The dive shop has your poster on the wall!”

“We’ve got our posters on a LOT of walls,” Amy laughed.

"We have to go diving sometime," Hammer said. "I know lots of good spots nearby."

I didn't want to get too distracted, so I continued. “There is at least one person out there who might still want to kidnap or harm me, plus any danger our celebrity status places us in,” I said. “We might need to fight back and escape, or we might have to fight for our lives. I’m not going to be chained again,” I vowed.

“Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu,” he said after a moment. “Have any of you studied it?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve seen it on MMA fights.”

“It’s what I would suggest for Amy. Grappling and getting the guy on the ground takes away the size and vision advantage your attacker might have over her. I’ve got girls in my dojo who are like spider monkeys, crawling around on guys twice their size until they choke them out or submit them. If nothing else, it delays and disables her attacker until you can rally help to her.”

“We should all learn,” I said. “What about those more destructive tactics?”

“I don’t teach pretty techniques to SEALs; all I care about is winning the fight,” he said. “Knife combat, chokes, eye gouges, nut shots, biting, whatever it takes to live. Maximum damage in the minimum time.”

“Will you teach us?” Amy asked. “We’ll be here at least a year. We have classes in the fall, but it’s all online. We can work around your schedule.”

“I don’t do gentle, and you’d need to train five days a week to get up to speed in that time,” Hammer said.

“I don’t wake up at five-thirty in the morning to run the beach because I’m on vacation,” I replied. “I saw your eyes and your body language. You had no doubt you would win the fight. That’s the look I want to have, and what I want my friends to have. We can pay for the lessons. Just tell us where and when.”

He thought about it for a minute. “Be here at six in the morning tomorrow. I’ll run with you and decide if you’re worth my time,” he said.

I held out my hand. “That’s all I can ask.” The cops didn’t show up, and we packed up our stuff as we watched him head out on his run. “Let’s get home and look this guy up. I need to know he’s legit.”

It turned out he was. The next morning, he led the run, leaving all of us in his dust at the end. We didn’t give up, and as he ran us through exercises, I could see he was a little impressed. We even did some sparring on the beach so he could gauge our skill level. “Ten in the morning to noon, every weekday,” he said as he handed me the card with the name and address of his dojo. “If you don’t show, I’ll know you’ve quit on me.”

“I’m going to be at my husband’s side in a fight, not hiding behind him,” Amy said defiantly. “We’ll be there.”

“And we’re too stubborn to quit,” I said with a laugh. I’m sure Hammer had heard that from thousands of students.

He was right. His training wasn’t gentle at all. My wolf and I loved it.