Page 10 of Metal & Mud

He finally returned to his scrubbing, shoulders slumped from hours of training and the weight of potential disappointment. The paint stains proved as stubborn as old gum, but he attacked them with renewed intensity.

Carter strolled in half an hour later, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the stack of damp camouflage in front of Logan. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, jaw tight. “I’ll be done soon. Heard I’m stuck on post.”

“Adams told you?” Carter sighed sympathetically. “That’s rough. I was about to head out for the weekend. I’m meeting someone in town. I guess you’ll have the room to yourself.”

Logan forced a laugh. “Hope your date appreciates the fact you smell like paint and sweat.”

Carter just grinned. “She likes guys who can handle tough work. But hey, I’ll keep my phone on me if you need anything. You’ll be good?”

“Sure. Worst case, I can scarf down chow at the DFAC and spend some quality time shining my boots. That always makes Adams happy, right?”

Carter gave him a playful salute and headed for the door. “Try not to burn down the barracks. See you Sunday.”

Alone again, Logan resumed the repetitive back-and-forth of the brush, water dripping onto the cement floor. The laundry room’s fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and the battered clock on the wall ticked each second of the slow evening. He had come here determined to challenge himself, to take on more than an easy assignment. Now he faced the reality that being a member of Charlie Company, 3/3 Infantry was harder than any shadow he had ever wrestled with.

The memory of Adams, stern clothes, damp hair, a slightly softer expression, flickered in his mind. She wanted him to do better, or she would not have bothered to give him advice in the laundry room. And in spite of how often she got on his case, he thought maybe she believed he could rise to her standards. A faint spark of pride twinged in his chest at the thought.

He locked onto that feeling, that little push of hope, as he rinsed the last flecks of paint from the uniforms. He swore, right there, that he would find a way to focus his frustration and meet the demands of this unit. No more reckless showboating. No more letting Franklin bait him into reckless moves. If he was going to earn respect from men like Nichols and Bron, and especially from Sergeant Adams, then he had to become a soldier who could handle the pressure that came with being Cranked.

When the final stains were out, he set the uniforms up to dry, tossed the brush onto the table, and left the laundry room. He forgot his own exhaustion for a moment, letting determination replace every twinge in his sore muscles. He would stay on post, he would fight through the next day’s challenges, and he would keep pushing. If Adams was going to see more than a hotheaded rookie, he had no other choice.

* * *

6

SABBY

Friday was one of the late nights for the bowling alley, a night when the alley stayed open until eleven and Sabby did a lot of business. She didn't mind, it meant that she wasn't the only worker at the alley, and it was more interesting than when she could count the number of patrons on her hands.

She was surprised though when Jess came in at eight. While her sister wasn't a frequent patron of the alley, Jess would sometimes come in on a Friday night to hang out with her sister, often scarfing as much "dirty bulk" food as she could get her hands on before her weekend long rest period. But normally Jess was in earlier, not much later than seven or seven thirty.

And judging by the way Jess groaned as she sort of half waddled, half old lady walked her way up to the counter and leaned on it, her elbows firmly on the smooth acrylic coated top, Sabby could guess why Jess was late.

"Why do I think I can do this?"

"Because you still think that you should be the strongest person in your squad even though you've got that moose Bron in there with you," Sabby said with a grin, putting a soda down in front of her sister. "Here. Drink up. I assume you've already finished your post-workout recovery?"

"Thanks," Jess replied, lifting the cup and drinking deeply. She drained half of it before setting it down, gasping lightly.

"You need the sugar, and soon enough I'll fill you full of fats and carbs too," Sabby said. "So you went at it hard tonight?"

"Yeah, after my lifting event," Jess said. Sabby nodded, remembering the few times she'd gone with Jess to her gym. It was an old warehouse with bare brick walls and black rubber flooring, with regular equipment in the front for casual lifters and a section in the back with specialized equipment for the serious athletes.

"And why did you abandon your training plan for this?" Sabby asked. As long as she'd known her sister, Jess had been methodical about her workouts, planning them with precise attention to detail.

"Just the new doofus in the fireteam," Jess admitted, and Sabby relaxed slightly. "We got delayed getting off work because he got mad, charged in like a damn fool, and the rest of the team paid the price by catching a paint grenade along with getting blasted by crossfire."

"Well I'm glad you're okay," Sabby said before going over and ringing up a pair of games at the register. "So this new guy's still being a pain in the ass, huh?"

"He's got some talent," Jess admitted grudgingly, "his drill sergeants at Benning did a decent job of teaching him the basics. And he's in good shape. But dammit he's hard headed."

Sabby laughed. "Yeah, Manheim came in and told me a bit about it. Said that Hollywood doesn't seem all that bad, just a bit green. Isn't green good in the Army?"

Jess snorted, shaking her head. "Not in my fireteam it isn't."

"Also said that you just need to relax, you're pushing yourself too hard," Sabby added. "You don't need to prove yourself the biggest badass every day, Jess. You've earned your spot, and if you don't take your foot off the gas a little bit, you're going to burn yourself out. You're also going to burn your team out."

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