Page 6 of Metal & Mud

“What was that on the sprint?” she asked, voice low so only he could hear.

“What do you mean, Sergeant?”

“You had more to give, but you eased up. You think I didn’t notice?” Adams stepped closer, baring her teeth in a predatory smile. “You either give one hundred percent or you get the hell out of my fire team. That means every single meter of that track, no exceptions, regardless of who’s next to you.”

Logan inhaled, wishing he could protest. “Got it, Sergeant.”

She scoffed. “We’re not basic training. We don’t do mindless jogs for camaraderie. We push ourselves. If you’re holding back for anyone’s sake, you’re wrong. Clear?”

He nodded, brow furrowed.

She read his frustration, and her smile turned acidic. “You feel like I’m bullying you, Hollywood? Feel free to ask for a transfer. Maybe they’ll send you somewhere like Fort Bliss, out in the desert. You’d be ready to come crawling back after a few months tanning in the alkaline dust.”

He stiffened. “Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a promise. Show me you care about being here, or you’ll spend your enlistment wishing you’d never joined my team. Now get cleaned up and eat. Tomorrow, I better see you run like your life depends on it.”

Logan watched her walk off. He wanted to argue, but he was also determined not to give her more ammunition. He’d bust his tail until she ran out of complaints. With a final shake of his head, he climbed into his truck and left, already anticipating the next day’s test.

* * *

4

SABBY

Sabby sometimes joked that Fort Pickett was the Army’s strangest base. It belonged to the Virginia National Guard, and most of its facilities were bare-bones. Yet it had one place that stayed open late and did it all: a bowling alley that doubled as a pool hall, a cafe, and a hangout spot. Officers had their own club, which they tended to favor, so this alley was mostly an enlisted domain.

Sabby had worked there for a year, a stroke of luck considering her dyed hair and rebellious style didn’t scream “ideal military spouse or dependent.” She wasn’t even tied to the Army beyond her sister, Jessica Adams, an infantry sergeant in the 3/3 Infantry. The job was a perfect fit for Sabby because it gave her the downtime to focus on her online classes in graphic design. She also learned a lot just by listening, picking up the interplay of ranks, the ways active duty and National Guard viewed each other, and the weird little details of rural Virginia life.

At the moment, business was slow. She had only the usual trio of retirees bowling one lane, men who’d probably known each other since they were privates. Sabby dropped three corndogs in the fryer, humming softly while she let her mind wander to ideas for her next design project. The alley could be a decent muse; when it was quiet, she had time to think. Most midday hours were like this.

When the timer pinged, she pulled the corndogs from the fryer, gave them a dash of salt, and brought them out on a paper tray along with ketchup and mustard. “Here you go, boys. How’re they rolling?”

“The oil’s thick on the right side,” Jerome grumbled.

“Don’t blame Sabby if you’re hooking it into the gutter,” Robert teased, elbowing him.

She gave a playful shrug, then leaned to plant a light kiss on Robert’s mostly bald scalp. “You get the biggest corndog for defending my honor.”

All three men chuckled, and she stepped back behind the counter. She’d heard bits of their stories, eggs never cooked correctly in some far-off place, a reckless private who always drove too fast. The details mostly tangled in her mind, but she understood that these were unbreakable bonds.

She wondered if Jessica, so hard-nosed and unyielding on duty, would one day do the same, sit around with brothers or sisters-in-arms, half-laughing at jokes only they understood. Sabby wanted that for Jess, for her to have people she could rely on, inside uniform and out.

The retirees wrapped up, handed in their shoes, and headed out. Sabby was spraying them down behind the counter when the door opened, letting in a soldier she recognized immediately: Brian Manheim. He was in Jessica’s company though not her platoon. He had a reliable routine, coming to the alley a few nights or afternoons a week. Tall, with brown hair and a kind face, Brian looked like he should have been in a happier place, sharing a house with a family. Instead, a drunk driver had taken his wife half a year ago. Sabby had met the woman once. The memory still stung.

“Hey Brian. Busy day?” she asked, setting her disinfectant aside.

“Not too bad,” he said, sliding onto a stool. “Ran land nav with the platoon this morning. Nothing stressful.”

She grabbed a cup. “Mr. Pibb, right?”

He chuckled. “You know me too well.”

She filled his cup at the fountain and handed it over. “I’m pretty sure it’s just sugar in a soda disguise.”

“That’s what makes it good,” he replied with a fond grin. Then he sighed. “Anyway, how about you? Slow shift?”

“Barely alive,” she said, waving a hand at the empty lanes. “Gives me time to think about my design projects. The big question is whether I’ll have enough good sketches by next week.”

---