Buck

Once everyone was crammed into the storage room, Buck set about organizing them to sit on the spare footlockers and did a quick headcount. He came up with twenty, good. Everyone made it.

“Sound off,” Buck ordered. “If you’re injured, report that.”

Twenty voices chimed in, one by one. No one was hurt, beyond a slightly twisted ankle for Matthews. She insisted it was nothing. Nguyen insisted on checking it. Buck left them to it. 

Buck took a deep breath, listening to the roaring wind overhead. That was no normal storm. Tornado? Could be. Would explain the green clouds. There should have been some warning, though. Tornadoes could whip up fast, sure, but there should have at least been a siren! 

“All right, campers,” Buck called, raising his voice above the wind with some effort. “Everyone sit tight. I’m gonna get on the phone, find out why the storm sirens didn’t sound.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” his recruits chorused. 

He stepped just outside the room, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He could hear the recruits talking among themselves, trying to figure out the sudden storm and the lack of any warning. So long as they didn’t work themselves into a panic it was fine. He hoped the storm would blow over as quickly as it had formed. He activated his phone and called the base office. Or he tried to. The thing wouldn’t connect. He checked, saw no bars, and grumbled. Right. The storm would scramble the cell signal if being in a basement wasn’t enough. That was fine, there was a radio in the basement just in case. He went to the tiny closet that housed it and was stunned to hear only silence. Not a disconnect sound. Not a busy signal. Not static. Only silence. The radio lines were buried under the base; a storm shouldn’t affect them at all.

What in the Hell?

Buck sighed and tried his cell again. No radio, no phone. Well, that was fine. He and his recruits were safe in the basement of the men’s barracks. He’d just wait until the storm ended and then he’d march out to the base headquarters and find out who in the Hell had failed so miserably to do basic maintenance. One malfunction, the siren, was bad enough. But the siren and the radio? That was inexcusable. 

Just as Buck thought that, the lights blinked out.

Buck cursed and felt his way along the wall to the room where he’d left his recruits. They weren’t panicking, good. 

“Sound off,” Buck ordered and listened as twenty names were called out. 

He doubted they’d gone anywhere in the two minutes he was gone but the order was what they expected. 

“There are flashlights in here somewhere,” Buck announced. “I need two volunteers to feel around those shelves on the left wall. Everyone else stay put.”

Matthews and Reynolds volunteered. Buck warned them to be careful and left them to it. 

“Did the storm knock out the power or did a breaker blow, Sergeant?” Pratt asked. 

Pratt, Buck recalled, was an electrician’s kid. Pretty shy, it was a bit of a shock he’d spoken up to ask. 

“Can’t tell until I check the breaker box,” Buck replied. “Which I’ll do just as soon as Reynolds and Matthews find those flashlights.”

“We’re trying, Sergeant,” Reynolds replied. “There are a lot of boxes.”

“Don’t rush,” Buck replied. “Don’t want to get hurt on something in there.” No telling what was in those boxes. Next time a recruit got in trouble Buck was going to order them to take an inventory. 

“Why don’t you give them your phone?” Nguyen suggested. “It has a light, right Sergeant?”

“Good thinking, recruit,” Buck said, only moderately embarrassed he hadn’t thought of that himself. He usually kept the phone out of sight. The recruits, of course, were not allowed to have phones at all. Buck’s was solely for emergencies. This qualified. He passed the device down to Pratt. “Hand this thing over to Reynolds.”

The search went faster with some light to work with. After about two minutes Matthews announced her find triumphantly, flicking on a flashlight to make sure it worked.

“Pass those around so everyone has one,” Buck said, “but don’t waste the batteries. Only use them if you need them. I’m going to check the breaker box.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Reynolds said, handing over a flashlight.

“Sergeant,” this time it was Pratt who spoke, “I can help. It’ll go faster.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you ‘never volunteer,’ recruit?” Buck shook his head ruefully. “Never mind. You’re right, four eyes are better than two. Come on. Everyone else, stay put.”

“What should we do while we wait, though?” Albertson asked. “Just sit here?”

“What, you don’t appreciate a chance to get some rest? You should be doing drill practice now,” Buck reminded them. Then added. “I don’t know. Someone must know some ghost stories. Jones. I bet you know some good ones.”

“I did live in a haunted house once, Sergeant,” the young woman replied in such a smooth deadpan Buck wasn’t sure if she was serious or trying to joke. Hard to tell with that one. 

“Perfect. Creep out your buddies while Pratt and I get the lights going.”

Buck was secretly very happy. Not about having his training regimen interrupted by a blasted storm, no, or about having everything from the radio to the bloody lights refusing to work. But his recruits were facing their first unscheduled critical event, also known as an emergency, and they were doing just fine. No one panicked. No one defied his orders. The few alternative suggestions that had been offered were useful. They helped each other and supported him. Just like a real unit of soldiers. They would be fine. He was proud. Only part way through basic training, too!