Buck

Sergeant Bradley “Buck” Masterson rested his hands on his hips and called his recruits to attention in a sharp, clear voice. It was time for drill practice, bright and early in the morning before they were all the way awake. 

His recruits snapped to, drawing themselves to attention and focusing forward with sharp precision. He didn’t have to repeat the order this time. Good. He didn’t allow himself to smile. Not yet; they had only managed to stand in formation. That didn’t earn them a smile. He did let himself enjoy a brief moment of pride, though. These young men and women were a good group. He was pretty sure at least a quarter of them would be career military, and probably only one or two would wash out. 

Buck barked out another command, and they obeyed with neat precision. They were improving rapidly. They were hardly parade ready, but that would come with time. Drill wasn’t about perfection at this stage. It was about building muscle memory and instinctive responses. Being able to march in pretty lines wasn’t important. Immediately following orders that could save their lives on a battlefield was. 

Buck barked out a third command, a simple “left face.” For some reason, one or two recruits always turned right instead. Probably stress and jittery nerves. By this point in their lives, they knew their right from their left, but if they expected another command, well, they followed the one they expected not the one they heard. That was fine. He had three weeks to knock that out of them. 

“Your other left, cadet!” he called out.

One of the cadets spun a frantic one-eighty. The other stared upwards and pointed.

“Sergeant, the sky!”

Buck frowned. “What, did it turn orange or something?” 

“No, Sergeant. Purple! And, uh, green?”

Buck turned around and looked up, honestly expecting the recruit was pulling his leg. Although, greenish clouds could herald a tornado. There hadn’t been anything in the morning weather report but out in the plains that wasn’t any kind of guarantee.

 He scanned the horizon and blinked in shock. The sky, which moments ago had been pale blue laced with a few lacy white clouds was now a mottled, bruise purple laced through with vivid, neon green. The sky directly overhead was still blue, but as Buck watched more purple bled into the blue. Soon the whole sky would be darkened.

“Inside!” Buck barked. He’d never seen storm clouds like that before, but what else could it be? The wind was picking up fast. “Recruits to the nearest shelter! That’s the men’s barracks, double time, go, go, go, now!”

He hardly needed to add the word “now,” they were already running all out for the shelter of the building. Buck followed, keeping his eyes on the slowest recruits to make sure everyone made it inside. The storm or whatever was approaching fast. Buck barely stumbled into the barracks as the dark, technicolor clouds washed out the sky overhead until all that could be seen in any direction was the bizarre purple and green clouds.

“Sergeant, what was that?” asked Matthews. Her brown eyes were wide with fear but her voice was steady. 

“Some kind of storm front,” Buck answered with a casual disregard he didn’t quite feel. He wasn’t about to let his recruits see him shaken. They needed him to be steady. 

So he would be. Even if the wind outside suddenly howled loudly enough to be heard through the metal door of the barracks. The building was sturdy. They’d be fine. Still, there was no reason to take unnecessary chances. 

“Recruits!” he barked over the howling wind and startled shouts from the recruits. “Double time down to the basement! Don’t stop to grab your gear, just go!” 

With a direct order to follow, the recruits stopped milling around uncertainly and scurried for the door to the basement, which was usually reserved for laundry and storage. One recruit, Nguyen, tucked a first aid kit under his arm. That was a very good idea so Buck just nodded at him and herded the rest through the door. Following orders was good. Remembering to grab a first aid kit because there wasn’t one in the basement was better. Recruits who thought on their feet were more likely to have long, healthy careers. 

Buck waited until they were all through the door. The storm was already raging outside. Something heavy slammed into the barracks door, hard enough to rattle the frame. Buck didn’t hear rain, only the deafening howl of the wind. How had a storm this severe blown up so quickly, with no warning at all? 

And why hadn’t the base tornado siren gone off?