Loose Ends Clipped
A jaw-cracking yawn escaped the Red sergeant from where he sat at his personal desk located within the communications room of Blood Gulch Outpost One. After spending a good near-straight sixteen hours without sleep, he was pretty damned tired and feeling worse for wear. He was near ready to fall asleep right there on his paperwork...
Paperwork. His hand had automatically scribbled out the usual progress report. Blues active, Reds on alert and defense, all personnel accounted for... Sarge felt a mild ache in his chest, rubbing his eyes that suddenly burned. Minus one, but he never had the heart... shit. Sarge stared at his pen moodily, about near snapping it in half.
Private Dick Simmons. The name drifted past his mind as he noticed an ant crawling across the edge of his desk. Things had been just hectic enough that his sick worry pangs and the constant turn of his head toward Blue base had faltered. Blurgh, Sarge thought, scripting his name across the bottom of the paper.
But... what if Simmons had gone all the way over? The thought made Sarge groan to himself as he licked the seal to the plain brown envelope he had put the reports in. Command would most likely start wondering why there were two Simmons monkeying about down here. He chuckled and put the envelope in the 'out' box. Simmons wouldn't do such a silly thing, putting his name on the Blue roster. Impossible!
....
Sarge grabbed at his gut, feeling sick.
Simmons was the type of man that WOULD go through and through with plans, with orders from superiors or on his own agenda. Sarge glanced at the envelope for a moment, then reached back over, taking it up in a worried grip.
"Shit. What a world of crap I've gotten myself into."
Paperwork. His hand had automatically scribbled out the usual progress report. Blues active, Reds on alert and defense, all personnel accounted for... Sarge felt a mild ache in his chest, rubbing his eyes that suddenly burned. Minus one, but he never had the heart... shit. Sarge stared at his pen moodily, about near snapping it in half.
Private Dick Simmons. The name drifted past his mind as he noticed an ant crawling across the edge of his desk. Things had been just hectic enough that his sick worry pangs and the constant turn of his head toward Blue base had faltered. Blurgh, Sarge thought, scripting his name across the bottom of the paper.
But... what if Simmons had gone all the way over? The thought made Sarge groan to himself as he licked the seal to the plain brown envelope he had put the reports in. Command would most likely start wondering why there were two Simmons monkeying about down here. He chuckled and put the envelope in the 'out' box. Simmons wouldn't do such a silly thing, putting his name on the Blue roster. Impossible!
....
Sarge grabbed at his gut, feeling sick.
Simmons was the type of man that WOULD go through and through with plans, with orders from superiors or on his own agenda. Sarge glanced at the envelope for a moment, then reached back over, taking it up in a worried grip.
"Shit. What a world of crap I've gotten myself into."