Free The Weapon (The Hourglass Series Book 2) by Casey Donaldson

with a single glare. The older recruit, Dylan, had seen the
Sarg coming and brought them to attention. Finn’s erect posture didn’t waver as
the Sarg made a beeline for him. For a moment the Sarg just stood directly in
front of Finn, their noses practically touching. Finn looked straight ahead, as
if he could see right through the man. After a tense few seconds, the Sarg
finally spoke. Or rather, he shouted, spittle flying everywhere, especially in
Finn’s face.
    “What
the hell is this, recruit?”
    “Sir?”
asked Finn, all innocence.
    Sarah
caught her breath. This was not going to go down well.
    “You’re
hair, you ignorant piece of shit,” said the Sarg, his voice dangerously low.
Sarah was fairly sure she could hear his teeth grinding.
    “You
told me to fix it, Sir. So I did.”
    The
Sarg’s face turned beetroot red. Sarah was worried that he was going to blow an
artery. Suddenly the colour drained from the Sarg’s face. His voice came out
silky, and somehow sounded even more dangerous than it did before.
    “Follow,”
he ordered.
    The
Sarg strode away and, after a slight hesitation, Finn followed after him, his
posture still as erect as the Sarg’s. He darted Sarah an exaggerated, nervous
grin, winked, and then turned back. Sarah shook her head slowly after him. He
was going to get himself killed. Although, if she was honest, she did find his
courage a little sexy.
    “Right,
that’s enough,” said Dylan finally as the Sarg and Finn disappeared around a
corner. “Laps. Get to it.”
    “But
Sir,” whined Ian, “Gillie isn’t even here.”
    “Do
you think I don’t know that, recruit?” bellowed Dylan. He wasn’t Sarg, but he
was close enough. “Do I look blind to you?”
    “No,
Sir,” said Ian. “But,” Sarah closed her eyes, wishing he would shut-up, but he
didn’t, “but I was the one who got shot?”
    “Twenty
push-ups!” demanded Dylan. “Now.”
    Ian
gave up and dropped to the ground. Dylan glared at the rest of them. “What are
you losers waiting for?” he snarled. Inwardly cursing Ian, they dropped to the
ground and joined him. Sarah’s arms were jelly by the end. Thankfully, Dylan
didn’t seem to care so much about technique as the Sarg did and so she managed
to get away with a handful of sloppy ones. When the last of them had stood up
they were sent running around the parade ground. As they ran Dylan stood in the
middle, yelling at them.
    “You
think this is tough?” he yelled. “This isn’t even a warm-up compared to the
real thing! When you are out there, fighting for the Covenant, you will be
dreaming of these laps with a smile on your lips! It will seem like heaven!
This will improve you. This will get you fit. This will give you a fighting
chance!” He continued. “And you will want to be the best! Because heaven help
you if you get captured by the enemy! Do you know what they do to their
prisoners?” He paused, but there was no answer besides laboured breaths. “You
will be tortured for information! And when they are done with you, if you are
lucky, they will kill you! If you are unlucky they will send your ass to the
mines, where you will undergo back-breaking labour with no hope of salvation
until you die. They may even experiment on you! Do you understand, recruits?”
He barked.
    “Yes,
sir,” they puffed out, roughly simultaneously.
    “Then
you understand that you need to be the best. Because the best is the only way
you are going to survive.”
     
    ***
     
    Finn
was returned twenty minutes later by a triumphant Sarg. The Sarg pushed him
forward into the middle of the parade ground and then walked off whistling. Not
that anyone was paying the Sarg any attention. All eyes were on Finn. Everyone
stopped running and stared. Even Dylan was staring. Then they started to laugh.
    He
was bald.
    Not
even a single blade of hair remained left on his head.
    Finn
rubbed his bald head sheepishly. Sarah was having trouble staring at him
through the tears of laughter