The heavy thud of boots striking the metal floor echoed through the bus, making every head snap upright. Brian turned to look—every man onboard stared forward, tension thick as smoke.
"You maggots call yourselves Marines, huh?" The man's voice boomed, deep and gravelly, with the kind of authority that could slice through bone. No one dared breathe. Brian and Dantonio froze in their seats.
"REPLY, YOU ROT-BRAINED SONS OF BITCHES?!" he barked, voice cracking like thunder.
"Yes, sir!" the recruits shouted in unison, a messy chorus of panic and obedience.
The man started down the aisle, boots hammering against the floor—thud, thud, thud. He was built like a tank, maybe in his forties, with broad shoulders filling the narrow aisle. A jagged scar tore through his cheek, a small hole revealing the inside of his mouth when he spoke.
"Sergeant Tumble Washe!" he growled.
"Tumble wuh?" A random fellow spoke out quietly.
"Fuck you!" he silenced the man. "From now on, you don't get to think. You don't get to feel. You sure as hell don't get to open your hole without my permission! The only words that should ever come out of your filthy mouths are 'Aye, sir', 'Yes, sir!' Got it?"
"YES, SIR!"
"You banged a guy naked on prom night?"
"YES, SIR!"
"Are you a bunch of ass-lickers?"
"YES, SIR!"
"Damn right you are!" he snapped, pacing slowly, eyes looking from one face to another. "From now on, you are not civilians. Survivors' what you are—if you're lucky. If not, you're dead bodies. This ain't no playground. This is your hellhole—once you're out there, you're all the same: worthless, pathetic scumbags!"
He jabbed a finger toward the window. "Earn your loyalty, or die trying. And when we hit camp, your boots better shine so bright I can see my pimples!"
A nervous chuckle almost escaped Dantonio's lips, but he swallowed it fast. Washe stopped right next to him, crouching low so their eyes met.
"You married, son?" the sergeant asked with a smirk.
"Y-yes, sir…" Dan croaked.
The sergeant's grin widened. "Let me give you some free~ advice. Never lay your hope on a woman ' says she'll wait for you. You better keep your head straight, no hard feelings, right?"
Brian clenched his jaw, feeling the insult sting on Dantonio's behalf.
Dan tried not to shed a tear, which made Sgt. Washe let out a deep sigh.
"Ugh, shit…..oh~ no~ hwuwuwu~ QUIT SOBBING AND SIT DOWN!" he yelled under his breath.
"Aye, sir~" Dantonio forced a scream, shoulders stiff.
THUMP! The drill sergeant stomped his boot once, hard enough to rattle the seats.
"When it's time to eat—you eat. When it's time to rest—you rest. If I tell you to dig your own grave, you ask me what size shovel to use. Any got a problem with that won't make it to Thanksgiving, you hear me? Especially you mama's boys! You're in for a different breed of hell. UNDERSTOOD?!"
"Yes, sir!"
The sergeant grinned, slow and mean. "Welcome to Los Desperado, ladies."
Brian and Dantonio exchanged a helpless look, both swallowing hard. The horizon outside was glowing pale orange now, the sun creeping over a stretch of endless desert. Miles of nothing.
The bus drove forward—toward the camp that would soon break them down and rebuild them from the ground up.