The Texas sun had a way of baking everything into silence. Even the wind gave up around noon, like it couldn't be bothered anymore. Fort Sam Houston buzzed with distant shouts, the sound of boots pounding pavement, and the occasional bark of a drill sergeant echoing through the alley of beige barracks.
Quiroz sat on the edge of his bunk, towel draped over his shoulders, sweat clinging to his skin. Combat medic training wasn't easy—but it wasn't supposed to be. He looked over at his buddies, already more like brothers than classmates.
Reed stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the corners of his mustache like it was a mission-critical task. At 5'10" with short blonde hair and an ever-confident smile, he somehow made everything look like a joke—and sometimes it was. But when things got real, Reed always squared away fast.
Quiroz raised a brow. "You're gonna charm the instructors into giving you a day off with that thing?"
"Not unless they got a soft spot for retro hotdog vendors," Reed said, grinning. "Come on, man. You think this isn't regulation sexy?"
Across the room, Roberts snorted. "It's not regulation anything. Looks like you lost a bet with a razor." He didn't look up from his bunk. 5'8", short brown hair, same lean frame as Reed. Quieter than both of them, but with a strength you could feel when he looked at you a certain way—and a sarcasm that could cut steel when he let it loose.
They had all gotten close fast. Same rank, same training cycle, same late-night gripes over MREs and field exercises that dragged into the dark. It wasn't supposed to be deep, but somehow it was.
Then the orders came in.
KOREA
PCS: YONGSAN OUTPOST
UNIT: 8th Army 65TH MCAS (ATTACHED)
MISSION: COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT & CIVIL SUPPORT
SUPERVISION: N/A
Quiroz reread it three times like it was a riddle.
"No leadership?" Reed asked, reading over his shoulder. "Like… none?"
"Says we're it," Quiroz said. "Three of us. Yongsan. Skeleton base."
Roberts sat up. "Skeleton base? I thought they shut Yongsan down years ago."
"Most of it. Guess we're getting what's left."
Reed leaned back on his bunk with a grin. "Three medics and a dream. Sounds like a Netflix pitch."
Quiroz stared at the orders for a beat longer. "It's not a joke. No command means no one to hide behind. We're either gonna make this work—or flame out hard."
Roberts tossed a stress ball into his duffel. "Then let's make it work."