Holmes' Book Of One Shots

The Fifth Wave || Part 1

            John Watson sat at the end of his bed, hands in his lap as he awaited Sargent Moran’s arrival. There was going to be a new member of his squad, and he was bringing the newbie in.

            There were already three members of his squad, whom he had known before the arrival. Holmes, Lestrade, and Hooper. Hooper was the medic, and she performed dissections of the Teds and autopsies of survivors at their military camp. Lestrade and Holmes did not have a specified job, although they were both fast and good shots.

            Then there was Watson. Afghan veteran, the best shot on the team, and the main reason that his squad wasn’t in last place and would possibly graduate. Hooper was a bloody horrific shot, although having been through medical school before the arrival; she was able to treat the wounds she accidently gave others. Holmes and Lestrade were all right, but they were nothing compared to Watson.

            The door opened, and all four of the squad members jumped up. They saluted as Moran walked in. When Moran gave them a nod, they put their arm down and stood at attention.

            “Now,” Moran said, voice loud and echoing through the room as he paced through the aisle between beds, hands folded behind his back, his eyes looking straight into the eyes of each person he passed, “as you all know, you have a new member of your squad. I have taken her from another squad. Excellent shot, fast, and she may just pull you through the rankings and get you a spot at number one if you let her tutor you.” He turned and walked back down the aisle, his eyes seeking out any small movement from any of the squad members. “Hooper!” She squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut as he walked to her.

            She opened her eyes. “Yes, Sir?”

            “No moving at attention!” He shouted, his face inches from hers. “Thirty push ups! Go!”

            “Sir, yes sir!” Hooper said.

            Before she could get down, Moran held his hand out in front of her. “LOUDER.”

            “Sir, yes sir!” Hooper shouted.

            “Get to ‘em, then!”

            Hooper dropped to the ground, her knees on the floor as she did her first push up.

            Moran bent over and shouted, “Knees off the ground, Hooper!”

            “Sir, yes sir!” She lifted her knees off the ground, and started over, her chest falling two inches above the ground, her arms and legs shaking as her face scrunched and turned red.

            When she finished, she got back at attention and stood stalk still, trying to keep from panting. Moran began to pace again.

            “Now,” he continued. “as I was saying, your new squad member will be your tutor. Your new squad leader will be your guide. Your new squad leader will be your ringer, do you hear me?!”

            “Sir, yes sir!” The whole squad shouted.

            “Now, I expect you all to be on the shooting range in ten minutes! Is everyone clear?!”

            “Sir, yes sir!”

            “Alright! Get to it then!”

            Moran left, and the squad dressed in a hurry. Their dirty clothes flew into a hamper by the bathroom entryway, and they when they were all dressed, they ran to the shooting range together.

            There was already a figure at the bottom of the hill. Watson strained his eyes, trying to identify the person, but he couldn’t recognize him from behind. When the squad got to the bottom, Watson realized that it was she, not a he.

            She shot her M16, and the bullet pierced through the eye of the dummy. If the dummy were real, she would have caused serious brain and vision damaged, likely a kill shot. She cradled the M16 in her arms, and smiled at her shot. Her blonde hair was cut just above her chin, and rested behind her ears. She wore the same white jumpsuits as the rest of the squad.

            “Good aim.” Watson said.

            “Thanks,” she said, turning to smile at him. “Morstan.” She introduced, sticking out a hand to him as the other gripped the gun.

            He stuck his arm out to meet hers in a firm shake. “Watson.”

            “And who are you lot…?” Morstan asked, looking at the people behind Watson.

            He pointed to each person as his or her name was said. “Holmes, Lestrade, and Hooper.”

            “Pleasure to meet you,” She smiled. “Now, grab a weapon and lets get to work.”

Based off the book The Fifth Wave by Rick Yancy, which you should definitely read. Would you lot like a part 2 to this? I could do a few oneshots based in the world of The Fifth Wave (Of course, I will not reveal any spoilers). 

–OH