Chapter 2 - Sergeant Dalton Recognizes The Stars On My Collar
Sergeant Dalton stopped dead in his tracks just a few feet away from where I stood.
His eyes dropped from my face down to the heavy charcoal wool of my heavy winter coat.
With practiced military precision, his gaze shifted inward toward the lapels where my rank insignia was partially unbuttoned.
The dim amber lighting of the officers’ club caught the polished metallic gleam of two silver stars.
His breath hitched in his throat as the heavy reality of what he was looking at registered in his mind.
Major Preston Hale, still leaning casually against the polished wooden bar, chuckled into his microphone.
“Well, Sergeant? Is she carrying trash bags or just looking for a handout from the real operators?” Hale taunted loudly.
Dalton did not laugh, nor did he look back at the arrogant major who controlled the room's atmosphere.
Instead, the young sergeant’s posture snapped from standard guard stance into rigid, unyielding statutory attention.
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His heels clicked together on the hardwood floor with a sharp crack that echoed across the quiet space.
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