Marie
After nearly a year working in and around the military, Marie should have known better.
Nothing ever goes according to plan from start to finish. Someone always forgets something, unexpected resistance, a missed battalion of enemy soldiers, etcetera. The list goes on and on, and she’d heard it all as first a mess hall attendant, then cook at Fort Banner, one of the Army’s newest bases. The longer things go without a screwup, the worse it’s going to get.
It was now two in the afternoon, and so far her mess hall had been the epitome of perfection. A well-oiled machine that had been drilled to the height of expertise. Everyone knew what was expected of them, and nobody complained.
The huge kitchen rang with the sounds of knives fluttering across cutting boards with speed and precision. Cutlery banged against the inside of metal bowls as ingredients were mixed and stirred together. Calls for more ingredients or higher temperatures, to turn that down and cook for a few minutes longer brought a cacophony of noise on top of it all. Huge fans whirred and sucked heated air out, while meat seared and sizzled on multiple grills as her teams of cooks and their assistants readied the meals for the late afternoon lunch rush. On top of preparing for the evening, she still had to ensure that anyone who dropped in was fed.
This was Under the Mountain, the officers’ club at Fort Banner, and she really needed to stop thinking of it as a mess hall. Tonight was her first time putting on an event for a major group of officers, and she wanted to impress the brass. Doing so could help her make connections, and possibly even advance her search, if she went about it properly.
Jamie, her right-hand assistant, came up to her taking a big breath and crossing her arms in front of her. “Even to my trained eye this looks a little too close to chaos for comfort,” he remarked.
He was a fifteen-year industry veteran, and Marie had been initially terrified that he would be a nightmare after they’d passed him over for promotion and put her there instead. On her first day, however, he’d pulled her aside and explained everything perfectly.
“Marie, listen to me. I’m an excellent chef. A damn excellent chef, if I allow my ego out for a moment. I can train other chefs. I can organize a line of chefs. I know how. I’m great at that if you provide me the right personnel. What I can’t do is run an entire kitchen this size. I’m not a born leader, and I don’t have the organization skills outside of a kitchen. I can’t mingle with the brass and brown-nose. You’re great at that. All of it. And I’m perfectly okay with that. I like my job, and I didn’t want to leave it. You’re going to make an amazing head, so stop worrying about whether or not you were the proper choice, and start making them see you were the proper choice.”
Buoyed by Jamie’s confidence, and using his insider knowledge, they’d molded the kitchen to their needs and helped bring it out of the dark ages it had been in. Tonight was going to be her first chance to show just how well they’d turned it around, and she was trying her best not to make a mistake.
Unfortunately she could only control what was going on inside the kitchen.
“There’s a lot more people coming tonight than I expected. And of course, everything is so hush-hush top-secret here that even us lowly kitchen folk only know it has to do with a new iteration of their super-duper top-secret battlesuits or something like that.”
Jamie snorted, a coughing sort of noise from deep within his chest that indicated extreme amusement at her sarcasm. “Yeah, they really don’t quite understand that we’re also human, have ears, and in most cases actually have brains between those ears, do they?”
Nobody was supposed to know about the battlesuits, science-fiction technology that was now actually being deployed to Fort Banner. What she hadn’t yet figured out was why here, in the middle of nowhere in the northwestern mountainous region of the country. Everyone, even the normally talkative infantry, were very closed-mouthed about that one.
“No, and thank goodness for that, or we wouldn’t have known ahead of time.” She shook her head. “I just wish I’d thought to go back and look at how many came out the last time they did one of these…what do they call them, horse and pony shows?”
“Dog and pony,” Jamie supplied distractedly. “It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s not scheduled to start for another hour, and then it probably will be at least an hour after that before they retire to Under, and then of course an hour of drinks and hors, and then finally dinner. We can finish it.”
He pronounced it whores with a decidedly harsh tone, and part of her felt she would always find that funny. Crass humor wasn’t her normal style, but when Jamie was around she felt relaxed enough to allow herself to enjoy it. He was a good figure for her, a mentor and even at times a bit of a father figure, if one ignored his penchant for blunts and too much alcohol every other night.
“So you’re saying they’re going to spend an hour drinking and whoring?” she asked, timing the question carefully, just when her assistant had lifted a bottle of water he kept in his apron to his lips.
Liquid spewed everywhere as he bellowed with laughter. “Only if you include recovery time as well!”
They shared a few more chuckles over the half-assed insults at the brass, many of whom she actually didn’t mind, before getting back to work.
“I’m going to go ensure the setup inside is well underway,” she said, patting her assistant on the arm and heading for the swinging double doors that would eventually take her out to the dining area.
Jamie called after her. “I’ll try not to burn the place down!”
“Please don’t,” she shot back over her shoulder. “We all know your track record there.”
She heard chuckles from all around her, and a muted complaint from Jamie.
“One little kitchen fire.”
“Little?” Marie stopped and faced him.
“Medium-sized?”
She laughed, as did anyone within earshot. One thing the two of them had worked hard on was fostering a sense of comradery, and that including everyone being willing to accept their screwups, learn from them, and not get pissy when people joked about it down the line.
Such as the time Jamie had “accidentally” almost burnt down half of an infantry mess hall. Because there was no proof he did it intentionally he hadn’t been fired, but nobody had let him live it down, even six months later.
“Fine. I’ll leave it in David’s capable hands,” he said, pointing at another of the chefs over the grill.
The man in question turned, revealing his lack of eyebrows. They’d been burned off the day before by a little too flamboyant of a maneuver while he tried to show off for a new server. Coincidentally, nobody was letting him live that down either.
Marie laughed, waving a hand at him to signal the conversation was over. She wanted to go out and survey the dining area and see if she could catch any glimpses of anyone new on the base. Some of them were likely to filter in early for an extra drink or two.
There was only one face in particular she was hoping to see. So far he’d eluded her best efforts, but she knew he was around. There was no way he could stay hidden for much longer. It had been that full year since she’d seen him on the news, but something in her gut had told her as soon as she’d first visited the base that he was there. Somewhere. Or nearby.
So she’d continued her search, unwilling to give up. Not until she found him. With the demonstration of new tech that was supposedly happening in a few hours, she expected him to somehow finagle his way in to see. He was an expert at that.
And when he does, I’ll finally catch that sonofabitch and get back what’s mine.
At that point, the day that had been running so smoothly decided to reveal its kink.
The noise of the fans, the food preparation, and the workers talking was all drowned out by a loud roar.
Marie spun in time to see the side wall of the kitchen implode under the impact of a standard-issue green and black camouflaged Jeep. The metal racks that held the prepared food that hadn’t yet been put in the fridges exploded outward toward her.
She closed her eyes and accepted the inevitable as long strings of spaghetti, fresh tomato sauce—thankfully cooled—and still-warm mashed potatoes covered the nearby kitchen and her, from top to bottom in their gooey, clingy goodness.
The entire kitchen stood still, several others wearing the food, but none having taken it full on in the face like she had.
Marie licked some sauce off her tongue.
“Bonus points to whoever made the sauce today. It’s good.”
She wiped a hand across her face, clearing it of the majority of debris. Then she set off for the Jeep, murder in her eyes, as the driver stumbled out of the door.