Chapter 5 - THE ADJUSTMENT
Brock lay flat on his back on the hot asphalt, completely dazed and winded. The sky spun above him, the bright California sun burning into his pupils. His right arm was still extended upward, held in place by Avery’s firm grip on his wrist.
Avery held him down for two cold, deliberate seconds—ensuring his kinetic momentum was entirely spent and his ability to counter was nullified—before casually relaxing her fingers and releasing his arm.
She stepped back into her original position, standing tall and perfectly upright once again. She smoothed down the front of her service tunic with both hands, lightly adjusted the dark cuff of her left sleeve, and brushed a microscopic speck of dust off her shoulder as if she had done nothing more strenuous than filing a folder.
Brock slowly rolled onto his side, coughing as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked up at Avery, his chest heaving, every ounce of his former arrogant swagger completely shattered. His face was pale, his mouth slightly open, staring at her as though she were a stranger he had never seen before.
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Over near the reviewing stand, Sergeant Major Thomas Reed didn't wait for Brock to stand. He immediately turned his body away from the aisle, snapped to rigid attention facing the canopy, and saluted the shadowy figure sitting in the central commander’s chair.
He knew the storm had arrived.
