(A/N: Just a quick chapter to prove that I am not dead! This was written in a grand total of... ten or fifteen minutes, I think. Mrs. W., I apologize... it hurts me so very deeply, but I had to... to make fun of you in this chapter. *SOB* *Coughsnickercough* Enjoy! Read, and only Review if you feel like it, I suppose... *Nudge* Belated Merry Christmas/Chanukkah(sp?)/Kwanzaa/Whatever you celebrate, and Happy New Year!)

"Watch oooout-!"

Hawkeye's throat was raw from screaming warnings at the others. As the shelves began to fall, there was no stopping them - boxes upon boxes of vials and tubes and more boxes and jars cascaded down on the unfortunate men and women. Pills and powders and liquids spilled from their containers as they rained down, but that wasn't the half of it. Blankets and rubber gloves and pillowcases and bedpans flew everywhere. The heavy boxes and the metal shelves creaked and groaned and, under the significant persuasion of the battering winds, tipped and trapped Hawkeye, BJ, Radar, Lori, Margaret, Henry, Roland, and Frank underneath them.

It was dark. Not just dark, like a night without a moon, but oh my God was it dark. The darkness filled their minds as they lay, some near one another and able to reconcile their fears by knowing that they had a friend there, or others who were left to the merciless winds that pummeled everything within its reach, and were alone.

It was inevitable that the storm should pass, and indeed, it did. Well, the terrifying, destructive, loud, possibly fatal part, anyway. Now it was just raining. BJ, one of four who were conscious (Radar and Hawkeye had been conked on the head and were currently a bit worse for the wear), called out

"It's over... and not like last time's over..."

'Last time's over' had been a brief respite from the shrieking, swirling winds and the pounding of debris. The rain had continued, but moderate silence had reigned, and they heard nothing but their own hearts pounding and the storm raging outside of their own private little haven. Luckily Radar had experienced tornados before, living in Iowa, and told them to get back down. When it started up again, a shoe, yes, someone's shoe had whipped through the fluttering canvas and smacked him a good one on the back of the head.

Hawkeye'd been out since the shelf fell.

"Really? Ya sure now, Hunnicutt?" It was Henry's groan, and part of the shelf started to move as their fearless commanding officer, or lack thereof, tried to squirm his way out. He staggered around, rubbing the feeling back into his legs, and turned away from the holes that had been torn in the canvas of the tent. He didn't want to look upon what had been done alone - he would wait for the others and they could brave it together.

There was a moan of pain and confusion, and someone stirred at the corner of Henry's vision. "What the hell is going on here? Ugh..."

"Shut up, Sergeant. As soon as I find an MP who's not hanging by his skivvies from a tree or sitting on the PostOp roof, I'll have you striped and in the stockades until you shrivel up and a very important part of your anatomy falls off!"

Even Henry looked surprised at what had come from his own mouth. BJ started to chuckle, and Demorest just fell silent.

"You gonna help us or what, Chief?"

"Yeah, hold your horses..."

"I can't, they're in North Korea. Or Japan. Or Russia, for all I know! But they're sure not in Kansas anymore."

A series of exasperated noises followed Lori's attempt at a joke. (Note: The sad, giggling excuse for a human being upon whom the character Lori Wilber is based knows that I wouldn't make sport of her without reason. However, I fail to find a reason - except that it's just plain fun.) With Henry's assistaince, everyone got out except for Demorest, and Frank who had come around soon after. Hawkeye and Radar were easily woken with threats, slaps, and a few coaxing phrases from Margaret which cannot be repeated here, but caused Hawkeye's eyes to snap open and a grin to spread over his face.

All six quickly sobered as they followed Hawkeye through the practically nonexistant tentflaps to gaze upon the damage that had been done. Truthfully, it could have been much worse. No one was hurt except for a few scrapes and bruises, and one missing prosthetic foot (which was a story in itself).

Dazedly, people began walking out of their shaken quarters, adjusting ruffled clothing, tousled hair, and searching through various personal items that had been blown all over camp. Some unfortunate nurse was jumping up and down as she tried to retrieve a garter belt that was tangled around the P.A. speaker. Eventually she gave up and walked away, trying to pretend that it wasn't hers.

"MP's?"

Henry called out halfheartedly. A pair of men in dirtied Military Police uniforms, one lacking his gun and the other his helmet, wriggled out from under an overturned jeep and jogged dazedly toward him. They saluted.

"There are two men in the supply tent... er... what used to be the supply tent. Lock them up and see to it that they're removed, forcefully if necessary, as soon as possible. Uh, please."

The MP's dragged Demorest and Frank out of the mess of supplies, marching them at gunpoint into what was left of the mess tent. They needed no second bidding - both already hated Major Burns, and anyone with whom he was associated could only be just as bad.

Suddenly Hawkeye and BJ met each other's gaze, and it clicked. In unison they shouted "THE STILL!" And ran for the Swamp.