The Transport

Chapter 2 - SINA

The large transport plane touched down and Sergeant Sina Washington's stomach took another deep dive, but recovered momentarily. She hated flying! Give her a truck anytime, anything from four wheels and up, and she was a happy soldier. But planes? She did not need to look left and right; the plane held no windows, and she was its only passenger. The loading space of a C-17 Globemaster was made for a lot more soldiers, equipment, or trucks, and now felt like an empty church. An extremely loud and bumpy church, though. She felt the taxiing movements of the big bird through the hard-netted seating. No luxuries in Uncle Sam's Air Force.

"Sergeant?" The loading master appeared from his seat behind the cockpit, addressing today's lone payload, shouting over the turbine noises. "Gather your stuff. We are here and instructed to not to approach any further and take off right again."

"Where's here?" Sina shouted back, but the airman had already moved to the back of the plane where he pressed a big button on the side wall. The huge loading ramp underneath the plane's tail started to move downwards with whining electric noise. A wailing siren and red flashing lights made it clear to everyone on either side to get the hell out of the way.

Sina threw her well-read Stephen King paperback into her canvas bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her disappointment in the latest It movie had motivated her to read the book again. She walked out of the ramp into the late morning heat of a bleak desert landscape. The second her feet touched the ground of the runway, the loading ramp whined its way upwards again, the plane's engines revving up. She stepped aside towards the apron of the concrete runway that stretched out endlessly in both directions and watched the plane take off again.

It rose into the air with a roar, made a lazy turn and vanished westwards into the yellowish blue of the desert sky.

Talk about being sent into the desert, girl.

Sina had no idea why she was here.

There was nothing around except desert, the endless runway the only sign of civilization. Low, water-starved bushes, a flat landscape, and some hills in the distance. Best guess was Nevada, New Mexico, or Arizona; definitely the South-West. The trip had taken them four hours from Fort Lee, and this was clearly not Kansas.

She dropped her canvas bag on the ground and kicked a stone. It was early morning but hot already, hitting the hundred, sweat immediately forming on her exposed black skin. She was an Afro-American woman with short black hair at five-eight, giving her a boyish look. She put on her olive-green army cap and her sunglasses to shelter herself from the brutal sun.

It wasn't a long wait. A dust cloud announced company long before she could hear it. It was an ancient-looking jeep, not the real World War deal, but maybe from the seventies or eighties. Someone did not favor this place with budget, it seemed. The jeep dashed down the length of the runway and came to a stop ten yards away from her.

A young Lieutenant jumped out. "Sergeant Washington?"

"Would you believe me, if I said 'no', Sir?" she answered and gave a salute.

The officer did not smile or laugh, gave more of a tense nod, and saluted back. He had a freckled face and reddish hair and looked more high school than Army command. Sina had just turned twenty-five and was still at odds to be commanded around by people younger than her.

Her new commander looked stressed, wore a thin-lipped mouth and tense body language. Well, he was an officer, smiles not required.

"I'm Lieutenant Ben Kimmig, your CO for our little project. Welcome and hop in!"

Sina threw her bag onto the back seat and sat beside Kimmig, who turned the jeep around and put the pedal to the metal to race down the runway again.