Carrie removed her earbuds, cutting off the opening lines of James McMurty's "Choctaw Bingo" before scoffing at Sergeant Korus' passing remark.
"Thanks, soldier. I'll make sure to "dust 'em off" as soon as you shave and put on a fucking top", she muttered under her breath and the droning of the helicopter. She'd been hemmed up before for saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, and without the knowledge of David's rank, she figured it'd be best to pretend she hadn't heard him. The cuts to the defense budget were hurting her bank account enough, she didn't need half-pay from a NJP to top it off. Patiently waiting for the few passengers closer to the ramp to exit, she stood at her turn and made her way off of the chopper, donning her eight pointed utility cover.
Darkness had fallen across the desert, and the impromptu LZ was lit only by the Chinook's landing beacons, and a few sporadically placed industrial lights. The warehouse stood before her, though past the lights she couldn't tell if it was brand new, or some shanty repossessed for this effort. The few sentries posted on the perimeter were lackadaisical, leaning against sandbags and joking with each other rather than truly standing guard. And for good reason, they were in the middle of nowhere, and, to her knowledge, far from any combat zones. Of course, of all the places to get sent, she ended up in a hole like this. Her back was pelted with sand and pebbles as the helicopter took off, rotor-wash sweeping over her and the rest of the group. The bird's rotors quickly quieting from a roar, to a steady thumping, to silence, her jitters and uneasiness reminded her that she didn't even know how long it'd been since she had a cigarette.
Fishing a soft pack of Camels and a white Bic lighter from one of her cammies' many cargo pockets, she wasted no time sparking up and savoring that first drag before anyone had a chance to tell her she was standing in a no-smoking area. She took a moment to reassess the other members of the group as the policeman approached and began to speak, and though she recognized the insignia of a few elite units, others remained a mystery, and she remained unimpressed with the assembly. Having made several trips from San Diego to Los Angeles, she quickly recognized the guard's uniform and exhaled through her nostrils in response to his jaded attempts at humor. Cigarette protruding from her face, she stuck to the back of the crowd as they filed through the chain-link fence towards what she assumed was to be their new home.
"I'll be damned if I have to wear that stupid fucking hat", a grumbling Campbell quietly protested, harshly inhaling through her cigarette.
