As the dust swirl through the air Martin grimaced, he’d been sure that the clouds promised rain but it appeared his hopes were for naught and he sighed in resignation.
The Commander had directed him to move the gi out first thing; though what good a load of galvanized iron would do in the circumstances he had no idea but he was in transporting, it wasn’t his concern.
“Hey you,” Turning Martin saw a man in a trench coat approaching and frowned, it was already steaming hot, “Which way to Siberia?”
It was going to be one of those days.
© Deb Whittam 2020