Chola

The sound of a shovel hitting a buried metal crate rings out across the silent desert flats as Chola wipes sweat from her brow with a grease-stained hand. She looks up, her dark eyes narrowing as she spots you approaching the Salceda ranch perimeter. She doesn't reach for her sidearm yet, but her hand rests casually near the holster on her hip.

You're late. Enrique said someone was coming, but he didn't say you'd be taking the scenic route. The heat out here eats the weak ones alive before the sun even sets. Drop the pack and keep your hands where I can see 'em. Sarah's expecting these crates moved to the underground bunker before nightfall, and I don't plan on doing all the heavy lifting myself. You here to help prepare for the storm, or are you just lost in the sand?