The armory wasn’t hard to find. Now that they joined the good old boys club on base, Elliott and his friends had only to ask.
“We’re new here,” Junie explained to the young private she stopped at the coffee stand. “We came in from Washington and just need directions to the armory.” Elliott wondered if she was carefully phrasing it so none of it was lies or if she was just stating fact without thinking. Either was possible with Junie.
The private thought nothing of telling them exactly where to find it and the group made their way there, Junie’s story served them in good stead again.
The soldier posted outside the armory eyed them suspiciously. “We don’t normally just let folks in here, and I don’t know any of you at all. Where did you say you were from?”
“Nah, it’s okay, Jennings,” called a voice from behind. They all turned to see one of the soldiers from the mess hall. He waved and smiled. “They were in the mess with the general. They’re cool.”
Now they stood inside the doors, staring.
Roger sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “Never in my wildest dreams…” he said, choking a little.
The armory was exactly what they had hoped it would be: full. Full of assault rifles, sniper rifles, handguns, explosives, grenades, flash bangs, and any number of other weapons of selective, precise destruction. It was a thing of beauty and it said something about the person Elliott was becoming that even he thought so. There were crates and pallettes in long rows on one side of the enormous warehouse and metal shelving with labelled boxes on the other side. It was all neatly organized and catalogued.
Junie’s sparkling blue eyes went wide and she went skipping into the armory happily, disappearing around a corner.
“Who’s going to take her to the infirmay when she cracks her head in a ball pit full of hand grenades?” Roger muttered.
“Who would put grenades in a ball pit?” Fipps asked, laughing.
“You mean aside from Junie?” Elliott replied pointedly.
Fipps blinked. “I’m going to go check on her,” he decided, and started off through the crates and shelves to find Junie.
“I wish Shavian were here to see this,” Elliott said softly. He sighed expressively but there was no response.
“Ow!” Roger exclaimed. Elliott turned to see Roger rubbing his forearm and glaring at Aubrey. “What was that for?”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “He’s your friend, you should say something consoling. But it’s kind of ruined now,” she explained. Roger looked at her in distress
“Consoling?” he asked incredulously. “She’d be complaining none of these weapons matched her skinny jeans.
Aubrey placed her hands on her hips and pursed her mouth. “At least slug him on the shoulder and say ‘there, there’ or something.”
“No,” both Roger and Elliott replied.
“Look, it’s okay Aubrey,” Elliott said. “I’m fine. I know we’ll get Shavian back.” Roger let out a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t need to provide any emotional consolation to anyone for the time being.
Aubrey nodded. “Higgins seems pretty capable. But what’s the move after that?”
Roger didn’t hesitate a second. “Off this base,” he said. “And find a way back to Washington.”
Just then, Junie came back around the corner and Elliott stared. Junie had tricked out the tactical mug in record time. There was a laser sight, a bipod and-
Fipps answered the question everyone was getting ready to ask.
“She didn’t put the grenades in a ball pit,” he said. “She put them her bag. Lots of them.”
“Yes!” Junie said, her eyes wild, gently patting the final piece of hardware attached to the rail system of the mug. “For the grenade launcher!”