Salamanders. That's it. We're like salamanders. We grow back limbs after traumatic experiences. Doesn't really matter what happens or how hard we hit, we're always willing to fill out another delivery. Or something. Apparently, we're gonna save some college kids who're stuck in a loop.
And it is obviously the best idea to put the guy who turns into a homicidal maniac when exposed to loops into a loop.
First off, and most important, Grosvenor is under control now. Still, I know that doesn't make up for those things he said. And things he's done. But I do understand that he is an asset to the Couriers and is definitely worth keeping.
Second off, yes, we are already heading off to another delivery. And by we, I mean me, Sam, and Spencer. And the exciting part is that by "heading off" I mean "flying out". Which is fun.
(I've never flown.)
But it's an interesting experience. Some old couple insisted we move so they could sit by the emergency exit, and then this one guy (?) with really long hair and a kind of high voice started hitting on Sam, and me and Spence, simultaneously said "She's with me." That was enough to scare him(?) off. So Sam is now a polygamist. That's fun.
We landed and hailed a cab to this really nice hotel that Spence rented for us. Came with room and board, fancy little bathroom soaps, and a closet full of guns, knives, and other assorted weaponry. Yeah, that part was weird.
"Uh, Spencer?" I called to him in another room. "There's some... stuff in the closet."
"You expect us to go empty handed?" he walks in. He has a sort of 'duh' expression on his face.
"Oh. Guess not." I observed the guns, slightly worried about leaving my fingerprints on any of them. "So, we just go in and shoot everything?"
"We'll see how it goes. Don't be trigger happy, but don't hesitate too much either." he turns, pauses. "Oh, and don't kill any of the kids, alright?"
"Spencer, I doubt you'll have to worry about me killing anyone. I mean, me, Todd. Remember? I cried the first time we met cause I thought I might have killed someone."
Spencer considers this. "Good point. But if you see someone with a ear to ear grin, unload the thing."
I picked one of the guns up. "Which one is mine?"
"Whichever one. I don't really use guns myself." he walks away.
"Course you don't..." I say under my breath. I mean, of course Spencer, the leader figure, the classy one, is the one who doesn't use guns. Eh, I'm trying to get myself mad over nothing.
I don't know, but I'm strangely optimistic about this. Those are some good last words, right?