They spent the next hour fixing Themis’ grip and posture, until she was comfortable emptying the gun in one go. Her aim improved significantly when she actually started squeezing the trigger instead of pulling it, nailing a good percentage of her shots. Still from five yards, and no bullseyes or nothing, but if she kept that up she’d pass Minhua’s performance in mere days. Satisfied, Carmen gestured at Themis to put the gun down. Themis popped the cylinder open and unloaded the smoking casings, making sure it was empty just like she was taught before she handed it back to the Captain.
“No, keep it,” Carmen said, taking her earplugs off. “Don’t get caught with it on. And remember what I taught you.”
“Yes, sensei,” Themis faked a respectful bow. I should get a holster, she thought, slipping it in the waistband of her jeans. The kutte covered it nicely, it would stay hidden unless some gust of wind blew the leather away. And it was never windy in Hunter county. Even empty it made her nervous, though. And she was about to sit on it on her way home.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“Go home, take a nap,” Carmen said. “Wash the gunpowder off of you, if you want. Though, if you ask me, it’s kinda hot.”
“Ha,ha, very funny,” Themis said, rolling her eyes. “What time tonight?"
“I’ll talk to Franco’s guy and we’ll see. Stay available, I’ll pick you up in the van.”
“You got it,” Themis said, as they tidied up the shooting range.
“I meant it, about the nap,” Carmen said, looking at her with intent. “I need you on top of your game, tonight. No drink, no drugs, and if you fall asleep during the job and embarrass us I’ll kick your ass.”
“Yeah, okay,” Themis said.
They left the warehouse without even locking it up, simply pulling the heavy sliding door. A lock on an abandoned lot would draw attention, and they neither had anything of value nor incriminating inside anyway. It was better to leave it as it was, hidden in plain sight. They mounted their bikes, Themis had to watch her sitting position so the gun didn’t scratch the leather of the saddle. Then they took off, splitting after a couple miles. Themis heading downtown, while Carmen had some job to take care of and went westward instead.
Themis had made a small mental shopping list in her mind, and with money in her pockets it was the best time to start crossing things off. She was okay with groceries, cleaning supplies and et cetera. Instead she rode past San Raul, the Catholic cathedral the town had taken its name from hundreds of years ago, relieved to see mass in session and father Garcia busy. She pulled over to the block next to the church, Colonel Park, named after Colonel Andrew Thornton, active during WW2 and the most famous person to come out of the town. At the center of the park, surrounded by trees and greenery, was the colonel’s very own armored vehicle, recreated after it was blown up by a Panzer shell seconds into its first and last engagement, killing everyone inside.
Across the park was a small shopping center, with the biggest and most impressive front being none other than Themis’ destination, Reyes’ Military Surplus. The owner, Flora, was sitting on a picnic table outside of it munching on a protein bar, a carving knife on her free hand and a block of wood in her lap. Parts of it had been scraped off, chips and pieces littered the front by Flora’s seat, but it was too early for the shape to be recognized as anything.
“Well, well, well,” she said, looking up at Themis approaching. “Themis Adamou, as I live and breathe.”
She held the bar in her mouth as she needed the hand to shake Themis’. They clapped their hands together, forwards and back, ending with a fist pump, both of them surprised the other remembered their secret greeting from however long ago. It was nice seeing each other again.
“Hi, Flora,” Themis said. “You look good.”
And she did. Military school had been good to her, trimming the rough edges and shaping her up wonderfully. She was in amazing shape, her muscles clearly toned and her clothes hugging her figure. She had buzzed one side of her dirty blonde hair, giving her a punkish but tough look, and she was wearing light makeup that made her dark eyes pop. She was dressed in combat boots, camo pants and an open khaki army jacket over a plain tank top. With the knife in her hand she looked like a Five Finger Death Punch groupie.
“You don’t,” Flora said in her raspy, hoarse voice. “What the fuck happened your hair?”
“I cut them,” Themis shrugged. “I think I look tough.”
“Yeah, like a nut,” the army girl chuckled. “Where the fuck have you been? I passed by your apartment a month or two ago and I heard moaning from the inside, but Lobo said it wasn’t you.”
“Oh, God,” Themis pinched her nose, blushing. “No, that wasn’t me. I was… away for some time. Artie was house sitting.”
“Trust me, the way I heard it must have been a week until someone sat again.” More laughter, more blushing. “Good to see you again, though,” Flora said, finishing her protein bar. “What brings you here?”
“I have some things I want to buy.”
“Well, you came to the right place. Mom’s out of the picture, so it’s just me now. Fifteen percent off for friends and family.”
“What the fuck happened to Cynthia?” Themis asked. Flora’s mother was a difficult woman, and while Themis had a certain respect and appreciation for her, she wasn’t adverse to the idea that she wouldn’t have to see her. Not to mention the discount.
“She cashed out of the store, took Gene and flew to Tijuana. Haven’t heard from them in three months.”
“Poor Gene,” Themis said. “He’s gonna need a new hip, after she’s done with him.”