Well, "tomorrow" was Sunday, so no one wanted to talk about jobs. They just wanted to sit around and do nothing. They said they'd talk to us on the Friday after next, when Rogan was able to go and get his weapons.

So Doyle and I walked on eggshells the whole two weeks, waiting for Izzy to try to murder Seth. Or Rogan. But he has a bodyguard, so it would be a bit more difficult. Not that that'd stop Izzy.

He's quite strange, Rogan. He never sleeps at night. Hardly sleeps at all, actually. He's barely said two words since he told us his name and Pirate's name. For the last couple of days – and nights – he's been making a huge ruckus in the backyard. I went out there yesterday to see what the heck he was doing, and when I asked him, he said, "You'll see." And those were his two words for the two weeks since Food City.

Today is Friday, the day we can go see about getting a job at the wall, and the day Rogan can get his weapons back. Ellie came by a couple of days ago to check up on him. Alicia told her about Izzy's attack and how Rogan didn't hurt Izzy even though he most definitely could have. So Ellie said he could have his weapons back after the usual two weeks, instead of sticking to her original plan of keeping them for a month or never returning them at all, unless he decided to leave.

Seth, Doyle, Rogan, Pirate and I take up the entire street, walking side by side. Izzy walks ahead of us. She can't stand to be anywhere near Rogan. I don't know what happened between them on the outside, but I do know that neither one of them is going to tell us. And that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

The only reason Izzy came with us is because she wants a job at the wall, too. I don't know if she'll take it if Rogan joins us, though.

+++++

We walk into Ellie's headquarters, where she and some other people control everything within the wall.

A solemn-faced woman with her light brown hair pulled back in a tight bun looks up as we enter. A look of surprise crosses her face for a split second at the sight of us. She quickly collects herself, and, straightening her glasses, clears her throat and asks, "May I help you?" Her eyes travel to Pirate.

There is a somewhat awkward pause as we wait for Rogan to tell her he's come to get his weapons. When he doesn't say anything, I speak up. "We're here to get his weapons back," I nod at Rogan.

"You will need to speak to Ellie, then," the woman says, "Up the stairs, second door on the left. That's her office. She should be there."

"Okay, thank you," I say, stepping toward the hallway at the back of the room, toward the stairs at the end of it.

+++++

I stare at the second door on the left, wondering if I'm supposed to knock or not. Doyle knocks for me, and Ellie's sharp voice tells us to come in.

He turns the knob. The door opens with a quiet squeak and we quickly fill up the tiny room that's already crowded with a desk, shelves, and two chairs facing the desk.

Morning sunlight filters through a window behind Ellie as she sits at the desk, her hands folded on the wooden surface in front of her. A pistol sits inches from her hands.

"How can I help you today?" She asks, her eyes fixed on Rogan.

"I came for my weapons," his husky voice comes from behind his scarf. He only ever brings it down to eat or drink. And I've never actually seen the top of his head – he never takes his hat off.

"Yes, of course," Ellie says. Her eyes drift to the rest of us. "And you?"

"We came to see about being lookouts on the wall," Seth states.

Ellie gives a brief nod. "I see," she says. She unfolds her hands and places her palms flat on the desktop. "We're not in need of anyone at the moment, but I'll see what I can do."

Before anyone can reply to that, Rogan demands, "What about my weapons?"

"Of course," Ellie rises from her seat, scooping up the pistol and sliding it into a holster on her belt, "If you'll follow me...." She steps out from behind her desk, and leads us into the hallway. She takes us to a door at the far end of the hallway, and opens it without knocking.

Matt, her not-so-eager-to-return-my-Glock-to-me co-leader, sits at a desk that is cluttered with papers of diagrams, blueprints, and maps. The room is full of lockers with huge padlocks on them. And on Matt's desk sits a large ring of keys.

Matt looks up as the door opens. Upon seeing Ellie, he leaps to his feet. "Good morning, Ellie," he says. Pirate growls and Matt's eyes fly to his barred teeth. "How may I be of service?"

"It's time to return this young man's weapons to him," Ellie says.

"Oh," Matt's reluctance to obey orders is clear. Slowly, he reaches for the key ring, studying Rogan as he heads to the locker closest to the desk.

He fiddles with lock and key for a minute. Rogan is impatient, drumming his fingers against his thigh. Pirate's growl has become a steady, low rumble.

Finally, Matt yanks the locker open. Inside sits a crossbow, arrows, two pistols, and several knives ranging from giant Swiss army knives to slender throwing knives and pocket knives. He brings those out first, halfheartedly handing them over. Rogan slips the pocket knife into his pocket, and drops the many others into his pack.

The crossbow and arrows come next. Matt really isn't eager to part with them, and it is obvious how hard Rogan has to wrench them out of his hands. Then the two pistols. One into the pack, the other in the waistband.

I'm thinking that's all, that we can go now, when Matt starts fiddling with the lock on the second locker. He has more? This guy is like a walking armory.

This next locker contains a rifle, an AK 47, a machete, a meat cleaver, an axe and several boxes of ammunition. Why does one person need this many weapons? How does he carry them all?

Rogan pries the rifle and AK 47 out of Matt's iron grip and slips them over his shoulders with the straps connected to them. The boxes of ammo go into the pack. The machete is slid into his knee-high rubber boots. The meat cleaver into the pack. And the axe stays in his hands. His strong, potentially crazy and/or dangerous hands.

Without a word, he turns and walks out of the room.

"That will be all, Matt," Ellie says. Matt gives a brief nod and drops the keyring onto the desk.

+++++

Apparently, Rogan built a shooting range in the backyard. We all use it. I haven't used my Glock in a while, and the last thing I want is to get rusty. Seth is an accurate shot. He hits all the wooden targets dead center. While he's standing still. Rogan runs around while he shoots at the targets, hitting them all in the bullseye.

Izzy isn't too great with guns just yet. She's best with my Glock. While she uses it, Seth trying to give her pointers that she completely ignores simply because he gave them to her, I watch everyone else. We can't practice very much because we don't have an infinite amount of ammo like the people in movies do.

Doyle shoots his pistol a couple of times. Rogan apparently grows bored with his guns and pulls out the crossbow, firing at the targets, hitting them all dead center. He starts running around and shooting at them, and hits them still. He switches to the slender throwing knives. Again, every shot is perfect – directly in the center of the targets. After he throws all of the knives, he picks up the axe and hurls it at a skinny wooden target. It splinters as the axe crashes into it, straight into the middle. I'd hate to get on Rogan's bad side.

"Show off," Izzy mutters as she stuffs the Glock in my hands, "I'm going upstairs. Call me when it's time for supper."

"Okay," I say, but she's already to the back door. I turn away from watching her yank open the door, and my eyes drift to Rogan, who is watching her.

I really wish I knew what had happened between them.