SATELLITE [STEVE HARRINGTON]

big boy and the dream

"CHECK THIS OUT."

Eddie slapped a heavy phonebook down on the table, showing them one of the ads. "The War Zone," he said, pointing to it. A Rambo-reminiscent man holding a large gun was shirtless on the page, standing in front of an American flag.

"I've been there once," he told them, as they all gathered around to peer over his shoulder. "It's huge. They got everything you need for, uh... well, killing things basically."

"You think fake Rambo has enough guns there?" Robin asked. "Is that a grenade? I mean, how is any of this legal!"

"Well, lucky for us, it is," Eddie grinned. "So, this... this place is just far enough outside of Hawkins. And as long as we steer clear of main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops and uh... angry hicks."

"If we're trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn't go to some store called the War Zone," Erica pointed out.

Nancy sighed, pushing off the table. "Normally, I'd agree... but we need the weapons, so I think its worth the risk."

Lucas nodded. "Me too."

Ginny joined in, "Me three... You think fake Rambo happens to have some flamethrowers?"

"That'd be great and all, but is it worth the time?" Dustin said. "It'll take all day to bike there and back."

Eddie looked at him. "Who said anything about bikes?"

"You got some car we don't know about?" Steve asked.

Eddie stood up straight and smiled at him. "It's not exactly a car, Steve. And... it's not exactly mine. But, uh... it'll do."

Ginny was starting to simultaneously adore and abhor that devious look on his face. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and turned to Max in the other room. "Hey, Red— you got a ski mask or a bandana, something like that?"

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

MOMENTS LATER, EDDIE WAS LIVING UP TO HIS MURDERER NAME IN MAX'S OLD MICHAEL MYERS MASK. He peeked around the corner of the trailer, his eyes on the owners of a pretty white RV, who lounged outside.

If the situation hadn't been so tense and her feet weren't aching from walking around barefoot all night and day, Ginny would have laughed. He motioned for them to follow, and they crept forward.

She was sure they looked like an absolute mess, all of them, but luckily, no one saw.

Eddie leapt head first through the open window in the back of the RV. He wriggled inside and ripped off the mask, muttering, "That was suffocating..."

Steve stopped beneath the window and helped Ginny up by her waist, careful to help her avoid scraping her injured knees on the window sill. She flopped inside and scrambled to her feet, following Eddie to the front.

He reached over to lock the door, before planting himself in the driver's seat. Ginny handed him a set of wirecutters from his little tool bag, and he reached under the steering wheel.

Steve leaned over her shoulder as they watched Eddie hotwire the RV. "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

"Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball," Eddie muttered, as he worked, "My old man was teaching me how to hotwire. Now, I swore to myself I wouldn't end up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder, and soon— grand theft auto. So, uh... really living up to that Munson name."

Ginny smiled at Steve over her shoulder, just as Robin ran up. "Yeah, uh— Eddie, I'm not sure I love the idea of you driving," she chirped.

He shook his head. "Oh, I'm just starting this sucker." He grinned up at Steve. He leaned in, teasing. "Harrington's got her. Don't ya, big boy?"