Norda had never seen anything like it in her life. Of course, if she had, she might well have forgotten it. But she was reasonably sure that, no, this was the first time ever. The room was as clammy and damp as any other room in the underground. Anton was next to her, propping himself up on a crutch, his injured leg heavily bandaged. Norda glanced at it once, wondered how he had come to injure himself, and then stopped worrying about it as she became absorbed with her surroundings. The walls were lined with weapons. They all looked like the one that Anton had been holding, but they were different shapes, different sizes. Some were longer than others. One was shining blue even in the dimness of the room. “Can I—?” She reached for it tentatively and looked to him, her eyes glittering with curiosity. “I guess. Sure. Just be careful not to aim it at anything.” “Aim—?” “Don’t point it at anything.”
