“They aren’t going to know what hit them,” Shay said, a savage edge to the words. Her eyes were glowing—hell, all our eyes were, which was why we could see in the sparse light from the distantly placed sconces in these tunnels.
They were surprisingly clean, but cold and clammy. I did not want to spend the night down here, but it was better than the alternative.
The ground sloped down under our feet, and the tunnel began to turn, sharper and sharper until we were walking straight down in a corkscrew pattern. Eventually, it opened back up again, into what looked like a full-on armory. There were glass cases lining the walls, a room full of bunk beds, a full kitchen with a nonperishable pantry, and even a garage with four large, blacked-out SUVs that I’d bet were bulletproof waiting inside.
