I grab a gasping Anderson and move rapidly toward the entrance of the tunnel.
He stumbles but follows.
I don’t know how we manage to get to the tunnel’s entrance, or how we get to the top, but we’re both out of breath.
I fling the trap door close, sinking on top of it, gasping, “We have to—have to tell—”
“O … On it!” Anderson looks pale, but his color is still better than before. He’s already reaching in his bag to take out a small, square device with a button on it.
He presses it multiple times, muttering, “What was that down there?”
“P … Paralyzing agent,” I gasp, still trying to catch my breath.
“That’s why I can’t feel my legs,” he mumbles. “They feel stiff.”
“It’ll wear off,” I reassure him, my heart still beating like a drum. “But more importantly, I thought the whole point
