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Chapter 32

           "Keep’emdowninthebasementsoshankslikeGallycan’tgettothem.Comeon."

           Minhowentfirst.Thestairscreakedwitheveryshiftofweightastheydescendedthedozenorsosteps.Thecoolairwasrefreshing,despitethedustandthestrongscentofmildew.Theyhitadirtfloor,andThomascouldn’tseeathinguntilMinhoturnedonasinglelightbulbbypullingastring.

           TheroomwaslargerthanThomashadexpected,atleastthirtysquarefeet.Shelveslinedthewalls,andtherewereseveralblockywoodentables;everythinginsightwascoveredwithallmannerofjunkthatgavehimthecreeps.Woodenpoles,metalspikes,largepiecesofmeshlikewhatcoversachickencooprollsofbarbedwire,saws,knives,swords.Oneentirewallwasdedicatedtoarchery:woodenbows,arrows,sparestrings.ThesightofitimmediatelybroughtbackthememoryofBengettingshotbyAlbyintheDeadheads.

           "Wow,"Thomasmurmured,hisvoiceadullthumpintheenclosedplace.Atfirsthewasterrifiedthattheyneededsomanyweapons,buthewasrelievedtoseethatthevastmajorityofitwascoveredwithathicklayerofdust.

           "Don’tusemostofit,"Minhosaid."Butyaneverknow.Allweusuallytakewithusisacoupleofsharpknives."

           Henoddedtowardalargewoodentrunkinthecorner,itstopopenandleaningagainstthewall.Knivesofallshapesandsizeswerestackedhaphazardlyallthewaytothetop.

           ThomasjusthopedtheroomwaskeptsecretfrommostoftheGladers."Seemskindofdangeroustohaveallthisstuff,"hesaid.

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