Here, too, red floor lights beat in time with the alarm. Sam peered into the gloom. He could make out shapes, but they did not look like shelves. Sam shuffled forward, arms and fingers searching.
His foot struck something hard and he stopped, cursing. Bending to rub his toes, he fished out his phone for a light. The something hard was a large metal foot. Joined to an ankle, then a knee. A giant metal robot out of a 1950’s movie, all right angles, welded joints and exposed bolts.
Serrated rubber pincers, capable of crushing him whole, hung at its side. The head was a kite shaped block of iron and the quatrefoil eyes glowed demonically.
A noise caused Sam to turn just in time to avoid a beam of light that burst past him and sliced into the steel centurion. He stumbled away from the robot amidst a shower of sparks as another flash followed the first. Then he tripped, dropping his phone. Heart pounding, Sam swore and scrambled away.
