cloth cover revealing two Rocket Propelled Grenades. Taking one of them from the foam casing he examines it carefully before placing it back in the box. Then taps it gently as if tucking a child in to sleep. The other shelves contain various machine guns, magazines of ammunition, hand grenades and claymore anti-personnel mines.
The shelves with food rations were packed high and it looks like he could survive here for months.
Cocking a few pistols casually to check the mechanisms were working correctly gives him a sense of familiarity and calm. A stock take of sorts, a return to routine and habit. Maybe then he’d start to feel normal again.
After a few minutes touching and counting the weapons, he walks towards one of