Hello again, Test Subject! You don't look so good!

If you look to your left, you will find a bucket, a sword, a pack of matches, a cricket bat, and a shotgun. Please select an item. Once you have selected an item, then we will begin.

No, don't bother looking around. You won't be able to find us. Again, we are so very sorry about all of this, but it was really quite necessary.

Do you see the gates in front of this elevator? We are going to open them very shortly. Once they are open, you will walk down this tunnel until you reach a wall. It should take you about a half hour. Wait there for more instructions.

You will be encountering other Test Subjects. How you deal with them is your choice, but you will have to walk with them regardless.

Please don't dally. Pick up an item. Choose one. This isn't difficult. Your object is very clear.

You simply have to burn the rope.

I wake up. My head is pounding, and there's a dry, nasty taste in my mouth. My tongue flops there like a limp, dry worm, and I realize that I can't even breath correctly right now. I wince and push myself up off of the ground, I don't pay attention to anything except the deep pain that pounds in my skull. God damn, it really hurts. Whatever. The ringing voice that begins to speak is cheery, and I think that they're way too cheerful. It speaks about things I don't understand. How did I get here? I must have gotten here somehow... I don't remember.

I don't remember anything. Oh my god, I've lost my memory? I start to hyperventilate at the thought, but I calm myself down with a few choice swear words instead. Shuddering, I sit on my calves and look around, I look for the items, and I see them, sprawled out to my left. I stare at them for a while. A lot of them could be used to kill someone, and I heard something about other people. But one thing sticks out to me. Burn the rope. They want us to burn a rope? This is what this is about? Staying a live and burning a fucking tiny string? I'll meet other people that may or may not want to kill me, but we're all trying to do the same thing, burn a fucking rope.

My head spins, and I feel woozy. I don't move to my feet, for fear that I'll vomit all over the floor. They said that I was supposed to choose one item, and I wonder what I should choose. I'm scared to choose one, what if I choose the wrong one. I slowly stand, and my shaggy brown hair falls into my eyes. I don't see anyone else in the room, but then again I'm not exactly lookin' for anyone.

"Calm down, Brass me boy." I tell myself, and I think. I ask myself a question, which one would I choose? The matches would be a good choice. They could burn the rope. Burn. The. Fucking. Rope. My headache pulses with those words as I continue to stare at the items. They seem to be laughing at me. I crawl over to them, and stare at them for a while, biting my bruised and bloody bottom lip. It hurts to do that, so I hastily shut my mouth and keep it closed. I wonder whether they're watching me. The people who have placed me here, I wonder whether they're laughing at my indecisiveness.

I slowly get to my feet, and stagger. There must be some sort of camera here. I stumble, and finally trip over my own feet, falling on top of the items themselves. The point of the sword pricks my shirt, and I feel a sharp pinch when it hits my skin. Wincing, I lift my hand up and push down, I feel a pack of matches press against my palm. It scrapes across the floor and sticks to the palm of my hand, my sweat acts as glue. I push myself up and check my shirt with my left hand and see that there is a spot of red blood on it.

Wincing, I slip my hands into my pockets and consider my five options, which are all jumbled together from the tumble I took. After much consideration of those five things, I choose the sword, I swing it like a baseball bat, it swishes through the air, and I manage to cut off a small bit of skin from my ear, and a hunk of my hair. I gingerly place it back down on the ground and touch my left hand to my ear, it comes back with blood on it.

It's decided. I grab the cricket bat, it fits right into my hand. It's perfect. I turn towards the gates and wait for them to open, the cricket bat is over my shoulder, dangling there as I watch the gates, and wait. I need to burn the rope.

Burn. That. Damned. Rope.

Was that John speaking? No, not John, then who? My eyes feel heavy, and my head is pounding like I have a hangover but I open my eyes anyway and am greeted by the sight of a dusty stone floor. The pure amount of filth on the floor wakes me up quicker than a bucket of cold water to the face. I shoot up into a sitting position quicker than I've ever moved in my life. Ugh, I should've thought twice about sitting up that fast, now my head is spinning and my head feels like tiny dwarves are trying to mine my brain matter with little sharp pickaxes. What's even worse than the headache is the state of my clothes. It looks like I've been dragged across the ground, and maybe I was because I have no clue how I got here. My mind is a huge blank and it seems the more I try to remember the more the memories dance out of my grasp. I'm so busy brushing dirt off my shirt that my mind only really flits backs to the words towards the middle part of the little speech "If you look to your left-". I immediately glance to the left and sure enough there's a bucket, some matches, a sword, a bat and a shotgun. To be honest, I don't want to pick any of those objects, why should I? Which brings me to the question I've been avoiding since I woke up; why am I here? Of course, that's a troubling thought and if I think about it I know I'll panic and if I panic I'll look silly and- why the hell should I care if I look silly? There's no one here. No one except the voice. I stand up now and walk to the objects, lying so carelessly on the floor.

Once again I've been so wrapped up in the muddled shawl of my own mind that I've missed most of what the voice is saying. I managed to catch a few choice parts and the last sentence, "You simply have to burn the rope". I have a feeling that asking nicely for them to explain things won't work. Burning a rope, that's easy right? Why would I need a gun to do that? I laugh at this, how stupid do they think I am? Another thing comes back to me, that they said something about other Test Subjects. They wouldn't try to hurt me would they? No, I'm in the same situation as them, we're comrades. So I pick the matches. "You want me to burn a rope? Fine, I'll burn your damn rope." I say out loud, just in case they're listening. I pick up the box of matches and brush some dust off. Decision made, I head towards the gates. I don't want to think about what will be coming next.

Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. “Ow!” I blert, cupping my face with my hands. My whole head throbs like it's coming down from a brain-freeze, and my body feels all cramped and awkward from lying in this position. I’m on my side, vaguely fetal. The ground feels cold and metallic. That’s really strange. I don’t remember… I open my eyes suddenly. The sharp fluorescent light streams through my fingers. It hits me and I’m panicking. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. I’m conjuring shadows in my buzzing skull, trying to find something to hold on. I can’t. Only now I can, but they aren’t even memories. I can’t place an image associated with them, just the thoughts themselves. To get my normal life, I have to kill the monster. Weapons don’t work. Burn the rope. What? What does that even mean? And then the intercom blares, or at least that’s what I think it is. Where is that sound coming from, anyway? I can’t tell.

I lower my hands, and study the objects before me for a moment. I push myself to a sitting position, and lean on the wall, facing the metal elevator. For a long time, I let everything slide over me. I consider. This is all just some trick, right? Of course, the matches look so obvious. But is it too obvious? Something is up. If you give us matches, then that gives up the whole game, right? Is that it? That can’t be it. Why not hand us the stupid rope while you’re at it? Or is this reverse psychology? Maybe everyone thinks that this is too easy and then we all get to the end with our stupid guns and the fucking little bucket, (a bucket! what the hell?!) and then nobody brought the goddamn matches. Weapons won’t hurt the monster. Is it really that simple? This is stupid. I’m over-thinking this.

I pull myself up quickly, grimace and take another look around the room. My head spins. Don’t dally, it said. I really, really don’t want to go against the voice; I know this innately. I struggle to gain composure quickly. Through the haze and the ache and the dizziness I grab the stupid goddamn matches.

“Did I win?” I ask the air, shaking the box in my hand. Nothing responds. I straighten up, crack my neck, and wait. I'm oddly calm about the whole thing, I realize. Am I in shock? I've never been in shock before. Or have I?

"Goddamn it," I whisper. This is not okay.

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have lied." I announce, looking at my arm for my more trustworthy instructions, I wasn't sure I was but I'd always looked to my body for advice and there it was written in my flesh, scabbing with dried blood. To explain my disengagement from 'reality' is that I just don't want to apply the level of thought about it that analyzing it would require. The note on my left arm says "December has come."

December. Lights. Christmas. Light up the night.

I take the matches then pull out a match, slide it across the side and think back.

I remember how I used to make napalm. Simple really, you mix Styrofoam and Gasoline in an old bowl until the mixture is thick and then you use it. I remember burning down a hotel with that stuff, everyone survived of course.

I'm over that period of life now.

I pick up the bucket and wait for the doors to open.

I like buckets.

Good for mixing Napalm.

Ohh so lovely little trees make my knees go into summer salting grease of cricket poxxes... That voice, what is that voice that makes suck grating melon juice to my ears? Does the voice have hair? Hair!!!!! MY HAIR!!!!!! My bucket? Why is my bucket there with the sword? What is a sword? Who am I? Where am I? Trigonometry of a doughnut, or maybe, just maybe lugnut... I like nuts, so small so fragile, clear my mind as I rest the salt into my mouth... Nuts in the bucket?

"I take this lug nut bucket and declare I am saint of Sinclair and Shakespeare." Oh my did I just say that? Who dares talk to me like that, grab the bucket and kill the infirm... Oh what a shiny bucket I have in my hands. Ware ware, beware of your hair, ware ware, beware of your hair. Where did everything go? it looks so dark and smells of metal now.


( My character grabbed the bucket and put it on his head for clarification)

Well, here we are again, Test Subjects.

You all look so resentful at the start! We will soon change this. The gates are going to open, now.

Oh, by the way. The elevator gates will permanently close behind you once you step outside, so in this time, make sure you are certain about your chosen item.

We see the looks on your faces. You want to stay in the elevator. You could stay there, we suppose, but then you wouldn't have the slightest chance of being allowed to leave the testing area. You could kill yourselves, if you like, as well. That is always an option - albeit disappointing.

You will notice that the passage where the elevators open narrows very quickly into the tunnel. You have exactly a half hour to get yourselves to the other side of the tunnel, where the chamber will open. We recommend starting off walking fairly soon. The tunnel is longer than you may think, and if you aren't at the end in time, then bad news for you.

You won't be able to burn the rope.

Aa-aah, and there we go. The gates have opened. Quite a mighty screech they make! Go on, then! Meet your fellow Test Subjects! Have a chat. This has got to be our favorite part of the experiment.

Remember! Don't make this more difficult than it is. You only have to burn the rope.

I glared around the room, I'm certain that I'm being watched so I flick a quick middle finger before I enter the elevator. I don't mind leaving the elevator, I hate enclosed spaces almost as much as dirt. The old elevator opens with a pained squeal and I stride out into the tunnel. It was dark and grimy and I quickly hug my arms close to my sides to avoid touching the walls, or anything else for that matter. I wait in anticipation for the others to come. I feel wary but I cling desperately to the hope that they won't be hostile, that they'll want to help me as much as I want to help them.

Bumbling babbling the voice, the god awful sweet melons voice. Wait the melon speaks? It speaks out of turn while lighting the urn... I must light something... Fire... FIRE... Desire my fire in the ire of the dryer heehee... was that a rhyme? Am I a rhyme? Ware ware, beware of your hair. Not my Hair for I have none, none to strangle choke and control.

Burn the rope? What is a rope? Rope is a what? Slyly going and frolicking in the fields of daises muster the soap... Mortify myself sometimes but I will get over it eventually... No hair.... pin drop sound mashing scruttle bunching ropes, they must suffer through the rope.... a rope to suffer a rope... I must be going mad.... MAD I SAY!!!!!

"Wonder full lovely darkness abode in running to ignite the rope!!" What rope? Not my rope? A hair rope? Rapunzel, rapunzel let down your hair rope to me so I may burn it! Burn it with salt and lick it clean like a dog in shiny armor pails for lug nuts... my nuts you can't have. What is this? The hollowampabee calls my name, test subject is my NAME!!!!!

"I AM WHOLE I AM FREE, I AM TEST SUBJECTS!" Down the hall down the hall, making life such a ball, and granduer to burn everything everything, not anything but everything. Mash stash, cash rash, field my support. Brain tame, lame shame, you wont die this time... Oh my what a twist I can't find a hall... Why do I have a bucket on my head?

"Ware ware, beware of your hair!"

I can see, like a bumble bee, falling over the regulating retrospect of similarity to a muffin... I like pie.

(translation, he hears the voice thinks his name is Test Subject, takes the bucket off his head and skips down the tunnel singing)

I can't help but be taken aback as the first of the other "test Subjects" bounds down the hall, not seeming to notice anything around him, probably because he has a bucket on his head, although, to his credit, he takes the bucket off. It's obvious from the get-go that he's a bit of a nutjob and I can't help but wonder how long he's been here. As long as me? Maybe longer? I have no way of knowing if he was this way before or after he came here or if this is what happens to all the "Test Subjects" here. "Um...hello?" I ask tentatively, wondering if he can even hear me. I regret talking almost immediately though, with the mental state he's in, this guy could be dangerous. Who knows how he might react to me?

Ware ware, beware of your hair! "Um...hello?" A voice behind me, a little girly maybe. Ah yes such lovely auburn hair, oh my what a pretty thing, or is it a man? Maybe a woman? Does it speak? Of course it speaks silly, it just spoke. But does it know?

"Hello little one, are you aware of your hair? You must beware... ware ware, beware of your hair!!!!" So soft subtle ties of mercenary forces extinct now in the pale buck room of mockery. Wait... What? oh right we must burn something, Rapunzel's hair. "Off to find Rapunzel and burn her hair, beware, her hair... I like pie."

The pretty little thing looks like a man in a woman who is really a woman in a a man. Slightly following Test Subject she is, she wants the hair as well. But why which such lovely pony frolicking dog slicing hair that she already has? Maybe she is a tree, a bee, a key, some kind of apple? Who knows, who cares, I will find out the stairs... did that rhyme? Maybe it did, maybe it didn't but oh my the hair.

This is it. My eyes are wide, ready for anything. My shoulders tense, and my fingers dent the box in my grip. There is a monster at the end of the tunnel. Just as I am reconsidering the shotgun, the voice mentions we could kill ourselves, if we wanted to.

“Oh, fuck you.” I spit off to one side. Not a chance in hell. Is this what they want? To see how long people can last without resorting to knives? Some “Oh but you see, the monster was in you all along” bullshit. But that doesn’t make sense, we only have a half-hour… wait. We only have a half-hour. Now the box is feeling the true pain of my fist, and in my right hand my nails have nothing to dig but my palm.

The gate opens. It’s a creaking, grating sound. I do not like this. Fuck fuck fuck. When it reveals the tunnel before me, I am compelled to start walking. In fact, I’m speed walking. I’m up to a jog before I think to stop. Sounds and voices are already bouncing off the stone walls, sounds of shouting and jangling and the clang of metal.

“The other subjects?” I whisper. This calls for tact. My hand absently ruffles my hair, and my stance changes into something self-consciously relaxed. I take a few big gulps of air, and slow my breathing. From somewhere I pull out a calm, determined gait. I stride forward, and in no time their figures become clearer.

A seriously disturbed man was laughing and singing nonsense, carrying the bucket. Of course. I would have smiled at that but I was a little too concerned. There was something wrong in his eyes. He was bald, but the scalp was patchy and red, like this wasn’t a natural falling out. And was that… a strait jacket? I’ve never seen one before. Is that real? And then the girl was trying to talk to him. Shit shit shit what are you doing? Get away from him. I didn't say that out loud. Shit, I hadn't even noticed that chick in my immediate need to assess the palpable madness radiating off the singing fool. Was she stupid? Or was she just as crazy? She didn't look the type, though. Her hair was too nice.

I slowly started walking again, towards the girl. I’m too far away to pull her back now. I looked around for backup, catching the eye of someone still making their way out of their gate. I gesture quickly with a slight tilt of my head to the crazed man, and back again. Hell, I don't know what to do about this.

I gulp and keep my distance from the crazed man. I only know notice the straightjacket. Yup, definitely crazy. I move to the other side of the tunnel and continue walking, until I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and see a man. Well more of a boy, really. He looks like he's about college age and he has a bunch of piercings. Yep, pretty normal. He's such a contrast to the insanity that is, well, everything else in this place, I nearly hug him. However, I don't hug him, instead I just keep walking, facing backwards. "Hello?" I say with a small smile while pleading silently Please don't be crazy, please don't be crazy.

(sorry in advance if your character is a girl. I just realized now that the name was spelled Danielle)

So I've been walking for quite some time, when I see a few other people. One of them is obviously addled brain wise, while the others seem alright. I don't believe I'm crazy, but it's possible that they might think I'm crazy. 'Cos I'm carryin' a rather large bat if you didn't notice already. But I ignore all of them and continue to walk down the tunnel. I don't really understand why we're doin' this, but I do know that there's something at the end of this tunnel, and that we have to beat it. I don't plan on killing anyone, but if they get within five feet of me, they're going down. I notice that there does seem to be a very scared looking girl, but I don't have the energy to console her.

This is it, man.

My way out.

You've got to admit it is a little adventurous. Haha.

Yeah, right.

Whatever.

Burnin' the rope, eh.

I can do that.

Another person comes and it becomes clear that the others aren't up for idle chitchat by their expressions, which is fine with me since I'm not exactly known for being tactful. I assess the situation. We've got
1. Crazy Bucket Man :obsessed with hair.
2. Piercings Galore with a box of matches. Good enough for me
3. Kind of scary dude with a bat. Mental note: Don't mess with him
and then, of course, there's me. This was gonna be fun. Of course, there's one more person due to show up to the party. I don't know if I want to deal with one more person at this point. Still, I continue to smile politely. First impressions have never seemed so important to me in my life. That, and keeping my hair away from the guy win the straightjacket.

"I don't like your favorite part." I replied to the voice with no speaker, stepping out of the elevator and running a finger along the scar on my right arm, this arm had a couple of messages I seemed trustworthy "Survive." was one of them, the other notes were a jumble of cryptic messages and phrases like NOTE: TRUST NO-ONE. Jericho understood both guidelines both those etched on his skin and those called to him by what could be a figment of his imagination.

And then other people.

I had the sudden urge to completly and utterly destroy the man with the bucket and seemed obsessed with hair, he seemed like a threat, then some punk trying to be an outsider. Because he certainly knew that Alpha type males don't act like that. See I remembered reading a book that told me about three male mindsets, you're either an ALPHA or a BETA or an OUTSIDER and OUTSIDERS were usually ASSHOLES, ALPHAS were usually TRYHARDS or DICKS, and BETAS were SHALLOW or SHY.

What a load of bullshit but I figured that the man with the baseball bat fit the Outsider trait to me, the girl seemed out of place and Piercings seemed also a degree of insane.

I walked past them, trying to walk past OUTSIDER with the baseball bat.

We could talk later.

RIGHT NOW NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT.

I have to admit that I didn't pay much attention to anyone, but the guy with the bucket... And the obsession with hair really made me a little bit uneasy. I also sort of noticed the girl, but that's because she reminds me of my sweet heart, or who ever was my sweet heart before this happened. I don't give a fuck about any of them, but I have to admit it would have been nice to have at least a few allies, I doubt that's going to be happening.

I don't really do well under pressure, but I feel surprisingly at ease with this atmosphere. We're all pretty far down the tunnel, and the monster is still there. I get the feeling that these people doing the test, well, they're a little bit crazy in the head as well. But whatever, that doesn't exactly matter. I swing the bat one more time, and let this guy walk past without hitting him. I don't know this dude, but he seems.. Sane enough, probably not. I shake my head for a moment, trying to clear my head as I begin to run. I'm ready to get out there, I don't want to do anything else except run.

The beat of my footsteps calms me, sooths me into something almost like a stupor. As my lungs begin to burn, I relish in the feeling of breathlessness. I forget about everything else.

I need to forget about everything else.

Because if I start remembering shit,

how can I go on?

I can't.

"oh my what such wonderful people," My head hurts, maybe it is because I turned it upside down to look at everyone, maybe I am a beaver, or a mole.... Moles filthy nasty little things that eat souls of the children, The Neffleskark told me this morning, or was it just now? Ware ware... heheheheee. "Do we all have to immaculately disintertain by burning Rapunzel's hair... oh beware, it can ensnare and kill, kill.... kill the oppressors.... I decided I don't like pie after all, so filthy nasty and disgusting, like the parade of mountain dressed in yellow cream and govern titles that only gleam and dry in the high winds of the night...."

The man... or is he a gorrilla? maybe a panther, or a mole.... filthy nasty things.. is he carrying a stick? suck lovely grains of stick... but doe he know. "You there with hair and a stick.... such a lovely stick meant for bashing a beating and eating.... are you aware?" topsy turvy like a little nervy punctual defiler of such things as man and man alike. "Sahlahada in nevada or the mada of saint clauda....." This would be so much fin with the bees and the knees and all the little trees.


(if you can't tell he won't kill anyone unless provoked.... also he is willing to burn the rope)

FIFTEEN MINUTES.

Fifteen minutes and we weren't all that close yet. I start going faster and faster, speedwalking. I look ridiculous but for once I don't care. To be honest, I kind of want to leave the others behind. Its obvious none of them are going to be all that helpful to me. Not enemies, not allies either.

Another guy with a bucket (why? What could you possibly use one for? I don’t even…) brushes past me and I’m a little confused. Nobody seems to care about the crazy guy; they’re all just intent on getting to the end of this.

“Okay, well…” I turn to the girl and she’s already moving on. I’m just standing there, brow furrowed, like an idiot.

“Right then.” I start to jog. When this is all over maybe they’ll give us an explanation. I smile. No, probably not.

The fool is calling out to bat-man now, but that doesn’t have to mean anything, either. It doesn’t have to be an event. He could be some Alice-in-Wonderland crazy, and all he wants to do is have tea and sing songs. Just chill. This’ll all be done with soon.

I think I can see to the end of the tunnel! Well, it's hard to tell. In any case the distance isn't just pitch black anymore. I start jogging a little faster. My ears are pricked, subconsciously waiting for the ball to drop.

"Fifteen minutes"

That voice. oh my, what a wonderful melon voice, I want to eat it... "I am coming for you voice." What a ample production of pink ensnared monkey warts and prism dialog. Oh the irony. All my new friends... or are they pets? or pets of friend who once said let all ninjas and cake be as one? What are ninja? what is cake? am I cake? No... I am Test Subject, heheehee.

First we must overpass the mass of what we call a lass with hair. Oh my such lovely hair, but does she know? Of course she knows, that is why she is running, running to be gunning the simple art of summing up the entrails of last night wake in the fun faced melody of river Google. All hail the almighty Google. What to do when your blue and you run out of glue in your shoe as though the hue of the world was new... I do like pie after all.

"Ware ware, beware of your hair! Ware ware, Beware of you hair!" My my my my my my my my, how many mys am I? Such a wonderful run, yes we must outrace the gun when it fires its bullets and deflect them with mullets and pass all the non believers and dreamer and apple creamers.

"Run run as fast as you can I am the Test Subject man!" Passing one, haha, two haha, I am catching you voice of melons. Such sweet juicy insides that will fill my stomach with the sweet stench of pie... SO MUCH PIE!!!!!! Faster to the pie! FASTER! I am the egg man I am the fear no one can outrun me this time of year. Or maybe I am a raging buffalo in the winter trying to frolic in a field of daises and moles, filthy little things, while cantering smurfs in the noon tide of the great divide as I abide my mind in the gates of utter melancholy and oblivion to settle the mind I drive inside and fly... FLY AWAY! FASTER!

(Translation... He went into a crazed sprint to eat the voice which he thinks is a melon of some kind.)

I hear the crazy asshole obsessed with hair breaking into a run and rambling madly, boy is it really making me nervous and I do the only thing that appeals to me, I swing out my scarred left fist and swing it a manner to stop him violently in his tracks, maybe it'd help him get a concrete step on reality. "Calm the fuck down, sparky, that voice you hear isn't the one you should be trusting would you lot just calm the fuck down and keep walking, whoever is in control expects one of us to make to the end and what the fuck do you think happens to the rest of us when time runs up if we're still not there yet?" I shout, gesturing with my arms high up in the air.

"So if you want to survive I advise you all slow down and keep in a group."

"Unless you want us to die or yourself to die, keep running."

Oh no... a piece of flesh is coming at me. It puts the bucket on it's fist... heheehee, you can't catch the Test Subject. Oh what relevance it speaks but I have no time to listen to the spewing of cats and random moles... filthy nasty things. TO THE MELON!!!!! I must get to the melon and dine of such pure utter concrete felling upon the moons shine and apple foot. Maybe the man with the bat does not know, he must not no, and I must not say. He looks like the dirty lot that hangs with the moles... filthy nasty things.

"Be aware batman, be very aware!" Of your hair, but you are a mole, so you do not have such. I trapease in the breeze while not eating cheese, for the bees, have knees in subtle kitchen working popping and definitely not stopping meese. Oh I like pie, so much pie, very much pie.. pie... pie... pie. Pie is I and I am pie.... no I am Test Subject. That door ahead is pie. I must eat it!

(As he runs past Jericho he holds up the bucket and slips it over his fist as he speeds past him. When he gets to the door he starts gnawing on it because he believes it is pie)

How many minutes have passed since the fifteen marker? Two? Three? At any rate it was a short time before I hit the wall. I resolve to start counting seconds.

The crazy man is gnawing on the wall, so I make sure to stay a few steps behind. It’s oddly fascinating to watch him go at it, all slobbery and mumbling to himself. I wonder what he thinks he’s doing. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14…

I’m fidgeting, now. What are we doing? Nothing is happening. Where’s the rope? The others as they gather look just as impatient. I glance at the batman (heh). He’s the only one who brought a weapon. We can't hurt the monster, but will there be something else?
20, 21, 22, 23, 24…

I get closer to the wall in front of us, and start pushing at random bricks, hoping to trigger something, like in the movies. I'm way off to the left side of the tunnel, far enough away from crazy man. I'm sure if there is a loose stone, he'll find it. I mean, look at him go. I avert my eyes.