Day 18: The Death Chamber

            The first thing he noticed when he awoke was the stench.  He didn’t know what it was but he had to fight back the urge to vomit.  The next thing was the thick darkness.  After a few minutes, his eyes began to adjust to the black and he noticed a form lying next to him.

            “Hello,” he rasped, his voice cracking from lack of moisture. 

            He reached over and shook the figure.  There was no sign of movement or reply.  He pushed himself to his knees and crawled closer to the form.  He shook it once again.  The body fell apart.  It was a skeleton.

            He pushed himself away from the corpse, breathing heavily, only to find himself moving through a multitude of other skeletons and bones.  He didn’t know where he was or why he was there.  In fact, he couldn’t remember anything at all.  Nothing but something hitting the back of his head and him collapsing to the ground before drifting into unconsciousness.  He had no idea who he was.

            Slowly he crawled back to the first corpse he had encountered.  In one of the skeleton’s hands he found a thick leather-bound book.  In the other he found a candle.  Searching the body further, he found two more candles in one of the skeleton’s coat pocket and a box of matches in the other.   He sifted through the rest of the bones to no avail, finding nothing else of use.

            He quickly struck a match and lit one of the candles.  He opened up the book and found that it was a journal, presumably of the skeletons that lay around him.  He closed the journal and decided to search the room for an exit. 

            The room seemed to be a square.  The walls were made of stone brick and the floor of concrete.  There was nothing noteworthy or interesting about the room except for the fact that there was no door or any apparent exit.

            With nothing else to do, he sat with his back against one of the walls and began reading the journal.  The first ten or so entries, gave him no help or hint on his escape.  They were just the feelings and thoughts of the man trapped in the room.  But after a-ways into the journal, the handwriting changed as the next person trapped in the room began to write and he came across an entry of interest and might be some help.

           

Entry 13

 

I have found that I can feel a faint draft coming from one of the walls.  Surely this must be my way of escape.           

 

            It was the entirety of the entry, but for the first time since he had been in this room he felt a sense of hope.

            He sprung to his feet and began feeling the walls, trying to find the one that the journal spoke of.  It took him awhile, but he finally found the wall and felt a faint draft near the floor.  His level of hope soared high. 

            He went back to the journal and read more, seeing if the journal’s writer discovered any more about the wall or some way to escape.  The journal only spoke of the user’s frustration and fear of not being able to discover anymore about the wall.  Hours passed and he went through three more journal users and found no more help.  His eyes quivered as he tried to keep them open.  He was exhausted and he tried to stay awake, but eventually sleep won the battle. 

            He woke up a few hours later.  His stomach felt empty and his entire being ached.  His throat and mouth felt like sand paper.  He instantly struck a match and continued on with the journal, picking up where he had left off before he had fallen asleep. 

            Hours more passed and there was still no help.  The first candle died as he found something again interesting.  He quickly struck another match and lit the second candle.

 

Entry 98

 

I have discovered a loose stone in the same wall that has the draft.  You can press it in and after a certain amount of time it pops back out into its normal position.  This must be the way out.  I am going to search for other stones of this kind.

           

            This time he didn’t stop reading but continued until he found something that would help him.  Again, he found something useful from the same author as before.

 

Entry 110

 

I have searched the entire wall and found eight more bricks that push in the same way.  I have discovered that after pressing all nine of the bricks they instantly pop back out no matter how quick you do it.  I am convinced that pressing these in a certain order will open the wall.  I shall write all the combinations that I have tried.  If I don’t succeed and die as the others before me I hope those after me shall do the same.

           

            The entries following this one consisted only of the combinations tried on the wall.  He kept on reading until he reached one pessimistic fellow’s writing that was not helpful at all.

 

Entry 442

 

With the amount of possible combinations there are there is no chance of me getting out of here alive.  Three hundred, sixty-two thousand, and eight hundred and eighty combinations…not likely.  I’m going to spend the rest of my time trying to remember who I am.

 

            “Well you’re no help,” he muttered.

            He continued reading until he reached the end of the journal.  In all there were nineteen prisoners before him.  One hundred twenty-three thousand, two hundred and four combinations had been tried. 

            He instantly stood and went to the wall and found the nine bricks.  He began pushing in combinations that hadn’t been tried before. 

            Hours passed.  He needed a break.  He slowly slid to the floor and found his way into an  uncomfortable sleep.

            He awoke sometime later.  His stomach was hurting and his throat was dryer than ever.  He needed water.

            He struggled to his feet and he began trying combinations again.  He continued until he became to weak to stand and then he still continued.  But it was to no avail.  His body failed him and he sagged to the floor. 

            His eyes flickered attempting to close, but he knew if he fell asleep now he would die.  He struggled and reached for the journal and found the pen.  He began to write. 

 

Entry 1013

 

I’m am the twentieth victim of someone I don’t even know.  Although I may know him, I just can’t remember anything.  Who I am.  If I have a family.  Whether I’m married or not.  Do I have any children?  Who’s my best friend?

Somehow not knowing any of this makes death all the scarier.  I have no memories to hold onto in my last moments.  No happiness to console me.  I know I won’t escape.

            He continued to write and he reached the last page in the journal.  Words came to him and he scratched them onto the page.  But as he did this something strange began to happen.  Lines that he hadn’t written began to appear. 

            His muddled brain strained to understand what was happening.  And then he realized.

            He began coloring in the page in with his pen.  As he did so a sketch of the wall appeared.  There were the nine bricks.  Each labeled with a number from one to nine. 

            Could this be?  In that moment that he thought he would perish, he had found the map to his escape.  He struggled to his feet and propped himself up against the wall.  His heart raced and his breath came in quick bursts. 

            He reached forward with his hand and pushed the stones in the order that they appeared in the journal.  He pushed the last one in and they all popped back out just as they had with every previous combination.  He waited.  His hope began to fade. 

            He heard a click in the wall that echoed in the room he was trapped.  He stumbled back as the wall opened into the room.

            He smiled, he actually smiled his joy was so great.  He had escaped.  He rushed through the newly created doorway. 

            His smile slipped away.  He fell to his knees. 

            An empty room the identical to the one before greeted him.  His head dropped to his chest.  With all the strength he could muster he let out a cry.

            “WHY!”

            A bone chilling laugh bounced off the walls around him, as the wall behind him scraped shut.