Into the Darkness Second Draft

Escape

Samantha stepped past the satyr and through the doorway, half expecting him to grab her and thrust her back into the room. When he didn't move, Sam took another cautious step, something crunching under foot. Lifting her foot, she peered down at the cracker she just crushed, and then back at Kindrow, who just shrugged.

Doug stepped up next to Samantha and looked down at the broken cracker, before peering around the room.

An overturned food cart, it's delicious looking contents spread over the black floor, unsettled Samantha. She took another step in, Doug following close behind her, and saw Doug's backpack sitting in the middle of the floor just like where they had left it in the room behind them. "Hey, we just came from here!" she said angrily at Kindrow.

The satyr flashed a yellowed, toothy grin and then took two quick steps backward, his cloven feet clacking hard against the ground. Raising his hand as if to wave, he vanished as the door slid closed before him.

"Doug, what's going on? Didn't we just leave this room?"

"I, I thought so, I guess not." He walked up to where the door had been and pressed his hands against the wall, looking for cracks. "I can't feel where the door is."

Defeated, Samantha's shoulders slumped as she watched Doug take a spoonful of a green speckled white sauce from the floor and flung it against the wall where the door had been. "What on earth are you doing?"

"This way we know where that door is," he replied with a smile.

"Ok, but how does that help us?"

"Well," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "I'm going to call Kindrow in again, and you stand over there," he pointed to one side of the door, "and I'll stand here, and when he comes through, we'll both tackle him."

"And then what?"

"We force him to let us out."

"And you're sure about this?"

"Yeah, are you ready?"

"Wait a second." She bent down and picked up the metal platter, that had recently held cheese, from the floor, and held it with both hands, ready to swing.

"Now are you ready?" he asked, as he picked up a large soup ladle of his own. Then he took his position on the opposite side of where the food was splattered on the wall.

As Sam nodded, Doug again made a horn with his fist, then lowered it. "You're sure you're ready?" She nodded again, and he blew. Hard.

Nothing happened. So he blew again. And then a third time. Still, nothing. More specifically, when no sound came out, Doug looked like an idiot blowing into his thumb.

Despite herself, Samantha tittered. "See, I told you you'd look like an idiot."

Doug giggled too, "I'll bet. But why didn't it work that time?"

"I don't know, are you sure you're doing it right? Go look at the drawing again, maybe there's something we missed."

Doug crossed the room to his backpack, and dug through it, pulling out his notebook. He quickly flipped through the pages, finally coming to the drawing of him blowing into his thumb, and furrowed his brow. "Uh, Sam, It's different."

"What do you mean 'it's different'?" She asked, walking up next to him.

Doug held up the drawing. It showed Doug, his cheeks still puffed and his thumb to his lips, but instead of a closed fist, is index finger was extended, pointing toward the top of the page. Without thinking, Doug mimicked the drawing, placing his thumb to his lips, pointer finger extended, and blew.