As soon as Sam felt the polished wood of the Winchester, he opened his eyes, grabbed the stock, and rolled beneath the bed.
"AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!"
The sheets above the bed flew into the air. Sam cocked the shotgun and rolled out from beneath the bed just as the legs were snapped and it fell to the ground. He stood and raised the gun.
"If you so much as twiddle your fingers or open your mouth, I'll blow those damned brains of yours all over the wall!"
Immediately Sam began to feel the most intense pain in his entire life. It felt as though his skull was being split open. He staggered around the room, fell to the floor and became unconscious. When he awoke it he had a pounding head ache. He was upright, his hands and feet bound together to a chair. He looked around the room and found almost all of his personal affects. His clothes were piled up in a corner. Even his guns were stacked in a corner, all with their clips and ammunition removed. His books, picture frames, phone, even his desk was in this room. Sam began to struggle with the rope binding his hands. It was tied slightly above the wrist, giving him centimeters of space to move in. After painfully struggling with the rope, he got the idea to rub it on the chair leg until it weakened. He rubbed for what seemed hours, occasionally checking to see If they began to break. Finally he heard a snap behind his back. He stretched as hard as he could, pulling both ways with his arms until they started to bleed around the restraint. The rope suddenly snapped. Sam paused and caught his breath, listening for sounds from the door in front of him. After hearing nothing he pulled his hands around and untied his feet.
Shadows seemed to stalk Sam as he walked through the many halls. His thoughts wandered back to the labyrinth. Sam had the common sense to take his coat and shoes with him, along with his .45, even though it had no ammo, he may stumble across some. He passed a bank of doors, he thought these may be bedrooms. All the doors were seamlessly shut along the bottom, no key hole of keypad in sight. He figured that each person may have a key that opened the various doors in the house. He searched all the doors until he located one that was not closed all the way, an errant sneaker blocked the path the door took. Sam reached down and silently pulled the well greased door up half way. He ducked underneath it and searched the room. Its tenant was wrapped up entirely in blankets, no skin was visible. Beside the sleeping lump of blankies was a monkey with tambourines. Sam turned away and shuffled through the war zone that passed off at one point as a bedroom. He found what he was looking for in a pile of rumpled clothes. A yellow colored circular disk, on it was a red button. He snatched it up and began to crouch out the door. In his haste he mistakenly brushed against the toy monkey.
"HELP ME! HELP ME!"
Sam turned around quickly, both his fists in the air. The monkey banged away on the instruments, singing one-two-three in a cheery voice. Sam quickly stamped on the toy as hard as he could, silencing it. The sleeper shifted ever so slightly, sighed then fell back asleep. The intruder cursed the abomination that had almost given him away, and set back outside. On the clock in the room it had flashed 3:29, so Sam assumed he still had plenty of time to make his way. He set back through the hallways, down a flight of stairs, pressed the button up against the door after some experimenting, and into a room at the bottom. Inside was a assortment of weapons and tools, ranging from masks to a devilish remote. He removed a old Lee-Enfield bolt action rifle from the shelf, because it was the only one with rounds still in the clip, and the only one he had any idea how to use. Sam counted six bullets inside, and an extra ten clipped to the front strap. He set outside again, the door automatically closing, back to the bedrooms. He passed the room he had previously entered, and opened the door across from it. Sam reflected how easy it would be to get lost in here, and took mental note of where he had been. He glanced around the room, it was totally dark inside, letting no other light in other then a skylight. The full moon was framed in the window, the clouds forming an eerie halo around it. He exited, and entered another. He stepped into this room, and saw nothing other then what looked like a thick power cord leading to a corner. He left and entered the next room more carefully. He opened the door and entered rifle at ready. The dark obscured most color and shape, but Sam made out what seemed to be a young girl who asleep on top of a giant stone slab. He cursed the occupants of the compound for such inhumanity. Rather then wake her now and try to get her out, he would first find out here they were. He took some blood from his arm and spread it onto the top right corner of the door, so that he could remember where she was.
He opened the last door. No one was inside and a single, dark light was on. Sam compared the place to Dr. Seuss' own personal hell. Various books written in many incomprehensible languages lined the walls. Statues of birds served as bookends, and the classical faces of comedy and drama stood atop a pillar. At first Sam could not quite figure out what was wrong, then realized that both faces sported a set of extra eyes. Leaving this strange disfigurement alone, he turned moved further into the room. A cold breeze set all the hairs on his neck up. Sam turned to find the source of this mysterious chill. A window, concealed by otherwise thick drapes, was built above a desk. Sam investigated the window, finding dirt in the shape of a smeared foot print on the desk below the window, and more dirt on the sill. Some one must have either entered or exited this room hastily, forgetting to hide their tracks.
