The stomach ruptured open, spewing forth intestine and bile in one of the most disturbing sights imaginable. Chris dug his fingers into the fresh cut, feeling the warmth of the dog's entrails. He vomited a bit in his throat, but promptly swallowed it and pulled his hands apart, widening the cut. Immediately, a horrid smell came from the body, causing a fresh bout of vomiting. Withdrawing his hands from the cut, he examined the crevice of organs. He felt a fresh stream of vomit coming on, but counted backwards until the feeling passed, and proceeded to dig through the organs. Using the shard of glass to sever the intestines, he examined them first, fingering through them. There was no key in the intestines.
"Dammit!" He cursed, reluctant to examine the dog's organs again.
Three minutes left.
Doing the hardest thing in his life, he placed the shard on the dog's actual stomach, and sliced it open. Blood spurted out for a moment, but subsided, and then Chris dug his fingers into the stomach, using the same method as he did opening the dog's skin.
"Shit fuck!" Chris howled in a voice that didn't sound like his own, as the stomach acid burned his fingers.
Carefully grabbing the stomach, careful not to release the acid, he picked it up, turned it upside-down, and poured the contents on the floor, hoping to see a gleam indicating the key was there.
There was no key.
"Damn!" He screamed in failure, pounding his hands on the floor. He screamed a series of unintelligible words shortly afterward.
He cried there, knowing that his life was to end in the gymnasium from hell.
Looking over at the clock, which now read one minute remaining, he waited for the gas to spew forth.
He picked up the dog's head, looking at it, and hissed at it. He shook it mercilessly, blaming it for being the dog with no key. He was going to have the last laugh. Taking another shard, he began to decapitate the dog's head.
He did it in less then ten seconds, his rage fueling super-human strength. In the now-open dog's throat, he saw the chicken leg. It was half there, this dog had gotten half of it, and he would have choked on it had Chris not killed it. There was something else there besides the chicken leg, though.
There was a key.
"Holy…" Chris murmured in slow realization.
The key had been in the chicken leg when he threw it to the dogs.
This Jigsaw character had anticipated his every move.
Thirty seconds left.
He grabbed a shred of the dog's fur, placed it over his mouth and nose, and charged to the door on the other side of the gymnasium. He made it about halfway before the gas started to flow from the pipes scattered about the room. He made it to the door though; the dog's fur had kept enough fresh air in to last him that long.
Chris unlocked the door, triumphantly.