Run.

Those were his orders, the last he heard before he descended into the maze. He’d be lying if he said that made him feel any better.

Run.

Feet thumping against stone flooring, gasping for air and clutching his chest.

Run.

It wasn’t his own noises that frightened him. It was the noise of his chaser.

Run.

He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, just that it was the reason bodies were thrown into the opening once a year. He’d been the unlucky bastard chosen to go and investigate.

“Richards, you’ve been assigned.”

“You’re kidding. I thought the higher ups…” He said, pushing his chair away from his desk.

“I’m sorry Richards.” His superior said, rubbing in between her eyes. She’d been crying.

“They want you to go in.”

“But I – I thought we had a few months before there was going to be a new ‘volunteer.’” His brother said, rising as well.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “There’s nothing we can do. You enter in an hour.”

“An hour?” He repeated the words. That wasn’t enough time. It didn’t matter really, if he had been given months or years. There was no way to be prepared to enter.

“Run.” She said, eyes locked with his own. “No matter what you hear do not turn around. If you run, you might be safe.”

“I- “

They were out of time. Two of the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him into the hole.

“Run!” was the last thing he heard as he fell.