Allen regained consciousness after an unknown period of time.

His whole body ached — the reason yet unknown to him. He tried to move around, but his body refused to obey. He laid there in the ash helplessly.

He was able to turn his head slightly and open his eyes after great effort. He looked around, trying his best to get a read on the situation. Yet, before sight could register, his eyes instinctively shut tightly.

Just then, he became aware of his surroundings; the smell of sulphur penetrated his nostrils.

He felt an abrupt heat scorching his insides. He panicked and shrieked in pure terror. However, no sound escaped his dry lips.

He felt as if his insides were melting. — The sizzling atmosphere was suffocating. — He would scratch at his throat, trying to liberate it, however he still couldn’t move his arms. It was as if a mighty pressure forced him down.

Just slightly moving his head took all he had. It was utter madness.

Time passed ever so slowly for him. During the past few hours, he must have blacked out a dozen times already. He tried to shut out the pain, figuring if he didn’t pay attention it would lessen, maybe even disappear.

It did become more bearable; however, it was still on a level that would make most man cry. He took heavy exercised breaths one after another while he concentrated. After every breath he feared that his lungs would implode, however it never happened. He knew that he had to find shelter, wherever he was; it was not meant for survival. But first, he would have to find a way to move.

He knew acting rashly would not yield any gains. — It was clear to him that the situation was dire. — His senses desperately attuned to his surroundings. Still, he didn’t want to believe this is reality.

He clung onto dear hope that this is just some kind of a bad dream, a passing nightmare. All he had to do was to wake up. However, as the seconds slowly turned into minutes, and minutes into hours he realized: This was not a dream.

He did his best to remain calm and listen — to try and decipher the situation at hand — however, he couldn’t help but become more and more anxious.

He was kidnapped, no doubt. He was also unable to move, to see. If he lost his hearing as well, he would probably think that he was held in a basement with poor ventilation, somewhere near a furnace or something.

But he could hear. However, he wished he didn’t. It only heightened his fears.

Inhumane screams and wailings of creatures, — monsters that couldn’t be anything less than hellspawns — entered his ears.

He froze dead in his place. Sweat beaded on his forehead, as he intently listened. He realized that his chance of survival would drop to 0 if he were to be noticed by the creatures in the dark. He gave thanks to the Lord, that he couldn’t utter any sounds. It would have been a fatal mistake.

Allen wasn’t a particularly bright man, he would easily lose himself to emotions, but he wasn’t stupid either. Whatever shit he had gone through in life, it was still much better than dying. Hell, he loved to live! He would survive and escape this hellish place, he didn’t know how, but he would manage.

Life defined him. Some would say that life was what gave meaning to existence, but he knew. Allen knew that life gave no meaning, but existence itself. To find meaning in one’s life, one would have to discover it for himself. Provided that one has sufficient intelligence, one would inevitably find one’s goals in life, thus giving it a meaning in the grand scheme of things.

If he wanted to survive, and accomplish his goals, then he would have to find a way out of his current predicament and find a way fast.

But first, he would have to know how he got here in the first place. It would — without a shadow of a doubt — help him immensely on his journey to escape this place.

He did his best to ignore the ferocious growls in the distance while he wrecked his brain trying to recall any information, anything at all that could be useful.