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ran into the terrifyingly dark and terrifyingly smelly tube.
     

A little help here, please
     
    ~
     
    Emal splashed through puddles of water as he ran into the darkened tube. He soon ran into another wall and had a moment of panic before realizing the tube bent sharply to the right. He crashed through thick vines hanging from the ceiling and struggled through pricking weeds that crept out of the crumbled concrete. There was faint light now coming from infrequent bulbs in the ceiling, and it revealed large pools of water that covered almost the entire floor. The light reflected off the surface, revealing more weeds and vines in all directions. The tube was wide, about fifty feet across, and Emal assumed it had once been heavily trafficked, but it was now in serious disrepair. He was not entirely convinced it was safe, either from the tube itself or whatever might be living there. He half expected the sides to give way to waves of water that would come crashing through, sweeping him away like a turd in a tube. There was a leak somewhere that was slowly filling this place, and Emal didn’t like it one bit. The damp semi-darkness gave one the impression of walking through a swamp under a full moon.
    I don’t know how you feel about walks through swamps in the moonlight while animals cry for blood in the distance, but Emal was enjoying none of it.
    Wanting to get some distance between himself and the cats, he walked as fast as he could, parting the thick weeds with his hands and cursing the sting of the brownish water on his scratched legs. Glancing around as he pushed through the swamp, he called out once for Brittany in desperation, hoping she was nearby, but only heard animals reply.
    Bumbling through the thick swamp didn’t take long to exhaust Emal. In the dim light, he finally crossed a winding foot path that was somewhat clear of standing water and weeds. He joined the path, continuing further into the tunnel until he came upon a dryish set of steps that lead to nowhere. The steps were wedged up against the wall as though they had floated in a long time ago and gotten stuck. They didn’t look like they were supposed to be there, but Emal was in no mood to argue, so he plopped down to assess his wounds.
    His legs were badly scratched from the cat claws; however, the cuts were not as deep as they felt. He wasn’t bleeding anymore, but his skin had turned red around the wounds and it was abnormally warm. He had a few cuts on his arms that were shallow and could feel more on his face that stung every time a breeze kicked up. Essentially, all of his skin was loudly asking to be soothed.
    Now what , Emal thought to himself as he sat on the moldy steps, shaking from the cold water that had soaked his found tennis shoes. At least I was able to keep my hat . Somewhere in the distance another unfamiliar animal sound rushed through the tube. This time, the noise was uncomfortably closer than it had been, and Emal tensed up, expecting a swarm of cats to spring out of the surrounding weeds. Nothing leapt out in attack but neither did any ideas on what to do.
    Emal decided what he needed now was some motivation. Maybe some lifehacks would come in handy or some little sayings I could look at in order to motivate myself. I could put the sayings on posters with generic photos of places I want to visit. Maybe I could find pictures of really cool showers. Those would help to get my butt moving.
    The bottom line was he was here and he was aware. It was time to make the most of it.
    Emal tried to gather his thoughts. Starting with— who am I?
    He knew who he was and that seemed like the start to a good life. I am Emal. My name is printed right on my chest. The lost man was like a child with a note pinned on their shirt, telling their parents about lice in school. He wondered if Brittany had her name printed on her chest as well but then thought it would probably be considered rude if he had asked.
    When am I? When I am doesn’t really