Eric put his hands on the door. He pushed. Slowly, suckingly, it left the place out of which it had been carved long ago.
Where was the Monster? How close? How Close?
Suddenly, the door fell over into the burrow, and Eric spilled painfully on top of it. He scrambled to his feet and darted down the corridor.
He had no time to feel relief. His mind was repeating its lessons, reminding him what he had to do next in such a situation.
Run a short distance down the burrow. Then stop and wait on the balls of your feet, ready to bolt. Get as much air into your lungs as possible. You may need it. If you hear a hissing, whistling sound, stop breathing and start running. Hold your breath for as long as you can—as long as you possibly can—then suck another chestful of air and keep running. Keep this up until you are far away. Far, far away.
Eric waited, poised to run, his back to the doorway.
Don't look around—just face the direction you'll have to run. There's only one thing you have to worry about, only one thing you have to listen for. A hissing, whistling sound. When you hear it, hold your breath and run.
He waited, his muscles contracted for instant action.
Time went by. He remembered to count. If you counted up to five hundred, slowly, and nothing happened, you were likely to be all right. You could assume the Monster probably hadn't noticed you.
So the experienced warriors said, the men who had lived through such an experience.