Seeing no choice in the matter, Marsha crawled into the tunnel. Once inside, she had just enough room to awkwardly slither forward on her hands and knees. About five feet into the tube, she regretted her decision. She didn’t have nearly enough room to turn around. She could possibly skuttle backwards, now merely a few yards from freedom. She could, were that path not already blocked.
Marsha had to press on.
Thirty seconds later, the tunnel bent upward ninety degrees. Briefly, she thought about all the times she resisted peer pressure to practice yoga. Rather than dwell on past choices, she torqued her body until she was on her back, and then bent herself up that way.
The vertical path only lasted a few feet, and she had to twist her body around again in order to follow the tunnel forward.
The smells of human waste surrounded her now. She pressed on.
A constant banging noise invaded her every thought. She pressed on.
Marsha twisted and turned with the tunnels, mindful of pinching a nerve in her back, mindful of getting stuck.
Up ahead, was that him?
She dragged her body forward; finally, she found her son.
“Buddy, it’s time to get out of here.”
“I don’t want to go,” her son replied.
“We’re leaving,” Marsha said, her voice betraying no compromise.
It was at that point, that Marsha looked out the side of the tube and saw that they were very high above the Chuck E. Cheese play area.