The Train Game

"Shit," the man muttered, bringing his hand to his temple. There was a sharp pain in it, which felt like the symptom of a lack of sleep even though he had just risen from unconsciousness. He looked around at his surroundings, finding himself in a wooden room which was not lit at all. Feeling himself moving at what he could tell was a high speed, as well as the sound of clacking metal, he was able to determine that where he was was actually a train car. The man approached the side of the car, expecting to find a door of some kind, which he did, though it was impossible to move.

As he pulled on the door, to no avail, bright lights came on overhead, filling the car. Temporarily blinded, the man stumbled away from the door back towards the middle of the car. As he made his way back to where he had awoken, a deep, clearly altered voice filled the room.

"John Wendover. In your life, you have spent countless hours making people feel helpless, as though they had no way out. Now, let's see how you respond when you are the one in the box."

There was a loud sound as metal gears shifted on the far side of the car, opposite the door. The voice spoke again.

"The wall to your left is attached to a system which will continue to push it towards you until it meets the other wall; to your right is the only door in the car, which has been welded locked. Starting from the end of this message, you will have thirty minutes to find a way to escape, otherwise, your days of hurting people will come to an end. Good luck, John."

The voice cut off, and was replaced by the clanking sound that accompanied the wall moving slowly closer. John screamed at the top of his lungs, yelling every profanity he could think of at the absent voice. After some time, he realized that was not a helpful use of his time and that it would be in his best interest to at least attempt to find some way to escape.

The train car was almost entirely empty, but the sole item in it was a shipping container which sat next to the lock. The wooden box had its lid nailed down with more nails than were countable in the short time John had to assess it. Frantically, he searched the area for something he could use to pry the nails off, but found nothing. One of the nails, though, was sticking out slightly. John seized the opportunity, grabbing the nail in his right hand between his forefinger and thumb. He dug his fingernails into the wood below the head of the nail, feeling it shove splinters into the beds of his fingernails, and pulled as hard as he could, hoping against everything that it would work. Fueled by adrenaline, he tore the nail from the wood, clutching it victoriously in his bloody fingers.

Next, he looked at the nail next to the one he had just freed. Thinking quickly, John took the first nail and shoved its tip under the head of the second with as much force as he could. Now that it was at an angle under the next nail, he smacked the head of it with his palm, using it as a lever to push up the second. It came up to be at a slightly higher position than the first had originally been. John attempted to pull the nail up with the head of the first, to no avail.

Determined, he threw the nail to the floor, and repeated the arduous process he had undergone to free it on the second nail. After several seconds, he emerged once more bloody and victorious. he repeated this process with every nail on the box, hoping to find something inside it which would prove useful. After removing the last nail, with the wall approximately halfway across the car, John threw the lid of the crate off to the side. Inside was a single item: a hammer.

Immediately, assuming it must be the answer to the puzzle, John grabbed the hammer and turned to face the lock. Holding the hammer over his head, he brought it down with full force onto the lock. Sparks flew, but little else happened. John tried once more, with the same result. After the third failure, he turned his attention elsewhere. He took several steps to the right, then once again lifted the hammer over his head, bringing it down with all the strength he had, this time into the door itself. The wood beneath the hammer shattered, letting in sunlight from outside.

Knowing he was close, John repeatedly smashed the hammer into the door until a large enough area had broken away for him to be able to fit through. He dropped the hammer to the floor and jumped through the hole, grabbing his knees in his arms to roll and minimize the damage from landing at such a high speed. He heard a sickening collection of cracks as several bones broke from the impact, but as he rolled away from the train, he knew that he had escaped back to freedom.