"What was that?" Marcus asked, skittering away like a startled rabbit.

"It sounded like gunshots," Tyson said calmly, although he was as shocked as Marcus.

"Whatever it is, it's close," Marcus said as a few more bangs filled the small space.

"Can you feel that?" Tyson asked.

The gunshots had gotten all of their attention, so Tyson failed to notice the familiar tingling sensation of an opening portal. However, the moment he registered it, he understood where the gunfire was coming from.

"Is that coming from the portal?" Marcus asked, shifting uncomfortably. "If it is, then we better skip this one, Tyson."

The fact that his irrational friend, who was jumping into everything headfirst, wanted to be cautious made Tyson even more nervous about entering the portal. Still, he wasn't sure what would happen if they didn't do so.

Would they miss their opportunity to move forward in the maze? Or would they simply catch the next ride?

What Sybil had said about it being a twofold maze kept running through Tyson's head. He tried to fit that information in with everything else that he knew. That was when one thing became clear to him. Although Sybil might have been wrong about it all being a sick game, she was probably right about the maze being spatial and temporal at the same time. That meant that if they missed one step in either one, they might get stuck in it for eternity.

"Hm," Tyson said, contemplating Marcus's words.

"What are we going to do?" Marcus asked, shrinking away from the general direction of the portal.

There was no way for Tyson to know if they were even heading in the right direction but moving felt better than sitting and waiting for the help that would never come. After all, every time they stepped through the portal, they learned something new about their circumstances. Maybe if they did that often enough, Tyson could figure out what needed to be done to free them from the maze's clutches.

"I think we need to go through it," Tyson said after a few more moments of quiet contemplation.

"But we'll die. Someone is shooting out there!" Marcus exclaimed stubbornly.

"Maybe, but I don't think so. I think we are far safer from the past than we assume. What should worry us more are the other mazers," Tyson said.

It made sense that if all of them thought only one person could leave the maze alive, they would want to make sure that the competition was dead. Tyson knew that he could try and explain things to them but what was the point when they were more likely to kill him than to listen to something that made no sense to them.

As if summoned by his words, a few mazers started sliding down the opening in a hurry. What was worse, they didn't sound happy. From their loud voices, Tyson summarized they had a bad day. Having that in mind, he was pretty sure they would take it out on them.

"Come on, we need to go," Tyson said, dragging reluctant Marcus towards the portal.

However, before they could step through, three tattered mazers appeared, quickly scanning their surroundings and noticing the intruders.

"We have company," the tall, dark-haired man said, pulling out a gun.

"We mean no harm," Tyson said, putting himself in front of Marcus while simultaneously pushing his friend closer to the portal.

"It doesn't matter, does it? You have to die for us to live," the guy said with coldness in his voice.

He pointed his gun at Tyson's forehead, and Tyson could only hope that at least Marcus would get out alive, having in mind that he was one step away from the portal.

Instead of trying to save his own life, Tyson used the last of his rational thought to push Marcus through the portal before he was faced with his impending death.

"No!" a familiar voice screamed as he was about to pull the trigger.

Sybil pushed the guy's hand and made him miss entirely, and the bullet lodged itself in the wall. It all happened so fast that Tyson could barely wrap his mind around it as his ears kept ringing.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" Sybil yelled at him.

He couldn't hear her, but he understood what she was saying and quickly mouthed a thank you before disappearing through the portal.

Although he landed with a thud and horizontally, Tyson was relieved that the portal had closed down behind him. Furthermore, he could hear Marcus complaining nearby, so he allowed himself a few moments to close his eyes and appreciate the fact that they were alive.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing Tyson saw was a pair of black leather boots standing next to his tired head. Upon lifting his gaze, he saw that the guy wore unusual trousers with two buttons at the top instead of any type of zipper. It was enough to tell Tyson that they were not home like Tyson secretly hoped. Neither was it a nightmare he could awake from.

Lifting his eyes even higher, he noted that the guy's trousers were held up by suspenders. Furthermore, everything seemed to be patched up more times than Tyson could count in the quick once-over he gave the guy.

"You must be the reinforcements we've been waiting for," the guy said, looking Marcus and Tyson over with scrutiny. "You can get up now. It's over. Well, over for now, at least."

His tone of voice made it clear that he assumed them to be cowards. However, Tyson believed that was better than suspecting the truth since he had no idea how anyone from the past would have reacted to it.

"Yes, sir," Tyson said, for a moment unsure how he should be addressing the guy or when and where they were.

He wished that he hadn't allowed himself a moment to relax since he could have used it to figure out where they were and how best to fit in. At least Marcus didn't say anything thoughtless as he was too busy checking if the shooting had actually stopped if they were truly safe.

The guy put the gun, which seemed to have been recently fired, back into its holster and gave Tyson a hand up. Tyson accepted the offered hand, although he didn't really appreciate the guy's tone of voice. Still, he needed to buy them more time to figure out what was going on.

As he got up, Tyson noted that the tail of the man's shirt extended down to his knees, and he did remember that those types of shirts were used as both shirts and nightshirts. However, Tyson hadn't paid much attention to those details when he was studying history. Who would have thought the clothing people wore at various times would have any significance for him?

"Are you okay?" he asked Marcus to avoid looking at the questioning eyes of the guy who continued to stare at them.

"As long as the bullets aren't flying around my head, I am fine," Marcus said.

"Haha, this lad is funny. I like him," the guy said, smiling. "The name is Jim. And you are?"

"I am Tyson, and this is my friend Marcus," Tyson said, still doing his best to postpone answering any questions that went beyond their names.

"Those are some mighty strange names," Jim said thoughtfully. "Well, I reckon it doesn't matter. We are all in the same pickle."

"How can we be in a pickle?" Marcus asked cluelessly.

Tyson was tempted to roll his eyes at his friend's denseness but chose to keep his cool.

"It's just an expression, Marcus. It means that we are all in the same situation," Tyson explained patiently.

"I reckon I know which of you two is the brains," Jim said, slapping Tyson on the back in a friendly gesture Tyson didn't really appreciate.

Tyson hoped that the guy would stop yelling and shaking his bones with his pats on the back because his ears were still ringing, and his body felt utterly weak after the shock it had endured.

"Well, lads, welcome to Alamo!" Jim said, retreating to get some food and rest.

As soon as Jim was out of sight, Tyson plopped down on the ground again exhaustedly.

"Marcus?" Tyson whispered.

"Huh?" Marcus replied.

"You might've been right," Tyson said.

"About what?" Marcus asked.

"About skipping this portal," Tyson replied.

"Why? What's up with Alimo?" Marcus asked.

"Alamo," Tyson corrected him automatically. "Well, let's just say that it's far worse than Sarajevo."

"How much worse?" Marcus asked.

"We are in a siege that lasts 13 days," Tyson said.

"Okay and?" Marcus asked, not understanding what siege even meant.

"We are on the losing side. When the 13-day long fighting ends, almost everyone here is killed by the Mexicans," Tyson said.

"Well, that's not good," Marcus said needlessly.

"Come on. Let's try to figure out which day we are on," Tyson said, getting up. "I have a bad feeling that whichever day it is, we will be stuck here until the end."