"It didn't sound human, but either way...probably because it could," he reasons. There are a number of possible explanations for the attacks, not limited to simply trying to keep that door closed. Without another memory of the situation, he might not ever discern it, and yet he hesitates at the possibility of learning more about something or someone that can animate the dead. At least to the matter of the brother, he can agree, "Me too..."

Staring into the orbits of the skull with focus placed to one of the optic canals, Benjiro feels Walter pulling on the zipper of his bag to retrieve the flashlight with the comment about a spider. He smiles wryly as he starts to reply, "At this point, I wouldn't...be..." only to trail off as he gets the feeling of something staring back. The sound of the heartbeat makes him look down at the chest of the skeleton. Then nothing.

The focus of his eyes vanishes as his breath passes from his lungs without return. His expression slackens and his hands drop to the ground by his hips as that nothingness swallows his thought, his mind, his soul, his body and leaves only the vaguest notion of a remnant in bones no different than simply another skeleton resting in the graveyard. Lifeless.

Seconds tick by in this state before he inhales with a struggling gasp born of everything rushing back with the addition of a hefty memory covering hours of time and his muscles cramping from head to toe. Grunting in the pain of his muscles pulling every direction simultaneously, he curls forward in a flexion synergy reflexively with his hands clawing into the grass and dirt. Staccato words taut and breathless, he struggles to speak with lungs starting to burn, "..noh...ga...nn..!"