Yesterday's Winning Vote:
Option 1 – Start rifling through the drawers.

You grope along the wall looking for the light switch. Your hands move up and down the wall covering every inch of open space. The task is made frustratingly difficult by the numerous counters and cabinets lined up against every wall.

Having gone around the entire room fruitlessly, you decide to take the easy way out and open the door to let some light in to find the switch. The door refuses to open. You wiggle the handle—locked. Angry, you yell, “Aaaaaah!” and punch the door.

A blinding light comes on in the center of the ceiling.

“Seriously?” you ask no one in particular. Then, curious, you decide to try something.

*clap, clap*

The light turns off.

*clap, clap*

The light turns on.

“OK, this is just stupid,” you say, continuing to stare directly at the now tauntingly illuminated ceiling. Then, you realize you should be doing what any sane person would do in this situation: looking for stuff to steal.

You start pulling open drawers and cabinets, all maddeningly unlabeled, and proceed to find mostly crap: paperclips, bandages—

“Oooh! Popsicle sticks! No, no, those are for later.”

—gauze, pamphlets, etc. Then, you come across a more interesting drawer of medical tools. You pass over the small rubber mallets and grab a scalpel. Tilting it back and forth in the air, you notice that its weight feels a little off; it's heavier than it should be. Looking back in the drawer, you notice that some of the other instruments are somewhat tarnished. “Silver?” you ask.

“For its antibiotic properties,” a voice behind you says, making you jump. “Now, if you'll put back everything you stole, I'll treat that wound on your chest.”

You drop the scalpel back into the drawer and step over to the examination table in the center of the room.

“Take off your shirt,” the doctor says before grabbing a bottle of alcohol and a cotton ball. He's about to pour alcohol onto the ball when a terrible, bestial screech echoes down the hall. He quickly tosses the bottle to the side and crosses the room to large cabinet. The noise starts to come closer until the door starts to rattle and the light fixture shakes.

“Stay here,” he tells you, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a shotgun. He flips the release and pumps it. Satisfied at the resulting sound, he swings the gun over at you briefly and glares intensely before running into the hall.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you're almost afraid to get off of the table.