As Bartholomew strolled silently along, the activity around the shack started to increase. People began falling out of the sky and spindly person on some kind of 4 wheeled motorcycle rushed through the desert a few hundred yards away from Bartholomew. Watching all this go by with a blank expression, he kept walking towards the shack, his feet making light tapping sounds on the dried out lakebed that was the desert. Soon, after an hour of further walking (things in the desert are further then they appear), the shack was mere yards away, however he found that he was approaching it from behind. Before he started wrapping around the dilapidated structure, the four wheeled vehicle he spotted in the distance prior to his arrival coasted past him at a slow pace before slowing to a halt; soon he heard the semi-distant sound of a woman. 

Leaning his head around the corner of the structure, him and all the other long dead souls in the mask to a combined shit. Death, the creature that they thought they were safe from in the mask was only a few yards away.

‘HIDE THE MASK!’ yelled the combined trapped souls and quickly, without a comment Bartholomew did so, clearly petrified by the presence of death. Slipping the mask back into his bag Bart felt Bartholomew slip away from him and relinquish command, however he still felt some of bart inside him, like residue at the bottom of a coffee pot; he felt this way because the mask less features of Bartholomew were still on his face, the wide black beady eyes and the smoothed black hair, but slowly strand by strand his hair turned blonde again and muscle by muscle, his irises reappeared and his eyes shrunk.