He had no clear sense of how long he had lain there and only the foggiest memory of the goo they had forced him to drink, the sudden spinning nausea and the clicking of the lock. His beard, as he felt it, seemed like two days’ growth -- maybe three. During this time his captors had left, beside his bed, a Coke bottle of water and a clump of Velveeta on which ants and houseflies had begun to congregate. He had no sooner stuffed his face and slaked his thirst, than the dizziness returned -- and if he had not fallen back upon the straw, he would almost certainly have stepped upon the snakes. For he had seen at least a dozen of them coiled in the corner -- in a variety of colors like a rainbow of lifesavers. The sight of them made him draw back farther on his heap of straw -- although, come to think of it, there might be even more of them sleeping here in the straw itself. Gingerly he drew himself into a ball, clutching at his knees. Was there any way out of this horrid place?
