Cage

I sat up and looked around. I'm in a cave or a cell of some sort. There's no door. There are air shafts on the ceiling every ten feet or so. I can see blue sky and clouds. "Hello!" I wait poised under the shaft. Each opening is ten inches by ten inches and I guess that it's about twenty five feet to the surface. Not something I could fit through could I even reach the ceiling. I wait. No answer.

I walk the perimeter of my pen. It's fifty feet by fifteen feet. There's a rusty spigot on one of the short ends which produces fresh, cold, albeit sulfury water. I drink and realize I'm very thirsty. I drink more. There is no food and no toilet. I designate a corner on the opposite end from the spigot as my latrine and christen it.

I search my person. I have the cloths I'm wearing: jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt, boxers, thick socks, sturdy tennis shoes, a belt, a lighter, and a hardware store pocket knife with a blade that measures three inches.

Without food I calculate that I can survive eight to ten weeks given the fact I'm slightly over weight. I figure that my strength will decrease but not drastically decrease until week six.

I don't feel panic or much concern. I don't ever remember feeling much of anything. Maybe that's why I'm here.