Chapter 10Adam woke to the steady pounding of a sledgehammer behind his eyes and the sound of whimpering escaping his throat. His head felt twice its normal size, his stomach muscles ached, his hands were scraped and scabby, and he stank. He tried to lick his lips but his tongue seemed to be a slug that had crawled into his mouth and died.
Around him, the rough snoring, groaning and hacking as well as the stench of unwashed bodies and disinfectant confirmed his hazy memories. He had spent the night in the drunk tank.
Finally forcing open one sticky eye, he took a moment to focus and grasp what he was seeing. He was face down in a puddle of drying drool on a dirt-brown plastic bench. Jerking upright to move his lips away from the filthy surface, he nearly passed out as the bastard wieldin
