Not a bite. No likelihood of food suddenly appearing. Jack’s stomach no longer growled or rumbled. It cramped. The pains would come in waves. Each pain would last a minute or so, and stretch out over the course of an hour. Then there would be a reprieve of an hour, sometimes an hour and a half. But when the pain came back, it was worse than before. And lasted longer. It had started in earnest after about twelve hours. He’d been hungry before that, hungry for a long, long time, but this was different. This wasn’t his body saying, “Hey, let’s eat.” This was his body saying, “Do something: we’re starving.” A new round of pains was just beginning. Jack dreaded it. He wasn’t good with pain. And this pain was worse, somehow, than the pain in his leg. That pain was outside. This pain was inside. “Have you figured it out yet?” Caine demanded. “Have you got it, Jack?” Jack hesitated. If he said yes, then the next round of this nightmare would begin. If he said no, they would sit here and sit here and sit here until they all starved.
