A long time passed in the box. How long, Lesley was unsure. He believed it was days, but pragmatism corrected that to hours. The truth likely lay somewhere in the middle.
He was badly feverish and, despite his dehydration, sweating profusely. He drifted in and out of sleep, waking up abruptly due to nightmares involving large predators, passing out again when merely being awake took too much energy. His arm felt as though it were on fire unceasingly, and no position he could arrange would make it comfortable. He could only count the pulses of throbbing, shooting pain until he fell asleep again.