I couldn't get comfortable at all last night. The rising sun burns my eyes as I squint to survey my surroundings: endless rolling hills of ripening corn. I can sense the heat and the dust. Who knew hot dust has such a distinctive odor and taste? Once my eyes adjust to the light, I try to move my legs, but cannot. Looking down, I see they’re bound by twine. I’m wearing blue jeans and a tattered plaid shirt with the cuff buttons missing. Straw is poking out of my sleeves. I’m