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... beginning to slowly sink as he looked around the cabin. He wouldn’t be strong enough to swim through the holes through which the water was pouring as a rat or a roach, at least not until the cabin was completely filled. That forced him to wait. He sloshed through the water toward where Mercedes had left her bottle of wine. Somehow, it had stayed on the table in spite of everything. He lifted it up and took a swig from it, letting the warmth of it spread through him and take a bit of the edge off ...
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