Scattered about the room were several human bones, some high-heeled shoes, and plenty of rats. In the opposite right-hand corner, there was a coffin-sized pit—half filled with an ugly, brownish-red, foul sludge. To the left of the pit lay a partly eaten female torso with a fully bloated abdomen, covered with live, hair-like, red worms. Now he knew why most of Michael’s victims were never found. Either Michael had turned cannibal, or these rats had been weaned on human flesh. A horrifying thought. Sooner or later, Michael would return to finish his work on the policeman, and here he was, utterly defenseless. Then, he remembered the gun—it was lying on the floor where the police officer dropped it. There had to be a way out. —From A Fiend Unveiled