He heard nothing that was not an entirely normal sound.

But then he smelled something.

It was a horrible, somehow reptilian odor. It was the stench of
jungle, dead and rotting. It was much, much worse than the smell of a
skunk.

He moved to fling himself into flight. Then light blinded him. Closing
his eyelids did not shut it out. There were all colors, intolerably
vivid, and they flashed in revolving combinations and forms which
succeeded each other in fractions of seconds. He could see nothing but
this light. Then there came sound. It was raucous. It was cacophonic.
It was an utterly unorganized tumult in which musical notes and
discords and bellowings and shriekings were combined so as to be
unbearable. And then came pure horror as he found that he could not
move. Every inch of his body had turned rigid as it became filled with
anguish. He felt, all over, as if he were holding a charged wire.

He knew that he fell stiffly where he stood. He was blinded by light
and deafened by sound and his nostrils were filled with the nauseating
fetor of jungle and decay. These sensations lasted for what seemed
years.

Then all the sensations ended abruptly. But he still could not see;
his eyes were still dazzled by the lights that closing his eyelids had
not changed. He still could not hear. He'd been deafened by the sounds
that had dazed and numbed him. He moved, and he knew it, but he could
not feel anything. His hands and body felt numb.