Mosh Pitt, former rock superstar, had woken up with a nasty hangover and a bad taste in his mouth, which was a fairly normal state of affairs lately, but after that his day had just gotten progressively worse. His stupid older brother was in danger, the whole city of Las Vegas was being evacuated, he was hearing dead people, and somehow he’d ended up working with the government agency that had used him as a scapegoat. Now he was in a sewer.

“Is not so bad,” Mordechai told him. “This is not actual sewer. Only tunnel. Sewer much worse.”

Sure, there was no river of poop like in the movies, just close concrete walls and a lot of pipes, several of which he’d already managed to hit his head on, but there were still rats. Mosh could hear the rodents, just crawling with fleas and rabies, scurrying to stay ahead of their flashlights.

“You cannot hear rabies, boy.”

“Shut up,” Mosh said, sick and tired of the helpful voices in his head.

Grant Jefferson was in the lead. “What was that?” The MCB agent looked back over his shoulder.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Jefferson shook his head, muttered something about Newbies, and continued down the narrow passage. As the flashlight moved away, a cold dread began to worm its way back into Mosh’s guts. There was something bad ahead, he could just feel it. He jumped when Holly came up from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. “Relax, Mosh.”

“You relax.”

“Jeez, dude, calm down. I don’t like being in the dark or in enclosed spaces either. Believe me. Nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, me and Grant have both been captives in some pretty nasty underground holes and you don’t see us being jumpy little babies.”

“It’s not that. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this…” It was hard to explain. It was more than just the possibility of being shot by the guards. He knew that something bad was waiting for them. “I can just tell. Okay?”

“Like a premonition?”

“What? No. Cut that out already. I’m not my brother. He’s the magic one. It’s only a feeling, but I feel like something is going to try and stop us.”

“That’s like the definition of a premonition. You freaking Pitts. I should have taken Z out gambling with me last night. He could’ve used his psychic powers to predict where that stupid little ball was going to land on the roulette wheel.” Holly put her hands on his back and shoved Mosh along. “I blew through two zombies’ worth of PUFF in less than an hour.”

“It makes me sad that she feels she has to wear a mask,” Mordechai said. Mosh had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean.